#and yes with the hip flask

[cool-stuffandthings]

Me waiting for May 2024 for the new series of Doctor Who

[inhurtandincomfort]

I think Jowan nags at Eldwin about drinking too much and smoking is bad for you, you know. And Eldwin's just like dude it's either this or hard drugs. Take your pick.

Of course, they could stop him. They would have to confine him to the house as his work requires him to hang out in the city a lot and they couldn't keep an eye on him 24/7. They could do that. His work as an enforcer is valuable, it's so easy to get him to do something and you know he'll do it well, but it's nothing a non-mage couldn't do.

But it would be a hassle. Frankly, it's not worth it. Because what they're working on, soon it won't matter. There are two outcomes.

Either it works, and anything regarding his health and wellbeing won't matter. Or... it doesn't work and anything regarding his health and wellbeing won't matter.

As long as he does his job, they really don't care what he does. Besides, it's not like he'll be able to forever, and he's served them so well over the past decade. Consider this current freedom a final act of mercy.

(and frankly he's a more likable person when he's on something. You know those people who drink to combat social anxiety? And like, it's a problem you shouldn't do that? yeah. Clyde encourages it at their social events because he's actually less embarrassing.)

Also like right now it's easy to not recognise it as a problem. It's only sometimes, on the these days rare occasion he's out of the house. It's not that bad. I feel like he actually gets worse when he's away from the syndicate, because when he's not living in constant fear and every moment is a fight to survive, not remembering how it feels to not be in fight or flight (or freeze and fawn in his case) when he's forced to confront his thoughts. Survival is a distraction. He doesn't know how to handle being safe.

And that's when it becomes a problem. No longer is it "just" an occasional sip or smoke to steel himself for a social event he's forced to attend or to distract himself from the acrid scent of burning flesh. No, it is when he's supposed to be free that he finds himself relying on these crutches more and more and he won't notice until it's too hard to go back.

He thought his indenture was terrible. He didn't imagine freedom could be worse.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Remmick x reader, established relationship, Fluff (maybe some NSFW)

Imagine Remmick and reader enjoying each other’s company while laying together. Soft kisses, nails lightly raking through hair, and soothing touches.

Perhaps teasingly reader lightly bites Remmick’s neck, since he always does this to reader they wanted some payback. Might or might not have known that it would rile him up.

(Would love to see some feral softness from Remmick if that makes sense lol)

Gender neutral pronouns please :)!

Have a great day/night!

P.s glad to see my request/asks are enjoyed! Love your work :D

Drunk on you||Remmick x GN!reader

Summary— reader and Remmick are obsessed with each other.

Word count-1180

Warnings-Explicit sexual content Mutual masturbation (gender neutral reader x male character) Bloodplay-adjacent themes (post-feeding cleanup, references to blood) Vampirism (turned!vampire reader) Established relationship Oral teasing and heavy kissing Soft domination tones (gentle aftercare, power dynamics rooted in emotional trust)Reader is described with fem anatomy Semi-public setting (clearing in the woods, but secluded)

A/n — this can be read as male,female and gender neutral.

A/n#2– oh yes anon I love it when you’re in my inbox!!!

The forest still thrummed faintly with the echoes of the hunt moonlight threading through the trees, the air rich with the scent of blood and pine. The adrenaline had faded, but a different kind of hunger lingered in its wake.

You leaned against a moss-covered boulder, cheeks flushed, laughter bubbling out of you in lazy bursts. The blood was still tacky at the corner of your mouth, but you didn’t care. You felt wild. Sated. In love.

Remmick watched you from a few paces away, one hand braced on his hip, the other dragging a cloth slowly over his jaw. There was something dangerous and stupidly tender in the way he looked at you like he still couldn’t quite believe you were his. Like the sight of you drunk on blood and moonlight knocked the wind out of him.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” you teased, eyes half-lidded as you sauntered toward him, hips swaying lazily.

“You’re glowing,” he murmured. “Like you just remembered how much you love chaos.”

You laughed and slipped your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. “No, not chaos. Just you.”

His breath caught as your lips brushed against his blood-slick and soft and your body pressed flush to his. “You made me. Isn’t that the same thing?”

He chuckled under his breath but didn’t let go, his hands settling on your waist. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Drunk,” you corrected with a sleepy smile. “On you.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, tongue slipping against his with a faint metallic tang still lingering. He groaned into it, fingers tightening just enough to make you whimper.

Eventually, he pulled back. “Come here,” he said softly, guiding you to the old blanket spread near the fire he’d built. “You’re still a mess.”

You sat down without protest, your body humming, eyes glassy and soft. Remmick knelt in front of you with the cloth again, warm now with water from his flask.

His touch was almost reverent as he cleaned your blood from your jaw, your collarbone, the smear on your neck. You watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face.

“You always do this,” you murmured. “Clean me up like I’m something precious.”

“Because you are,” he said simply, voice rough. “Because I remember what it was like right after I turned you. You were fire. You were fury. I didn’t know if I’d get you back.”

You cupped his face gently, thumb tracing over his lips. “But you did. I came back. I chose you.”

He kissed your palm, then your wrist, slow and deliberate.

The tension shifted between you then not urgent, not frenzied. Just heat and safety, blooming slow and low.

You pushed him gently back until he was sitting against the base of a tree, and you crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. The kiss that followed was softer, your fingers threading into his hair, hips rocking forward just enough to make you both gasp.

“Touch yourself,” you whispered against his mouth. “Wanna watch you.”

His eyes darkened. “Only if you do too.”

You nodded, lips parted as you reached between your legs, hiking your skirt just enough to slip your hand beneath. He did the same, dragging his belt loose with a soft groan, pants undone just far enough for his cock to spring free already hard, leaking at the tip.

You both moved slowly at first, hands buried beneath fabric, matching pace and rhythm. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the fire crackling nearby, the trees your only witnesses.

Watching each other, teasing touches, shared gasps there was something sacred in the act, something unspoken and deeply yours. His eyes never left yours as you rubbed lazy, wet circles over your clit, back arching, while his fist tightened around himself, hips stuttering.

You leaned your forehead to his, breath ragged. “Love you. So much it hurts.”

His other hand gripped your waist, steadying you as he groaned your name. “You’re mine,” he rasped. “Always.”

You both came within seconds of each other soft cries swallowed in kisses, bodies trembling, breaths shallow and fast.

Afterward, you stayed curled up in his lap, limbs tangled, your cheek against his shoulder, fingers tracing lazy shapes over his chest.

“You gonna clean me up again?” you mumbled, half-asleep.

He huffed a laugh, already reaching for the cloth again. “Yeah, sweetheart. Always.”

[ibbythebee]

Anything

pairing: Fred Weasley x Prefect!Reader

summary: Fred would do anything to see you, 'Hogwart's strictest Prefect', loosen up.

genre: fluff 'n stuff, and only slight angst, also borderline slowburn

warnings: swearing, bullying moments, implied that reader is in Slytherin, lots of teasing, flirting, kissing, Fred is completely and utterly whipped for reader, "your highness" nickname

a/n: not me in the middle of writing a neville fic and then having a shower thought of a fred x reader and writing this instead.

words: 6.9k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You can hear them. And you know it's them, because of the sniggering and that laugh.

By now, when you patrolled outside of class hours you'd find yourself actively seeking out these boys. Today happens to be good day to continue your spotless Prefect record.

With a hand sliding to your hip, you smoothly round the corner of the door to your Potions classroom and as you suspected, Fred and George Weasley are there, huddled over a particular cauldron. Something's clearly already been brewed and Fred is holding a cork screwed flask with the mysterious liquid.

It takes a minute until Fred happens to glance toward the door and sees you there, nose in the air and hands now clasped in front of you. He's trying not to laugh when he sees you, and elbows his brother.

The said Weasley is about to say something, but as he meets your gaze his lips press together in a slightly curved line.

Successful in catching their attention, one eyebrow and then one corner of your lips gently raise. "We've really got to stop bumping into each other like this."

"I think you wanted to bump into us," Fred says with a prominent smile. He looks innocent, just like always.

You neither confirm nor deny his remark and instead stride closer to them. You take your time, head turning in each direction, eyes scanning for any other suspicious looking activity. It feels good, because you can feel their stares and how they wait with bated breaths for your next move.

With a last step you settle on the opposite side of their table. You look at Fred, head tilted softly, studying his expression.

His smile only grows when you reach his eyes and it's finally time to address the elephant in the room.

In a newly straightened posture you say in a slow and sarcastic tone, "did you know... that I can take away points from your House? From each of you, in fact?"

"Oh, come on. Our favourite Prefect. Can't you pretend you never saw us, like last time?" George answers.

"Sorry what was that? You'd like 30 points taken away?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fred waves with a chuckle, "let's not get hasty. What about... a-a compromise?"

George nods desperately.

Your eyebrow raises again, and you lean back, crossing your arms. "A compromise, instead of taking away your precious points?"

"Yes, we'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Fred glides a tongue over his bottom lip, speaking to you through his eyes.

For once he looks completely serious and it makes you smile in delight. An expression seldom found in your features. It's completely magical and Fred finds no regret to bargaining with you.

"There is something you can do for me," your eyes glaze over Fred's face and then you turn to George, leaning forward over the table on your elbows. "The next Quidditch Game."

"Yeah? Slytherin v Gryffindor. Need us to bug someone?" George grins.

You shake your head and smile again. You're frighteningly beautiful with that curve on your face as you continue. "I need you to make sure that Slytherin wins."

"What?"

Fred captures your attention, so you lean in closer to his side of the desk. "It shouldn't be too hard for you both, right?"

He squints, unable to hold back a smile of his own. In the previous times when you had caught the twins in the middle of scheming, you'd never been so coy with them. Ruffling your feathers a bit was always the boys' goal when getting caught by you, however now that you seem to be playing along, Fred can't get enough. "That's hardly something to wish for, your highness. You can have anything from us, really anything. Don't hold back."

You shrug, "well, that's what I choose."

"But if you think about it you cou—"

"I can take the points off now, if you like? It's really no problem."

"Fine. W-We'll do it." George huffs, and his brother follows with a playful bow.

"Your wish is our command."

"Please just don't take the points off. We'll be kicked out of Gryffindor if you snitch again."

"Me? Snitch?" Your voice drips in sarcastic innocence, and you push yourself off of the desk. Your feet turn to walk back outside first, but your eyes remain on Fred until it's physically impossible to stay focused on him. As you saunter to the door, you feel their gazes on you again and it's oh so satisfying to know that you get the last say. "You need to get better at not getting caught. Because, if I didn't know any better, it looks more like you want me to bump into you."

You turn around to face them again, and stare at the flask in between Fred's long fingers. By some miracle you'd never found yourself to be the butt of their schemes, unlike the other prefects. Even as a chaser of the twins' opposition in Quidditch, you've been the only lucky soul on your team to come out the other end. The question was why? Why spare you?

"Who in Salazar's name threw that?" Your captain shrieks, massaging the back of his head, small flakes of snow dropping to the skin of his neck.

How bothersome, you think, looking around at the rest of your teammates who're busy cooling down after Quidditch training.

"What?! A snowball just happens to gain sentience and hit me, huh? An owl maybe? Just come forward, admit you did it and I'll go easy on you—"

The spray of snow flies off of the captain's head again and you dodge the icy substance in time, some of it landing on your beater and chaser teammate. Everyone exclaims except you, you're too busy scanning over the field.

Suddenly, the burly boy of a captain huffs toward you, and you take a shove to the shoulder.

Stumbling back by a metre, you frown. Increasingly annoyed by your captain's baseless judgements. "What the hell is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you I'm a prefect?"

"I know a guilty person when I see one."

You're about to give him a piece of your mind until the idiot is hit again and you stifle a laugh at the noise he makes.

"Clever," he says through gritted teeth. Despite clearly looking at you just seconds before the snowball made contact with his thick skull, his pride is still hell-bent on accusing you. "I knew you were good at school, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to use non-verball spells for something so stupid."

"Well, I knew you were delusional before, but now it's perfectly clear that you just don't have a brain."

As though your words were a signal, a tsunami of white ice balls appear in the sky and you don't hold back your smile as it pauses over your team. They each look up, faces with panicked expressions, and before they can even begin to escape, the snow crashes down over your peers. Figuring, it's the perfect moment to leave, you zoom out of the field on your broom and land to your feet once you can't see those angry faces anymore.

And that's when you hear him. That laugh, and he's looking at you and combing a hand through his ginger hair, all whilst adorning a satisfied ear-to-ear grin.

"Thanks." Is all you can say at first, then you realise his partner-in-crime George isn't right by his side. "Where's your brother?"

"On the other end of the field."

You nod. When you don't say anything more and turn to leave, you feel long fingers wrap around your wrist. He's warm against your icy skin, and your eyes shoot up, only to be greeted by a soft smirk.

"You're not going to snitch on us are you, your highness?"

"Me? Snitch?" You stop yourself from feeling so giddy about the previous event and instead focus on the fact that would you be doing your prefectoral duties correctly, you would have absolutely told a Professor about the twins. But the adrenaline rush feels too great and so you finally shake your head at the tall ginger. "You were just... watching us practice, right? I don't see anything suspicious about that."

His smirk twists into a genuine smile, and he allows your wrist to slide out of his grasp. A twinkle of mischievousness reaches your eyes, and then you're off, jogging into the distance. A few metres in, you take a chance to glance back to where you left Fred. And you don't know whether it was from training or the adrenaline, but you feel your neck and cheeks flare with heat at the sight of him lean against the frame of the entrance, steadily watching you run.

Clearing your throat, you push your recollection of the past away and take out your wand.

“You know you’re not allowed to use spells outside of class, your highness,” says Fred, his voice playful.

“That’s okay,” you shrug, “because I know you won’t tell on me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” George chimes.

You nod immediately, the easiest question to answer. “I’m your favourite prefect, am I not?”

Fred’s expression is unreadable to you at first as he shakes his head slowly. He looks shocked, but at the same time pleased and a hint of something else that you can’t quite grasp.

Figuring you’ve stared at him long enough you send the twins’ a wink and the door shuts with a swipe of your wand.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Your robe is floating behind you, a spitting image of Professor Snape, as you walk with purpose to your class, books cradled in your arms and head held high. You round a corner of the halls smoothly and find yourself at your Potions classroom. It's been a week since finding the Weasleys in there, and you still haven't found out what concoction they had created.

In any case, your class has already begun, and Snape's voice is barely audible with the door in front of you. You let your fingers clench around your books for a moment, taking in a breath. Then you push your way in, and each one of your classmates turn their attention to you.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss L/N."

Having already predicted the Professor's sarcasm-filled reaction to your tardiness, you hand out a small slip of paper. "A note from Professor McGonagall."

He barely skims over the words and indicates for you to find a seat. Fingers clenching around your books again, you let yourself look over your peers. There's a seat next to Ginger Jorkins from Hufflepuff, but after noticing your stare she's quick to put her belongings where you could have sat. You hold off from sighing, because to your relief there is one more free seat, all the way at the back of the room. Right beside the vacant spot is a familiar head of red hair, and the pain from your tight grip subsides upon seeing him. That sigh you've been holding lets free once you sit down and the class continues.

"Welcome to the back of the class," Fred whispers with his signature grin. "You're with the cool kids now."

"Speaking of..." You glance behind him and frown. "Where's your brother?"

He makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." And then it hits you. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Game. The compromise. The "make-sure-that-Slytherin-wins" game. The "George-has-been-completely-annihilated-by-a-bludger" and "won't-be-walking-around-anytime-soon" game.

"Oh... right."

Fred simply nods, finding the way you froze for a moment to be equally funny and endearing. The rest of your face doesn't show it, but he notices the panic in your pretty eyes and gives your arm a little nudge. "Hey. The git's okay. Says it was worth the pain because the girl he fancies paid him a visit."

You bite your lip and let yourself focus on Snape, who's mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything coming out. "It's still technically my fault. He looked awful."

Fred leans forward, his head turning to rest against his crossed arms. He studies your features as you attempt to listen into the class. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper again. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

You give him a side glance. No one's ever invited you to come before and for all you know he could be making fun of you. It'd been hard in the beginning, though you eventually found comfort being in your own presence; drinking butterbeer while other people joked and laughed and shared stories and the gossip of the week. And talked about how they received a pointless detention after being told off from that know-it-all bitch.

"I-I don't..." You stumble upon your words, the crease between your brows growing deeper as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Yeah, you're coming," he declares. And when you go to protest, he sits back up, sending you a wink.

"AND so..." Snape glares in your direction, "by the end of this class, I will be testing the quality of your potions by using a simple leaf. If it melts you've brewed successfully, and if not... you'll be in here on the weekend till you get it right."

To your surprise, Fred doesn't make a fuss, instead he beams at you with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started then, shall we Professor?"

The said man only grunts in response, so you all begin.

Forty minutes passes by in an instant, and no matter how well you follow the recipe, the liquid in your cauldron doesn't look like a liquid anymore and it smells differently to Fred's.

Wait. Fred's?

You frown down into his cauldron. His potion's immaculate.

You pull at the sleeve of his robe till his head comes down and his long hair tickles the tip of your nose. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm smart when I want to be," he chuckles.

"That's not an answer. I demand you give me an answer, or... I will take off points from Gryffindor."

He feigns an expression of shock which immediately gives way to a smirk, face just a few inches away from yours. "And what if I do tell you? You promise not to snitch?"

"Me? Snitch?"

That mischievousness is back into your dolomitic eyes, and Fred swears that the potion isn't required to melt the leaf.

"How about a compromise?" you whisper.

He shoots a glance toward the Professor and then hums when he feels it's all clear to keep talking. "I'm listening."

"I come with you to Hogsmeade, and I promise to do whatever you want to do. Deal?"

He doesn't need a moment, or even a second to reply. He's already nodding, slipping a hand into yours. "Deal."

You share a knowing look and shake your intwined hands. Compromise confirmed. "Now—"

Before you get to finish, he pulls out a very familiar cork-screwed flask, and in perfect fashion you keep from gasping or reacting at all, but Fred can see it in your eyes. He scans over the classroom, Snape's busy writing something on the board, and so he's clear to lower his head to you.

Your fingers graze as he passes you the concoction he had made with his brother. Electricity runs through the veins of your fingers till it hits your heart, skipping a beat.

"Someone might've tipped us off about this assignment," Fred murmurs. "So, naturally, we just wanted to be prepared. There was no way we were going to miss out on a Hogsmeade visit."

Not with George in the Hospital Wing, you think to yourself with guilt, pulling your robe sleeve down to hide the flask should your Professor stop by.

"Well... my beloved brother sadly will. I'll never forget his bravery." Fred makes a show out of a simple sigh and you feel like slapping his arm. He places his hand over his chest and sighs again, only it's a little louder this time and longer. "A girl we know threatened us to rig the Quidditch game so that Slytherin would win, if we didn't do as she asked she would've gotten us into trouble—"

"Fred." Images of the poor Weasley twin with a whole half of his body covered in the sickening colour of a bruise flood your brain.

"—and being the good man that he is, Georgie sacrificed himself, in order to satisfy the needs of this girl."

"Oi! I already feel horrible, okay?" You finally give his arm that well-earned smack, and when all he does is laugh, you huff with a pout.

He recollects himself, and makes sure Snape's still preoccupied. He bends down to your level again, and his breath fans over the strands of hair by your ear. "I would do the same for this girl."

There's that heat in your neck again and yet another electric feeling runs up your spine at his worlds. You don't meet his gaze and instead stare forward. To save yourself from embarrassment, you lift your chin and with one swift movement, the liquid from the flask falls into your cauldron.

Fred watches in delight as you stir until your previously horrible creation morphs and dissolves into that flawless fluid that you had just seen in the Weasley's cauldron. From such a result, you're unable to stop yourself as your lips curl into a smile, parting slowly to reveal your teeth.

You are the embodiment of this potion. Any person or creature of the magical world would completely disarm at the sight of your expression. And Fred's lucky enough to be your first victim.

"You seem very pleased, Miss L/N."

The black figure of Snape shadows yours and Fred's vision as he glides in front of your desk. He peers into your cauldron, nothing shows on his face and then he's examining Fred's, the same reaction of nothing.

The man then clicks his tongue and floats back to the front of the classroom, picking two leaves off of the plant on his desk. He returns swiftly, gesturing the rest of the class to join him by your table.

"Look closely." Snape says as his hand hovers over your creation, and then his fingers let go of the green object.

Hushed breaths watch as it hits the surface of the liquid with a ripple. There's no reaction at first and it fills you with dread. You even see Fred stiffen in the corner of your sight.

Then the leaf twitches with a change in colour, and soon it's no where to be seen, dissolved. Successful.

Someone mutters a 'wow', others share glances of contempt or roll their eyes. You on the other hand feel relieved and lean onto your hip, arm brushing against the tall boy beside you. He relaxes at your gentle touch.

"It seems you will have the fortune of freedom this weekend." Professor Snape mutters, and then with no time to waste, moves on to Fred. You barely have a chance to thank the man. His hand hovers, fingers open and a new leaf falls.

In a blink, the leaf has melted and you feel the Weasley straighten up in pride.

Snape however, isn't convinced and folds his arms. "How convenient that you should produce a successful potion - out of many failures - when seated beside Miss L/N."

Innocent until proven guilty, you think and look up at Fred, who's only smiling like a fool, his focused trained on Snape's. Your classmates murmur, and it isn't hard to place who they're talking about with their not-so subtle glares pointed in your direction.

"So I did a good job?" The boy's happy expression grows with innocence.

"Somehow. Five points... to each of you." The raven-haired man admits, his gaze lingers on the Weasley before he turns away, addressing you both and the rest of the class. "L/N and Weasley, seeing as you have completed the task, you may be dismissed. However, by next class I expect a 2,000 word written report of your method and findings. That'll be all. The rest of you... you have fifteen minutes."

Groans and curses hidden under breaths echo through the room, you and Fred, however, turn to each other with eyebrows raised and stupid grins plastered over your faces.

Adrenaline kicks in, and you both scramble to clear up the desk and snatch up your belongings. You sprint out the door not after sending the Professor a 'thank you', and then you're out the door and sprinting into the courtyard, crisp winter air nipping at your extremities.

You pause by the fountain, leaning against the tall structure and Fred follows suit, situating himself in front of you. "I can't believe I did that," you say in a breathless tone still grinning, books hugging into your chest.

He chuckles in between his own pants of breath. "Feels good doesn't it, your highness?"

"I hate to admit but... yes."

You watch as his gaze on you softens, as well as his grin subduing into contentment. "You make a good partner-in-crime. I think I might just replace George."

"Then he will surely kill me once he's recovered! That is... if he doesn't already."

Fred winks, "I'll make sure that won't happen. A princess such as yourself deserves a knight-in-shining armour."

"Oh yes." You give a curtsy and wave of your hand, your voice forming a posh accent. Well, no more posh than you already sound. "Then will you do the honour of escorting me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

With a fist to his chest, Fred bows. "For you, my dear, anything."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

It's irregular of you to be so fashionably late. Last night you'd found yourself restless, thoughts of sleep hidden behind scenes of you and Fred eating candy together, laughing, using magic outside of class to throw snowballs at your Quidditch Captain. Despite the chill of a winter night, being covered by your duvet and blankets was suffocatingly warm, especially when you kept seeing Fred pull you behind a tree, gloved hands drawing you into him by your hips, noses barely touching and lips parted with warm butterbeered breaths.

Your chocolate-brown screech owl whinnies by the foot of your bed and you flinch, adjusting your beanie for the hundredth time. "What do you think, Prim? Do I look tired? I look tired, don't I?"

The owl blinks and gives another whinny, a sound similar to that of a miniature pony. You check the clock on the wall of your dormitory and bite your lip, jostling through your belongings and retrieving a small purse of galleons to shove into your coat pocket.

One more look in the mirror, just one more. Your hair looks surprising lovely, strands of it squished against your thick scarf, and fortunately covering areas of your blemished face that couldn't be covered enough by your concealer. "It'll have to do!"

Prim purrs when you stroke her head and then you're off. You almost trip at the bottom of the stairs and as a result you pause, taking in a breath, calming the pounding in your chest. This Hogsmeade visit is just like any other. Just like any other. You’re just… not alone this time. That’s enough to get you smiling, as you saunter through the halls and finally out the gates, where you see a few groups of students still hanging around Hogwarts.

At the top of the steps you crane your neck in an attempts to find Fred amongst the small groups.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”

You spin on your heels at the sound of his voice, and are greeted with a growing grin. Teeth sparkling and everything. It takes a toll on you not to tackle him in a hug right then and there. The thick hoody he’s adorning, as well as the adorable beanie all look extra cuddly. Those gloved hands that you’ve been thinking about slide out of the pockets of his jeans and reach for your scarf, gently tightening the fabric around your face and neck.

On the outside you seem unbothered by his action, but he already sees what you’re really feeling through those dolomitic eyes of yours. “A deal’s a deal,” you finally say. “But it was rude of me to keep you waiting so long, so I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

He shakes his head, fiddling with the hem of the scarf. “You turning up is enough for me.”

You shake your head back, dipping your chin into the material to hide your smile. “I’m buying you one. Argument over.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles and gives your scarf a gentle tug. “No more time to waste, your highness, let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Sir Weasley.”

You’re perfectly giddy as you trudge your way to the little village. Fred tells you about his plans for Christmas and you tell him yours, not very big and not very exciting, but he adores listening to you speak. He tells you about George and his recovery, and teases you when he sees guilt written over your face. Then despite your many differences, you both bond over your love for Quidditch, especially the Irish team. Occasionally, your shoulders and arms graze, and other times your fingers, as you stomp through the snow covered grounds. With every touch your chest grows warm, and your belly flips. You almost forget that you should be looking out for any bad behaviour. You almost forget that you still have a duty to uphold to the school.

Hogsmeade is bustling with life when you finally arrive. More so now that you could share it with someone.

“Come on, let’s warm up first.” Fred tugs your scarf again and successfully gains your full attention. He pulls you into the Three Broomsticks, greeted immediately by a wave of warmth. He’s still pulling on your scarf so you swiftly ask for two hot butterbeers and allow him to lead you to a table at the far end of the room.

“Am I your pet? Leading me around like that.” You sit down opposite him, motioning to his hand still holding onto the end of the long material.

He hums for a moment, and doesn't look to have any intention of letting go. “More like restraining you from going into ‘prefect’ mode.”

"Hey! Some people need disciplining," you pout.

"You sound like a Professor..." he narrows his eyes at you, lacking the skills to stop smiling so big. "You're not Professor Snape using Polyjuice potion, are you? Trying to figure out my secrets for passing your class, huh?"

Slowly, meticulously you straighten your back and fold your hands over the table, and void any emotion on your face. Your voice is low and slow and articulating every syllable as you speak. "What a ri-di-cu-lous suggestion. However... while we are on the topic, you didn't... copy off me, did you?"

Fred is so bad at suppressing his smirk. "Bloody Norah, you found me out! You're so smart, Profess— I mean... your highness."

The clink of glass hitting your table interrupts yours and Fred's thoughts. Madam Rosmerta's standing over you and when you meet her gaze she winks. "Good to see you with company this time around, Y/N."

Your face squishes into the fabric that Fred's still holding onto as you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Desperate to eliminate the fact that she basically just called you a loner in front of him, you fish into your pocket and pull out some coins, placing them onto the woman's open palm. "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Pleasure, dears. Enjoy.” Another wink is sent your way and she’s off to tend the rest of her pub.

As you bring the hot beverage to your mouth, you peek through your eyelashes. Fred has removed one glove and is now using that bare hand hold onto his drink, allowing the warmth to transfer into his already warm skin.

"Thank you," he says.

Your brows press together, "what for?"

"For paying."

"Well... thank you too."

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a good sip of the butterbeer, waiting for you to elaborate.

"For inviting me," you say shyly, fingers sliding across the surface of the mug.

"Awh, that's nothing," he chuckles, gently swaying your scarf.

"It's not 'nothing'. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was so excited to come with you."

The ginger-haired boy presses his lips together tightly and then leans his face closer to you. "Wait, really?!"

How many times has it been now that you've felt your face heat up around Fred? You could play so coy and confident before, but now you felt like any other girl-with-a-crush in your year. "As a matter of fact, yes." You raise your chin and attempt to sit up straighter. "I know it may seem that I only agreed to come because of a compromise, but... I really did — do — appreciate you considering me."

"I don't think we'll need to stop by Honeydukes, your highness. You're so sweet, that my teeth already ache."

"You're so...!" You smack his arm.

But he's grinning like a fool, pulling at your scarf. "I'm so what?"

"I'm gonna take points off Gryffindor, just because you asked."

He guffaws, "what is this abuse of power?"

You take a swig of butterbeer and shrug, head high and smirk on display. "I like to call them perks."

"See?" You feel on your neck as he gives a tug-tug. "This is why you need to be kept on a lead."

Before you can retort, you notice he's pointing at his upper-lip and quietly chuckling. It sets off your heart.

"Brilliant moustache you got there," he says.

"Oh... thank you." How embarrassing. You really thought he was suggesting something else for a moment there. You glance around the room to make sure no one's watching before you slide a tongue over the sweet foam above your lip. "Is it gone?"

"Just..." at first there's a second of hesitation, but then he pulls you in over the table and meets you half-way, un-gloved hand coming up to cup your face. Why is he always so warm? Why is it that one of the most notorious rule-breakers of the school is taking your fancy? And so easily at that.

It feels like an hour passes when his thumb smooths over the left corner of your mouth and you hold in a breath, fingers clenched around your mug. You simply cannot help the urge to look at his own lips; pretty, pink and gently parted, calm breaths passing through.

His movements pause all of a sudden, so you glance at his eyes, but he's already looking at you. Completely under your spell, completely forgetting how to move, and completely forgetting that you're in public. You seem to have forgotten the same, still not pulling away from his touch. He catches your eyes dip to his lips again and he swallows thickly.

Then he's moving away and sitting back down, clearing his throat. "There, now you're good."

"Thanks," you wipe a finger over for extra measure and then look out the window, clearing your throat and straightening your back.

"You know how you mentioned that part of the deal was that we'd do anything I want to do?" He inquires, finishing his drink with a last swig.

"Yeah. A deal is a deal," you answer, finally turning back to him, surprised to see a confident smile carved into his features.

"Perfect. There's something I want to show you, but first I have a really good idea to help you unwind and forget about your prefect-ness."

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, chugging the last bit of your own butterbeer.

He's smirking now, "you won't be saying that when you see what we'll be doing."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You're both crouched behind a boulder that oversees the Shrieking Shack in the distance. The perfect spot to spy on anyone who visits the lookout point. The perfect spot to snog outside of school walls. And it also happens to be the perfect spot to stock up on snowballs and wait for one particular person to fall into your trap.

"I hate to admit, but you were right, Sir Weasley. Again," you mutter, rubbing your gloved hands together.

"The more you hang out with me, the more you'll find out just how right I always am." He peeks over the boulder for a moment and then his hand shoots up in alarm, speaking in barely a whisper, "he's here."

He is. You can hear your Quidditch captain now and a few of his buddies, chatting and laughing. Someone puts on a voice, and it makes the group howl, but makes your stomach churn. The closer they get to the lookout, the clearer their words sound and the more you're looking forward to breaking the rules.

"—thinks she's all that, just 'cause she's a prefect. Like, bitch, I'm older than you!"

Their laughter is equal to that of nails on a chalkboard. Pelting them with some snowballs might not be fulfilling enough.

"Nah, it's 'cause she's got Snape behind her, hah. Thinks she can say and do whatever she wants."

Fred is hearing all of this. You feel like screaming, and perhaps hexing the hell out of all of them. They need a proper disciplining.

"Yeah, that's probably what's happening!" The group laugh again, and the next thing they say is the last straw. "She only got prefect because she's fucking him."

The bottom of your vision is blurry, but you tell Fred you're ready and he only nods. You both raise your wands, and he counts to three.

One snowball hits the back of the captain's head and to your satisfaction he lands on his face. You and Fred are enjoying the scene a little too much that it isn't until one of the idiots shout your name, do you realise you've blown your cover.

"Shoot!"

"Quick! We need to unleash all we've got!" Fred takes your free hand and guides you up to stand beside him. "One, two, THREE!"

Adrenaline shoots through your veins, as together you swish your wands and the rest of your snow pile is sent into the air. One more flick of the wands, and the balls fly with the speed of a snitch. Straight toward their faces. Exclamations, grunts, yells echo through the woods and open winter air. They swipe at their faces and eyes, blinded by your attack. The captain's still trying to recover from the first hit, from head to toe the entire front half of him is covered in white.

You let out a laugh, and suddenly Fred takes your hand again and you're sprinting away from the crime scene.

"HEY!" The Quidditch captain shouts after you, pure rage in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, because that grin on the Weasley's face is too contagious as you run by him, gloved hand in gloved hand.

He peeks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, only resulting in a skip of his heart and a flip of his stomach. Losing that Quidditch match was absolutely worth it, and Fred had to remind himself to thank George later for taking the blow.

You share breathless laughter as the shouts increase in amount, but decrease in volume. You're both much too fast for them and manage to get back to the village where you could hide within the crowds.

Your feet slow to a walk, and you both check if any of the idiots followed. Fred spots two pass by a tree and squeezes your hand to gain your attention.

"In here," he jerks his head, and pulls you into a small alley between two buildings.

Finally having a moment to catch your breath, you realise that it isn't really an alley, and more like a small gap. The space is so narrow in fact that your body is essentially pressed up against his. Back against wall. Heaving chest against heaving chest. Feet and legs side-by-side each other as though woven.

You don't care to look to your left where those jerks could be looking for you. You simply can't. You can't because all you can see are Fred's parted lips again, and he's looking down at yours. After which, your gazes meet and you don't think you've ever felt so hot in the middle of winter before.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. No grin, no smirk, no teasing, just facts.

"And you're..." Your eyes dip again.

His hand slides out of yours, and then you feel weight by your hips and he's squeezing against the material of your pants and sweater.

You crane your neck, and he dips his head, as those gloved hands of his pull you into him.

Your own hunger has your fingers smooth over his chest and grip the collar of his hoody, desperately tugging for him to come closer and closer, tension in the air building with each breath.

"And I'm... what?" He purrs.

Something stirs in the bottom of your abdomen as the scent of butterbeer fills your senses, just millimetres away now. And then he captures your lips. And it's like heaven, because his hands can't help but slide up under your sweater and hold you by the skin of your waist.

At first the kiss is gentle, hesitant, but then you open your mouth a little wider and Fred takes this as a clear invitation. He smooths a tongue over yours, the taste of the sweet foamy drink still lingering on your lips.

His bold action elicits a hum from you, and his grip only tightens, craving more and more of you and your pretty sounds. You go until you can't breathe, mouths parting reluctantly but eyes still closed.

Fred presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing in a feather-like touch. His thumbs caress your sides as he whispers, "you never answered my question."

"You wanna know what you are, right?” You murmur, hands sliding down over his collarbone and resting on his chest.

“Yeah. You’ve said it twice now and never finished your sentence.”

“Okay,” you lean in, lips feathering over his. “You’re…”

Good Godric you’re addicting. He pushes his head forward to meet you, but you pull back with the most attractive breathy laugh he's ever heard. Your lips stay brushing against his, but you won't give him any more than that and he loves it.

"You're..." you say again on his mouth, and he hangs on every single one of your words. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me at Hogwarts."

He watches your eyes for a moment, and leans into you once more, hands climbing up to lay flat against your back, your sweater pooling by his wrists. And you share the softest kiss ever, full of adoration, full of care, full of absolute affection.

"You saying that, you being here right now... feels like I've just won the Quidditch cup," he says when you part.

"I really mean it, Fred." You wrap your arms around his middle and squeeze him there, cheek squishing into his chest. "You've heard how people talk about me, but you don't seem to care about any of that stuff."

He returns your gesture, his own cheek landing on the top of your head. "You're right. I don't care about it, because I've seen how much you care for the school and care for keeping things in order. A little too much, but to each their own."

"Oi."

"I have to tease, I have to. Still, joking aside, if anyone says that kind of shit about you and you hear about it, find me and tell me. Me and Georgie have your back."

"Just don't get caught," you smirk.

"You won't take points away if you catch us, will you?"

You pull away from the cuddle and send him that beautifully, intimidating smile of yours. "Not if you promise to keep losing your Quidditch games."

"Low blow, your highness!" He laughs and then you're running away, giggling like a fool.

You manage to slip through the crowds and head toward the woods by the Shrieking Shack lookout, your giggles only getting louder and more frequent when you see Fred bounding closer and closer to you. Your cadence slows when the ground starts to feel icy under your boots, and sooner than you think, you feel arms wrap around your stomach and you squeal.

Fred's laugh vibrates against your back, and after a few pants of breath he speaks into your ear. "There's still something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" You spin around in his hold. "That's right. What is it then?"

"Surprise. Follow me." He's hasty in his movements, as he takes your hand, running further into the woods. Then he rounds the corner of a large tree trunk, his fingers slip out of yours as he twists around to face you and then he's pulling you by your hips, grin on display.

Your heart flips when your back meets with the rough surface of the tree, bodies pressing into one another and then his mouth is hovering over yours. There's hunger in his eyes, yet he's waiting for your next move.

"Wow. 'I have something to show you'. That was so corny," you tease in a whisper.

He chuckles, feeling your lips just barely touch his, "but you loved it."

"I did. You're right again, Sir Weasley."

"Always am, your highness."

He squeezes your hips. You lift your chin and you kiss for a third time that day.

[musingsofheaven]

PAID IN FULL.

Coke User!Rafe Cameron x Broke Student!Reader

nsfw. oral (f). fake drug test. transactional dynamic. ♡

You weren't supposed to stay.

You were supposed to hand him the cup, take the cash, and leave. That's it. Something transactional. Quick and shameful. He gets what he came for, and you get your money. Clean piss for his drug test later- snuck into the facility in a warm plastic flask taped to his thigh. What fuck even is that? But that's his problem, not yours.

You weren't even supposed to agree, but you did. You said yes when he asked. Not because you liked him. God, no. You'll never do that if you don't get something. He caught you in the right place at the worst time, and you needed rent money more than dignity. Plus, you don't have enough allowance. You don't have a job. Just part-time. So basically you're fucked.

“You clean?” is the first thing he asks you. You don't even know why you entertained it, but you did.

You even blinked at first before raising your eyebrow at his ridiculous question and asking him back, “For what?”

He smiled, all lazy charm and swollen pupils. “Drug panel. I need a favor. I'll pay.”

You crossed your arms. “How much?”

You should've left. You didn't. You don't even know why. Many reasons circling in your mind. Maybe it was how he looked at you- low lashes, head tilted, lips already a little wet. Maybe it's because he seems too good. Maybe because it looks at you like you're not paid in full, maybe it was when he leaned back on the couch and said, “What, you're in a rush?”

That was 20 minutes ago. Now you're in his apartment, panties shoved into your pocket, thighs spread wide, and Rafe Cameron's mouth is buried in your cunt like it's the thing he actually paid for.

The cup's long gone. When you gave it to him, he tucked it away, warm and sealed, like it belonged to him now. Technically, it is his now. And when you held your hand out for cash, he gave it to you.

His tongue is working long, slow, obscene circles over your soaked slit, and you're trying not to moan because you know how smug he'll be if he hears it. You know it because every time you release a sound he'll chuckle again, you cunt.

He doesn't even look high. Not in the red eyes. Not the aggressive way. Not in the way you can smell it. Not in the usual way. His eyes are heavy, yes, but focused. Lashes low, mouth soaked, nose buried in your cunt like he needs the scent of you more than air.

One hand's pressing into your thigh like he owns it. The other's under your ass, flexing into the swell every time your hips twitch. He also squeezes them occasionally, like he needs to ground himself for something. Or maybe he just likes the feeling of your flesh on him.

He hasn't said anything since he got you out of your jeans. Just looked. Maybe some smug sounds. Like, he couldn't believe you'd actually let him. You didn't. Not really. You just didn't stop him. And that's enough.

Because he eats like he doesn't care if you finish, scream, or try to wriggle free. He's going to get it, whether you do or not. Lips sealed. Tongue dragging low and slow through your slit, every flick deliberate. He also occasionally sucks your clit to make it better. He groans when your thighs twitch, like he likes it when your body tells the truth before your mouth does.

“Jesus,” he says eventually, voice thick against you. “That the same pussy will make me look clean?”

You don't answer. You can't. Your breath is stuttering, knees locked, and eyes closed.

He chuckles before he licks your slit to make your eyes open. “What? Thought I wasn't gonna bring it up?” His tongue flicks again- cruel and hot, straight across your clit. You gasp.

“Paid for your piss,” he mutters. “Least you could do is let me eat you after.”

And he's eating you out like what he just said. You try to sit up. You really do. But his hands keep you pinned- grip tight, lips greedy. His mouth presses in again, even messier now, spit glistening, tongue sliding low and thick and hot. You shouldn't like it. You do.

Your fingers curl into the couch. You try to stay quiet. Lips tasting copper from the way you bite them. He notices. He always does.

“You're tryin' not to moan,” he says, voice muffled in your pussy. “That's so fuckin' cute.”

He flattens his tongue. Drags it slow. Noses into your clit and circles once, twice, again. You shudder.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, low and breathless. Then he pulls back.

Just enough to look at you. His mouth glistens. He licks his lips clean and watches the way you clench. His eyes are dark and glassy. His cheeks are flushed. “How're you not getting this every night?”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.

He grins. “Don't worry, baby. I got you.”

And he's back on you. Worse. Hungrier. He licks with purpose now- hands dragging your thighs wider, angling your hips so his tongue can get deeper. His breath is hot. His tongue is relentless. It's like he's splitting you in half with his tongue. He groans like he's fucking high on the way you taste.

You weren't supposed to be here. He doesn't say it, but you feel it in the way he grabs your hips and pulls you forward- lifts your ass just enough to lock you in, nose tucked under the hood of your clit, tongue slipping in lower, lower, dragging slick from your entrance up to your clit and back again.

He's not teasing. He's not even taking his time anymore. He's devouring.

You try to shift. He growls.

“Stay,” he mutters into your pussy. The first word he said in minutes after going back on you. You could feel the weight of his words. It's not sweet. It's not even kind. It's a command. Possessive. Hot. “Right fuckin' there.”

You freeze. And then you feel it- his tongue, low and deep, licking into you now, no fingers, just breath and spit and the awful awful stretch of his mouth flattening, dragging, sucking until your stomach coils tight and your throat goes dry.

Your fingers clench in the pillow under your head. You try to stay quiet. You fail.

He pulls back slightly, thumb swiping through your slick, watching the way it glistens on his skin.

“You always taste like that?” he murmurs. “Or am I just lucky tonight?”

You almost said something. But then he spits. Right on your cunt. Doesn't even blink. That feels disgusting and hot. Sloppy. Wet. Twitchy. Then dives back in. Sloppier now. No rhythm. Just heat, pressure, and obsession.

He sucks your clit hard. Tongue flicking. His hands are rough now, gripping your thighs like he wants to bruise you into place. Your legs twitch. He pins them.

“Ohhh, she likes that,” he says, cocky. “She likes when I'm fuckin' mean about it.”

You whimper. Your back arches. Yeah, you like it when he's sucking your clit hard. When he's thrusting his tongue in you and alternating it from sucking, licking, and pushing. Your thighs try to close. He drags you forward and buries his face like he's trying to crawl inside.

He groans again- loud, animal, reckless- and you feel it down your spine. You feel the slick slide of spit and cunt slick dripping between your ass cheeks, pooling beneath you.

You reach for his hair. He lets you pull, but he doesn't stop. He let you because you know you're just guiding his head more close to your pussy. He just looks up once- eyes wild, mouth soaked- and grins.

“You let me eat it,” he says. “You're not gettin' that back.”

You gasp.

“Not till I'm done,” he adds. “Not till I get every drop.”

Then he licks you again. And again. And again.

And when you finally cum- when your moan cracks, hips snap forward, hands claw at the cushion- he groans deep in his chest and sucks harder like he's cumming too. Like he knew he'd get you there. Like this is exactly what he paid for.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[chiming-bluebells]

༘⋆ ꙳ what’s in my satchel? . . . fantasy dr edition! ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚｡

˖˙ ᰋ ⋆ ˚ ⊹ യ *◞ ˚ ꕀ .*

is it cursed? is it enchanted? perhaps even haunted? who knows. i put a spell on it myself during one of my lessons in magical studies… you decide whether that’s a good or a bad thing.

MAGICAL SATCHEL ꕤ the appearance & its quirks.

my satchel in my fantasy dr is one of my most prized possessions; custom made by some of the most talented weavers in terabitia,, and brought with me everywhere.

it is woven with golden threads and crafted with the finest of indigo-stained velvets. it’s embroidered, intricately beaded with crystal gemstones and freshwater pearls, and decorated with gilded charms and tassels. also!! it chimes like tiny bells where it sways in my hand!! (i feel like a magical fairy)

as previously mentioned: it is enchanted. meaning: it is made to carry just about anything without running out of space or growing too heavy. perks of being a sorceress, i suppose.

the inside has multiple compartments for multiple purposes. let’s go over them!

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᨳ

i , FIRST COMPARTMENT ꕤ practical, anything i might need close at hand.

◞ silver dagger : not so much for protections sake, but more so for paying my respect and showing my gratitude. i was gifted the dagger by a sailor i had known in a previous life. i carry it with me everywhere.

◞ coin purse : for when i’m visiting the marketplace (i always make sure to buy at least one pomegranate)

◞ journal : i cannot go anywhere without carrying something to write or draw on. so, naturally, i have to bring my journal with me wherever i go.

◞ enchanted fountain pen : no ink needed. just intention and a little bit of belief.

◞ hip flask : filled with water (let’s hope)

◞ wrapped bonbons : i might’ve mentioned my sweet tooth once or twice before.

◞ map of terabitia & neighbouring kingdoms : i already know my kingdom like the back of my hand… but, you know, just in case!!

◞ lighter : you never know when you might need one.

◞ hand desinfectant : is the year currently 998 A.D. in my dr? yes. is hygiene still a thing in said dr? absolutely.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᨳ

ii , SECOND COMPARTMENT ꕤ anything beauty.

◞ seashell compact : containing tinted lip balm made from beeswax, rose petals, and honey. the gilded seashell compact was a gift from the merpeople of the sinking islands. the compact is also refillable!

◞ tiny glass vial of perfume : a perfume bottle carrying my favourite signature fragrance. portable and practical.

◞ hair comb : with sturdy metal teeth to brush through my tresses.

◞ folding mirror & powdered blush : cute. foldable. practical. every girl’s best friend. the compact also includes a powdered rosy blush and powder puff, for good measure.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᨳ

iii , THIRD COMPARTMENT ꕤ items of a sorceress on the go.

◞ deck of tarot cards : as adviced by kamaria. she wants me to practice using them whenever i have the chance.

◞ raw black tourmaline crystal : for protection.

◞ drawstring pouch : made out of silk and contains amethyst and clear quartz, labradorite and moonstone, and some dried wildflowers and herbs.

◞ tiny glass vial filled with moonwater : charged moonwater on the go.

◞ a golden key : but where does it lead? or does it even lead anywhere at all? that’s a secret just for me!

inspired by this post by @eddieisashifter !

[eyepatchcrow]

i’ve been obsessed with hadestown for years now and finally got to see it yesterday on the west end, so here is a non-exhaustive, mostly in order list of things i loved:

- hermes ‘aiiiight’ ing the audience at the start

- the fates looking offended when hermes says they’re all dressed the same

- orpheus getting distracted and forgetting to greet the audience as he’s introduced

- irish orpheus and midlands eurydice healed something in me

- the fates all the time always, actually

- persephone and eurydice’s little moment of connection as persephone tells her to take what she can and make the most of it

- the trombonist dancing with the chorus during his solo

- orpheus and the cast looking out to the audience in a beat of silence as they toast the world we live in now

- everybody collectively gagging at the wine

- eurydice pushing orpheus right across the stage as she sings how she wants to hold him tight

- orpheus swooping in and popping up like a meerkat between hades and eurydice when she draws his attention

- hades putting on his dark glasses in order to immediately take them off at eurydice in hey little songbird

- eurydice holding the coins/ticket to hell out to hermes twice during chips are down and hermes only taking them on the third time

- hermes and persephone flirting at the start of act 2

- persephone not sharing her hip flask and hermes acting all offended until she gives them some

- every reference to hermes’ gender is gone

- hermes

- melanie la barrie

- hades’ slutty little strut on the revolve

- the absolute raw grief and anger and desperation in if it’s true, dónal absolutely killed it

- hades dad dancing

- hades burying his face in persephone’s shoulder after they reconcile

- orpheus’ adorable delighted ‘yes!!’ after eurydice tells him he’s done it

- the chorus’s cute af reaction when orpheus ’proposes’ eurydice to walk home with him

- orpheus’ fidgety, reaching hands as he walks and doubts (devastating)

- the centre of the revolve dropping away the MOMENT orpheus turns, almost before he’s actually set eyes on her. she’s already gone

- orpheus’ voice break on eurydice’s name as she vanishes (DEVASTATING)

- orpheus just sobbing by the gaping hole where eurydice’s gone as the theatre is in total silence (SHOOT ME ALREADY)

- the stage being set in the last minutes to match how it was when the show began. we’re really going to sing it again, aren’t we. there’s nothing else to be done

also do NOT get me started on the set and lighting design bc holy shit you guys it was PHENOMENAL. i so want to see it again to look for all the little details i inevitably missed

[thealtoduck]

Dally

Jason Todd x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, anal sex, bottom!Reader, top!Jason, rough sex, unprotected sex, blowjob, fingering, doggy style, porn with plot, size kink, you and Jason are both kinda tipsy, Jason is aftercare king, you and Jason are unkowingly filmed, angst ending…

N/n = Nickname

The Socialite and The Vigilante | Masterlist

Summary: You and Jason get tipsy at an event and go back to your place…

(A/n: No. 1 Hoe Anthem)

——

One of the mayoral candidates, Mr Stone, had invited the Gotham Elite for what he called ”a celebration of Gotham’s greatest”. But from what you’d heard his campaign was running low on funds and he wanted to sweet talk all the people with deep pockets.

Whatever the reason may be you were now stuck there amongst the crowd of ”Gotham’s greatest”. You’d preferred to not go but according to your mother it’d be improper to ditch such an event and in her own words ”You have to go cause I don’t want to, I can’t stand that man”.

So you sacrificed yourself to spend the evening at the party… plus Jason had been forced to go along with his family and you promised you’d keep him company.

You watched as Jason entered in the company of his family, he was dressed in a black suit, giving him a dark and luxurious look. He and his family were greeted by Mr Stone.

While Bruce spoke to Mr Stone, Jason looked around the crowd of black suits and evening dresses until his eyes met yours and a soft smile appeared on his face. Once Mr Stone left them to enjoy the party Jason made his way to you.

You were stood in a corner looking at nice sculpture when Jason approached you. ”No tie?” he asked noticing you substituted a tie with a thin sliver chain necklace. ”Never been the biggest fan of ties, Jay, you know that” you stated in a your more upper class tone that tended to come out at these types of events.

”Well, you look great” Jason said grazing his hand against yours slightly. ”You too” you said adjusting his hair slightly. ”I’ll go get us some drinks” Jason said, soon coming back with two glasses of champagne, handing you one.

He then lowered his hand in his pocket bringing out a hip flask, pouring some of the contents in his own glass before offering ”Whiskey?”. Making you let out a small laugh before holding your glass out to him, saying ”If you insist”.

You and Jason mostly kept to yourselves through the party. You listened to Mr Stone’s speech talking about how good his campaign was going but made sure to add that it does take it’s toll on him, his workers and his family. But most of all to his wallet, he had joked making light polite laughs sound out in the room.

You and Jason found a table to relax at, sipping your drinks. The event was quite the bore, the music was dull, the decorations were plain, even the champagne on it’s own felt tasteless. You were lucky Jason had brought the flask.

Soon you and Jason were joined by Mr Stone himself. ”Mr Todd, Mr St. Cloud, enjoying yourselves?” he asked, you put on a polite smile and said ”Of course, it’s quite the event you’ve put together, Mr Stone”.

”Thank you, what a shame your mother couldn’t come” Mr Stone said. ”Yeah, she really wanted to but she wasn’t feeling well, but she wishes you luck with the mayoral campaign” you lied, your mother had said nothing of the sort, you were just being polite.

”You boys are old enough to vote now, right?” Mr Stone mentioned, you and Jason shared a look, you’d both been waiting for the topic to come up. ”Yes, we are” Jason answered and you nodded. ”Well, I hope this party has helped convince you who to vote for” he suggested followed by a lighthearted chuckle.

You did your best to not roll your eyes and said with a smile ”Of course, Mr Stone, you have our support”. ”You bet, Mr Stone” Jason said in a fake cheery tone. Mr Stone then said goodbye leaving you and Jason, your expression immediately turned to disgust as Mr Stone was out of sight.

”I hate him” Jason stated, followed by you saying ”Me too”. ”Let’s get some more champagne and then get out of here” you told him, he nodded in agreement and the two of you went to the drink table. Jason emptied the last of his whiskey in to your glasses and you drank.

Once you’d both finished 2 more glasses each you made your way towards the exit, you called your chauffeur to pick the two of you up. As soon as the two of you came out on sidewalk Jason loosened his tie and you took off your suit jacket.

Soon a familiar car pulled up in front of you and you and Jason climbed in the backseat. ”You wanna come back to my place or do you need a ride elsewhere?” you offered him, Jason smiled. ”Think I’ll join you” he said placing a hand on your thigh.

You leaned in against Jason’s shoulder, as the chauffeur started driving towards your apartment building.

Luckily for you the traffic was good enough for you to be home in a short while, you and Jason stepped out of the car and you thanked your chauffeur before making your way up to your apartment on the top floor.

As you stood in the elevator, Jason’s hand once more grazed against yours, this time your fingers intertwined. When you reached the top floor, you stepped out of the elavator to your door and you unlocked it.

You and Jason entered the penthouse, taking of your shoes. You threw your suit jacket aside and led the way towards the stairs, closely followed by Jason.

You started unbuttoning your shirt as you entered your bedroom, turning to Jason who looked curious where this was going. You threw your button up aside and stepped closer to him, you unbuttoned his suit jacket and pushed it off his shoulders letting it drop to the floor.

You then pushed your lips to Jason’s, while he snaked his arms around your waist as you started to hungrily make out. You then started unbuttoning Jason’s shirt revealing his athletic chest. You started lowering yourself to your knees as you placed kisses down his abs.

Until you were on your knees in front of him, you undid Jason’s belt and pulled down his pants letting them fall to his ankles. Jason had grown hard, his bulge noticable in his tight white briefs. You pulled down his underwear setting his big legth free.

His hard dick pointed to your face. When Jason looked down the sight gave him a sense of satisfaction, you half naked ready to suck his cock. You started taking Jason’s member in to your mouth, teasing the tip with your tongue.

Jason let out a small breath as you started taking more of him in to your warm mouth. You soon started moving your head back and forth on his cock. Jason’s mouth hung open as you went down on him.

”Fuck, you’re perfect” he said holding the sides of your head, using every bit of restraint to not start thrusting in to you. You worked your tougue on his dick, licking up and down his shaft.

When Jason looked down the sight alone could make him spill his load. You with his thick cock stuffed in your mouth, shining with your saliva on it. Before you could make him cum he pulled out of your mouth.

”Your turn, rich boy” Jason said teasingly, you raised an amused eye brow at him.

He then helped you up from the floor. He let his unbuttoned shirt fall to the floor and stepped out of his pants and underwear that were pooled around his ankles. He then undid your belt before pushing you backwards on to your bed.

You spread your arm out on the silk white sheets feeling as if you were laying down on a cloud. Jason then started pulling your pants down your legs. You seductively pulled off your own white briefs before throwing them at Jason, hitting him in the chest.

Now you were left wearing nothing but your silver necklace and a pair of white socks. Jason took a moment to take in the pornographic sight in front of him and then climbed on to the bed and your naked bodies tangled together as you made out lustfully.

Jason’s hand trailed all the way down your back to your butt. He didn’t waste any time bringing his finger between your cheeks and pushing it inside you making you moan while your mouth was pressed to his.

He used his fingers to work you loose and open so you’d be ready to take all off him. Once he was done he pulled out a bottle of lube from you nightstand pouring a generous amount on his huge shaft.

You positioned yourself face down - ass up wanting Jason to take you like a bitch. Jason stood on his knees in front of your awaiting hole as he rubbed the lube along his length. He teased your hole with the thick tip of his cock as you whined in to the sheets impatiently.

And who was Jason to say no to a slut in need of filling.

He started working his in to your tightness as you gasped at the intrusion. He pushed himself deeper and deeper into your warmth feeling you clench around his cock. ”That’s nice” he whispered at the feeling of you tightly around his manhood.

Jason wasn’t a small man, he was hung like a horse. You let out heavy breaths as Jason slowly sunk himself in to you, streching you out even further than he’d done with his fingers. He said praises to you, watching you beneath him as his cock entered you inch by inch.

Once he had sheathed himself inside you he waited for you to adjust to the size of him. You gripped the soft sheets of the bed as you were streched out to accept Jason’s hung cock. ”Fuck” you swore.

Soon you were ready to take all of him. Jason started moving slowly as pushed himself in and out of your tightness. His hands were placed on the globes of your ass squeezing them softly in his strong hands.

You were starting to get the feeling of bliss everytime Jason was fully stuffed inside you, making you moan as he worked your ass perfectly. ”Harder Jay” you said wanting him to take you to ecstasy.

”That’s all I needed to hear, baby” Jason said with an audible smirk as he willfully obliged and sped up his thrusts, rolling his hips like a machine. He put a hand on your back pressing you in to the matress as he took you. The sound of his thrusts starting to sound out through out the room.

You gripped the sheets as Jason thrust deeper in to you, his dick jabbing at your prostate making you let out a delighted scream of pleasure. ”That’s right, N/n, scream for everybody to hear me fucking you” he said cockily.

Jason hadn’t realised until now how much he had been longing to fuck you again after your first one night stand during the party at Wayne Manor.

Jason moved his hand to your hips pulling you to meet his harsh thruts into you. Beads of sweat started forming on his forehead. He wanted you to feel all the pleasures sex could bring.

Jason made you feel as if you were seeing all the stars in the heaven, as his hung cock was shoved deep in your heat. ”So- ugh! Big!” you said through your loud moans. A cocky smile spread on Jason’s lips. He was fucking you so good you could barely talk.

As Jason roughly pounded himself deeply in to you felt yourself getting close to orgasm. ”Jay, I’m gonna cum” you whined as Jason showed no sign of slowing down his rolling thrusts.

Your shot your load and it splashed on to the silk sheets below as Jason continued plowing his cock in to you. ”You’re so fucking good around my cock” Jason said through his rapid breaths as he fully lost control and fucked you like there was no tommorow.

”I’m gonna cum” he soon told you.

”Fill me, Jay” you begged and that was all it took for Jason to plant himself deep in you ass and let his cock explode inside you, filling you with his warm sticky seed. He breathed heavily as he let all of his orgasm spill inside you.

Once he was done he slowly pulled out of you leaving your hole gaping from his cock. His seed soon started pouring out of you, running from your used warmth down your legs. Jason looked proudly at the mess he had made of you before he walked to the bathroom.

Coming back with a wet towel and started cleaning his seed off of your body. Once he was done he threw the towel aside on the floor. You turned around and laid down on your back. Jason sat down by your side and stroked your thigh, asking sweetly ”Can I get you anything? N/n”.

”Could you get my night shirt from the closet?” you asked and Jason immediately stood up looking through your closet until he brought out a glossy white silk night shirt. ”Why is everything you own white silk?” he questioned amused as he helped you put it on.

”Why not?” you simply asked back. You took off your necklace putting it on your bedside table. You and Jason both laid down side by side on your bed. Jason was on his back and you laid your head resting against his pec.

”You were amazing” Jason said placing a kiss on your head. ”You too” you said stroking his abs lovingly.

You both soon drifted off too sleep…

——

2 days later…

You sat with your laptop on your couch checking your emails. Some adds, some social stuff, nothing too intresting. You took a sip of your coffee and as you swallowed a new mail appeared on the screen.

The sender was not listed.

You opened the mail and read ”We have something you might not want to reach the media, Mr St. Cloud” which was all it said. Then you noticed there was a video attached to the mail. You pressed the file and it loaded until a video started playing.

Your eyes widend the video showed a boy getting plowed roughly by another guy, but you soon realised this was your bedroom. ”Harder, Jay” your voice came from the video making you gasp in shock. Then came Jason’s voice ”That’s all I needed to hear, baby”.

Someone had hidden a camera in your room filming you and Jason that night. You slammed your laptop shut and rushed upstairs in to your room. Judging by the angle of the video the video had been taken from your bedside table.

You were confused you only had your alarm clock and a bottle of water on the table… Then you noticed it, on the side of the alarm clock was a black spot - no, not a spot a small round camera lens.

You picked up the alarm clock taking a closer look at it to it to make sure. Definetely a lens. Enraged you threw the alarm clock in to the ground making it smash on impact. You stormed out of the room bringing out your phone knowing who you needed to call.

”Hey St. Cloud” Jason answered, a flirty tone in his voice.

You could only find one phrase to tell him ”Jay… we’re completely fucked”.

[the-flaneur]

hi flan! Could i pleas have charles leclerc and a boiling flask labelled with a sticker (i dont mind a marker if you would prefer) to mix together phosphorous, cobalt and tin with a blue pill and bath water?

double trouble (cl16)

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

phosphorus "you know, i could always get you off here right now" + cobalt "please..." "you need to learn to be better with your words, don't you think? tell me what you really want" + tin "i know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that” & blue pill sub!reader + bath water size kink

warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW -> smut ft. rough sex, public sex (or sex in a public location aka the bathroom), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), size kink, bratty!reader, very little plot

wc: 1865

a/n: first request ever! hope you guys enjoy, and feel free to send me more requests :)

[masterlist] [requests]

the quiet jazz in the restaurant was of little comfort to charles tonight. 

usually, he was excited at the prospect of a double date with you, max and max’s girlfriend, eager to be able to catch up properly with his friend and their lives outside of racing (albeit max’s still very racing dominated off time)

however tonight you were being a fucking brat.

you had been teasing him all day, from your grocery shop this morning where you “accidentally” backed into him, rubbing your ass against his bulge, or when you went to take leo on for a walk, and you accidentally bent down too far while scoping up leo’s poop, showing charles your gorgeous lace panties under your skirt, or even just before the date, when you walked into the bedroom, stark naked except your heels, and then cheekily asked if you looked good and then shutting the door so you could change in “peace”

charles was hard, horny and desperate to get his hands on your hips.

so when you started your teasing again, charles knew he had to do something about it.

it being the fact that your hand was trailing up his thigh, your manicure tickling the skin near his bulge, before you pressed a firm two fingers into his bulge and rubbed it.

“merde,” charles groaned quietly, leaning back into the plush booth couch and very grateful that the jazz trio had started their music once again, so that his exclamation remained unknown to max and his girlfriend. 

“mmm cherie, please move your fingers away,” charles muttered, trying to grab your wrist, but you giggled, before moving you fingers instead towards his belt, and toying with the buckle.

"you know, i could always get you off here right now,” he bit his lip, watching as you slowly pulling his dress shirt out, revealing his gorgeous waist and lightly defined abs which you loved.

“you say otherwise but you love this, don’t you…imagine me giving you a handjob while our friends are just sitting across from us,” you teased, and charles almost growled aloud at your teasing words, and now he was done with you.

snatching your wrist away from his bulge, pinning them to his lap, before working his own hands beneath your dress

“yeah you would like that you slut, wouldn’t you? me at your mercy for once in your life. well too bad, cause you’re my slut, and my brat to play with tonight,” he whispered, pressing his mouth against your earlobe, before tapping his fingers against your soiled panties

you whimpered softly as charles' words sent shivers down your spine, the touch of his fingers against your damp panties making you clench around nothing, "y-yes... i'm yours," you breathe out, a softness creeping into your voice against your brattiness tonight.

as charles continues to whisper dirty promises, you suddenly feel an urgent need to escape, "wait, i really have to use the restroom," you address the group, trying to sound casual while squirming slightly in your seat and pulling charles’ fingers away.

charles raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "oh? and why's that, little girl?" he leans back, folding his arms across his chest as he watches you intently. "trying to get away from me already?"

you bite your lip, avoiding eye contact as you fidget with the hem of your skirt. max and his girlfriend exchange knowing looks, aware of the brattiness you bring to the relationship and charles’ rough hand to bring you back down to earth.

feeling flustered under their amused gazes, you quickly stand up and make your way towards the restrooms, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. once inside the stall, you take a deep breath, letting the cool air hit your flushed face. leaning against the wall, you run a shaky hand through your hair, attempting to calm your racing heart.

after a few moments, you hear the door creak open behind you. glancing over your shoulder, you spot none other than charles entering the stall, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"well, well, well... looks like my little fucktoy needs some privacy," he says, closing the door behind him and locking it. his voice is low and husky, sending a thrill straight to your core. without warning, he steps closer, his large frame crowding you against the wall.

your breath hitches as charles looms over you, his presence both intimidating and exhilarating. the smell of his cologne mixed with the musk of his skin fills your nostrils, making your head spin.

"what do you think you're doing, coming in here with me?" you manage to stammer, even as your body betrays you, pressing back against the cold tile in a futile attempt to create distance from his overwhelming nature.

charles chuckles darkly, his hands finding your hips and gripping them tightly. "i could ask you the same thing, sweetheart. you're the one who insistently teased me on this little alone time."

he leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "but since we're here together, let's put that pretty pussy of yours to good use, hmm?"

“please…” you whimpered pathetically, watching in a haze of arousal as charles rips your delicate panties to shreds, the torn fabric fluttering to the floor. your cheeks burn with shame and desire as he teases your sensitive clit with a single finger, circling the swollen bud with maddening slowness.

"you need to learn to be better with your words, don't you think? tell me what you really want," he growls, tracing his fingers maddeningly close and smirks when you attempt to push yourself down onto him.

"i-i want... i want you to fuck me," you admit, the words tumbling out in a rush, "please, charles... use me. make me yours..."

his dark chuckle vibrates against your skin as he presses harder against your clit, coaxing out more of your needy whimpers, "that's more like it, baby girl. now, let's see if you can handle something a bit bigger than just my fingers, shall we?"

"i-i want... i want you to fuck me," you admit, the words tumbling out in a rush, "please, charles... use me. make me yours..."

his dark chuckle vibrates against your skin as he presses harder against your clit, coaxing out more of your needy whimpers, "that's more like it, baby girl. now, let's see if you can handle something a bit bigger than just my fingers, shall we?"

gasping sharply, you nod eagerly, craving the sensation of being stretched wide by charles's girthy cock. the thought sends a jolt of liquid heat pooling between your thighs. "yes, please... i need it," you plead, spreading your legs further apart in invitation. "fill me up, charles,"

with a wicked grin, he frees his impressive erection from his pants, the thick shaft bobbing menacingly as he lines it up with your entrance. "brace yourself, darling," he warns, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.

then, with a powerful thrust, he sheathes himself fully inside you, the sheer size of him forcing a strangled cry from your throat. you cling to him desperately, nails digging into his back as he begins to move, each deep stroke dragging you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

you cry out loudly as charles plunges deeper, the stretch of his massive cock tearing a raw moan from your throat. each brutal thrust hits a spot within you that sets off sparks of electric pleasure, making your toes curl and your back arch involuntarily. you attempt to clasp a hand over your mouth, trying to curb the wanton noises escaping between your lips, but charles has none off that.

"i know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that," charles purrs, his lips brushing against your ear as he pounds into you relentlessly. "let me hear how much you love taking my big dick,"

despite your best efforts to keep quiet, your quickly body betrays you, moans spilling past your lips with every merciless stroke. the shame only adds to your arousal, your inner walls clenching tighter around charles's throbbing length as he fucks you with wild abandon.

"you're so fucking tight, baby,"

wailing shamelessly as charles ravages your aching cunt, you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your veins. the obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoes through the small stall, mingling with your desperate cries and charles's guttural grunts.

"so full... oh god, charles!" you keen, fingernails raking down his muscular back hard enough to leave marks. "fuck me harder!" he obliges with a feral growl, pistoning his hips faster, driving his huge cock impossibly deeper. your vision starts to blur at the edges as the coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

"gonna cum soon, aren't you?" charles rasps, nipping at your neck roughly. "go ahead, slut. cum all over my fat cock."

with a final keening wail, your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, every muscle seizing up as pure ecstasy consumes you whole. your pussy spasms violently around charles's enormous shaft, milking him as you convulse helplessly in his arms.

"f-fuuuuck!" you sob brokenly, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as the intense pleasure borders on pain. it feels like charles is splitting you open, reshaping your insides to fit him perfectly.

in response, he snarls savagely, burying himself to the hilt one last time before erupting deep within you. thick ropes of molten seed paint your quivering walls, marking you as his property in the most primal way possible.

shuddering through the aftershocks of your climax, you feel charles' hot release flooding your already oversensitive pussy. the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he pumps you full of cum only heightens your bliss, leaving you limp and boneless in his grasp.

as charles slowly softens inside you, he pulls out with a wet pop, his spent cock glistening with your combined fluids. you can't help but gaze up at him

"look at you," charles murmurs, tucking his softening member back into his pants. "such a good little cumslut, taking everything i give you without complaint." he smirks, adjusting his clothing with a satisfied air.

still reeling from the intense fucking with charles, you stumble out of the bathrom, blinking in the bright lights of the restaurant. to your surprise, max and his girlfriend are nowhere to be seen, the table where you ate is cleared of their presence.

a folded piece of paper catches your eye, sitting atop the now-clean tablecloth. curious, you pick it up and read the brief message scrawled across the page:

we know how much fun you guys like to have so here's dinner on us, but you owe us for next time ;)

a flush rises to your cheeks at the implication, and you quickly crumple the note, tossing it aside. just then, charles appears beside your shoulder, looking every inch the self-assured boyfriend once more.

"well, looks like our friends made themselves scarce," he remarks, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

“wanna go back home for round 2?”

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[talesofpheonixdrop]

hi! i'd like to ask for a laurance nsfw fic if that's ok? mostly just him guiding you through it and being so sweet through out it!

Minors! DNI! 18+ Only

Oh yes, yes, you ABSOLUTELY can!!! Ah so exciting!! Also this is my fist ever smut fic sooo-

Synopsis: You and Laurance haven't had your first time yet, and before you do, you want him to teach you how to make him feel good~

▪︎☆Pretty Please☆▪︎

"F-fuck" he whimpers tightly clutching the sheets at his side, the warm candlelight shining on his tense jaw as he restrains from reaching out to touch you.

Funny how just a experimental brush of your hand to his cock could have such a reaction.

"Heh, warn a guy, huh?" He gives a half chuckle face flushed dark as he reaches forward to lace his fingers with yours.

"Let's slow it down huh? There's no rush," he coos softly "start off with some of the oil first, it'll make things smoother for both of us" he whispers, pulling your hand towards his lips to place a small chaste kiss to your knuckles before he releases it to lean back again. Letting you do as you please at your own pace again.

The sight in front of you is maddening, Laurance bare, looking down to you with blown out pupils and kiss swollen lips, illuminated in the dark room only by candlelight. Attempting to rub your thighs together for any semblance of relief while you focus on your brunette lover.

Dribbling some of the oil from the flask over your fingers, you hear Laurance's breath hitch as you rub the lubricant between your fingers. A shiver runs through you at the way his pale blue eyes are alight with lust.

"FUuck Love~" Laurance groans pitching forward and lolling his head back when your hand wraps around his base. Breath picking up speed as you slowly raise and lower your fist around him, he's warm and incredibly smooth in your hand.

"h-hold on" he whimpers putting his hand over yours to stop you, the worry you feel must be evident on your face as he inhales a sharp breath then coos at you. "Hey your... fuck your doing so good- I just, wasn't ready for you to leap in like that-" He gives a debauched Moan as your hand twitches causing you too lightly squeeze his cock. Squeezing his eyes closed tightly your eyes flash back down when warm pre drips down your fingers moving your thumb up to brush over the head in response causing his hips to buck into your first in turn. "Ah- that feels so good- please-" he whines lightly releasing your hand so you can continue slowly stroking him. It's easy to ignore the pulsing heat between your legs with Laurance's low groans and whispered praise. Eventually the moment gets ahead of you, salivating at the clenching muscles and debauched expression on your lover's face, you don't allow yourself a moment to be nervous or think as you lean forward to take his leaking head into your mouth, its salty with a metallic tang but it's hard to think about it with the guttural noise that tore itself from the guard or the way his hands flew to your hair holding you in place as thick hot cum paints the back of your throat. The taste isn't very pleasant but what comes after is. As soon as Laurance is clear of the aftershocks of his sudden peak he gathers you up in his arms. Pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses all over your face, no hint of hesitation about the taste of himself on you " 'm sorry" he whispers " I love you so much, so so good" and a million more sweet nothings whispered against your skin until his heart rate slows. Just as you wrap your arms around his neck contented to stay entangled with each other for the night he smirks "You're turn."

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 1 : List.

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : A bit of mourning. Otherwise, all clear for this one!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3.2k

A/N : It has been a long time since I've written something and it feels pretty good to get back at it with this story! I hope you'll like it and do not hesitate to share your thoughts or like/reblog, it's always appreciated! As English isn't my native language, I'm sorry if you find mistakes or weird wording in there, let me know if you find some and I'll be glad to correct them!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

It wasn't going to be a difficult day. The list was ready, the tasks the same as the day before and the day after. You had to go to the river: catch a fish, fill the flasks with fresh water, bathe… You had to get on your horse and on the way back, stop at the 16th tree on the right, get off, walk 30 steps and fill the bag with blackberries. You had to avoid the brambles and avoid tripping over the prominent root. Get back on the horse and ride home.

Prepare the fish: remove the head and tail, the skin, gut it and remove the bones, light a fire to cook it. Yes, evolution had done many things, but it must have missed the episode where it was necessary to improve the human digestive system. So the fish still had to be cooked.

The garden had to be tended. Over the years, it had evolved too. It had been a long time in the making. A vegetable garden, tomatoes, green beans and, you couldn't quite remember how, artichokes had found their place too. An apple tree was easy to grow. It took time, but it was easy. And then there was this little gem you'd stumbled upon one day: a rosebush. It was an important one. You had to take care of it too.

You always had to do something.

Your hands knew what to do and how to do it. Your legs took you where you needed to go, and at that particular moment, they had led you to your horse. You had to remove his saddle and bridle, check his hooves and remove any stones that might have got stuck on them. Run your hand over his belly to loosen the skin compressed by the girth. And don't forget to give him a drink. When it came to eating, he found everything on his own, except perhaps an apple, which you gave him from time to time to thank him for his help. He knew how to ask, too. In fact, he huffed and gave you a nudge.

Okay, an apple.

He followed you to the apple tree and you climbed onto his back. You could reach the branches, but it was always difficult to keep your balance. Especially when your right hip wasn't working properly. And you sighed. It really wasn't convenient.

You had to go on with the list, what was next?

“ Hearing my voice at least once and speaking so I don't forget.”

This was important. You had to remember how to speak. The world had forgotten, but you must not. You had no right to forget.

“Say something new.”

And you looked around.

“It's cloudy today.”

Which meant rain wasn't far off. Your horse was now grazing beside you.

“You should take shelter.”

You smile, you'd said one more sentence today. Your horse's ears twitched as if to say “I do what I want” and you shrugged. After all, he was the one to decide. But you didn't want to get wet in the rain. You patted his neck and went off to find shelter in your wooden hut.

You've lived here for a long time. A very long time. So long that you no longer needed a torch to light up the big room when night fell or when the clouds darkened the place. You knew exactly where the shaky table was, the armchair with its deformed, hollowed-out seat and even the little plastic pot you kept forgetting to put back on the table to avoid getting your feet caught in it. And despite the years, you never tripped over it.

You were right to come home. You'd just had time to put the water flasks and the cooked fish on the table when a torrent of water hit the floor. The end of the list would have to wait. The timing was perfect, as your stomach signaled that it was time to fill up, and the smell of the wood-fired fish made your mouth water.

Settling back in your armchair, you ate the fish, watching the rain fall against the hut's only window. Eating with your hands was no longer as disturbing as it had been at first. There were a lot of memories that had slipped away over time, but you almost smiled when you thought back to the embarrassment you'd felt the first time you'd had to eat like that. If you'd known back then where you'd end up…

A sigh.

Drops tumbled against the window and some seemed to challenge themselves to get to the bottom first. They were following the path traced by others before them, but obviously not all roads were good ones to take. Some raindrops went straight down, others tried to cut off their opponents' path, and still others weaved in and out to create their own path. Then a raindrop caught your eye. It seemed the most likely to win the mad race. It glided and slalomed proudly until it landed delicately on your windowsill, blending in with its sisters who had landed there before it.

You turned your eyes to the last piece of fish, which you brought to your mouth.

You took one last look out the window, and that's when you caught sight of it.

A shadow.

A shadow had just moved past your window. The rain kept on pounding against it and you could see the trees in the distance stirring in the wind, and you were sure you saw the shadow moving, quickly to the right, but the shadow was gone. There were only raindrops, only the wind, and you could even hear the dull roar of an incipient thunderstorm.

A deep breath. You had to.

Then a sigh.

The rain and wind must have played a trick on you. If the storm picked up, you definitely wouldn't be able to finish your outdoor to-do list. But that didn't matter, there was still plenty to do inside.

First you had to tidy up. Keeping the interior clean and tidy was important, so you couldn't leave the water bottles on the table. You grabbed them and stepped over the little plastic pot that stood between the table and what you could call a kitchen. At least, that's what you would have called this part of the hut back in the day, because there was only a broken sink and a cupboard without a door. You passed the front door and it rattled against the latch in the wind. You had managed to install a branch across the door, allowing you to keep it closed in bad weather. However, as it didn't close very well, the wind always managed to rattle it between the branch and the latch. But you got used to the noise. So you walked past the shaky door to put the water bottles in the cupboard, and when you heard a suspicious rustling sound, you jumped, staring at the door.

You frowned at the unusual sound. You had been holding your breath, but the wind suddenly whistled through the doorframe, which was sorely lacking in hermetic seals. So you breathed out, taking a calmer breath. The wind. Mother Nature was definitely testing your nerves tonight.

Well, you still had to change your clothes. Night was coming on and you couldn't possibly sleep in your day clothes. You stepped over the little plastic pot again and made your way to the wooden chest beside the fireplace to find a t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts with a hole in the left knee. Maybe one day you'd find a stray piece of fabric while walking through the forest, so you could mend it. But you hadn't yet got to the list asking you to explore the surrounding area.

There were 7 lists divided into 4 sections, themselves arranged in 12 categories. It was your way of keeping track of time. You no longer counted the days, let alone the years; you'd long since lost the very notion of time. But to grow crops, harvest the fruits of the forest and simply follow nature's millimetric events and be able to anticipate them, you needed a reference point. The lists, though mostly identical, were that reference point. Hanging on the wall with pieces of wood you'd carved yourself, they determined your days and the things you had to do.

You didn't really know when or how you'd started making these lists. But judging by the ink, half washed away by the years - some of the lists had even gone back to being blank - it must have been a long time ago.

You put the current day's list back in its place. Tomorrow, you'd have to complete it while carrying out the next one. But there was one more thing you needed to do indoors before settling into your armchair for the night. One last important thing.

From the chest, you took out a picture frame. The corners were worn, the wood had crumbled and you had to handle it carefully to avoid getting splinters in your hands. You set the frame down on the floor by the fireplace, knelt in front of it and reached into the jar on your right to pick a rose petal, which you placed carefully in the right-hand corner of the frame.

You struggled to swallow.

That's where it always got complicated.

Once again, you reached into the jar and pulled out 7 petals. You always needed 7 petals. You placed 6 of them in a circle on the dry twigs in the fireplace and began humming a song whose words you'd long since forgotten. But you remembered the feeling. You felt a lump in your throat, and you often wondered how you managed to keep the song going.

You hummed, and on the last petal, with the help of a needle, you delicately traced his initials. You had to be careful not to press too hard, you shouldn't pierce the petal, just brush against it enough to see, if you concentrated hard enough, the outline of the letter you were drawing. You also had to blink a few times to see clearly what you were doing. It was important to get it right. Once you'd written the letter on the petal, you laid it at the center of the circle.

It was always at this moment that your hands shook. You needed a moment. Just a bit of time.

You had to wipe your hands over your eyes, the most important thing was to handle the two flints on the floor with care. Your hands had to be steady, not shaking. You interrupted the song to get your breathing under control.

Inhale.

Breathe out.

Grab the flints.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A sharp stroke.

The clatter of the stone threw sparks onto the pile of twigs and a flame sprang up. You started humming again as the fire slowly consumed the wood until it reached the petals of the circle.

A tear.

The fire continued to progress and you stared desperately at the petal in the center, quickly ridding yourself of the tears that were blurring your vision. The flame touched the edge of the petal and you watched the letter “C” burn away and disappear into the ashes.

The flame faded as the twigs gradually disappeared and, once gone, you slipped the petal on the frame back into its jar.

Now you had to put the frame away. Your fingers brushed the edge of the picture inside of it. Despite the years, you had managed, by some miracle, to keep the photograph almost undamaged. At least, sufficiently intact that you could still distinguish the shape of an ape in the center of the picture, despite the cracks.

He was a force of nature. You had taken this photo on a December day, you still knew because you could still discern the white flakes clinging to his dark fur. Back then, you loved taking pictures.

What did they call you again?

The memory keeper.

Even after all this time, it still made you smile. You gently squeezed the frame between your fingers, keeping it balanced on the knees you'd just tucked in towards you. This way, he was a little closer to you.

You made an extra effort to remember the day. He was standing high enough to see everyone around him. He must have been talking about something important; he always had that powerful, soul-piercing stare when he was saying something important. But he always looked…

“Grumpy.”

You concluded your thought in a whisper that knotted your throat. Grumpy. You almost expected to hear him growl, his ego bruised, every time you reminded him that he was sometimes a little too grumpy. “Grumpy because a lot on my shoulders,” he'd snap back at you. “No, grumpy because you're old” you'd always reply, your eyes always playful. And you were the only one who could say such a thing, with the only result being an amused snore coming from him.

And you felt yourself take a deep breath. Of all the pictures you'd taken, this was the last one you had left. You had to put the frame back in the chest, so your fingers tightened even more around the wood. Your head tilted slightly forward, closing your eyes as the wood touched your forehead.

Tonight was difficult.

You took another deep breath, and before the knot in your throat hurt too much, you straightened up and went to put the frame in the chest.

“Caesar, tonight is really difficult,” you whispered, watching the shadow of the lid close over the frame.

------------

It had been a restless night. When your eyes opened the next morning, they felt heavy and swollen, and you found yourself rubbing your eyes to try and make the heaviness go away.

Today, there was much to do. After changing from your night clothes to your day ones, you removed the branch blocking the door and let the sun shine in, warming your skin. The fresh early-morning air caressed your skin and you took a few seconds to smell the distinctive light scent that follows a thunderstorm.

No sooner had you taken a few steps forward than your feet bumped into something hard, causing you to lose your balance. In a fraction of a second, you found yourself on your butt on the ground, a stabbing pain in your right hip that had failed to move to stop you from falling.

“Ouch!” was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth.

You straightened up slightly, remaining seated in the grass, to see what had caused your fall and a pile of apples laid exactly under the wobbly small porch that covered your front door.

God, what a dummy not to have put that away last night. You thought to yourself, looking down at your hands full of dirt. You'd have to go to the river to clean it up, and now you'd just have to take your night clothes with you because you'd also have to wash the ones you were wearing-the mud from the storm must have dirtied your current clothes.

A pile of apples. You thought as you rubbed your hands together.

A pile of apples. You glanced at your right hip. Pfft, if you'd made Caesar break it to put it back in its place, you'd never have fallen today. In fact, you'd have avoided more than one fall.

All because of a misplaced pile of apples.

A pile of misplaced apples.

And like a light bulb switching on, your gaze suddenly fell on those apples that actually had nothing to do there. You hadn't gathered them the day before.

Then you heard it. A muffled purr came gently from behind you. Surely you should have turned around, stood up and dealt with it, but you'd found yourself rooted to the spot, eyes glued to those apples, waiting as an orangutan appeared in your field of vision.

And you refused to look at him, your hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. You weren't afraid. No. But for some obscure reason, your brain had simply decided to freeze.

The orangutan once again let out a rumble, softer this time, and held out his hand to you.

“I'll help.”

His voice made you blink several times. You did your best to snap out of your stupor, but this time your eyes agreed to look at him, and the orangutan seemed delighted.

Just one more moment. It took another second, just one, to see your hand slip into his and before you knew it, you were back on your feet.

“Raka, we must go.”

The second voice surprised you a little. It sounded familiar and your eyes fell on a chimpanzee, a little further away, who had just finished saddling a horse. You frowned, your horse? You were trying to determine whether it was really yours, but the distance didn't allow you to be sure. There was only one way to find out.

So you whistled.

The horse shook its head and the chimpanzee didn't have time to grab the reins before your horse galloped off to meet you. They were going to take your horse… in exchange for a stack of apples?

You grabbed the reins and stroked the horse's neck as he snorted. He chewed the bit and blew heavily through his nostrils.

For a fraction of a second, you forgot about the two large apes who, from the sounds they were making, weren't particularly happy to have lost a chance of obtaining a second means of locomotion: in your peripheral vision, you could see another horse quietly grazing.

Your hands still knew what to do, and it didn't take you long to remove the bridle and bit from your horse's mouth.

“He doesn't like it.” you said simply.

And only silence answered you, so you showed the bridle to the two apes.

“The bit, he doesn't like it, he's not used to it.”

Your answer didn't seem to convince them. They stared at you, dumbstruck, and if you paid close enough attention, you could almost see their mouths hanging wide open. And that left you bewildered. What didn't they understand? You'd heard them talking, so that certainly wasn't the problem.

“You can't take my horse.” You went on, starting to remove the saddle.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were staring at you as if you'd just landed from the sky.

“If you want a horse, there's a wild herd to the south, past the river.” And you pointed in the right direction.

They remained silent as tombs, but the chimpanzee followed the direction you pointed with his eyes.

“Just be careful, the group's stallion isn't very friendly.” You thought it important to tell him.

Your gaze fell back on them and the orangutan, Raka, if you'd heard correctly, hadn't moved a muscle. The chimpanzee, on the other hand, was staring at you thoughtfully, as if he was trying to put together a puzzle with a missing piece. He then moved towards you inquisitively, perhaps, confused?

“Echo, speak?”

It was certainly the most surprising sentence you'd ever heard in your life.

[allisluv]

a little self indulgent but finnick with reader who has a lisp and has always been insecure about it and one day they hear others making fun of it and it ends with him comforting them :(

water off a ducks back.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, men being men (not finnick though we love him), reader has a lisp and gets made fun of for it, crude comments, finnick being protective, the capitol, light-hearted banter between reader and finnick, mainly comfort

word count: 1.1k

a/n: two finnick blurbs in one day watch me drop off the face of the earth for a month now (/hj.) i do not have a lisp but i do hope i've handled the topic with care! <3

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!!

Finnick is practically glued to your side as the two of you glide through the Capitol gala, forced to make small talk with new and old Capitol elites alike. Neither of you enjoy these parties really, but as Finnick had reiterated as he zipped up your dress in the hotel, it was a simple formality, one of the many prices of being a victor.

After your twenty-fifth conversation with a group of men who keep making explicit remarks, too strewn out on alcohol or other substances to pay attention to Finnick’s pointed glares and the forced laughs that slip past your lips, you excuse yourself to get a drink.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Finnick asks, tightening his grip on your hip ever so slightly. It’s not even done intentionally; it comes as second nature to him now, especially when you’re in the Capitol.

“I’ll be fine,” You reassure him, offering your boyfriend a small, tight-lipped smile. You squeeze his hand before prying your fingers out of his gentle grasp. “I’ll be right back.” You say over your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Multiple people try to pull you into their conversations, but you pretend not to hear them. You’ve always been painted by the cameras as a bit of a ditzy person, anyway, so you’re playing right into that narrative. It’s a win-win, really.

Only a few stragglers remain at the bar as you hop up onto a mahogany stool. You scan the drinks menu, tapping your fingers on your thighs as you think of what to get.

Your attention is pulled to a womans high-pitched voice, and you try not to eavesdrop, really, you do— but then you hear your name, and all bets are off the table. You shift your position on the bar stool and subtly lean in closer, trying to catch what they’re saying.

The woman has a posh tone and you immediately recognise it as a Capitol born accent. She doesnt bother trying to keep her voice down, and you know for a fact that she wants you to hear what she is saying. “Yeah, her.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see her nudge her partner in the ribcage, and gesture to you with her flask of champagne.

A loud hum, followed by a man’s voice. “Ah, yes, I remember her. She’s the one who talks funny. Pronounces her words like a child.” He scoffs. “Its a shame, really. A pretty face like that.” He tilts his head to one side, scrutinising you.

You can feel the heat flooding your face, and you duck your head, digging your fingernails into the skin of your thighs to stop the shame from eating you alive.

The woman nods her head furiously. “Uh-huh. Imagine having to hear that in bed,” she snickers, sipping her champagne. You can hear her mock the way you spoke in your victory speech, and that is the final straw for you.

As quick as a flash, you wobble to your feet, head held high. You refuse to shrink underneath their gaze, despite the roiling in your stomach and the embarrased blush on your cheeks. In your haste to put some distance between the two of you, you bump into someone. An apology lingers on your tongue, but you relax as the smell of saltwater and expensive cologne fills your nostrils.

Finnick arches a sharp eyebrow, taking in your expression. “Are you okay, angel?” You nod once, feeling too stupid to open your mouth in case they poke fun at your speech again. He tilts his head to one side, analysing you. “I call bullshit.” He says firmly, but not unkindly. “What’s going on?”

“N—Nothing!” You squeak out, but your voice wobbles, and it definitely doesn’t help plead your case of being fine.

The couple at the bar burst out laughing, and you tongue the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to keep the tears at bay.

Finnick picks up on the sudden shift in your mood, and while he may not understand exactly what is going on, hes atuned to you enough to know that something is going on. Narrowing his eyes, he turns to the couple, who keep giggling and staring at you. “Is something funny?” He asks coldly.

The man shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Not a problem here, darling. Although, I do have a question.” He doesn’t wait for Finnick to answer before asking, “She talk the same way while the two of you are screwing?”

The woman coughs out a laugh into her flask of champagne.

Finnick scoffs, and shakes his head in disbelief. Taking your hand, he turns to the woman, who’s still trying to catch her breath. “I hope you choke on that.” And with the last biting comment, he guides you to the exit, point-blank ignoring people who try to strike up a conversation with him.

He waits until the two of you are out of the ballroom and hailing a cab back to the hotel before he talks. “What else did they say?” His jaw is set in a firm line.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. Prick’s lucky I didn’t deck him right then and there.”

“I’m used to it, Finn. It doesn’t bother me anymore.” You lie. “Like water off a ducks back.”

Finnick sighs and helps you climb into the back of the cab. Instead of sitting on the opposite side, he settles in the middle seat, clipping in your safety belt. As the car begins to move on the road, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

You rest your head on his shoulder. “I hate this place,” you mutter.

“Yeah. Me too, angel. Me too,” He sighs, letting your intertwined hands rest in his lap. A beat of silence passes. “They had no right to say that.”

You shrug. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.” He says firmly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with the way you speak, and there’s nothing wrong with you. Do you hear me? That says more about them than it does about you. And I know it doesn’t mean a lot, but I wouldn’t change a thing about you for all the money in the world. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

“You’ll make me cry,” you warn, leaning over to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

“You can cry if you want to. No shame in that.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t wanna ruin my makeup.” You pout.

Finnick laughs heartily. “Well, stained makeup or not, you’re still the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kisses your forehead and sighs. “Now, I think when we get back to the hotel, we make some calls and find out who those bastards are.”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously.

“I think they have a parcel in the shape of laxatives coming their way.”

[kabsey]

Another Davrin week request: a lovely anon asked for Davrin x Blighted!Neve, which is my jam, my jelly, my marmalade, my compote... I wrote a similar piece a while back, but it didn't feel quite right. I like this one better.

-------

The talking was done, the plan was made, and the team wandered away from the makeshift war table to check on their gear and each other. Only Neve remained, staring down at the fake lyrium dagger and leaning with one hand on the table for support. For weeks, Davrin had been hearing her in his nightmares, a horrible new addition to the blight's song. Now she was in arm's reach, alive but tainted so strongly he could feel her presence in his blood. He didn't know whether to be grateful or angry, but it didn't matter: he had no gods left to pray to except one, and he wanted that one dead. For the world's sake, for his people's sake, for the sake of the woman in front of him. He stepped toward her, reaching out his hand to offer his support in place of the table's.

She skittered a step away from him. "Don't."

He kept his hand raised, but he didn't move any closer. "You can't spread the blight to me."

She shook her head. "It's not that." Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath, and when she looked up at him, her blood-red eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I don't have time to break down right now."

Slowly, he lowered his hand and nodded. Sometimes tenderness hit harder than a blow. They didn't really do tenderness anyway. No matter how many nights they'd spent together, no matter how well he knew her body, they'd both agreed to keep their hearts out of it. He thought he'd managed right up until the moment she'd been dragged through the damn eluvian on Tearstone.

But that wasn't what she needed, so instead he pulled the hip flask from his belt and offered it to her. "Whiskey?"

Her thin smile held relief and something like fondness. "Maker, yes."

He let her take a long swallow before asking, "What else do you need?"

When she handed the flask back, her eyes were dry and her jaw was set. "I need my city back."

"You'll have it." He glanced toward the blight tendrils that had pushed their way into the building. "And after, if you need Wardens to clean up the blight, I'll be here."

"If there is an after."

He turned back to her, his own brow furrowed with stubborn determination. "There will be."

Her eyes were harder to read behind the mask of corruption, but he knew that look, knew the way she searched his eyes sometimes, like she was looking for a clue to some mystery she wanted to unravel.

"I want to believe you," she said.

"That's enough." He offered her a wry smile. "We work with what we've got, right?"

She huffed a soft laugh and shook her head before looking over her shoulder at where the others had gathered. "I need to talk to Rook."

"Go," he told her. "I'll see you out there. I'll be the one with the shield bashing you a clear path."

"You do know how to spoil a girl."

She hesitated for a moment longer, like she might say something else, but then she turned and walked away. Once she was gone, Assan moved closer and pressed against his leg. Sighing, Davrin looked down at him and stroked the feathers between his ears.

"It's going to be all right, boy," he promised. "She's going to be all right."

Assan let out a soft chirp and closed his eyes, soaking in the affection while they had the time.

Davrin only hoped that "after" wouldn't make him a liar.

[kometqh]

𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫

Captain Rex x f!reader

When Skywalker assigns you and the 501st boys on a mission, he thought nothing could go wrong. After all, you were one of the best Jedi around. In the flurry of a quick, excitable night, you couldn’t have proven him more wrong. Word Count: 3,238 Warnings: Alcohol consumption, pining Rex, sad Rex, affection (🤯) A/N: SURPRISEEE!! I'M ALIVEEEE :D This piece has been sitting in my WIPs for months now, all because I didn't think it was good enough-- Coming back to it after months I’ve realised I love it the way it is for the first chapter ;)

Golden grains of sand brushed past the group in a chorus, whistling under the amber glow of the setting sun. It'd been hours at that point, hours since the squadron had been dispatched on their mission and they were already running low on water rations and energy. Clone troopers were specifically designed to be able to withstand all sorts of environments and situations, yet even they felt exhaustion after a continuous trudge through the dusty, ruby sandstone canyons. That paired with the constant threat of starved creatures ten times the size of their group lurking about, it was surely enough to keep anyone on a fine line between mind-numbing exhaustion and crippling fear.

Looking up, Rex sighed quietly as he listened to the quiet complaints and grumbles of his men. His feet were aching from a full day of travel, and his throat had been parched for what seemed like millenniums after he'd given Jesse the last remains of his water. The constant scorching heat had also been, unsurprisingly, anything but helpful.

Jedi General nowhere to be seen, Rex urged his men to continue their miserable shuffling pace, until she'd return to them. Until she'd relay information, or let them rest, or reassure them. Until then, he had to maintain composure, never let his men down.

It was shortly after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, when the skies turned into a canvas of magenta and rosy pink splashes that the General returned. Wearing khaki shorts, a sandy top and a beige cloak, she blended in perfectly with the sunset dunes. Her lightsaber had been safely tucked away, attached to her hip so it was easy to reach for.

"There is a small town just a few clicks South, I believe there might be an inn that we can make a rest stop at. Any objections, Captain?" She eyed Rex up and down, brows furrowing at the sight of his sand-worn helmet and sweaty complexion. In one hand, she held a paper map, in the other she held a flask.

"N- No sir." He responded quickly, posture stiffening up under her scrutinising gaze. She wasn't exactly keen on being alone on a mission with his squadron; not after the last one. He looked down to her flask, feeling the arid desert air clawing at his throat with every breath he took.

"Apologies, it took me a while to realise where the town was. I hadn't seen a paper map in years, nevermind used it." She sighed, feigning some sort of annoyance as she reached out to Rex, head turned away, offering him her water. "Now go, tell the squadron we're leaving in a moment."

"Yes, General. They'll be up and running in no time." Slowly, he carefully took the water, shooting one last look to his general before turning in the direction of his squadron, who'd been impatiently tapping their feet and awaiting further instructions.

As he made his way over, a small inkling of hope settled deep in his gut. She still cared for him, for the others, even when she did her best to avoid them. Rex knew he needed to get to the bottom of this, but for now he had more important things to do. Fives and Hardcase seemed to turn into a team of unbearable jesters each time a mission involved too much walking and not enough action.

—————————

The inn was nothing if not dusty and run-down. It survived hundreds, if not thousands of sandstorms, and its' exterior spoke of those memories as if they were ghost stories told by a campfire. The entrance consisted of a pair of faded, walnut saloon doors, which squeaked and groaned with every brief gust of wind that'd swerved past their hinges.

The exterior of the inn was a sand-tarnished, foamy green wood with a large sign that read 'The Smoker' in fancy letters, but the interior contrasted it with deep, velvet ruby walls, candle lighting and a golden-rimmed bar that extended into the parlour in a half rectangle.

Rex had never been to such an establishment, and he even felt a tinge out of place in such an old-fashioned, un-modernised place in his armour and trusty blasters.

An older gentleman was stationed behind the bar, polishing a glass. Black streaks ran through locks of grey, and his moustache was carefully trimmed into two, twinning strands which curled up at the tips. His cheeks were chubby, brimming with rose colour over a small smile. His attention was redirected to the group, as their entrance was proclaimed by the chime of a small, golden bell.

"Welcome to the galaxy's finest ranch inn, the Smoker, how may I be of service to you all?" His voice was deep and husky as an aftermath of too many smoked pipes, croaking against the smooth tune of a saxophone in the background.

"A couple of rooms, as well as whatever these lot want. Put it all on my tab please." The General spoke quietly, leaning against the countertop. The man eyed her up and down, giving a small grunt in response. She turned to the rest of the group, exhaustion tugging at her features. "Don't go too wild, we've still got a mission tomorrow." And with that, she was off, swirling a room key on her finger.

A few mutters floated between the men as they spread out across the bar, ordering drink after drink.

Rex felt his headache worsen as he rubbed at his forehead. For the life of him he could not figure out how to get his General to act normal with them again. Her behaviour had entirely shifted since their last mission together, and he couldn't blame her. His face still felt hot whenever he reminisced, however she'd become distant and cold towards not only him, but also the others. Parts of him regretted that night whenever he was met with her cold shoulder and distant gaze.

"What's on your mind, Captain?" Jesse's voice interrupted his thoughts, placing a hand on Rex's shoulder. Jesse was a smart cookie. His eyes quickly followed Rex's line of sight, humming in understanding. Jesse had also found himself on the receiving end of her new behaviour, no matter how sugary and honey-coated his words were.

"She'll come around, Rex. She needs some time to figure things out, she's our general after all," He paused, gently tugging at his vod's shoulder, "Let's go, you clearly need a few drinks in you Captain." And with that, the two men joined Fives, Hardcase and Echo at a faraway booth, the men nursing some cowboy whiskey and shots.

Rex was in for a long night.

———————

It didn't take long for the boys to stuff Rex with drink after drink, someone always ready with new rounds each time Rex had thought his glass was empty. Fives took a liking to the music, though he had commented on the lack of civvies in the area, or the lack of their beloved general. Him and Tup were the only ones who, in the past few weeks, had managed to carry out some form of conversation with the general. Rex tried everything to make them spill the beans, from bribes to begging, but the two had sealed their lips shut, their loyalty almost astonishing the Captain, but he knew they were good men, loyal men. So, he didn't push anymore.

Somehow, Hardcase had managed to get his hands on a few 'cowboy' hats, as the bar owner explained, and the boys seemed to love them. Rex was the only one who seemed to be listening to the bar owner's stories, his eyes glazing over and a fond smile gracing his lips as he recounted his favourite memories. The one that had caught Rex's attention was peculiar – it was to do with women, or cowgirls, to be exact.

"If a cowgirl takes your hat, or any other woman for that matter, it means she's interested in seeing more of you," The bartender paused, chuckling to himself as he watched Fives and Hardcase engage in an arm wrestle, "And if you let her, you're essentially telling her you're also interested," After that, Rex seemed to forget to listen to the rest of the story, his thoughts flying to you immediately. As he sipped on his iced whiskey, an idea came to mind. He adjusted the hat atop his head, downing the rest of his drink. He stood up abruptly just as Hardcase won the wrestle, cheering and celebrating in his drunken state. He'd definitely had too much to drink, but Rex would entrust Jesse and Kix to look after him when he'd be throwing up.

Now, Rex had a mission.

He received a few curious glances from the troopers around him, but no one questioned it as he walked towards the stairs, a small wobble in his step.

The hallway seemed to be swaying just a tad as he climbed up with a death grip on the golden rail, praying to the force not to fall and make a fool of himself. The stairs seemed to go on and on forever, taking him up higher into dimly lit hallways, and he wondered just how big this inn was. It didn't seem to be much from the outside, but the inside was certainly a maze.

Many doors lined the hallway, and he realised he didn't actually know where his General was staying. His last sober memories were of Kix joining their table, an annoyed expression tugging at his features as Jesse seemed to regret drinking a tad too fast. Shaking his head – which turned out to be a mistake – Rex stumbled down the hallway, groaning as bile rose up to his throat. Kriff, what was he thinking?

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe you wouldn't even think to entertain his drunken antics and banish him straight to bed.

But Rex had to try.

The absence of your warmth and kindness was searing a hole directly through his chest. It worsened with every mission, with more distance that you added between the two of you, building a bridge littered with thorns and shards, making it impossible for Rex to cross. You were all he thought of each night, your gentle touches, adorable laughter, your sweet smile and song-like voice. He refused to acknowledge it for a long time, but eventually he realised he was completely and utterly enamoured with you. Ever since that night, far before it even, you had stolen his heart. Hidden it away so deep within your grasps. He knew he was a fool, but he couldn't help it.

A sober voice screamed in the back of his mind to go to bed, to leave you be, and a drunken part of him seemed to accept defeat. He looked like a pathetic drunk, dressed up as a cowboy, stumbling around hallways, desperately trying to find you.

Kriff it. He should go and sleep instead of bothering you further. His drunken antics would only drive a further gap between the two of you. If you needed space, space was what Rex would give you.

Huffing, he placed an unsteady hand on the nearest doorknob he could find. Twisting it, he didn't even bother looking into the room as he rose a hand to rub at his head. The hangover would hit him like a brick in the morning, he was sure of it.

As the door opened, he frowned. It was dark.

How long had he and the boys been drinking? The General wasn't going to be impressed with them for sure.

Rex closed the door with a soft 'click', his arms automatically, but lazily, unclasping his armour. It was muscle memory by now; shoulder pads first, then the chest, arms, legs, so on and so forth.

There were small, fuzzy spots dancing in his vision, the room before him swaying side to side, his feet stumbling over one another as he reached the only bed in the room. Exhaustion suddenly weighed in on his shoulders like a stack of bricks, and he felt himself sluggishly fall into the soft, comfortable mattress. He struggled to twist his body to the side, grunting as the duvet beneath him refused to budge. He pulled at it, his bones turning into slurry and his muscles losing all their strength as alcohol continued to circle around his system.

Finally, something seemed to shift.

The blanket slid out from underneath his bare back, and Rex sighed in relief as it draped over him, the cold material comforting and easing his tired muscles.

His eyelids drooped over, sleep reaching out to him in strong waves of drowsiness as Rex sunk further into the bed.

It was probably from the drowsiness he was slowly beginning to feel, but his heart leaped up and into his chest as he realised – the bed shifted.

He wasn't alone.

His senses kicked in and Rex leaped up from the bed, cursing in the meantime as his legs got tangled in the sheets and his body tumbled to the floor like a sack of bricks, eliciting a loud 'thump' that may have been noticeable all the way downstairs.

"Kriff- I'm so sorry," He began apologising, swallowing down the momentary fear and panic that flowed through his veins, "I didn't realise there was someone in here, I-"

Foreign hands travelled to his shoulders, their warmth seeping into his skin as they sought to comfort him, "It's okay Rex, there's no need to panic," A soft, smooth and caressing voice spoke out into the darkness of the room, and Rex's brows pulled together in confusion. That voice, it was familiar. He knew-

"General?"

"Yes, it's me Rex. Let's get you up now, shall we?" You were quick to help your Captain get to his feet, noticing that a large, dark brown hat resided hung from his neck. His skin was burning hot against your palms, and your hand wandered to his forehead as he laid back down. "You're burning..." You paused, scrunching your nose, "You reek of alcohol, Captain. How much did you drink?"

"Not enough apparently." Rex grumbled out as he pulled his newly acquired hat over his face, hiding his scowl from you.

Your brows furrowed at his response, surprise and confusion flooding your veins simultaneously. Was he upset with you? If that was the case, you could understand why. You hadn't been the friendliest or kindest over the last few rotations, and guilt did eat away at you whenever you were the cause of that dejected look in Rex's eyes. But he was nothing if not patient. He gave you your space and didn't try to break your boundaries. Maybe the alcohol stumped the patience that Rex never seemed to run out of.

"Are you upset with me Captain?"

He gave you no response, no hint as to what he was thinking or feeling.

"Rex?"

A deep huff left through his nose.

"Rex, what's-"

Suddenly, he was sat upright, a hand swiping the cowboy hat back onto the crown of his head. His gaze was piercing, even in his drunken stupor, as his nose remained just inches from your face, "You really do make things difficult, don't you, mesh'la." His voice was a murmur as his hazy honey eyes stared deeply into yours.

Before any words could leave your parted lips, he cupped the side of your face, a coarse thumb tenderly caressing your skin.

"Please don't make this difficult, General." Begging words barely above a whisper, your Captain slowly, carefully, leaned in. His eyes held the utmost adoration as his lips stopped just a kiss away, his presence overwhelming and freezing up every muscle and nerve in you all at once. The smell of whiskey was strong, but that familiar scent of seawater and pine lingered, stopping your breath short as your eyes fluttered close.

His movements were slow, calculating and considerate as Rex hesitantly teased the gap between your bodies.

Blood pulsated loudly in your ears, the hairs on your body tense as goosebumps flushed your skin in waves, the intensity of his proximity to you silencing any stray thoughts you had. In that moment, it was just the two of you. It was just the sound of his shaky breaths mixing together with your own, the slight tremble in his hand as his grip tightened and then eased, as if he was uncertain of what to do, the smell of whiskey and the taste something sweet familiar, something that had you wanting to reach out for more and never let go. And there was also the sight of him. Those golden irises, those thick lashes fluttering over his eyes. The pinkish hue that dusted over his cheeks, the heat emanating from his body as he struggled against every instinct within him that screamed at him to just kiss you, to just hold you and to just love you.

He made his choice.

His fingers dwindled downwards, tracing slopes down your nape as he eased an inch to the left.

Soft lips pressed against the corner of your mouth, pouring all his thoughts and feeling into that one, simple kiss, his nose gently scraping against yours as he took in a slow, steadying breath.

"I'm sorry, mesh'la," He muttered sweetly, voice broken and barely breaking above the confines of a whisper as he stilled against you.

Taking a sharp inhale, the imaginary shackles dropped from your body.

You pulled away slowly, your hands enveloping Rex's as you pressed it against your chest.

"It's okay Captain," You shifted away from the bed, feeling as his fingers entangled with yours and tugged, quietly pleading for you to stay.

Looking up at you, Rex knew deep down that you couldn't do what he wanted. He knew he shouldn't even try, and yet his body seemed to act on its own will whilst he remined watching from behind a glass prison. His chest tightened as he noticed the way your eyes seemed to droop, your lips drawing into a fine line so as to not betray your thoughts and feelings. Time stopped as the two of you remained frozen, yet again, gazing at one another, savouring the last moments before your fingers trickled from his grasp, falling in tow with your other hand as you reached for the duvet.

"Sleep, Captain, we've got a long day ahead of us," You whispered out, pulling the covers over his chest as Rex gave a small nod, resting against the soft pillows beneath him. Your movements came to a halt as you took notice of his hat, yet again, and an idea sparked in your mind.

Your fingers reached nimbly for the material, gently pulling it away from your captain.

With heavy fingers, he reached out for it, his eyes already struggling against the weight of his drowsiness.

"What are you..?"

Lifting a finger to your lips, you let a small smile tug at the corners of your lips as you placed the hat atop your head.

"Goodnight, Rex," And with that, you were out before he could even blink.

Rex remained frozen in his seated position, his mind struggling to balance the feeling of drowsiness and shock at your actions. The alcohol flowing through his blood wasn't any help either, and he soon found his head hitting the pillows as his muscles seemingly turned into jelly.

A small smile blossomed on his face, even as the events of the night slowly blurred and faded under the whiskey and the rush of his feelings..

[archangeldyke-all]

For the arranged marriage au I thought it was so funny how readers mom was regretting setting her up with Sevika. Could we see more of that? Like it could be the morning after the last fic you wrote of them and they can barely get any of their responsibilities taken care of bc they’re all over each other and readers mother and sevs father has to keep reminding them 😭

That was just one thought I had so I hope that’s enough to help you out and get ideas flowing!

I LOVE THEM adl;fja;slkdj

men and minors dni

"you are in so much trouble, young lady."

you cringe in your mother's arms, her stern voice still the same after all this time.

sevika's taken you home for your third anniversary. as much as you love zaun, there's no place like home, and you've been dying to show sevika all over your kingdom since you moved to zaun.

you pull away from your hug with your mom to blink up at her. "hello to you too, mom. good to see you after all this time...?" you prompt. she rolls her eyes and pinches your cheek.

"yes, yes, you look amazing, i feel so old, i've missed you dearly. now tell me why the king of zaun has been writing me, begging me to get you under control?" she asks, her pinch on your cheek flying up to your ear.

you cringe and squirm. "mom!" you whine. "he pushes sev around too much, whaddya expect?" you manage to duck out of her pinch, and run into your dad's arms before she can grab you again.

he and sevika are laughing at the sight of the queen disciplining her daughter, and he kisses your throbbing earlobe when you hug him. "hello, dear." he greets. "it's so good to have you back. how long are you staying?"

"six months." sevika replies for you.

your mother groans at her answer.

you only end up staying for three.

about a month into your stay, you sneak sevika out of the palace walls to visit the hot springs you used to frequent as a rebellious teenager.

it takes a few nips of the liquor in the flask you'd brought along to convince her-- but you manage to get sevika to strip down naked with you and go for a swim.

it's magical, swimming and laughing and playing with your wife in the warm water, the moon your only witness.

"so this is what you did for fun growing up?" sevika asks when she's got you in her arms, your arms around her shoulders, your legs around her hips. she holds you easily in the water-- though she doesn't struggle out of the water with this either.

"this, and a whole lotta drinking games." you joke. sevika snorts.

"am i the first girl you ever brought here?" she asks.

you grin, and sevika ducks her head in embarrassment. "are you jealous baby?" you ask.

"'m a fucking princess. you're my wife. 'm not jealous." she mumbles.

you cackle, then swoop in to kiss the frown off her lips. "you're the first girl i ever brought here." you promise. her pout vanishes and she smiles.

"you're just saying that to make me feel better." she accuses. you laugh and nod along, and she groans.

"what the fuck! you brought other women here?!" she whines. your laughs are so loud, a few birds asleep in the trees overhead wake up and fly away. "who are they? i'll kill 'em." she demands.

you kiss your wife. "sev, darling, i was fifteen. we'd stick our feet in and pass a bottle-- i'd be lucky if i got a kiss." you say. she's still pouting, but it's lessening as you speak.

"so... they didn't see you naked?" she asks, her eyes ducking down to take a quick peek at your tits as she speaks. you burst into another round of laughter.

"no, they didn't. they didn't have their hands on my ass like this either." you say, gesturing to the way she's holding you. sevika's pout breaks into a cocky smile as she squeezes your asscheeks, and you giggle.

"fuckin' idiots. i'd've been all over you babe, i promise." she mumbles as she starts to press kisses down your throat. you snort.

"baby-- i've seen the royal portraits from when you were fifteen." you tease. she groans, biting your throat to keep you from speaking. you just tug her hair and continue. "i think you'd've been way too distracted by the stables and horses to give a fuck about skinny dipping."

sevika bites your shoulder and you yelp, and then she glares up at you. "you're never gonna let that go, are you?" she groans.

you giggle and shake your head no.

sevika was obsessed with horses in her adolescence, to the point where she demanded that she be painted alongside all her horses (both real and imaginary) for her fifteenth portrait. it's fucking adorable-- one of your favorite paintings of her in all of zaun. the childlike whimsy in her eyes, the excited grin on her lips, the ridiculous riding uniform that she was quickly outgrowing in the midst of puberty-- it's perfect. you've asked for a minature version to be painted so you can keep it in a locket.

sevika hates it. to distract you from your fond, adoring laughter, she pushes you against a stone, and shoves her tongue down your throat.

it's a pretty good distraction.

you moan, scratching sevika's shoulders in a weak attempt to pull her even closer to you.

just as her hand starts to trail up your thigh toward your cunt, a scandalized gasp rings out, followed by a clatter.

you and sevika jump apart, and then a moment later, sevika jumps in front of your naked body, protecting your naked body from view of your intruder.

only-- it's not an intruder.

it's holy elder reginald, and all his religious gear.

"oh my-- ladies!" he squeaks. you and sevika both cringe and quickly jump out of the water to begin dressing yourselves as reginald turns his back, but continues to shout. "it's the first full moon of spring! it's a holy day! these are holy waters! you are desecrating a landmark sacred to our peo--"

"sorry reggie!" you giggle, pulling your underwear back on and grabbing sevika's wrist. "i-i forgot about the moon magic stuff, zaun's all about the sun!"

this pisses the old man off even more, and you shrink in on yourself as he spins around to gawk at you. "the moon mag-- princess!" he scolds.

behind you, sevika tugs on your grasp. you giggle, then let her pull you back toward the dirt path you'd come in on, both of you sprinting away from the screaming old man, cackling as you run through the forest and back toward your palace.

when you get back to your room, both of you are delirious with laughter and embarrassment, laughing against one another hysterically as you try to kiss.

in the morning, your mother nearly rips your ear off your head with all the pinching she does as she scolds you. it's worth it for the way sevika blushes each time holy elder reginald attends a meeting with her, though.

two months into your visit, sevika almost causes an uprising a small fishing village when the two of you visit.

she doesn't mean to, it's just a cultural miscommunication, but you watched in horror as your wife is offered a precious, sacred scale from the great fish of your nation-- and she pops it in her mouth and starts chewing.

you gasp, choke, and then squeal. "sev, no!"

but, it's too late. she swallowed it. the ancient token of appreciation, acceptance, and leadership-- meant to be worn like a badge of honor-- right down the hatch.

"what, was there a sauce to dip it in or something?" she asks.

you had to put yourself between your wife and the mob of angry old fishermen, waving your hands and promising your people that your wife doesn't know the custom-- that most gifts in zaun are edible-- that, really, if you get to know her, she's very nice.

(then you have to rush her back home to the medic, because her stomach starts acting up and she starts shitting her pants. she spends the rest of the week in the royal infirmary.)

and then, the final straw-- three months into your visit back home, you and sevika attend a ball.

it's meant to be something lowkey and smiple-- there are a few foreign dignitaries visiting, and now that they have no children to raise, your parents are always looking for a reason to have a dance.

a casual affair-- just your family and the nobles, a few merchants, some townspeople who won tickets for a night at the palace in a lottery-- something easy and fun to take place in the courtyard on a lovely spring evening.

but then, he shows up.

sir trent. you grew up with the asshole-- his parents are invaluable consultants to your parents, but he's a worthless dickhead. constantly questioning your parents decisions, acting as if he could rule a country with ease despite the fact that he hasn't worked a day in his life, manipulating and demeaning everyone he meets in an attempt to boost his own ego.

you manage to avoid him most the night, you and sevika dancing and eating and drinking in your own little corner by the rose bushes, wrapped up in each other's eyes-- uncaring of the world around you.

but then he swaggers over, a smirk on his lips as he approaches you. "princess!" he greets.

you and sevika slow to a sway and you nod politely. "sir trent, good to see you."

"'s been a while, huh?" he asks. you nod, then turn back to sevika, assuming the conversation is over. "who's your lady friend?" he asks.

you stop in your tracks, then turn to face him fully, letting go of sevika's hips. "my wife?" you ask.

"oh, is that so?" he asks. you nod, not understanding his line of questioning. "so your parents finally relented to all your..." he waves his hand in your general direction. "stuff."

"my stuff?"

"your bullshit."

"excuse me--" sevika tries to cut in. you hold a hand up, and she stops, her chest just barely brushing your fingers.

"my bullshit?"

"how do the two of you expect to produce an heir?" he asks. "it's a disgrace to the entire royal bloodline."

"a bloodline you are not a part of." you remind him.

he scoffs, and takes a step back, his face turning red in anger. "fuck you."

"you fuckin' wish!" you laugh. trent shivers, and then his voice squeaks as he screams.

"i don't wish, princess, but if you ever need a sperm donor, i'd be willing to bend that wife of yours ov--"

you aren't sure what's happened until your knuckles start stinging.

trent's flat on his back, knocked out cold, his nose bloody. all the party guests have turned to face you, and the music's stopped.

you blink down at your hand, your knuckles bloody, and then you giggle.

oh. you think. i've always wanted to do that.

"...babe?" sevika asks.

you turn around, and sevika breaks into a grin the moment your eyes meet. "are you okay?" you ask, worried about the disgusting things he'd said to her. sevika cackles, and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss.

you vaguely register the conducter counting the band off, and the music starting again. a few hoots and cheers ring out around the courtyard, and you even hear your dad's loud, proud laugh.

when sevika's hand travels down to grab your ass, your mother's eerily loud throat-clear rings out. you both jump away guiltily, and turn to face the queen as she approaches you.

"i'm sorry mom, he w--"

"don't worry, dear, sir trent's always been my least favorite of the nobles." she whispers, kissing your cheek, and reaching out to hold sevika's hand. she sighs, then rolls her eyes. "that being said, i am kicking you two out of my kingdom."

you blink. "what?"

"i ask that you return to zaun before next week-- or i will have you forcibly deported." she says. you blink again.

"what!?"

"dear, if i let you stay any longer, the two of you will cause a fucking war." she says. "i love you. i've missed you. i am so happy you and sevika are happy and in love-- but i simply cannot deal with your mayhem anymore. your ban will be lifted next year, when you will be allowed to visit again for one month. that's it."

your mother turns on her heels and marches away, and you watch her go, shocked.

under your feet, trent starts to groan and blink awake.

beside you, your wife bursts into laughter.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 17

part 1 | part 16 | ao3

Heat rolls through Steve’s gut; low and quick, a vicious flare, and then he coughs and looks away. “Jesus, man," he splutters, "learn to take a joke.”

“Mmm-hm.” Eddie's smug smirk spreads wide, grows teeth; gotcha bitch, and Steve’s about to tell him to fuck off when he claps his hands to his thighs and abruptly stands up. Does a big stretch, swinging his arms out side to side, reaching overhead until his back makes a noise like a twisted sheet of bubble wrap.

“Holy shit!” Steve frowns. “You’re gonna break your spine.”

Eddie gives him a flippant smile. “That's the idea. Anyway...” He pretzels himself up again, groaning as his neck and shoulders pop. “Seeing as we’re trapped in here for the foreseeable future, you wanna do what the little psychos asked? Play twenty questions or have a heart-to-heart or whatever?”

“Seriously? And just give them what they want?”

Eddie shrugs. “Seems like the fastest way out of here, so yeah.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Please. You negotiate with them all the time." He folds forward at the hips, looking at Steve upside down between his legs, and twists a curl around his pinky. "Those kids have you wrapped around their grubby little fingers."

"They do not!"

"They totally do. Besides," he swings back upright, "I’ll negotiate with anyone if it gets me back home to my girl.”

"Oh." Steve stumbles at that. "Didn't know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie laughs big and bright, shaking his hair all over the place. “Yeah, Harrington, I have a girlfriend. You're funny. Y'know, Henderson could have saved us a lot of time here if he'd just told me you were fun—”

“Okay, then who’s your girl?” Steve interrupts with a huff, because Eddie’s just hopping around in circles while he laughs like Steve's a fucking moron for making a totally reasonable assumption, and he doesn't understand what's so goddamn funny about it.

“My girl, Harrington,” he all but coos when he collects himself, “is my guitar.” He bites his lip and mimes playing a riff; Steve doesn’t know shit about guitar, but he knows that Eddie’s fingers are quick, nimble and impressive as they jitter through the air. “We’ve got a show this weekend. Like, a real one this time, not just playing to three drunks at the Hideout.”

“Cool,” Steve says, looking away from his rings. “Congrats, man. You any good?”

“You could say that.” Eddie’s mouth goes smug and pleased, genuine pride shining in his big eyes when he rocks back on his heels. “The frat that booked us seems to think so, anyway.”

“Oh, shit!" Now Steve's impressed, because it's the weekend before Halloween, and that means, "College costume party.”

“Of course you’d be excited about that.”

“Hey, great place to get laid,” Steve shrugs.

Eddie chokes on his own spit. “You’re kind of a slut, you know that?”

“Rude,” Steve says mildly. He's not a slut; he's an opportunist.

The ground's starting to hurt his ass, so he stands up to join Eddie's impromptu yoga session. Eddie leans a hip against the workbench, folding his arms over his chest and giving Steve room to move.

His eyes flit to his hemline when it rides up on a stretch. "Would you..." he clears his throat. "Would you want to come?"

"Huh?" Steve twists around.

"To the show," Eddie adds, ducking his head to hide his face behind his hair. "You'd have to cram into the back with Frankie and the drum kit, but uh..."

Steve lets himself picture it for a moment, some alternate dimension where he's allowed to say yes: the winding highway to Indy, a van full of dudes cracking jokes and fighting over who gets to pick the music next, losing himself in the thrum of a crowd while he drinks and dances and watches Eddie on stage.

His throat feels tight, suddenly. He reaches for the flask and takes another sip of whiskey. "Don't all your bandmates hate me?"

"I mean... not any more than I do." Eddie's answer is quiet, his eyes swimming with candlelight; Steve doesn't know when they moved closer, when a hush settled over the room, but it feels like...

"Yeah?" he hedges, his voice barely above a whisper. Then he steps out onto the ledge; icy cliffside, slippery holds. The mountains are so much scarier than the deep sea. "And how... How much is that?"

His pulse kicks in his chest. Echoes down to his wrist, a nervous current beneath his skin. Eddie's eyes are so soft. Big and brown and dark. Dark like the deep woods; endless; sort of mesmerizing.

"Steve, I—"

The cellar doors shriek on their hinges.

—

part 18

part of the tag list below the cut comment if you want to be added (comment twice if you wanna be my tag manager lol i’m dyin)

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures