#based off of mutual’s tag I got that said ‘I think he can sparkle on’ when miles drank milk and glitter glue together

[221bsunsettowers]

The Kingdom Lights Shine Just for Me and You (TK/Carlos Royal AU): Chapter 4: Your Heart is a Beating Drum

TK Strand is a Prince who has given up on true love after having his heart broken.

Carlos Reyes is a Knight who longs for true love but must put his family's needs first.

Carlos just won a jousting tournament hosted by TK's father.

The prize?

An arranged marriage with one Prince TK.

A 9-1-1 Lone Star Royal AU

Previous chapters can be found here 

Chapter 4: Your Heart is a Beating Drum

In which Carlos and TK struggle with the poison revelation, there is a misunderstanding leading to cracks in emotional walls and mutual softness, and Carlos meets his new security detail, Judd and Marjan.

Carlos opened his mouth, but no words came out. He found himself unable to do anything but sit there, staring, gape-mouthed, at Tommy, hands gripping the base of his chair hard enough his knuckles turned white."Are you sure?" he heard TK ask, but the words seemed muffled, making their way towards Carlos as if through water.

"It was in his goblet of wine," Nancy answered, and Carlos' head shot up, his wide-eyed gaze drawn straight to TK, whose face was drained of all color.

"You saved my life," Carlos whispered, the first words he had been able to get out since the news had so abruptly arrived. TK's eyes were immediately on Carlos, and Carlos found he could already easily read the question in TK's gaze. "The wine. I stopped drinking as soon as I saw you were uncomfortable. I only had perhaps two sips, maybe three."

"That would explain why you merely got so ill," Tommy said, nodding in agreement.

"Merely got so ill?" TK's voice was suddenly raised, his face now flushed, tone full of anger. "If he wasn't here-"

"Of course, I understand," Carlos cut in, unsuccessfully attempting to control the tremble in his voice. "I will go pack my things at once, Your Highness. My presence will no longer cause you discontent." He managed to remind his body how to bow, his voice to say, "Thank you all for your kindnesses," before quickly making his way back towards his chambers.

"Was that your goal?" Grace gently chided, and TK could merely shake his head, before sprinting  after Carlos.

"I fear that there has been a misunderstanding," TK burst out, throwing open the door to Carlos' chambers, stopping short as he was met with the sight of a bare chested Carlos, holding in one hand the tunic he had just been wearing in the kitchen, in the other hand the clothes he had arrived in.

"I fear there has not been," Carlos sighed, eyes downcast as he held the tunic out to TK, whose gaze was still frozen on the expanse of Carlos' skin. "I will not take anything I did not arrive with."

"Carlos, stop, please," TK pleaded, gently wrapping his fingers around Carlos' wrist. Carlos twisted away, pulling his own shirt on before reaching for his bag.

"I do not wish you to be harmed!" TK did not register the volume of his voice, or the tremble weaving in around his words, only that Carlos had not yet picked up his bag, that he had not yet moved for the door. "If I am discontented, it is because a villain could have killed you the prior evening!" TK's eyes were wide, and his chest was heaving, and he was almost shouting, and Carlos could not tear his own eyes away. "And I cannot have that. I will not have that."

"TK," Carlos breathed out, soft and surprised, laying his hand gently on TK's shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance. "I am not harmed."

"I know," TK murmured, rubbing his face harshly between his fingers, the air and energy seeming to deflate as he sunk onto the corner of the bed. "But you were in pain. It was mere chance that you are not..." A shudder rippled through TK's shoulders, and he shook his head, refusing to continue.

"It was your example, actually, that ensured my recovery," Carlos said with a smile, crouching down and placing a grounding hand on TK's jittering knee. "I think, TK, I shall be joining you in abstaining from wine from now on."

This startled a wry chuckle from TK, who nodded, a smile beginning to turn up the corners of his mouth again. "My name sounds much better from your lips than Your Highness. I am glad I have earned back the right."

"I am still amenable," Carlos assured him with a smile, and TK's face crinkled into a full grin, before he moved to join Carlos on the floor, sitting cross-legged with his hands clasped in his lap.

"I do not wish you to depart," TK admitted softly, staring down at his hands. "I wish you to be safe. But as this is an arrangement my parents are determined to see through, I am glad it is you by my side."

"I am glad to be by your side," Carlos assured him, reaching over and resting his hand on top of TK's. TK unlatched his own fingers and turned one hand up, interlocking his fingers through Carlos' and squeezing softly.

And then just as suddenly TK was pulling back his hand, cradling it to his chest as he stood up and walked towards the door. "You must be tired still," he said softly, staring at the door, his back to Carlos. "You should get some rest. I will make sure there is someone stationed outside your door to ensure your safety."

"Thank you," Carlos whispered to an already closed door, TK somewhere on the other side.

Carlos had completed returning all garments to their proper places and was just attempting to settle back into the bed, when a knock sounded on his door. "Yes?" Carlos called out, and a tall man with broad shoulders entered the room, a large friendly smile on his face.

"Hello there," the man said. "My name is Judd." He gestured to the woman who had moved up to stand next to him. "This is Marjan. TK has requested that we arrange protection for you given what occurred at the banquet."

"We have been instructed by TK to ignore any protests you may provide," Marjan added, her eyes sparkling mischeviously. This startled a laugh out of Carlos, who shook his head with a rueful smile.

"I am a knight," Carlos said, gesturing towards his sword, now carefully cleaned and returned to its scabbard. "I have been more than capable of protecting myself for many years now."

"We have seen you joust, we fully trust in your capabilities," Marjan promised. "We would welcome you joining our training sessions."

"But TK..." Judd trailed off, leaning back against the wall. "He has endured a lot this past year. More than his share. Finding his own way to keep you safe seems highly important to him. Which brings us here."

"Will he have enough protection still?" Carlos asked anxiously. "I am sure you already have a protocol in place, given TK must order protection such as this for all guests. I would just have assurance he will not be left unguarded."

Judd and Marjan exchanged a knowing smile before answering. "This is the first occurrance, in fact," Marjan replied, a smirk playing across her lips. "Before he has always left all security to his father. Even with Prince A-" She stopped herself short, pinching her lips together, smile falling away. "That is not a name that should ever be mentioned within these walls, or anywhere ever again if I had my say."

"I will not ask or speak of him," Carlos promised, and Marjan gave him a quick nod of respect. "I just wish, I would know more of what occurred so I could understand and help, so I could know if there is ever a chance..." Sighing, Carlos rubbed his hands over his face. "It is not my place and I will not attempt to make it so."

"We are very fond of our little prince here," Judd said with a chuckle, and Marjan snorted with laughter. Carlos raised a surprised eyebrow but found himself unable to stop himself from laughing along. "He is our family. And we have not seen him smile like this in far too long."

"Which may very well be the reason the king wishes a word with you now," Marjan said as she gestured towards the door. "He's waiting in the throne room."

I made the mood board at the top (photo credit to Denny Mueller, Tim Rebkavets, Pawel Furman, Alice Pasqual, and Jonathan Kemper). Please, absolutely feel free if you are inspired by this story to make moodboards, fanart, fics inspired by, headcanons, share your theories with me, stories for side characters, etc. I can’t even tell you the joy that brings me. Honestly, that’s always been my dream as a writer. Just please tag me! @a-l-ias is an amazing artist who is working on fanart for this story and my heart can’t even handle the happiness. 

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story, please let me know! @laelipoo​ @ravens-words​ @ladytimekiller​ @buddie-buddie​ @morganaspendragonss​ @marceee24​ @a-l-ias​ @bikingthroughhawkins​ @i-had-bucky​ @pragmaticoptimist34​ @highqualitykhakis​ @meloingly​ @borntobewondering​ 

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Hiii! I think @/skam_mix made drawing of Sobbe at a museum so I was wondering if you could write something based on that with prompt 139 pls? Maybe Robbe comes o visit Sander at his job ! thanksss

Hi anon! 🥺💕 thats really cute and reminds me of my favourite fic ever of sobbe at the museum!! This drawing is so cuteee!!

If you don’t mind I combined you with @dagcutie who gave me this idea!

139. “God I missed you”

Dialogue Prompts!

Robbe’s job was not quite boring, but it wasn’t exactly interesting either.

Not when he had to tell the same story over and over again, name the same sight-seeing locations over and over again, and hand out the same pamphlets over and over and again. As a museum tour guide, it became a little tedious as time passed and while he had his days, days where he’d meet someone in a group actually interested in the information, or find someone who cracked a joke actually worth laughing at, or see a small child light up with wonder and a smile on their face...for the most part, this was just a summer job.

At least to him.

This job actually required a lot of skills and research. A lot of walking and knowing his way around places, knowing his way around people and communicating with them. So, while he hadn’t graduated yet, he was studying for a degree in Linguistics including taking courses for French, Spanish and Italian and he learned to pick up on quite a few things as he worked here.

Finishing up on a round with tourists, he decided to take his lunch break.

The thing is, Robbe never actually liked leaving the museum during his break. He liked walking around exploring certain exhibits first, a couple of small moments to himself, and then grabbing a bite to eat. He had made it his everyday goal to visit new ones. This time it was an art exhibit, a new showing at the museum.

He made his way through the pieces, slowly staring at them, taking them in, reading up the plaques about the artists. He was so engrossed in the art that he almost didn’t notice a pair of eyes staring at him from across the room. He looked over to the stranger with bleached hair in a black t-shirt, his eyes shining, and a shy but knowing smile on his face. He looked down, smiling to himself and then looked to the art in front of him.

Robbe couldn’t say he wasn’t curious about this stranger. If it wasn’t his stark white hair, it was the look he had held in his eyes just a few seconds ago. But unfortunately, Robbe was running out of time during his break, and his stomach was grumbling in desperate need of food. -

He saw him again in a couple of days. White shirt this time, white hair, same smile on his face. Twice is a coincidence, thought Robbe. But then he saw him again another day in the same week. Three is a pattern.

By the fourth day on the second week, Robbe’s interest had piqued enough. The only reason he had visited the same exhibit a twice, third and fourth time was because of this tall, dark stranger. Okay, he was tall but he wasn’t dark, not with a smile like that. Robbe would be lying to himself if he said he also didn’t think this stranger was attractive.

And by the looks of it, Tall Dark Stranger might’ve thought Robbe was attractive, too.

He saw him staring intensely at a painting on the wall, so focused on the piece. Then, he instinctively reached out almost as if he were to touch the painting. Robbe knew he couldn’t and he probably wouldn’t, but his reflexes worked faster than his mind and he was quickly rushing up to him all the same. The stranger‘s hand did pull away in time, just enough to flash him a smirk as he approached.

“Did you really think I’d touch it?” he asked.

Robbe looked at him, eyes gleaming with a smile.

“No,” he said. “But as a tour guide, I just act on instinct, you know?”

“A tour guide, huh?” Tall Dark Stranger’s lips curved as he eyed his uniform. “Can you give me a tour here?”

“I’m not really experienced in this exhibit. Art is not my area of expertise,” said Robbe.

“What is then?”

“Um, I gives tours on most of the historical and anthropological exhibits here. Sometimes I just like walking around looking at new ones,” he admitted.

“Ah,” the stranger nodded. “And would you like to learn something about art, Robbe?”

Robbe stared at him for a second, dumbfounded at him knowing his name. Then, he realized he had probably read his name tag.

“I would...”

“Sander,” he smiled.

Tall Dark Stranger was Sander.

As Robbe smiled, he walked beside Sander beginning the first of many of rounds in art exhibits at the museum that day.

They spent the day just talking and walking shoulder to shoulder, hands just barely brushing. Every once in a while Robbe would speed up ahead of him, running up to some artifact, a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke about it. Sander watched him get completely lost in it, explaining the facts. And at one point, Robbe noticed the smile that stretched across his face.

“I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” Robbe asked, laughing insecurely.

“No, no, you’re not,” Sander stifled another smile. “It’s just...you seem to like your job,” he said. “That’s really rare. But good.

“I don’t-I don’t necessarily hate it,” Robbe swallowed uncomfortably. “But it keeps me busy,” he said.

“Busy...” Sander repeated.

“Yeah, it’s just temporary, you know? I haven’t really figured out what I actually wanna do,” he said.

Sander’s lips just curved the slightest as he looked off to the side, sipping the coffee they’d bought earlier.

“What?” asked Robbe.

“Nothing,” said Sander. Another moment passed. Another sip of coffee. “You’re really good at it,” he complimented.

“Thanks,” Robbe smiled.

Unfortunately, that was also the last time that Robbe saw him. -

It had been a month since he saw Sander and his chest was starting to ache a little. He missed this stranger that kept coming at the museum to not only stare at art but stare at him like he was art. Tall Dark Stranger he came to know as Sander. He wished he actually got to know him, though.

Taking a breath, he continued with a smile on his face, giving his tours and answering questions, ignoring that grave, deep-set, soreness making a home in his chest.

Another week had gone by and Robbe was starting to lose all hope. You don’t even know him, he thought. It was ridiculous, it really was. But if it was just a crush, some silly feeling that was supposed to go away after the first two weeks, it would’ve been gone by now.

And yet... -

He saw him!

Robbe was walking over to their favourite piece, the first one they’d been standing in front of when Sander pretended to the touch the painting and he was there lamenting his presence when a head of bleached hair peeked through the crowd.

When their eyes met, it seemed as if time slowed a little. His steps toward him seemed agonizing slow to Robbe, at least, even though in reality he was probably moving like a normal person. Sander had the hugest smile on his face and while Robbe had been upset and disappointed the past month, he couldn’t help but return that smile, too.

“Hi,” said Sander, sparks going off in his eyes.

“Hey,” said Robbe, heart beating fast in his chest.

Sander awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, I’m sorry I haven’t been coming here anymore, but I was on vacation with my family,” he explained.

Oh.

“And I wanted to tell you, but I think I came here on your day off or maybe you were sick,” he added quickly.

Robbe had been sick. He had eaten some bad shrimp the day before and unfortunately his stomach refused to let him come to work the next day. He was mentally cursing himself for ever choosing shrimp as an option for food. Regretting every life decision. But he smiled through it.

“That’s okay,” Robbe said. “You don’t have to explain.”

While the confident sparkle didn’t disappear in Sander’s eyes, he squinted them almost a mix between confusion and cringe.

“Is it...” he started. “Is it weird if I say that I missed you?”

Robbe’s heartbeat slowed down now.

“No,” he replied. “Not at all. I mean it is, but the feeling’s mutual, so.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that was spreading across his freckled cheeks. He saw Sander inhale.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed quietly.

Robbe’s eyes dipped to the ground, lashes fluttering as he stood, still smiling.

“I missed you, too,” he said.

They both stayed in place, shuffling their toes silently.

“If you want I could give you a special tour right now,” Robbe offered.

“Wow, my very own special tour? Just for me?” Sander teased.

“Just for you,” nodded Robbe. “It’s not free though.”

Sander’s face pretended to sink just then.

“What do I owe you? Dinner and a date?” he asked, his smirk returning.

“Maybe your number, too,” Robbe teased back.

“You got it,” he winked at him.

Robbe’s job wasn’t boring, no. But it definitely did get more interesting. Especially with a Tall Dark Stranger interested in him.

[karajaynetoday]

for the prompts, can I get “I’m so in love with her/him, I don’t know what do do.” with luke, pretty please?? tomorrow or next week is fine

Hi Shelbi! Thanks so much for this request, hope you enjoy this lil blurb xo

(and by lil I mean 1.6k words but I got carried away as per usual. anyway, enjoy some soft Luke weekend away in a cabin-based friends to lovers!)

(This is a fem reader insert blurb)

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

--

This weekend trip away to the lake with your close friend group had been in the works for months. The date had finally arrived, and all week your group chat had been buzzing with notifications from people  talking about the fun supplies they’d bought, or screenshots of the excellent weather forecast, or memes about bears (that, to be honest, made you a little nervous).

Luke had offered you a carpool spot in his car, along with Michael and Crystal, which you gladly accepted. Originally the idea of camping in tents had been floated, but you were definitely thankful when instead Crystal found an incredible cabin on Air BnB that had more than enough room for all of you, plus private lake access and heaps of nature trails and other activities nearby.

When you showed up at Luke’s, overnight bag in tow, you suddenly felt super nervous. These were all your best friends that you’d known for years, and it definitely wasn’t your first trip away together as a group, but lately things between you and Luke had been… different, somehow.

He’d always been a great friend to you, making sure you had a ride home after a night out, or buying your favourite snacks whenever he hosted an event at his house, or inviting you on walks with Petunia because he remembered you had a dog similar to her growing up and it helped with your homesickness. But lately, you found yourself thinking of him more often than not. In those moments where you’d slip into a daydream about your future, and envisaged travelling the world, or walking down the aisle, or settling down into a house with little ones of your own one day, the only person you could see by your side in those daydreams was Luke. But then reality would set in, and you’d have to remind yourself that he’d never really shown any interest in you beyond friendship, so you couldn’t get your hopes up too high.

Michael and Crystal were already there when you arrived, so you helped pack the remaining supplies into Luke’s car and got on the road as soon as you could. The lake was about a four hour drive away and you’d agreed to share the driving, so you all rotated through various seats in the car. For the final hour of the journey, sunset had passed and you were driving through darkness as you made your way through the wooded area leading towards the lake. Michael had offered to drive the final shift, and Luke sat next to him in the front passenger seat, leaving you and Crystal in the back. You’d both assured the boys that you’d keep them company, and you wouldn’t dare fall asleep, but the steady rhythm of the car quickly lulled you into sleep.

You couldn’t have been out for more than 20 minutes or so when you silently stirred and blinked furiously to try and wake yourself up more quickly. You were about to make a joke to Luke and Michael about definitely not falling asleep, when your ears picked up on them having a murmured conversation amongst themselves up the front.

“I’m so in love with her, Mike. I don’t know what to do.” Luke sounded exasperated, and you saw him run a hand through his mop of curls – a clear sign he was feeling anxious.

“Mate, I’m telling you, there is a solid 95% chance that the feeling is mutual. I see the way her face lit up when you offered her a lift to the cabin, or when you invite her on walks with Petunia, or when you have her favourite snacks at your house parties. I would bet a solid amount that she’s in the exact same boat as you.” Michael was trying to be patient and kind, but you could tell from his tone that he was a little amused by Luke’s predicament.

You froze when you realised they were talking about you. No. Surely not? Luke… Luke didn’t have feelings for you, did he? He couldn’t be IN LOVE with you? Plain, boring old you? Was this a dream? It has to be a dream. You pinched yourself, hard, and let out a small gasp at the pain before you could realise what you’d done. Luke’s head whipped around to the back seat, and you made eye contact.

“H-hey, sweetheart. How long have you been awake?” He asked, his tone wobbly and unsure.

“Oh, literally just woke up a second ago. Must’ve moved around in my sleep and bumped my elbow too hard, that’s why I gasped. Sorry if I gave you a fright!” You were desperately trying to sound as normal as possible.

Luke’s face visibly relaxed, and you knew you’d sold the lie well enough. Your heart was still pounding over what he said, but in this car right now was not the time to address it. You could see Michael eyeing you curiously in the rear-view mirror, almost like he didn’t believe a word of your elbow bump story, but you just flashed him a smile and focused your gaze out the window, even though you could barely see a thing in the darkness of night.

When you arrived at the cabin, the others in the group had beaten you there, and already started claiming bedrooms and stocking the kitchen, and they’d even used the outdoor grill for dinner which gave the area a delicious aroma. Stepping out of the car, you gave your arms a nice big stretch and took a deep breath in and out. You’d lived in a more rural area growing up, and being near the trees and the water really made you feel more at home.

Before you could protest, Luke was carrying your bag inside as well as his own, and you scurried along to claim a bedroom before they were all gone. You settled for a small bedroom that was more like a nook just off the kitchen, but it had a nice big window that you thought would give wonderful sunrise views of the lake when you woke up the next day, so its size and the single bed didn’t bother you.

After a welcome night cap and a brief discussion of plans for tomorrow (Calum offered to cook breakfast, Ashton was coordinating yoga down on the lake’s shore, Crystal and Sierra had mapped out some easy hikes, and Michael and Luke had organised boat hire and tubing), you all adjourned to your own rooms for some sleep. You’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, replaying Luke’s words that you overhead in the car in your head, when you heard someone step into the kitchen and open the fridge. You’d left your bedroom door slightly ajar because it was kind of warm in the cabin, so you were able to crawl up the bed and squint out into the kitchen to see who was on the hunt for a midnight snack. Even without your glasses on, you could tell the blurry, broad-shouldered, white-singlet clad kitchen intruder was Luke from a mile away.

You didn’t want to startle him, but you weren’t sure how many other chances you’d get this weekend to talk to him entirely alone. You pulled a sweater over your head, located your glasses and slowly shuffled over to the doorway.

“Hey, kitchen intruder. What’s on for midnight snack?” Your voice was soft, but Luke still jumped a mile and clutched at his chest, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you. To be fair, hearing the fridge open metres away from me unexpectedly was a bit of a heart stopper too, pal.” You teased, crossing across the kitchen to lean up against the counter next to where Luke was making a nutella sandwich.

“I guess that makes us even then, sweetheart.” Luke shot you a wink, and you felt your heart leap in your chest.

“Gonna make one for me too, or what?” You said, making grabby hands at Luke’s sandwich.

“Well considering you asked SO nicely…” Luke stuck his tongue out at you, but pulled out more slices of bread onto the cutting board and started making you a sandwich anyway.

You paused for a moment, and took Luke in. Even in the middle of the night, after a long and tiring drive, he still looked so damn good. And he was making you a chocolate-y snack. What a dream. A dream, that if you just took a little leap of faith, could maybe be part of your reality.

“Hey, Luke?” You half-whispered, almost not wanting him to hear you. His head perked up immediately, sparkling blue eyes meeting yours with a curious look.

“Yeah?” He half-whispered back.

“I know what you should do.” You spoke louder and more purposefully this time, the adrenaline taking over as you angled your body towards Luke’s.

“About what?” Luke countered, not moving an inch as you got a little closer.

“About the girl you’re in love with.”

Luke froze, dropping the butter knife covered in nutella onto the kitchen counter with a loud clang. He swallowed audibly, before fixing you with a look that you couldn’t quite read.

“Oh yeah? What should I do, do you reckon?” The mystery stare was gone, and the familiar mischievous glint you loved to see in Luke’s eyes replaced it, as he moved in and closed the gap between you, bringing you chest to chest.

“I think you should tell her. Mike gives good advice, there’s a pretty good chance she feels the same.” You could feel yourself smiling uncontrollably, as you glanced up and realised how close Luke’s face was to yours.

“I guess I’ll take my chances, then.”

Before you could respond, Luke cupped your face with both hands and kissed you, hard. You felt like your skin was on fire, and your heart was about to burst out of your chest, but kissing Luke also felt like coming home and finding everything you’d ever hoped and waited for.

The nutella sandwiches could wait. You had some making up for lost time to do first.

Taglist: If there’s a line through your name, I couldn’t tag you, so please message me to let me know your new URL or what the go is! Tumblr might just being dumb, who knows. @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands @cheekysos @ashton-trash  @another-lonely-heart @queenalienscherrypie  @becihadshawn  @allthestarsandthemoon 

[buckybeardreams]

Unwanted

Chapters: 6/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Knotting

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 2,125

"Can I dry you off?" Steve blurted out.

Tony raised a brow at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your hair... it's wet," Steve said lamely, touching the end of one of the curls that framed Tony's face.

"Yeah, I guess," Tony said, because he didn't know what else to say to the odd request.

Tony grabbed Steve's hand and tugged him down the hall and into the bathroom. Steve shifted awkwardly on his feet and Tony hopped up on the counter.

"Towels are in there." Tony pointed to a built-in cabinet.

Tony blushed bright red and bit his lip as Steve rubbed a towel over his head. There was something so tender about the way he did it that made Tony feel strange. It was a good kind of strange, but strange nonetheless. When his hair was as dry as it was gonna get Steve set the towel down and they just stared at each other for a moment.

"Thank you," Tony breathed out, feeling all fuzzy inside.

Steve nodded, clearing his throat and blushing.

"Um, yeah, of course."

Tony licked his lips and jumped down and Steve stumbled backwards, caught off guard by how close they suddenly were. Tony just giggled and headed off to raid Brock's closet for dry clothes, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the mess of curls.

*****

Steve couldn't stop staring at Tony during dinner and Tony kept blushing and squirming which just made Steve blush and squirm too. Brock just rolled his eyes at them.

"I'm glad you both stopped being stupid, but you need to stop being so damn awkward."

Tony narrowed his eyes at him before smiling a little too innocently.

"Would you rather me bend over the table and let him knot me?" Tony asked sweetly, batting his eyes at Brock.

Steve choked on the bite of pasta in his mouth, coughing and pounding his fist on his chest.

"What?" Steve wheezed.

Tony and Brock burst out laughing and Sam reached over to thump Steve's back.

"You okay, man?" Sam asked him.

Steve waved him off.

"Yeah, fine," Steve managed.

That seemed to break the ice at least. Tony and Brock started chatting after that, teasing each other, all laughs and smiles. Steve and Sam were mostly silent, watching their Omegas like they were celestial beings sent down from the heavens to grace them with their presence. When the night ended Steve offered to walk Tony home. Tony just laughed at that.

"Nah, I can get myself home just fine," Tony said, smiling.

He pressed closer, slipped his hand into Steve's back pocket to pluck out his phone and pouted when he realized it was locked.

"0-8-1-0," Steve offered up unprompted.

Tony blinked up at him in surprise before smirking. He added his number and handed the phone back.

"Text me, yeah?" Tony ran his hands up Steve's chest.

Steve couldn't believe his luck. Why someone like Tony wanted someone like him, Steve would never know, but he was thrilled to have the opportunity to prove himself to his Omega.

"Yes, sir," Steve whispered, feeling breathless like Tony had reached inside his lungs and stole the air from him.

Tony giggled and shook his head in amusement, close enough to Steve for his curls to bounce across his chest. Tony leaned his weight against him.

"You can call me Tony."

Steve nodded, hesitating only briefly before running a hand down Tony's spine. Tony shivered, rubbing his face against Steve's pecs which were remarkably soft for how ridiculously defined they were.

"What about pretty Omega? Can I call you that or will you go off about being an independent Omega that doesn't need an Alpha's validation to know you're pretty?"

Tony rolled his eyes, smiling softly.

"Yeah, whatever. I guess I can allow it. As long as you know I don't need your compliments to know just how hot I am."

Steve chuckled.

"You're gorgeous, Tony, but for what it's worth, I love that you know what you want."

"Yeah? Because you like being bossed around?" Tony teased.

Steve blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I do," Steve mumbled shyly.

Tony grinned at him, standing up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Text me when you get home, yeah?" Tony said with a smirk.

Steve nodded.

"Yes, si-- Tony."

Tony just shook his head again in amusement, his eyes sparkling.

How did he possibly end up with someone so perfectly suited to him?

It clearly was a match made in the heavens.

"Good boy," Tony purred.

"Can I text you on the way home?" Steve blurted out, blushing bright red when he realized what he'd asked.

Tony raised his brows in surprise.

"Clingy much?" Tony teased.

He regretted it instantly when Steve's face fell.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that--"

Tony cut him off before he could continue to apologize, cupping his cheek and shushing him.

"Hey, no, I was just teasing. You can be clingy. It's cute."

The smile Tony got from that was blinding and his heart fluttered in his chest the whole way home.

*****

They texted back and forth as they headed to their separate locations and Steve told Tony the moment he got home. Tony told Steve when he got home, too, and Steve felt like he was going to melt into a puddle on the floor of his apartment. He was desperately in love with Tony and really that wasn't a shock. That's just the way it was supposed to be with soulmates.

Tony was just as hopelessly lost on Steve, his sweet, blushing Alpha. Tony fell into bed that night with a sigh, a grin on his lips. He just couldn't seem to stop smiling. Unfortunately, his smile did fade when the loneliness kicked in. He spent an hour tossing and turning restlessly before giving in and calling Steve. The phone only rang once before Steve picked up, sounding just as awake as Tony felt.

"Tony?" Steve asked, like he couldn't believe that Tony was really calling him.

There was also a squeak to his voice that made Tony suspicious.

"Why do you sound guilty? What are you doing?" Tony demanded.

Steve stumbled over his words for a moment before managing to form a full sentence.

"I was t-touching myself," Steve confessed, his voice barely audible.

Steve still had a hand wrapped around himself, but the fingers that had been inside of him were now wrapped around his phone.

"Oh really?" Tony said, his voice shifting to teasing, slower, smoother, thick as honey. "You being naughty, Alpha?"

"Um, yes?" Steve squeaked uncertainly.

Tony had never told him he couldn't touch himself, so he hadn't even thought to ask permission first. Tony giggled and Steve loved the sound of it right in his ear. He groaned, his hand squeezing his base, applying pressure to try and find some kind of relief to the sheer amount of horny this Omega was inflicting upon him.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I can't sleep anyway, so we're gonna play a game."

Steve was immediately interested, holding his breath as he waited for Tony to continue.

"You like to finger yourself, Steve?"

Steve swallowed hard.

"Y-yes, sir."

"Good, I want you to get your hand off your dick and finger yourself. We're both gonna finger ourselves and come untouched," Tony told him. "Sound good?"

Steve nodded, whimpering.

"Tony, I'm not sure I can come untouched."

Alphas didn't have a g-spot like Omegas did, but this just made Tony coo at him.

"Aw, are you worried that you'll get all frustrated, Alpha?"

Steve whined high in his throat at the thought.

"If you don't get a release, Alpha, that's really not my problem, but if I don't get my release, then we're gonna have a real problem. So why don't you be a good boy and get some fingers inside of you? Open yourself up and make pretty sounds for me to get off on."

Steve moaned at the thought of his Omega getting off on his sounds. He wanted that so badly.

"O-okay, sir."

Tony bit his lip.

"Put me on speaker," Tony instructed, putting his own phone on speaker and setting the phone next to him on the mattress.

He could hear the shuffling as Steve did the same and then he heard the groan when Steve shoved his fingers back inside of himself, one hand holding his cheek, his fingers trying to dig in as far as they could go. Steve really wanted more. It wasn’t nearly enough, but Tony had said to use his fingers. Steve wasn't about to disobey his Omega.

If Tony thought that Steve made pretty sounds, moaning and groaning, whining and whimpering as he got closer to his release but struggled to push himself over the edge, then Steve thought Tony made the prettiest goddamn sounds in the world. Tony whined and whimpered and Steve could hear the rustling of his sheets as he squirmed on the bed, damn near sobbing as he got close.

"Alpha, Alpha, 'm so close, so close," Tony whined.

Steve whined back, sounding distressed because he didn't think he would get a release and the thought of staying frustrated all night, maybe even longer if Tony didn't give him permission to come in the morning, was just too much.

When Tony came though, crying out for his Alpha, it was enough to push Steve over the edge and he lost himself for a blinding moment, pleasure overwhelming him and relief flooding through him. It was when they were coming down from their highs, panting heavily and barely able to talk, that Steve groaned out,

"Fuck, I love you."

There was a beat of silence where Steve realized what he said and Tony's heart froze, before speeding up until he thought it might burst out of his chest.

Tony didn't know if he loved Steve. He knew he should, because they were made for each other. He thought that maybe he did, but it was too soon. He couldn't admit it to himself, let alone to Steve.

"Go to sleep, pretty Alpha. You did so good for me," Tony murmured instead. "You sound so damn pretty when you're all frustrated."

Steve bit his lip.

He wished he hadn't said I love you. Saying it and then having his Omega not say it back dulled his high, brought him back to the ground painfully quick. The sun that had just been shining on him disappeared and the gray crept in around the edges, threatening rainstorms.

"Night, Tony," Steve managed, hanging up and rolling onto his side. He curled in on himself and the tears poured down his cheeks.

Tony swallowed hard, his eyes shutting, sleep evading him as the hours stretched on.

*****

Steve felt like shit when he peeled himself out of bed the next morning. He went through his morning routine, but he might as well have been a zombie. All he could think about was Tony and how he hadn't said I love you back. Steve was startled out of his stupor by a knock on the door. He frowned as he opened it.

"Tony?" Steve said, shocked by the unexpected sight of his Omega, his hair disheveled and sticking up all over the place and a pout on his lips.

Tony wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

"I love you, Alpha. I should have said it last night, but I was scared."

Just like that the sun was shining again and Steve grinned at his Omega.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm just happy you're here."

Tony huffed.

"Don't shush me. I'll shush you, stupid Alpha," Tony grumbled. "Shhhh."

Despite his grumbling, Tony pressed closer and purred happily.

"I love you, pretty Omega," Steve murmured in his ear.

Tony couldn't help the blush on his cheeks and the grin on his lips, but he hid his face in Steve's chest so his Alpha wouldn't see.

"Shut up," Tony mumbled into his shirt.

Steve laughed and pressed a kiss to his hair.

"You're cute, you know that?"

Tony lifted his head to glare at Steve.

"Make me some coffee. I haven't had any yet."

Steve's lips twitched.

"As you wish, my pretty little Omega."

Tony rolled his eyes at him, pulling away to plop down on the couch and kicking his shoes off. Steve shook his head in amusement, shutting the door and grabbing Tony's shoes to place on the shoe rack, before heading off to the kitchen to fetch some coffee for his spoiled Omega. Steve made pancakes, too, and all of his domestic work was made worth it when Tony smiled at him and murmured good boy.

[msjr0119]

The Unexpected Roommate

Part 5

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Drake Walker x Riley Brooks, Leo Rhys x Olivia Nevrakis - All characters belong to Pixelberry

Song Inspiration: Perfect Strangers, Jonas Blue

Warnings ⚠️ DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, If you choose to read you are consenting that you are over this age. NSFW, adult language, mention of shooting noise. If these trigger warnings affect you, please don’t continue to read.

Word Count: 3,900 ish

Tags:

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @texaskitten30 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @axwalker @rafasgirl23415 @yukinagato2012 @cordonianroyalty @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @queenjilian @bebepac @drakewalkerisreal

****

“Are you going to sleep on the couch? Or are you going to stay with me?” Asking in a flirtatious yet gruff way- Riley paused for a slight second. Not giving him an answer straight away. Her hands roamed along his body, lost in thought. The final decision was based on the kiss that they had just shared.

“Staying.”

Smiling softly at him, that mischievous grin that she had previously wore had disappeared - now, this smile was sincere making her slightly blush. Drake was turned on before- how could he not be? But now she had agreed to stay with him, changed everything.

“What do you want me to do? Stay or leave?” Her voice was quiet, almost like a whisper- as her hands continued to touch places dangerously, yet teasingly.

“I want you to stay. I want that fake sex, to become a reality.” An intense feeling erupted inside of him the moment their lips touched again. Her lips were soft yet warm, tasting the fusion of alcohol surrounding her mouth- he felt more drunk than he was already. Feeling Riley crumble right in front of him- he continued savouring her lips. Finally pulling away, they both silently gazed at each other- both needing to confirm if the feelings were mutual. The hate that they both originally showed in their eyes, now soon changed- this moment right now they looked at each other not as roommates, not as enemies but instead as lovers even if it was only for the night. Leaning down to kiss her again, she moved her head towards the side- informing him that she wanted those kisses to be on her neck again. Rather than her lips.

Feeling her hand gently rub his cock, through his jeans- he groaned quietly but loud enough for her to hear. Drake abruptly moved her hand- standing up, his hand went towards his trousers. Riley quietly stepped forward and reached for his shirt- her fingers gently working at the buttons, unbuttoning them slowly before removing it. Standing in front of her half naked, bare chested - he took a deep breath, wondering if he was dreaming.

Coming out of his daze, he felt her fumbling around with the belt buckle before unzipping the fly. Drake managed to pull his jeans down, urgently stepping out of them. His cock, sprung up inside of his boxers- this movement seemed to immediately catch her eye, whilst Drake was slightly embarrassed. They both knew what was about to happen, but he had wished that he could control his manhood- making him not look that eager. Cursing himself mentally inside, Riley smiled softly at him. Tugging at his boxers, he removed them in one swift motion. Once off the head of his cock bounced up practically hitting him in the stomach. Natural instinct, led Riley’s hand downwards- feeling her small hand begin sliding up and down his shaft, he briefly closed his eyes, feeling more aroused with her touches. Opening them, he noticed that her sparkling baby blues were focused onto his face as she continued the movements. Drake removed her hand, not that he wanted to- but he needed to get her naked as well. It wasn’t a one man show. Caressing her cheek, she inhaled sharply- unzipping her dress, he assisted her out of it. Seeing the matching underwear, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off. Feeling mesmerised her body, his brain wasn’t functioning correctly. With past partners, he just got straight into doing the deed.

“Drake? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Reaching out he gently stroked her hair, before leaning in for another kiss. The kiss began softly, feeling less anxious about the situation - he unclasped her bra. With one hand around her waist, his other hand cupped one of her breasts. Beginning to caress and play with her hardened bud, she reached down stroking his erection. As they were exploring each other’s bodies the kissing became more passionate, their tongues began to fight against each other.

“Lay down on the bed, Riley.” Following his commands, his hand ran soon up her thigh- eventually parting her legs as if she was doing the splits. As he reached further up, he immediately felt the dampness surrounding her.

“You’re so wet for me already...”

“I would be if I did it to myself- you’re nothing special Drake....just like you were immediately hard just by me straddling you before.”

“Touché. I assume you don’t want me to continue then? I was going to spoil you with my mouth instead....” Before Riley could respond with a sarcastic comment, Drake lowered his mouth downwards- holding her breath, that soon changed the second his lips touched her clit. Placing light kisses along her slit, he then stroked it with his tongue- causing her whole body to tremble. As her body reacted to his actions, he was pleased that her could pleasure her, lapping up her flowing juices.

“Fuck... Drakeeee...” Ignoring her, he continued sucking and licking her moistened lips, pumping his tongue deeper as she continued screaming his name.

Feeling as if he had done enough, he lifted his head up- seeing Riley tightly holding on to the duvet, he smirked.

“Your turn. Get on your back, Drake!” She demanded, fluttering her eyes open after recovering from her climax.

“I don’t want anything.”

“That’s bullshit...” She quickly lay down between his legs and curled her fingers around him as she did previously- slowly she began to rub up and down his length before slipping her lips over the head of him. Continuing up and down his length, he grunted as he felt the tip of his cock reach the back of her throat. Placing his hand around the back of her neck, he guided her. Not that she needed assisting.

“Riley! Please stop!”

Sitting up, she daren’t make eye contact with him- not wanting to show the disappointment. Positioning herself on the edge of the bed, she wondered why the change of heart from him. Fuck, she muttered to herself- regretting letting herself become carried away. Deciding that it was for the best to leave the awkwardness as it was, she slowly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“You asked me to stop. So I’m going to go and sleep on the couch...”

“I asked you to stop because I felt as if I was going to cum. I didn’t want to cum so early.” Feeling relieved in a way, she regretted allowing paranoia get the best of her. “You said that you was staying, so stay. Let’s finish off what we started...” Drake pleaded.

Guiding her backwards towards the bed her stomach began to flutter, as if butterflies were there. She was unsure as to why she was suddenly nervous. Mentally scolding herself, her nerves soon disappeared as his body hovered over her.

Leaning forward so that he was leaning on her- skin to skin- he grabbed her breasts and squeezed them. Lining himself up, he slowly thrust against her-letting her know that he was ready. “Can I?” Not knowing why he asked her if he could begin- the words just slipped out. “Please.” After her response, he slowly entered her- hearing a slight gasp escape her lips he waited a while before he started. Beginning with slow movements, he eventually gained the confidence to work faster with this new partner. His cock began slamming in and out of her, his balls slapping against her bare skin from this angle that they was in - as he continued fondling with her breasts and increase his speed- this was enough to bring her over the edge.

“Drake! I’m ... I’m....” Drake knew what exactly she needed to say, he could feel her muscles clench around him. Hearing her climax again, encouraged him to pick up the pace - needing to release himself. Not that he wanted to this soon, but this unexpected time with Riley- made him feel something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Excitement, curiosity, in a slight way loved. Knowing she didn’t love him, he was hoping that rendezvous wouldn’t push them further apart.

Grunting, he pulled out his now softening cock and laid next to her on the bed. Neither spoke to each other for a while, both still breathing heavily. Drake’s hand covered hers, turning to face her- he smiled at his roommate. Not with a cocky smirk, that he usually provided but instead a genuine smile. A happy smile.

“Maybe I should have trusted you- when you informed me that you was big. Jesus Drake, I cant move.”

“Not to brag or anything. But I wouldn’t lie about that. You don’t have to move, you can sleep here. If it’s too awkward, I’ll sleep on the couch...”

“I don’t think it could get any more awkward. We just fucked.”

“True. Night, Riley.”

“Night, Drake.” Both of them turned on to their sides facing away from each other. Neither could fall asleep immediately, both of them laid there thinking about what had happened.

About an hour later, Drake was still awake- as was Riley, unknowingly to him. Rolling over, he placed his arm around her- snuggling closer to her.

Cause you're here with me now, I don't want you to go, he sung inside in his mind.

****

The morning after, Riley stirred. Fluttering her eyes open, she remembered everything- however, wondered where Drake was. She felt his arm go around her, so surely it didn’t feel that awkward that he slept on the couch.

Quickly getting dressed, she ambled towards the kitchen but paused as she overheard the men talking.

“So you and Riley... you can thank me. I accept appreciation in the form of beer or very expensive clothing. Just call me Matchmaker, Leo.”

“Leo, I’m not thanking you.”

“What was it like? I always assumed you’d just keep going back to Kiara when you needed sex.” Kiara? Who the fuck is Kiara? Overhearing this, Riley soon became paranoid- overthinking what she actually meant to Drake. Was last night just a ‘fuck’ to him?

“I haven’t slept with Kiara in months. With Riley it was different. But it was only a one time thing.” Saying this, he believed that Leo would stop the conversation immediately. Instead he attempted to inform Drake to shut up.

“We’re just roommates. She doesn’t like me more than that. If that. It was only sex....”

“Good morning, Riley!” Leo blurted out, wearing a sheepish grin.

“Good morning, Leo.” Ignoring Drake, she made herself a coffee. Feeling that his words explained exactly what last night was.

She fucking heard you Drake, you absolute dipshit. Leo mouthed you his friend shaking his head.

“Where’s Liv?” Focusing her attention towards Leo, she didn’t want to make eye contact with Drake. Assuming whoever this Kiara was, she would be second best.

“She left about an hour ago. Getting a manicure before meeting you.” Rolling his eyes back, he was unsure as to why his fiancée needed a manicure to go shopping. He didn’t understand how a woman’s mind worked, but just agreed anything Olivia did to keep him in her good books.

“Okay... I’ll go and get ready in my room then.”

“Do you want some breakfast?” Drake asked nervously, knowing he was in the doghouse. Walking away, she responded with her back facing him.

“No, I prefer to jump straight into my dessert.”

Sighing, he placed the food on the table- walking after her.

“Have I done something wrong?” Drake questioned, hoping that he hadn’t fucked up. Hearing Leo snort in the background, he turned his head towards his friend scowling. Leo responded by smirking and shrugging his shoulders.

“No. Why?”

“You overheard what I said... stop lying. That’s why you ignored me. It’s not like that at all, I said that....”

“I heard it all. Yes. Don’t worry about it. We’re not in a relationship. It was just sex remember? Sounds like you have a ‘fuck buddy’ already- don’t include me in your games or sexual needs anymore.”

“I’d rather you be my ‘fuck buddy’.” Fuck. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Taking a deep breath, he regretted saying that instantly. He was kind of expecting a right hook. “What happened between us was amazing, Riley.”

“Yeah it was.” Not sounding too confident she didn’t want to make out that she was jealous over him being involved with someone else. Whether it was in the past, or in the present. Reaching out for her hand, he held it tightly not knowing how she would react to the gesture.

“So what do you say? Make a little arrangement? If you want ‘us’, we can start as casual sex- then see where it goes?”

“You’re fucking insane, Drake. Go back to hating me.”

“I’d say I’m an attractive guy, you’re a gorgeous girl when you’re not an arsehole.”

“You’re so vein. I do have a rule, if we do this though...No kissing on the lips.”

“But we did that last night. Why?”

“That was this morning actually. Because if we aren’t in a relationship, what’s the point in being intimate?” Drake’s heart sunk, not realising why. Now he had kissed her, knowing what it felt like- he wanted to continue that.

“Okay, fine. I’ll see you later then?” I’ll kiss those lips, don’t you worry Riley.

“Yup. Bye Leo.” Leo waved from a distance, not really wanting to get involved in the love life.

“Ri?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for being a jerk... I’m starting to fall...” Fall for you. “fall behind with the housework. I’m only going into work for a few hours. I’ll clean up when I’m back.”

“Wait for me to come back. I’ll help you. 50/50 remember. My nails are fucked anyway.” Providing a little laugh, she headed towards her room- not fully aware of what she had just agreed to. Not knowing if that was actually what she wanted. Deep down, she wanted more after their night together. She wondered if he did too. Or if indeed he was just happy with the friends with benefits arrangement.

Drake sat down besides Leo, his head fell into his hands. This girl had got into his mind, he suggested the ‘friends with benefits’ hoping that she would decline the offer. Hoping that they could begin a relationship instead. He just didn’t have the confidence to express what his heart truly wanted - she made him weak at the knees. Although he would never confess that. Not yet anyway. He was unsure as to if he would ever be able to admit to his true feelings.

“Now I may not be a translator, but that was the biggest bullshit ever stated, Drake” Leo knew Drake and he knew for a fact what his friend meant when he stuttered after the word ‘falling’.

****

Riley arrived at Macy’s bang on eleven am. Usually she would arrive early, punctuality was important to her. On her way there, her mind was in a daze- flashbacks of her rendezvous with Drake wouldn’t disappear.

Noticing her friend waiting outside, she knew Olivia was about to berate her.

“I thought that you’d ditched me for Walker’s cock.” Feeling the blush appear on her face, she didn’t want this conversation to elaborate.

“Not now, Liv.”

“Seriously, Riley. Why him?”

“He’s a good fuck, I suppose?” Olivia shuddered at the thought. Not wanting to think about her arch-enemy any longer, she changed the subject. “You know, Liam is coming back for the wedding.”

“Well I hope so, he’s the grooms brother.” She responded sarcastically- just wishing that they could go inside, choose a dress and leave.

“Obviously. But he’s single.” Nudging her friend, she would do anything to see her happy- anything apart from push her towards Drake.

”Olivia. Stop right there. I’m not interested in Liam. I never was.”

****

After hours of searching through the dresses, Olivia finally chose the perfect dress for her maid of honour. Riley was grateful that the bride to be hadn’t made her look like a sugar plum fairy. Making her way back ‘home’ she wondered if the atmosphere would be awkward. In the back of her mind, she still wasn’t sure what was going on between herself and Drake. Opening the door, she witnessed him shoot up from the sofa in a flash.

“Hey, did you find a dress?”

“Yes. It was the first one we actually looked at. Hours of my life wasted. How was your suit fitting?” Bending over to take her slightly small high heeled boots off, Drake paused before responding to her question. His eyes were focused on her ass. “Did you hear me, Drake?” Shaking his head, he didn’t want her to notice that he was gawking at her like a drooling puppy.

“Yeah, sorry. Suits are overrated. A suit is just a suit right? I’ve got a hundred in the wardrobe that I don’t wear.”

“True. You’ve tidied up. I told you to wait until I was back.”

“I had nothing better to do. I’ve also ordered some food.”

“Where’s the real Drake? You’re turning into a softie, I’m going to start calling you ‘marshmallow’ from now on.”

“Haha. Funny fucker. Where’s the real Riley? You haven’t done a prank yet.” That’s what you think. I always think ahead.

“Why don’t you pour yourself a whiskey. I’ll get changed, put this away and come and join you.” Smirking as she walked away, she didn’t get too far before hearing Drake spit out the drink.

“RILEY!” Chasing after her, she slammed the door in his face- accidentally of course. “Open the door!”

“Or what? I’ll come out in a minute I promise.” Drake waited impatiently for her to come out, eventually she opened the door wearing the biggest grin. “Don’t kill me. Please. Just stand on the rug.” Why the fucking rug? Fluttering her eyelashes at him- he was hypnotised and followed orders.

“Holy shit! Riley get down!” Crouching down, panic began to run through his veins- not only for his own safety but for Riley’s. The gunshot noises scared the life out of him, wondering who was in the apartment with them. How did they get in? What did they want?

Looking at his concerned face, she walked over towards him pulling the rug back- showing the reasoning behind the ‘gunshot shots’. Bubble wrap. Unable to prevent herself from laughing, every time she contained herself- his face would make her burst out into a fit of hysterical laughter. “I’m sorry, Drake... I can’t.... I can’t breathe.... your face....”

“Are you trying to fucking kill me? First you drug me, then try to poison me with fake whiskey- What was it? Then you try and give me a fucking heart attack.”

“Technically Olivia drugged you. It’s tea with vinegar in it- couldn’t you smell it? It was worth seeing your face...”

“How would you pay the bills if I died? Ever thought about that?”

“Simple. I’d move out. Leave your body to rot. Plead innocent. By the way, the real whiskey is in the cupboard- behind the cereal.”

“If you’re fucking with me again... I’ll kill ya.” Hesitating trying it, he sniffed it first. “Here, try it first.” Riley did as he asked, swallowed it down in one.

“See it’s whiskey.” Drake narrowed his eyes still unsure if he could trust her fully. They remained silent for a short amount of time, until Drake decided to break the silence with an obscure question. Not the usual type of conversations.

“What are you wearing under that by the way?”

“What time is the food coming?”

“In about an hour because I wasn’t sure what time you was coming back. Why are you ignoring my question?”

“I’m not ignoring it. If you want to know, why don’t you just undo my robe.” Drake held his breath as he closed the distance between them. He noticed her breathing rapidly increase as he touched her. Untying it, his hands went to her shoulders- forcing the robe off of her.

“You’re wearing what I bought you.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. You look sexy... so fucking gorgeous.”

“Are you fishing for a blowjob with your charm?”

“No. But if you want to do that I’m sure he’d enjoy it. Or I could pleasure you instead?” Leaning forward, in his mind he wanted to fuck off her stupid suggestion about ‘no kissing’. Their lips almost touched, as there was a knock at the door. Drake let out a frustrated sigh, letting go of her waist he answered the door, as she quickly put the robe back on. Their takeout had arrived prematurely, handing the delivery man the money- Drake forcefully placed the food on the island. “Can you not tell the time properly? I thought you said that it was arriving in about an hour. I think you need to go back to school Drake.” Winking at him, she was about to position herself on the stool- her belly had began to rumble, the aroma of freshly cooked food was lingering around them. Unexpectedly Drake picked her up and flung her over his shoulder- heading towards his room. “Drake! What the fuck? The food!”

“Chinese is always better warmed up the day after anyway!” Placing her back on the ground he held her tight- not wanting her to runaway. Not wanting for her to ditch him for some over fried, fatty food. He knew what he wanted. Ever since he knew what she was wearing, everything slipped from his mind. Opening the door, he dragged her in- not forcefully. Pinning her against the wall, his hands urgently ran through her hair before cupping her cheeks. Crashing his lips on to hers, mentally he was smirking as she melted away in the kiss.

“I said no kissing....”

“I get it. You’re afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me. If we kiss. But we’ve already crossed that line...you shouldn’t tease me...”

“How am I teasing you?”

“Wearing what you are wearing...” biting her lip, she untied the robe- slowly yet seductively.

“Oh, you mean this?”

“Yes. That. I want you, Riley. So desperately...”

“What are you waiting for then? We had an arrangement didn’t we?” Drake held her head in his hands, pulling her towards him into a fiery and passionate kiss. Breaking apart, their breathing was in unison- rapid. Caressing her cheek with his thumb, she ran her fingers down his chest before pulling his as close as she could towards her. Not leaving any gaps between the two of them, she could feel his heart beat against her chest. Knowing that he could feel hers too, they stayed still gazing into each other’s eyes. “That arrangement, I am going to stick to it. Get on the bed, roomie.”

****

Leo and Olivia had just shared an intimate shower together. Relaxing on the couch they were both excited about their upcoming wedding. Discussing last minute preparations, Leo couldn’t wait for it to be over and done with- he hated seeing Olivia act all bridezilla towards him. Hearing the door knock, they both placed a wager- assuming it would be either Drake or Riley crying and moaning about each other. Making the other person seem the worse one. The two of them knew that Riley and Drake was alike- especially with their stubbornness. Leo sighed as he walked over to open the door, with a towel hanging dangerously loose on his hips.

“Before you start, I don’t want to hear it... I’m not getting blamed for this....Liam?”

“Hey, Bro. I assume you wasn’t expecting me with that introduction. Who have you pissed off this time?”

“I assumed you was somebody else. Sorry, I’ve not pissed anyone off. Don’t worry. What are you doing here? You’re not due back until the wedding.”

“I’ve used some holiday days.” Olivia heard the familiar voice, confused as to why he was here showering them with gifts. What has he done now? She thought to herself.

“Aw Liam, I didn’t realise that you loved me that much. These flowers are beautiful.”

“They aren’t for you. But I’ll get my favourite sister in law some soon. I promise.” Olivia was unsure whether or not to be offended that the flowers wasn’t for her. After all the Rhys’s were charmers with all the women.

“Who are they for then?” Seeing Liam look at them with sorrow in his eyes, the penny finally dropped.

“That person, doesn’t live in the city anymore.” She send confidently, attempting to persuade herself that she was telling the truth.

“I know she does Olivia. Stop lying to me. I need to see her, I need to talk to her. Where’s Riley?”

[writers-hes]

how do you want to spend new years eve?

hello, guys! thank you so much for your support on christmas record! i’ve been getting some requests to continue it and late christmas and i will get to it, after the plans that im currently thinking of! meanwhile, here is a new years-themed fic! if

if you haven’t read the fics mentioned above, you can read them here.  if you want to be a part of my taglist, you can do so by reblogging or liking this post. 

don’t forget, requests are open! ❤️

warnings: SMUT !!!!! swearing, alcohol + unedited

(it’s my first time writing smut so please leave me some feedback! i love you guys and thank you guys so much for 140+ followers, i love u all!)

--------

“I can’t do this anymore,”

Words that Harry told you when last year’s New Year’s Eve. Harry didn’t know why he was saying those words, perhaps it was because he wanted to take the young model to bed instead of you. Harry watched you crumble that night, asking what happened, asking if it was your fault. It wasn’t any. In fact, things were going great--so great between the two of you. Perhaps the reason why Harry broke up with you was because for him, distance was the antidote to the love he was feeling. Perhaps he was scared because all of his past relationships never seemed to work out, a sick part of him wanted you not to work out. Heartbreak brings a new writing material, anyway. He felt it at first, how in love he was suddenly being when you combed the stores in London to find his favourite bath gel. It was the little things that you noticed and the little things that Harry’s beating himself up for now.

The year was so great for Harry, releasing his new album and all that. He just had two successful live shows in Los Angeles and in London. People celebrated him wherever he went and he had this rockstar status that you once used to love but he’d just rather be at home with you. He’d rather spend the night with you instead of getting wasted during the afterparties, trying his best to forget the greatest mistake he’s ever done. It was annoyingly painful, how he saw your face in crowds, he knows you weren’t there but he was hoping. One time, strolling in his hometown, Holmes Chapel, he thought he saw you. He ran after you, grasping the arms of the girl in front of him. It wasn’t you--she just looked like you. Seven billion faces in the world and yours was the only face he memorised perfectly. He memorised how you scrunch your nose, how you’d raise your eyebrows, the curve of your lips, the shape of your tongue, and the softness of your eyes.

It wasn’t purposefully, how he never saw if you were off having the best life you could. He was just bored and decided to go on Instagram. He was scrolling through the photos of his friends, even liking some of them when he stumbled upon a picture of you, wearing a shirt he gave you, whilst looking another man in adoration. He bit his lip, making himself believe that that was not his shirt and even if it was, you weren’t looking at another boy--you were looking at him. He lightly tapped on the photo, seeing as you tagged the prick that was in it. He chuckled, it was Leon Harris, a friend of yours that he always found annoying. How come he never recognised him? He saw how this Leon guy was looking at you while you were both dating. He frowned. How long have you been with this Harris prick? It was jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach but at the same time, it was the need to see more of you. He wanted to see how Leon Harris viewed you. Does he see you the way Harry does? Does he kiss you like Harry does? Does he hold you like Harry does? Was he a better man than Harry?

He sighed, scrolling through Leon’s photos. He’s a douchebag. Surely, my angel could do better than this. Harry was irked and irritated. Leon never posted photos of you--he only posted photos of football, gaming consoles, going out with the boys, and unnecessary flexing of his father’s money. Harry was annoyed. He felt his skin prickling with the thought of you being touched by Leon in ways he shouldn’t. That night, he drowned himself in putrid brown liquid. To think, he had all the money he could ever want in the world but still settled for convenience store-grade whiskey. Tomorrow would be a better day.

“Fuck,” he said once he woke up. He remembered the night before, him downing the bottle of whatever shit was in the glass bottle. His head was pounding and he knew that if you were here right now, you would take care of him. He always looked for you, even though he was the one who broke your heart. New Years Eve was coming around and people were already asking him to make an appearance in some parties. He wanted to, he really did but the risk of bumping into you in some of the parties were high. He wasn’t ready to see the face of the woman that haunted him every night for the past year. He lazily walked towards his en-suite, one of the many rooms that smelled like you. He made sure to buy the exact perfume you always wore and spray it around the house. Harry knew that it was unhealthy, holding onto every piece of you when he was the one who decided to end things. He was annoyed at himself and wanted nothing more than to call you but it will only stay like that, a wish. He couldn’t bring himself to do it and to call you because he knew you were hurting. Perhaps you weren’t hurting now, seeing as you were with Leon but maybe you’re still stuck on him, seeing as you were wearing his shirt and a chain around your neck with his heavy ‘H’ ring hanging. Who else was ‘H’ in your life? He couldn’t remember any. As he was taking a shower, he was confused. Was that photograph a sign to call you? Or was it you slapping him in the face because you would never come back to him?

-----

Harry decided to drop by Nick’s NYE party. He never got to see his old friend around and wanted nothing more than to confide in his friend. Nick was your friend too but he always belonged to Harry. He was Harry’s friend first, after all. He might see you there but at least, liquid courage would flow freely into his bloodstream, giving him all the confidence that he needs in order for him to talk to you again.

When Nick learned that Harry was coming to his party, he was ecstatic. It’s been awhile since he last saw Harry and he really missed him. After the break-up, he knew immediately that Harry was broken and in the seams--so were you. Nick invited you to his party, too and you weren’t sure if it was an act of kindness or generosity. Perhaps he was pitying you because all of you and Harry’s mutual friends left you after the break-up, a confirmation that they never really liked you. They only liked to be closer to Harry for his money, fame, and influence. Who wouldn’t want to be near the Harry Styles after all? Still, you knew Nick wasn’t like that. He genuinely liked you after Harry formally introduced the both of you to each other. You were practically joined by the hip whenever Harry was touring and it was nice--it was just you who decided to distance yourself from the friendship when you and Harry broke up, avoiding everything that was related to him.

You had just woken up when Leon knocked at your door. Through your break-up, Leon was there to console you. You tried dating each other but it just didn’t work out--Leon was not Harry and you were not a boy. So instead, you hired Leon to be your assistant, seeing as he was unemployed and was also your friend.

“Y/N if you don’t wake up the fucking door I will break this down!” Leon called from outside. Groggily, you made your way to the door of your London penthouse. You opened the door to reveal Leon, in what he would call an outfit that was out of his comfort zone. You understood, though, seeing as Leon was still inside the closet. The only people who knew he was gay was you and his sprinkling of boyfriends who also happened to be inside the closet. You understood, though. Leon’s family was strict when it comes to homosexuality so he had to act as a straight black boy--always going to the gym, making his Instagram as douche-y as possible, and so one. You felt for him, always asking him if you could do something for him. He would always say no telling you how much your friendship and the job you gave him was enough.

“What do you want?” you asked as you walked to your couch to continue your sleep.

“Remember? Nick Grimshaw is coming in today for a fitting,” Leon reminded. You sighed. You were a designer based in London but because of Harry, you had more artists come at you for designs. That was how you and Harry met, you being introduced by Harry L, his stylist, before his world tour for a couple of suits. He then came to you a few months after, asking for some pieces for his magazine covers and you agreed. Your heart ached at the memory of you and Harry playing with new pieces you came up with. Harry always loved your designs.

“Oh, yeah. Where was it again?” you asked, disoriented because you’d see Nick Grimshaw again. You’d be reminded of Harry again. It wasn’t as if you weren’t reminded of him all the time, though. The burning sensation of his gold ‘H’ ring hanging from your chest every time. It became your source of comfort and it was pathetic how you still held onto it for so long--it’s been almost a year. “It’s here, yeah?” you asked, to which Leon nodded. You nodded as well, limping towards your bathroom to be ready for the day.

“I’ll make coffee!” Leon shouted as you trudged to the comforts of your hot shower.

It was a few hours later when your doorbell rang. Nick’s custom silk pants and denim jacket was laying on your couch, ready to be worn by the celebrity. If it fit him, you’d be focusing on the apliques and the details that he wanted to have--they were quite easy actually. He just wanted to have his name in sparkling red embroidery, almost looking like something inspired from Gucci (Harry’s favourite, your heart hurt) but entirely different at the same time. Leon opened the door as you shuffled back and forth to make sure everything was dandy. “Y/n! Oh, how I missed you so much!” Nick greeted as soon as he saw you flip through the crystals that you would embed on the lining of his pants. You smiled and gave him a hug, to which he returned. He looked at Leon and greeted him as well. Leon only replied with a “hey, man” and if it weren’t for Nick not knowing that Leon was gay (they kissed many months ago), he would think that Leon was your boyfriend. “How are you, Nick?” you asked. “Really doing well but better because you’re coming to my party!” he answered. You frowned in confusion. “I’m not going,” you told him. “Harry would be there and I don’t really wanna see him.” “But Y/N…” he trailed. “It’s been so long since we last hung together! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me,” he pouted. Leon decided to exclude himself from the conversation going straight to the kitchen to get some refreshments for your guest. “Nick--” “Just come on to the party and all will be forgiven,” he cheekily grinned. In reality, he was never really mad at you. He understood why you decided to distance yourself from him but he still likes you as a person and wanted to be your friend. You sighed, nodding to his request. He squealed. “Now, where is it? I wanna fit through my special outfit now,” he said. You motioned him to the pieces lying on the couch. “So you wanted to have something hip and vintage, right? Well, here’s a pair of black silk pants. They would be embedded with diamond Swarovskis on the side. Then,” you trailed looking for the surprise that you wanted to give him. “Ah, here’s a special just for you. I worked on it by myself,” you said, showing Grimmy a large hand-made sewn on patch of his caricature. You also showed him ‘GRIMMY’ in a font quite similar to BBCRadio1 in sparkling red thread.

“Wow--I am floored! These are so good!” he exclaimed, carefully taking the patches from you. He observed them, amazed by how far you went onto the detailing of his face to his favourite shade of red.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “It’s nothing. You’re my friend and I wanted to make your day extra special,” you muttered. “I’ll have them sewn on before the event ASAP so you could get it tomorrow or the next if the blank pieces already fit you or the 30th if there are still alterations to be made,” Nick stood up immediately, trying on the pieces over his current clothes and declared that they were the perfect fit. You smiled at him, appreciating how much he appreciated your work.

“I’m really glad to be your friend, y/n. I know Harry will be there and I know what he did but if you ever need me for anything, just call an old man like me, even if it’s just for a laugh,” he said. “The pants and jacket are a perfect fit, by the way.”

-----------

It was the day of the gruelling New Years Eve party hosted by Harry’s friend--Nick Grimshaw. He wasn’t quite sure if you were coming but just in case, he wore the other half of his iconic ‘H’ ring--the gold Gucci ‘S’ ring on his pinky, the ring you gave him on his ring finger, as if telling you that he was still yours to take, and a couple of rings he bought from all around the world. He also wore a custom polo shirt from you, one that you collaborated on with his mum for his birthday. No designer brand could top off the beauty that he was wearing. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, after you see him tonight, you’d come back to him.

He sighed, anxious to see you—or not. From what he could recall, you distanced yourself from Grimmy. Maybe you rejected his invite, maybe not. Who knows what you were doing anymore? Why should he care? You were with Leon Harris. In his mind, the worst rebound you could ever get. You knew he hated Leon, that prick was a good for nothing douchebag. Harry went over to his collection of liquor, pouring himself a shot of vodka. Who was he to judge your tastes? It was him who broke things off, leaving you with nothing and no one. He knew that your mutual friends sided with him and left you. He groaned as he downed the shot, annoyed at himself. He misses you and he doesn’t know how to take you back.

“Leon, stop!” you groaned as he laid down your revealing party dresses. You were opting for a pair of floral pants and black shirt. Leon, however, disagreed with your choice.

“What? You should show him what he’s missing,” he shrugged.

“There’s nothing to show,” you muttered, taking a red dress off the bed to shut Leon up. You changed, not really minding if Leon was there, seeing as he wouldn’t even think about you that way.

“Look, I know you’ve been wallowing in your sadness since he ended things but it’s been a year, y/n. You should let things go,” your friend sighed as soon as he zipped you up. You sat on your vanity chair and took your curling iron.

“It’s not that easy,” you sighed as your curled the first strand of your hair. You spent the afternoon like that, fixing up your hair and putting on your makeup. Leon sighed, he knew that you were clearly affected by seeing your ex again. Leon was happy though, you maynit see it but you were clearly stressing about what version of you you would present to Harry. Leon was positive that this would end up in some make-up sex but who knows?

Harry arrived at the party earlier than you did. Knowing you, it probably took you hours to get ready for Leon. You loved doing that and you used to dress up for him. Sure, you were a secure woman but you still loved to make sure that your man’s eyes was on you and you only. Still, from a far, he would stare at you, the way he did when you were still together. He immediately made it a mission to look for Grimmy. He was porbably out there, entertaining guests but Harry wasn’t really in the mood to socialize. He was just here to get drunk and see you—if you were even coming.

“There he is!” Nick exclaimed as he saw Harry walk towards him. Nick’s friends looked at the poostar.

“Hey, Nick. Thanks for the invite,” Harry smiled. Nick saw that Harry was clearly uneasy.

“Love the polo shirt but you’d probably want to look like you actually want to be here,” Nick said. “Y/N’s attending the party,”

“Could’ve told me that before I wore this shit,” Harry grumbled. He took a flute of champagne to one of the bartenders walking around and downed it immediately. Nick looked at him incredulously. “If I have to see her, I have to see her while I’m drunk,”

Nick sighed but still guided Harry to the special booth for Nick’s closest friends.

You stumbled in, a little tipsy in the bar to look for Nicky. Nick when you’re sober, Nicky when you consumed alcohol. You were with Leon who was holding your hand, just in case someone bumped in on you and you tripped. Leon sighed, obviously being sober in this situation. He was sure that Harry was here, seeing as there were shitty headlines such as HARRY STYLES WEAR Y/N Y/L/N’S COUTURE IN NICK GRIMES ANNUAL NYE PARTY.

Leon saw it though. He was wearing the special polo shirt you and his mother designed. He knew the intricacies of the polo shirt because on your first and last attempt to date, you rambled about Harry. You told him that instead of the signature tag of the customers with Mademoiselle or Monsieur as prefix, you opted to embroider my love, Harry--a one of a kind polo shirt. Leon has seen him wear the said shirts in Harry’s appearances, even getting the nickname ‘Harry’s special’ by many of his fans.

“Y/N!” Nick exclaimed as he saw you and Leon. You looked at him and immediately sobered up, seeing as Harry was latched onto his shoulder. You looked at Harry, suddenly aware of his presence and your self. He was looking at Leon with jealousy and you knew it, Harry never liked Leon and you walk in here with him in a dress like yours? It was killing him.

“Y/N, Harris.” your ex-boyfriend acknowledged. “Harry,” you nodded. Leon looked at him, aware that your ex was probably killing your friend in his mind. “I see that you have replaced me so easily, y/n,” Harry slurred. He was pretty sure he won’t remember shit tomorrow so he decided to just go with the flow. “Ha! See, Nick? Liquid courage,” he chuckled as he took a swig off of his beer bottle. “Alright, Harry. That’s enough,” you interjected, trying to take the bottle away from Harry. He clearly drank a little too much and you know that when Harry was drunk, he has the tendency to say things he didn’t mean at all. It’s not even a defense or anything, he just does it. “No, you’re not my girlfriend anymore. You can’t control me. Why don’t you go be with that Harris prick? Honestly, angel? You could do way better than that wanker, yeah?” he says, pointing his bottle to Leon who was busy eyeing down Nick.

“Harry--give me that bottle.” you said, clearly annoyed with how things are currently going.  Why was he being difficult?

“Do you still love me, y/n? Look, I’m wearing the polo shirt you gave me,” he says, twirling like a little girl showing off her new outfit. “I see you’re wearing my ‘H’ ring, too. I saw it the other day...Instagram. That must mean something, yeah?”  he asked, tilting his head to the side. He surrendered the bottle to you.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere so you could sit and clear your head, yeah?” you asked, holding his arm. “Leon,” you called to your friend. “I’ll just help Harry clear his mind. I’ll find you later, yeah? I’m sorry,” you said. Leon only nodded, mouthing a ‘sure’ before talking to a friend Nick introduced him to.

“If you don’t love me, you wouldn’t take care of me like this. Remember when you would do this lot? I miss it,” he rambled. You weren’t sure if he was being serious enough but you decided that either way, your heart was hurting. A silence fell upon the both of you as you sat on the booth.

“Harry, stay here yeah? I’ll see if someone could get you some water,” you said, standing up from the couch. Harry grabbed your hand.

“Please, stay. I promise I won’t say anything anymore. Just...stay here, love? Please? It’s been a while since you were this close to me and tonight, let’s just do things like the old times, yeah?” he asked. You were torn, so fucking torn with what he was saying. Wasn’t he the one who asked for a break? It’s been a year and you missed him. You really do.

“Harry,” you started, staring at his lips. You missed how soft it was, you missed how he kissed you. “Can we, can we kiss?” you asked. Harry sobered up. Were you really asking him to kiss you? He sat up straight looking at you. He inched closer until he could feel your heavy breaths. Your chest was heaving and you were itching for him to get closer. He smiled, taking your chin with his ring clad fingers until your lips met. It was slow and nice, two lovers yearning to be with each other again but soon enough, with too much yearning and passion, your kiss became heated. You didn’t notice it but Harry’s hands soon found your arms, caressing your bare arms up and down, the coldness of his rings against your warm skin a pleasuring contrast.

“Fuck,” he breathed as soon as you both pulled away. “Do you want to take this somewhere?” he asked. You nodded, mind too hazy from what just happened. You collected your bag that was left beside you.

“Let’s use the back door and walk discreetly, yeah?” you asked, Harry was never one to bring drivers during the holidays and so were you. You were intoxicated so you both didn’t want to drive. “Then, let’s just hail a car or something when we’re a little too far away,” you said. “I’ll just text Leon,” you added as you unlocked your phone.

“W-wait, Leon,” Harry rasped.

“You don’t have to worry about him. I’m single and I’m not his type,” you breathed as your grabbed his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should believe you, but nodded anyway. He was too desperate--all he wanted was to feel you close. You both made a beeline to the backdoor and exited, silently thanking the Lord for the absence of paparazzi. You walked, an awkward silence falling between the both of you. Still, your minds were hazy with lust, yearning, and love. You were a little far away when you hailed a taxi, telling the driver to go straight to Harry’s place, seeing as his house was nearer than yours. The both of you were obviously itching to touch each other but you refrained, you didn’t want anyone to see and complicate things.

The moment you arrived at Harry’s door (thank God he cleaned), your mouth was on his. This time, your kiss was more daring and passionate, all curfew thrown outside the window. You moaned as he trailed down to your neck, your back against the wall. He was sucking and licking the spot where your neck and shoulder blades met, your spot as he would call it. You were sure that he would leave a mark in the morning but you didn’t care. You were tugging at his hair, something that he always liked, to encourage him to go lower.

“Come,” he rasped as he took your hand to his bedroom. You both tiptoed in the dark hallways of his massive house until your back met the mattress in his bedroom. “How do you think I feel once I saw you in this red dress?” he asked. You weren’t able to answer his question as he kissed you again, only this time, his hand was playing with the thin straps of your silk dress. He lowered it.

Meanwhile, your hands were on his polo shirt, carefully unbuttoning the material off of his torso. Once you were able to take off the buttons, your hands met his tattooed chest. He moaned at the contact.

“Unzip me?” you asked as soon as he moved his lips down to the skin visible on your chest. He sucked your skin as you raised you body, his hands going underneath you to unzip the tight red dress off your body. He stopped for a moment, looking at your naked chest.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he moaned as he put his mouth on your nipple. You arched your chest towards him, his ring clad fingers kneading your other breast. Your hands were inching towards your underwear, nothing really special because you weren’t expecting this. “Ah, ah, ah,” he taunted, the moment he felt your fingers go lower.

“Harry—“

“No, let me do it, love,” he whispered. His mouth latched on to your other nipple, only this time, his fingers were trailing down to your clothed center. Your hips grinded on his hands, the rings giving you more texture. You were whimpering, begging for your ex-boyfriend to touch you. He chuckled a little bit, pushing your underwear to the sides before teasing your clit. You grounded your hips again, and Harry gave in, flicking the button in between your legs.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “more, Harry…”

“You want this? You want me to fill you up?” he asked, breathy. Quite frankly, his manhood was penting up in his pants. You nodded and Harry moaned, completely removing your underwear. Your hands trailed to his pants, massaging him through his fabric. Your hands immediately unbuttoned his trousers, and he stood up, removing it alone with his boxers. Your hands immediately found his dick, rubbing the precum all over before you pushed Harry onto the bed.

“What do you want me to do, Harry?” you asked seductively.

“Ride me,” he says. He bucked his hips towards your hands, clearly wanting more. “Come one, love,” he encouraged. You sat in his lap, taking his dick in between your hands, rubbing it on your clit for a few times before inserting the tip inside you. “I missed this, fuck,” he moaned. You moaned too, sitting lower until his length was filling you up. “I think you had your fun already,” he taunted, flipping you over. He leaned onto you as he pounded into you a few times.

“Harry, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your hand went to your clit, rubbing it as Harry went in and out of you.

“You just can’t get enough can you?” he asked. Your other hand and legs were around him, your nails digging onto his back. You nodded. “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, love,” he said as he pounded into you harder. His hand was immediately on your nipple, pinching and tugging it. It was sensory overload, his hands on your breast, yours on your clit, him inside you, your nails onto him. He moaned, putting his mouth on yours as his tongue entered your mouth. You both felt his thrusts going sloppier and sloppier as your walls started to clench.

“Harry, I’m cumming, fill me up...cum inside me,” you moaned. The popstar only gruntled, obviously bathing in your wetness.

“Cum, princess. Cum on my cock, cum with me,” he moaned as you both came, his cum filling you up and your walls clenching around him.

“I love you,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t notice but he did, stopping for a moment, looking at you. “Let’s talk about it later,” you smiled.

He thrusted for a few more times before removing his girth inside you. He immediately looked for a towel to wipe you with it and you waited. He always did this—you waited, basking in the afterglow of sex.

—————-

It was 4 am in the morning and you were both naked underneath the sheets. You didn’t talk about your confession, sleeping immediately once he wiped down the mess on your legs and he sighed.

It was 4 am and he was sound asleep, his tattooed arm wrapped around your torso. You removed it carefully and he shuffled in his sleep. You watched him, tears springing in your eyes before silently dressing up and tiptoeing until you were outside his room. He didn’t notice it, too sound asleep. You were silently sobbing as you buckled the straps of your black heels, calling for a car. It took a few minutes of you waiting outside his gates, the cold breeze raising goosebumps on your skin.

That was how you spent your New Years Eve and New Years, having sex with your ex and then, regretting it hours later because you told him you loved him.

PART TWO?

happy new years! i hope this is the first / last fic you’ve read for the decade. thanks again! xxxx

taglist:

@giitterysuits / @floral-suits @bree082 @dezzym17 @bouncebackbyers @lolapuffs @belleamoree @demolition-lovers-blog @gorgeouslygrace @styledharry @nervousshoeghostmoney

[tenroseforeverandever]

Optimal Distance

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Tentoo x Rose

Tags: lemons; lemons on video chat; mutual self-applied lemons; basically loads of lemons!; and the usual fluff, hurt/comfort, humour stuff

Summary: Rose has been feeling sad, lonely, and a little bit envious, left to endure the dreary London winter, while the Doctor has been posted on assignment in Rio, setting up a new Torchwood branch. But a comment the Doctor makes about a strangely bare desk in his otherwise cluttered study inspires Rose to find a way to bring them closer together, even though they are half a world apart.

Notes: This fic is one of many that had been lingering, stagnating in my collection of unfinished fics, just waiting for inspiration to strike.

Many thanks as always to my wonderful betas, @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci. You are absolutely brilliant, and I have no idea what I would do without you. And thanks to @aintfraidanoghosts who is always a voice of inspiration and encouragement (especially if she hears lemons on the menu!) I love you all!

I made quite a few tweaks and edits since they saw it, so as always, any mistakes are mine.I hope you like it!

Also read on AO3 and Teaspoon

OPTIMAL DISTANCE

“Done! You should be getting it any second now!” Rose crowed into her mobile with a rather disproportionate sense of triumph. All she had accomplished was to send the Doctor an email, albeit one with a very important file attached; a file she’d had to navigate his shambolic cataloguing system to find, and that only after she’d excavated his laptop from beneath heaps of books, papers, and crumpled sticky notes on the floor beside his desk.

“Got it!” he cheered. “You are brilliant, you are! A real lifesaver, Rose Tyler! See? My lucky pants, near or far. It’s a good thing you couldn’t come with me, after all. Where would I be now, eh? Without you holding down the fort?”

“Yeah, right,” Rose muttered with a sulky huff, her victorious mood evaporating as she plopped down in the desk chair. She fought against the prickle of tears. She refused to cry about it anymore. It was her own fault she was restricted to paper-pushing for another six weeks. To be specific, she was tasked with reviewing and classifying field reports, a chore that only served to rub in the fact that she wasn’t out in the field, herself, defending the Earth from both alien and earth-born threats. Instead she had to read about it second-hand.

She knew she deserved every bit of punishment she’d received, from her brutal dressing-down from Pete and her subsequent demotion, to her month-long stint inventorying the Small Parts Department (literally the “nuts and bolts” of Torchwood, and ten times as dull as it sounded.) She had been careless and impulsive on a mission, showing off for the sake of a dare, and had nearly gotten herself killed.

The worst part had been the look on the Doctor’s face as he’d rushed into the Torchwood infirmary, not knowing what her condition was, thinking he might have lost her. The guilt she’d felt over worrying him would have been enough (a kazillion times over) to curb any future reckless, thoughtless acts. After everything they had been through, with only a single, human lifetime each, pledged to be spent together, she had nearly thrown it all away in one rash moment.

As it was, she had been lucky to have come away with only deep laser burns to her left shoulder.

She and the Doctor had clung to each other all that night, desperately making love until they were too exhausted to move.

That had been weeks ago now, and Rose was chafing at her restrictions, especially since Pete seemed to be intentionally sending the Doctor to conferences in the most wonderful, exotic locations around the world, places Rose was dying to explore with him. But Pete resolutely refused to allow her to join him.

On this current trip, the Doctor was helping establish a new Torchwood base in Rio de Janeiro, addressing the fledgling team on the importance of employing diplomacy and mediation in First Contact situations. Rio, for God’s sake! And here she was, stuck in the middle of the damp, chilly London winter. She huffed again over the phone.

“Would it help if I said I wasn’t having fun?” the Doctor asked over the upbeat sounds of Samba and boisterous voices in the background. She could just picture the scantily clad, feather-adorned (female) dancers.

“Yes…” Rose picked at the worn piping on the leather arm of the desk chair.

“Oh…”

“Sure doesn’t sound like anyone’s ready to listen to your First Contact presentation. Don’t know what the rush was…”

“Weeell, lunch is almost over, and we’ll be heading right back in. Then, I’ll be cracking the whip! But, blimey, the Brazilians know how to party!  As you can probably hear, they’d arranged for some entertainment over lunch: live band, dancers, the lot! Didn’t want to seem churlish.”

She’d been right about the dancers, then… “Don’t worry, Doctor. I’m just feelin’ sorry for myself. I should be gettin’ to bed, yeah. Loads of field reports to review, tomorrow. You have fun.”

“Right… weeell…” Rose could picture him scrubbing the back of his head with his right hand. “Thanks again. And for the record, I do wish you were here, love. It’s just not the same without you.”

“It’s a bit lonely here too.” She looked around his study, filled with reminders of his presence: it was cluttered with books and papers; an assortment of swivel-chairs, beanbags, and exercise balls; and seemingly arbitrary writing surfaces at various heights and orientations. The traditional desk, where she was currently sat, was essentially an afterthought, a horizontal surface suitable for a computer or a place to deposit bits and bobs, books, and papers. Except it was completely clear of clutter and serving no purpose. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, but she couldn’t imagine the Doctor ever using a desk like that.

“We should redecorate your study when you get home, Doctor,” she mused.

“What? Why?”

“Well, for one, this desk is taking up a lot of valuable space. We really should get rid of it. It’s nice. I bet we could sell–”

“No!” he cut her off. “I love that desk!” There was an overtone of panic in his voice.

“But you don’t use it for… well… for anything.”

“I’d rather hoped to use it someday… erm…” His voice trailed off, but quickly returned with his classic exuberance. “It’s nice and sturdy, Rose, and just the right height.”

“What the hell for? The right height for what?” Honestly, she was afraid to ask, but it was just lovely to talk to him and listen to him prattle on about nonsensical things. She missed this when he was abroad.

“Weeeell…” he stage-whispered into the phone, enthusiastic, but clearly not wanting anyone else to hear, “the height is exactly the optimal distance to take advantage of the length of your legs…”

“Wha? My legs…?”

“Blimey, Rose! This is not a good time. I’m not able to control this stupid body the way I… erm… weeell…” His tone became clipped, irritable. “I need to be focussed for this presentation.”

“Oh, never mind.” Though Rose’s curiosity had been piqued by his cryptic comments and the urgency in his voice, she knew he was on a tight schedule. “You better go give that presentation. Go on, then. Love you. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you, too.”

It was only once she was in her bed, half asleep, with her thoughts restless and drifting, that she realized exactly what the Doctor wanted that desk for… She was suddenly wide awake, the whispers of a plan forming in her mind.

 --ooOoo--

Rose had spent the better part of the night ordering the things she needed to set her plan in motion. The online shop guaranteed next-day delivery and she hoped everything would be there when she arrived home from work. If she managed to slip away for the afternoon (without Pete finding out) as she’d planned, she would be able to message the Doctor just before his lunch… perfect!

She was relieved to have been able to escape the confines of her office with no one noticing, except Donna, the administrative assistant who, being every bit as brilliant as her Prime Universe counterpart, noticed everything. But she had just winked at Rose and signalled with a swipe of her thumb and pointer finger that her lips were sealed.

Rose’s excitement grew when she arrived home to find several large packages waiting for her in the hallway by the door of her flat, kindly left there by the landlady. Rose beamed, her heart pounding as she bustled into the flat, hurrying to get everything set in motion before she chickened out. She had never done anything quite as bold as this before – at least in terms of trying to seduce someone – and she rather hoped the Doctor would be… receptive. Considering he had seemingly procured the desk for a very specific (erotic) purpose, she figured he would be.

An hour later, she was turning up the heating against the chill of the wintery air. Her new outfit was not exactly intended to keep her warm. To be honest, she didn’t think she’d ever worn anything so barely-there (and glittery) before. She flushed, looking at herself in the mirror. It was a bit generous calling it an outfit at all. It was really just strategically placed jewelry.

It was a Samba ensemble, made of thin strips of pink, yellow, and clear crystals. The bra was a halter design, with clusters of gems dripping in simple floral patterns from her throat to just above her breasts. A single, large sparkling clear crystal shone between her breasts, supporting a band of smaller clear crystals that curved below them. Her nipples were (only just) covered with bright pink and yellow crystal flowers. She turned around to look at herself from the back. Her bum was essentially bare, the lower part of her outfit, a thong, impossibly skimpier than the bra and crafted of more of the glittery crystals. Matching wrist and shin cuffs adorned her limbs. Not for the first time that afternoon, she thanked the stars for her Torchwood training and active lifestyle for keeping her fit and trim.

After applying her most alluring make-up, she was ready for the final piece of the puzzle. With shaking hands, she positioned the headdress over her hair. It was heavy, heavier than she’d expected, encrusted with crystals over her forehead and in a band around her head. A pink and yellow fountain of ridiculous, great, feathery plumes erupted from the top.

Rose laughed at her image in the mirror. Ridiculous didn’t begin to cover it: it was completely daft. But the Doctor would love it… or so she hoped.

She made her way to his study where she had set up cameras to take photos of herself using a remote control. Her first pose had her facing the camera, one stilettoed foot hitched up on the desk, and her opposite hand touching her sex through the thin fabric of her bejewelled knickers. She made a point of allowing her tongue to poke out at the corner of her smile. That always drove the Doctor mental.

For her next pose she leaned over the desk, her bare bum inviting the Doctor to take her from behind, as she looked suggestively over her shoulder at the camera. She elected to forgo the third pose she had planned. She’d had to stop her headdress from toppling off several times during the second pose and was feeling rather hot and bothered… and not in a sexy way.

Regardless of the headdress mishaps, she was able to select an image she liked from both sets of photos and upload them to her mobile.

So, you like Samba, do ya? she texted the Doctor, along with the two photos. Meet me for lunch… video chat. I’ll show you my moves.  

If she’d worked out the timing right, he should be receiving the messages about ten minutes before he usually stopped for lunch. She intended to make sure there would only ever be one Samba dancer in his future. Her.

She giggled nervously. She really hoped he would take the bait.

She didn’t have to wait long. Her phone vibrated on the desk. She laughed at the Doctor’s message: Blimey! Don’t move! I’ll be there in five minutes. Meeting adjourned!

He’d taken the bait all right – hook, line, and sinker!

Now for the really challenging part: video phone sex. She’d never done anything like that before. She hoped she could pull it off.

 Rose scrambled to set up her mobile on the apparatus she’d purchased, just for this purpose, at the same time as she’d bought her Samba costume. She took a few quick test shots of herself, perched on the edge of the desk with her leg hitched up the way it had been for the first of the photos she had sent the Doctor a few minutes earlier. It took a few rushed and panicked adjustments, but she eventually got the angles just right to ensure the Doctor would get an eyeful!

She was just situating herself on the desk with her leg up again when her phone pinged with the Doctor’s incoming call on video chat. Her tummy was in knots with equal parts anticipation and mortification. Her fingers shaking, she depressed the button on the remote control she’d programmed to her phone and accepted his call.

The Doctor’s eager, bewildered face filled the entire screen, his eyebrows rising into his hairline at the image before him. “Fuuuuuuck…”

He was swearing, a sure sign she’d gotten his attention in the best possible way. There was only one time he ever swore (well, mostly) and that was during sex. Rose smirked as he reflexively licked his lips, boosting her confidence even more. Her voice still trembled, though. “Like what you see, Doctor?”

His hand ruffled his hair. (Rose was jealous of that hand.) “Weeell, I mean… yes! Of course, I do! Blimey! What’s not to love?” Two hands ran through his hair this time.

“B-better… better than the Samba dancers from lunchtime yesterday?” Rose pressed her lips together, and dropped her leg from it’s provocative pose, and she slid off the desk, suddenly uncertain again and feeling vulnerable, both craving and dreading his response.

The dazed shock on his face softened, full of sincerity and love. “The only person I’ll ever want to dance with, Rose Tyler, is you.”

“I feel so… stupid… doing this.”

“NO! No, no, no, no! This is perfect. Brilliant!”

“I don’t know what I’m doin’…”

For several anxious moments, they watched each other in silence. Then, suddenly, the Doctor spoke, his voice husky and low: “Oh, Rose, I wish I could touch you. I wish I could lean you over that desk, take you from behind, and fuck you senseless.”

Rose released a tense breath. He seemed to be taking the lead, putting that unstoppable gob of his to good use.

“But first, first I’d love to have you like this, facing me. I’d spread your legs and–”

“Like this?” Now that she was relaxing, Rose found herself quite eager to play her part. Holding her headdress in place, she hopped up on the edge of the desk again, leaning back on her hands, her legs splayed.

“Yes, just like that! Beautiful! You’re fucking gorgeous!”

Rose bit her lip, her breath hitching as a flood of warmth pooled low in her abdomen. Blimey, she loved when he talked dirty.

“I’d kneel down before you, goddess that you are, and pull aside those skimpy knickers and bury my face between your thighs.”

“Like this?” she repeated, drawing the soaking strip of fabric to one side, exposing her dripping core to the Doctor.

“Oh, you’re so wet, Rose. I just want to taste you.”

“Guuuuuuuhhh… yeah! Love your mouth on me.”  

“Oh, yes! I’d dip my tongue inside you, savour the taste of you (you taste so good, Rose!), and lick you all the way up to your clit. Fuck, you’re perfect,” he blurted as Rose used her finger to simulate the actions he described.

She sighed at the sensation, closing her eyes, wishing it was his tongue lapping along her aching slit, twirling around her clit.

“Oh Rose, my Rose… I’d stroke that lovely clit of yours with my tongue, up and around, up and around…”

Rose groaned out her pleasure, her fingers dancing over her damp sex. “God, Doctor, I love it when you fuck me with your tongue. Please,” she begged, looking him in the eyes, “I want to see you. I want to touch you too. I want my hands on your gorgeous, thick cock.”

“Fuuuuck, Rose! Wait! Just give me a moment.” His face disappeared from the phone. “Keep going!” his voice called from the background. “I’m still here, licking you, sucking you.” There was a loud clattering noise, and the image on the screen spun around. And then Doctor appeared again, from further away wearing only an oxford. His cock, long and hard, bobbed up against the fabric, leaving a wet stain on the front of the shirt. “There. I’ve propped my mobile up. Can you see me, love?”

“Yeah. ‘S good. So good!”

“Are you still touching yourself?”

“Yeah.” Rose’s eyes rolled back as she pressed down on her clit.

“So I see,” he moaned. “Oh, love…”

“I want you inside me, Doctor. I want to feel you fill me.”

Rose watched with a hooded gaze as he wrapped his hand around his cock. “Oh, I want that too. I want to feel you so hot and tight around me. Nothing feels better than that.” His hand stroked down, then up, with a twist at the top. “You’re so soft and wet…” down again, “and so fucking…” up and twist, “tight!”

At the same time, Rose plunged two fingers inside herself, finding that oh-so sensitive sweet spot, as she continued to work her clit with her thumb. She moved her fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his stroking hand, the jewels around her breasts chafing her nipples with delicious friction as she moved. She added a third finger, stretching herself wide. “Oh, you’re so thick and hard… I love how you fill me. You feel so good!”

“Fuck, Rose… so do you. You look so fucking sexy.” His hand began to stroke faster. Rose watched, mesmerized, as the dark, throbbing tip of his cock disappeared and reappeared from the circle of his fist. “Are you getting close?” His voice was tight, strained.

Rose continued to work herself, thighs trembling, slick, wet sounds accompanying her lusty groans. “So close…” she whimpered, feeling the familiar heat burning in her core, the pressure building. Her head lolled back… and suddenly she yelped as her headdress tumbled to the floor behind the desk. “Oh no! No!” Her hand stopped moving as despair welled up inside her.

“Rose! Don’t stop. Keep going.”

She wailed, “It’s no use.”

“You’re so beautiful, my precious girl. Oh, let me touch you more. Let me feel how warm and wet you are… I want to fuck you forever and never stop.”

Rose watched him on the small screen of her phone looking so wonderfully earnest, his cock in his hand, still hard, glistening with pre-come. He was bloody hot, and he was hers. The shock of losing her headdress was forgotten in a fresh rush of desire, and another flood of arousal, warm and slick, coated her fingers. “Touch me, Doctor,” she breathed, her thumb renewing its caresses over her clit.

“Oh, yes love… I want to run my fingers over your body; run my hands up your thighs and deep inside you. I love the sounds you make when I stroke you…”

“Please,” she whimpered, arching into the pressure of her thumb on her responsive skin.

“Let me fill you again…”

“Yes!” She watched, in awe, as his hand slowly resumed its motions – up, down, twist – over his long, hard member, and her fingers began their pumping motions again, curling and rubbing against her sweet spot rebuilding her sense of urgency with every stroke.

They were soon lost in their passion, both keening and groaning in a haze of lust and need. The fire within Rose burned hot again, deep in her sex, as she rolled her body over her fingers. The Doctor’s hand increased its speed once more. He was getting close, she could tell, he looked so wonderful and dishevelled, and his cock pulsed with every stroke of his hand. “Doctor!” she cried out. “I’m… I’m… gonna…”

“Hnnnngghhh…” he groaned. “Come for me. Let me see you come!”

Rose’s body vibrated with the need for release, her hand frantically pumping, her thumb pressing down, circling her clit, the heat and pressure building within her… and then, the Doctor shouted. Mesmerized, she watched as his seed spurted in ribbons from him, coating the front of his shirt, drizzling over his hand. The look of ecstasy on his face was enough to bring her over too. Her sex throbbed, grasping around her pumping fingers as she arched off the desk, the burning pressure in her core suddenly exploding outward, engulfing her.

 --ooOoo--

“Well, I need to get out of this ridiculous get-up,” Rose chuckled, pushing herself up to a sitting position. She had made her way back to the bedroom and lain down on the bed, while the Doctor lay on the bed in his hotel room. They had stayed that way for many wonderful minutes, gazing into each other’s eyes and talking quietly as they came down from the high of their orgasms.

The Doctor pouted. “And I suppose I need to get back to my meeting. They’ll all have finished their lunches.”

“Oh my God! You didn’t get to eat! Sorry. I guess I should have timed this better…”

“What? NO! This was perfect! A brilliant surprise. I feel perfectly satisfied.” He winked and flashed her an impudent grin. “I just can’t wait to take you over that desk in person, and peel that ‘ridiculous get-up’ off you, myself!”

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be there?” Rose bit her lip, clutching her mobile and regarding the Doctor’s image with imploring eyes. Training new teams of Torchwood personnel and operatives could be a time-consuming business and was an open-ended job. She and the Doctor could potentially be separated for several more weeks or…

“Just a few more days.”

“Really? You’re not jus’ sayin’ that?”

“Rose, (mostly) Time Lord here! If there’s one thing I know about, it’s time. Have you ever known me to misjudge…?”

Rose gave him a pointed look.

“Nah, don’t answer that. But honestly, love, we’ve only just started getting this lot familiarized with all the tech, today, but they seem to be a quick study, and a few of their key people will be returning to London with us for a tour and more in-depth, hands-on experience. Then Pete’s going to be relocating some of our more capable people to Rio for a few months to get things up and running properly. So, at most, another week.”

“A week?”

“At most… I promise. Now, as much as I would prefer to spend the day here with you, I have to act the responsible adult (complete rubbish, that!) and get back to my meeting. I’ll see you later, love.”

“Not if I see you first.” She blew him a kiss and offered him a little wave of her fingers before disconnecting their call.

 --ooOoo--

Five days later, she stood, poised sexily (she hoped) in the doorway of the Doctor’s study, wearing the Samba outfit, minus the ridiculous headdress (it would just get in the way), and watching as the Doctor pushed his way through the door of their flat. Her heart thrummed at the sight of him.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called out cheekily, making her laugh out loud.

“Right here… erm… Sugarbear,” she droned, her voice as sultry as she could make it through her giggles.

“Sugarbear? Really, Rose,” the Doctor closed the door behind him, “of all the names you could…” As he turned and took a step into the flat, his gaze locked onto her, eyes darkening as they roved over her bejewelled body. “Blimey… now this, this is a proper welcome home!” He dropped his bags and coat, leaving them behind, forgotten, as he strode toward her across the room, loosening his belt along the way.

Rose shuddered at the sight. Bloody hell, he was fucking gorgeous. And he was here. Home. With her. Her Doctor.

“You. Inside. Now,” he commanded, his hands settling over the bare skin of her waist, guiding her backwards into his study with firm pressure. Rose’s core ached in anticipation, a yearning heat coursing through her. His lips crashed against hers as they staggered further into the room, the kiss equal parts demanding and desperate, and Rose was sure she had never felt so desired, so loved.

When her bum hit the desk, she gasped, and suddenly, all the emotion she had been suppressing over the last few months surged to the surface: guilt and remorse, loneliness and jealousy, all whirling together in a maelstrom of unfettered passion, love, and vulnerability brought on by the Doctor’s assertive touch. The tears she had been holding back gushed over her cheeks.

“Rose? Love?” The Doctor broke the kiss, looking down at her with concerned eyes. “What’s wrong? Is this not all right? Was I too… weeell, enthusiastic?”

“No, oh my God, no,” she wept. “It’s… it’s perfect… Better than. I jus’… I jus’… I missed you… I didn’t realize jus’ how much…”.

In one swift movement, he swept his hands behind her legs and lifted her to perch on the edge of the desk. Then, spreading her thighs, he stepped between them and tipped her chin up for another marvelous snog, still passionate, but this time it was a sweet and tender, unhurried sort of passion. Rose melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him against her body and breathing in the comfort of his scent. They eventually drew away from the kiss with gentle pecks and nibbles.

They pressed their foreheads together, and panting softly, Rose spoke into the space between them, “Sorry, I’ve gone and ruined all this,” she gestured to the desk.

“Nah, don’t be silly.” He dabbed the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Besides, I have a bit of news too. Might as well get it over with.” He sighed dramatically and pulled slightly away from her to fish in his jacket pocket. He pulled out an official-looking Torchwood envelope that he tossed down on the desk beside her.

“W’at’s this?”

“My new marching orders, I’m afraid. I leave in two days.”

“Two days,” she sobbed. “But you jus’ got home and–”.

Taking a deep steadying breath, she dragged a hand through her hair, pulling it back from her face. “God, I sound so needy and selfish… but I just missed you.”

“And I suppose, the fact that I was in Rio,” he smirked at her, his left eyebrow arched, “had nothing to do with it?”

“Oh, that just made me miss you even more, but I admit, I was a bit… envious.” She chuckled, leaning back to look him in the eye. “But you know that stuff doesn’t really matter, yeah, all the travelling? Never did. Just that we’re together. That’s what’s important.”

“Oh, I know,” he reassured her with a kiss on the forehead. “And you know I feel the same... don’t you?”

She nodded, placing her palm over his single, human heart. “Yeah, ‘course I do.” 

“And that’s why, Rose Tyler,” his deadpan expression transformed into a brilliant smile, “I’m happy to announce that your assignment is in that envelope too. This time, you’re coming with me.” He beamed at her, waggling his eyebrows and looking very pleased with himself.

She gawped. “But… wait. What?”

“That is, if you think you can be ready to go on such short notice.”

“You wanker!” She swatted his shoulder. “Of course, I’ll be ready!”

He giggled. “But, really, I mean… if it’s too much trouble, I could always just go back to Rio on my own, I suppose.”

There was a long silence as Rose processed what he had said. When she finally found her voice, the words tumbled from her mouth: “Shut up! No way! Rio? RIO?”

“Yu-p!” He grinned. “We’re the experts Pete’s going to send over for a couple of months to make sure everything’s up and running properly. He said he only wants to send the best, and weeeell… I mean look at us. The choice is obvious.”

“I don’t believe it. There must be a catch.”

“No-pe!” He popped his “p” again. “He wants to make sure the Brazilians get everything exactly right. And the best part is, we’ll be there for Carnival. It’s just a few weeks off.”

“What? Carnival? Really?”

“Yes-siree, Rose Tyler! You can even wear this outfit again, in an official capacity this time, of course, complete with headdress. And ooooh, we’ll bring the baby TARDIS along, too. She’ll love a change of scenery!”

“I still don’t believe Pete would just… Nah, you must ‘ave said somethin’ to ‘im, yeah? Not that I’m complainin’. It’s just he’s been so… lecture-y lately.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s been a right misery. And now this sudden change of heart…?”

“Weeell, I admit,” he pulled on his right ear, “I was all ready to go in today, guns-a-blazing, to try to convince him that enough was enough, but believe it or not, he had already made up his mind. He gave me the news during my debriefing this afternoon. By the way, you’re to meet with him tomorrow–”

“Urrrghh, that’ll be fun…”

“–to go over… erm some… stipulations, but essentially, it’s all set. Said he thought your diplomatic skills would be hugely beneficial over there. Personally,” he flashed her a cheeky grin, “I think he was just getting sick of your constant moaning.”

“Oi, Mister!” She feigned offence. “Is that so? Watch out! I’ll give you constant moaning!” She grabbed his tie and dragged him toward her for another impassioned kiss, then reached between them to fondle him through the fabric of his trousers. As she sucked and nibbled along his jawline, tracing her fingers up and down his growing length, a strangled sound tore from his throat.

She smirked. “Now, there’s the moaning…”

“Stop!” He grabbed her hand, his eyes blazing into hers, and she quivered in response, the hot rush of renewed arousal pooling between her legs. “No more teasing. Brilliant as the video-chat sex was, I’ve had enough of foreplay and imagining over the last few days to last me a lifetime. I am going to take you right here, right now, against this desk, and fuck you so hard you see stars.” He scrabbled at his trousers and boxers, pushing them down over his slim hips. Looking utterly debauched, with his suit jacket, oxford, and tie dishevelled but still in place, he took his thick, throbbing member in hand and gave it a few hard pumps. “You ready?”

“Am I ready? Fuck! I’ve been ready for days. Could hardly think of anything else.” She licked her lips as she took in the sight of his impressive length. “My fingers are no substitute for that.”

With an impatient growl, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her off the desk. Then he spun her around and pressed in behind her, rutting against her bum. “This all right?”

“God, yes!” she sputtered, the ache of desire burgeoning inside her as he encouraged her to lean forward over the desk, applying a steady pressure to her back, until her breasts pressed against the surface, making the jewels of her outfit rasp over her taught nipples.

With a nudge from his foot, he prompted her to spread her legs, opening her to him. “Oh, yes,” he groaned, “the optimal distance, indeed!” Rose shuddered as his slender finger stroked over the sodden strip of fabric covering her sex and she arched into the contact with wanton abandon.

No further invitation required, he yanked the fabric aside and plunged into her welcoming depths.

She saw not only the stars he’d promised: entire constellations burst before her eyes.

[babypinkstyles94]

Cigarette

Cigarette

Duncan Shepherd x reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fingering

Notes: Yes I had to re-upload this, there were some problems with it the first time. Duncan Shepherd at the MET gala because we all know he is a fashion hoe! I am really excited for you all to read this and threw in a little surprise :) so I hope you enjoy, I recommend listening to Cigarettes by Amir Obè and please let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged! Xx 

The MET Gala was the hottest and most important fashion event of the year, the biggest names in Hollywood all came out and walked the carpet dripping in millions of dollars. How you had gotten here and were standing on the baby pink carpet was still hard to wrap your head around. You had been invited as a plus one by your best friend, who was a stylist to many of the stars and you have been studying under her for a while. You were amongst some of the last people to arrive and as soon as you stepped foot on the carpet your eyes were blinded by the camera flashes.

Your dress fit like a glove and showed off every curve perfectly, expensive rings adorning your fingers, and a pair of heels that made your legs look miles long. Photographers shouted at you to look at them and you froze a couple of times at the flashes. As you walked up the steps you lost your balance a little bit but there was a hand on your waist to catch you. Looking over with a blush and a smile you meet a pair of bright blue eyes, dark purple eyeshadow surrounding them. His hair was messy with waves and the suit he wore made your mouth water, the sleek black pants making the white button down that was almost all the way unbuttoned look very professional. His jacket was the center piece of the whole look as it was cut to accentuate his waist and was a dark purple velvet lined with gold sequence and diamond jewels dripping throughout the whole jacket, a true piece of art work. You could see the heeled boots on his feet as he walked up the stairs past you, looking back every now and then at you.

Finishing off the carpet with a slight new confidence to you, you made it into the gala and grabbed a drink from the bar. Your friend had wondered off and you took your chance to take in the exhibits alone. Everything was beautiful and made your heart swell with each outfit in its glass case, you just wanted to run your fingers across all the different fabric. As other guests made their way through the halls where you were you said a small hello and even made friends with Saoirse Ronan whose dress you were absolutely in love with. A drink was brought to you by a waiter and just as you’d taken a step out of the way of another waiter, you almost slipped on none other than Cardib’s train of her dress. A strong arm wrapped around your waist before anything bad could happen and once again you were met with those blue eyes.

“Now I’m starting to think you keep tripping just so I can catch you.” He said with a smirk on his lips. A smug expression made its way onto his face as he noticed how flushed you became. “I’m sorry! I’m usually not this clumsy,” you let out a nervous laugh and felt his hand squeeze your hip.  “No worries darling I don’t mind catching you. Your dress is stunning by the way, wanted to tell you on the carpet but I could tell you wanted to get off the carpet as soon as possible.” He chuckled and you saw his gaze linger at your cleavage.

The two of you made eye contact and you shyly said “thank you” to him. His hand was still on your hip and your skin felt like it was on fire under his palm, it made your stomach clench every time he squeezed a little. “I’m Duncan by the way, Duncan Shepherd.” Your heart jumped at his name, of course he was one of the richest and hottest men from Washington. You knew who he was as you worked a lot with the brand he usually wore, even having been to a meeting where he was the client. You remember staying off to the side and developing a crush on him after he’d sent you a thank you note which he’d sent to everyone but not a lot of people did that for the people who worked behind the scenes on designing.

“I’m y/n…” His smug smile came back and he repeated your name, in that moment your brain had the thought of what it would sound like of him groaning your name as you had your lips wrapped around his cock.

Just as you were trying to get the filthy thoughts out of your head your best friend came down the hallway with her phone in hand. “There you are! Come on dinner is about to start and I hear Cher is preforming!!” She said giddy and started to pull you with her. “We’ll catch up some more later doll, just try not to trip anymore without me around…wouldn’t want someone else hands on you.” Duncan leaned in and placed a quick kiss to your cheek and squeezed once more at your hip.

Your friend gave you a knowing look and you just rolled your eyes at her, walking towards the ballroom where dinner was being held. The food was good and the entertainment was fabulous, pink feathers just about everywhere and drinks on the house. Your eyes searched for Duncan throughout the room and the glint of the diamonds on his jacket was what caught your eyes. He was bobbing his head to the music, a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand and smile that showed off his teeth.

His eyes met yours as he looked your way; you hadn’t realized you were staring until he threw you a wink. The music suddenly got louder and the lights dimmed out almost all the way but you could still see the sparkle of Duncan, and he could still see you and was watching you intensely as you danced close to your friend. As the alcohol moved through you the more you loosened up from the nerves, you weren’t drunk by any means as you really didn’t need a headline about you the next morning.

Shawn Mendes approached you and put a hand on your shoulder, leaning in close as to talk about how much he loved your design that you worked on for your friends’ client. He wanted to set something up soon for you to work on some things with him, as he wasn’t too thrilled with his own stylist right now. It was completely flattering and you couldn’t help the beaming smile that spread across your face. Duncan caught your eyes and you noticed how tense his jaw was, his face scowling as he drained the glass of brown liquid at once.

Halfway through the night you’d decided to change dresses as it was getting hotter and kind of uncomfortable. This dress was shorter had crystals embellished in the cleavage of it, something that you hoped would catch Duncan’s eyes if you were being honest. As you came back into the ballroom there were pink cupcakes being passed around and you moaned as you took a bite of it. The frosting making its way onto your top lip and your fingers, unbeknownst to you Duncan was watching as you licked the top of your lip and stuck your fingers past them. He felt his cock twitch in his pants for the hundredth time tonight as he looked your way, he needed to get you alone soon or he was going to explode.

You finished up the cupcake and decided to go to the bathroom not quite liking the sticky feeling left from the frosting. Surprisingly the bathroom was empty as the majority of people had made their way to the next party or were busy dancing, which was a nice break from the chaos out there. As you were washing your hands under the warm water you heard the screech of the door open, looking up to smile at the person you froze.

“ ‘S a waste to wash that sweetness from your fingers darling.”

Duncan’s smirk made your heart skip a beat and you stopped your movements, the scald of the water bringing you back to earth. Duncan Shepherd had just walked into the restroom, presumably for you and had just called you darling for the second time in the hottest voice ever. “I- what are you doing in here?” You asked and he took a few steps closer until his hand was back to being wrapped around your waist, resting on your hip tightly. “Told you we’d catch up some more didn’t I? Seems like you’ve been busy talking to someone else though.” He whispered in your ear as your eyes met through the mirror.

“Sounds like you’ve been watching me Mr. Shepherd…” The confidence shot through you as you decided to follow his lead very much hoping it would go the way you were thinking about all night. Duncan let out a groan that was deep in his throat and his hands tighten on your hips, suddenly spinning you around. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you too. Your eyes staring at my chest and I even saw you staring at my hands, isn’t that right y/n.” It was true the moment you saw how his long fingers wrapped around the glass of whiskey you couldn’t help but think about them pressed into your mouth or better yet, three of them fucking your cunt.

His hand came up and gripped your chin, pulling your face back up to meet his and he licked at his lips. In that moment you threw every nerve out the window and smashed your lips to his. All that you could hear in the bathroom was the breathy noise you made as Duncan pulled back a little and the clatter of your heels on the floor as he moved you back against the wall. Fingers threading themselves through his hair and tugging as his hips thrust up into yours.

The two of you were breathing heavily as you pulled apart, Duncan’s eyes darker with lust and making their way to your breast as they heaved up and down. His mouth pressed against the base of your throat and he sucked a big bruise into the skin. He moved his hands to your dress straps paused, a whimpered please breaking past your throat. The cold air hit your nipples and they pebbled up which caused Duncan to let out a little chuckle. “Thought about sucking your tits all night and it seems the feelings mutual.” That stupid smirk catching his mouth as he sucked a nipple into his mouth and grasped the other in his hand.

As he switched sides the cold air hitting the spit that covered your nipple made it almost painful but as he wrapped his mouth around the other you squeezed your thighs together, which he noticed. You gripped at his hair tightly as moans escaped you, fingers moving to pull his face back up to yours. Duncan caught your lips and kissed you with so much fever behind it. He pulled away from you and grasped your hand in his bringing it up to his mouth and you pushed two fingers passed his mouth.

A gasp fell from you as he sucked on your fingers, his eyes never leaving your face. His cock was rock hard at this point and he had to thrust his bulge into you to get a bit of friction. Feeling bold you reached down and palmed his cock, smiling as you felt him shudder. You squeezed him a couple of times and enjoyed the way his moans vibrated your fingers. Suddenly his hand gripped onto your wrist and he pulled away from your fingers in his mouth.

“Mmm sweet but I bet your pussy is sweeter.”

Duncan dropped onto his knees and his hands ran up the length of your legs to the sides of your thong. “Is that ok? Me having a taste of your sweet cunt darling?” His voice was deep and you nodded yes to him before repeating it him with your voice. He pulled your thong down your legs and moved the dress up around your waist. When Duncan finally wrapped his lips around your clit it made you jump slightly, his slight stubble tickling at your thighs which you were praying left an ache to your skin to remind you of later.

“Duncan! P-please use your fingers!” As good as his mouth felt on you, you’d been dying to feel his fingers inside of you. Suddenly he pushed two into you with no warning and the stretch made you yell out. His fingers pumped in and out of you with a steady rhythm and he gave a moan of approval as you started rocking your hips against his mouth. The tight ball in your stomach was getting closer and closer to exploding, Duncan catching on as he felt your pussy clench his fingers and your hand tighten in his hair.

“OH god yes!” A third finger was added and almost immediately your orgasm hitting you hard, your fingers moving down and grabbing at the white shirt stretching across his broad shoulders tightly. Duncan lapped up all of your release until you had to push him away from the burn on your thighs and the sensitivity.

“ Been wanting to fuck you all night, my cocks been aching seeing you looking at me all night instead of all these other men trying to talk to you.”  His lips met yours once more and you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Then fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and gasped at his hard thrust into you. Your fingers nimbly unzipped his pants and pushed them to his thighs. “Don’t have a condom, fuck! Of course I don’t have one.” His forehead fell onto your shoulder and you whimpered, “It’s fine... I’m clean… I swear” and he nodded.

Grasping his cock into his hand, Duncan teased at your slit before pushing into you slowly. The way his cock stretched you sent shivers down your spine and you tried as hard as you could to bite back the yell you wanted to let out as he bottomed out. “Move Duncan please move.” He started to thrust into you harder and buried his face into your neck, groaning and nipping at the skin there.

“Oh fuck! Y/n you’re so fucking tight for me…thought my fingers would have stretched you out but fuck your pussy’s so tight.” Duncan knew he wasn’t going to last that long as he’d been leaking since dinner at the thought of this. Your mouth hung open and your eyes squeezed shut as he pounded into you, his hands most likely leaving marks on your waist from his grip. The second orgasm was fast approaching you as he kept up his pace, your moans getting louder and the feel of the vibrations of a song being played outside.

Duncan’s right hand pulled your leg up to wrap around his hip and the new angle had him hitting that spot inside of you perfectly. All that fell from your mouth was his name over and over again as your orgasm finally rocked through you. Lightning burst from behind your eyes and they snapped open at the command of your name from Duncan. “Wanna see those pretty eyes as you cum darling.” You were lost in his face, the dark purple makeup surrounding his blue eyes making them look so much more intense.

“Fuck I’m close, better tell me if you want me to come inside you or somewhere else. Don’t think your friend would like a cum stained dress.” He chuckled and squeezed his eyes shut for a second as you clenched around him again.

Pushing forward you kissed him deeply, teeth clashing for a second and you broke away to get on your knees. You took his cock into your mouth and sucked at him a few times before taking him as deep as you could. His hips thrusting forward with a deep rhythm, you could tell he was trying to not go to hard. You pulled off of him and pumped him with your hand a few times before saying, “cum for me Duncan, want to taste you.”

Duncan clenched his jaw and threw his head back muttering, ‘I’m gonna cum!’ as you took him into your mouth again. His cock twitched before you felt him release in your mouth, some of his cum dribbling past your lips. You swallowed his load and stood up straight, a little wobbly from being on your knees and his lips pressed to yours again. That sexy smug look was back on his face and he helped fix up your dress but stuffed your thong into his pocket, which he sent you a wink as you raised your eyebrows.

“A party favor, we should probably get back out there I’m sure someone’s looking for you.” His head pointed at your phone as the screen lit up.

As the two of you exited the bathroom together with Duncan’s hand on your waist again, he spoke up. “You have some cum on your lips there darling.” Just as you turned to look at him and wiped your finger along your lip sucking at the missed cum and moaning, you bumped into someone.

He looked startled obviously having heard Duncan’s remark and seen your response. Embarrassed you glared at Duncan and immediately could not look back at the strangers face as the man next to you zipped his pants up. The baby blue cowboy boots in front of you quickly walked away as the two of you made your way back to the ballroom. Duncan grabbed his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, the velvet just as soft as you’d thought.

“Let’s go back to my hotel darling; we can have some more privacy for you to yell my name louder.” That fucking smirk met your eyes again and you grabbed his hand following him out.

*Special thank you to @coollangdon for pushing me to write this and helping me with ideas, ilyyy* I lost my tag list but can remember a few lovely people off the top of my head and some people I hope don’t mind me tagging them, please let me know if you want to be added!

tagging: @americanhorrorstudies @langdonsoceaneyes @1-800-bitchcraft

@ghostiesbedroom @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sojournmichael @langdonsdemon @ms-mead @langdvnshepherd @langdonsinferno

[shy-violet-soul]

Easy as Pie

Summary: Dean thinks that the road to dessert is quick, easy, and unchallenged. You are about to prove him all kinds of wrong. Characters: Dean, Sam, OFC Rae, Female Reader  Rating: E for everyone  Word count: 1470ish 

A/N: This is 100% fluffy garbage I churned out today. It popped in my head because I’m sure people assume my music taste based upon my professionalism/cuteness. But this girl can bust out “Gangsta’s Paradise” and “Smoke On The Water” like it’s nobody’s business. Don’t judge a book by its cover - as Dean learns in this quick fic. 

I’m tired.

Strike that. I’m butt-numb-from-sitting-in-Baby-too-long, fed-up-with-crappy-hotel-beds, indigestion-from-too-much-road-food tired. 

We are miles from my memory foam, chasing down weirdo deaths by ‘animal attack’. Apparently, another mythical story has come to life, this time from the Souix, and Sam is telling me all about it in excruciatingly thorough detail.

“So, get this. According to the legend, the very first dog made a pact with the first man and woman to take care of her puppies after she died, and that humans and dogs would always be loyal companions to each other. Provide shelter, food, mutual protection, etc. However, if a human ever broke that pact…”

My ears are actually bleeding. “All bets are off.”

“Right. No more protection, and the wronged..dog, I guess...would retaliate against the...wrongdoer,” Sam stumbled out. “I’ve been reading the lore, and-”

“Sammy, hold up a second.” I held up a hand and stopped in front of the Victory Cafe. “I’m tired. Like, ready to let you drive tired. Can we just stop with the lore and the ME reports and the, the, the freakin’ killer Ol’ Yeller stuff for thirty minutes? I gotta get some real food and coffee that doesn’t come from a gas station. Please?” Eyebrows popped up that huge forehead almost to his hairline, but he just nodded as he closed his journal and tucked it under his arm.

“Yeah. Got it. Sorry.”

I sighed as I turned back towards the cafe. “Now. Rainbow unleashed her research magic and found us another winner. Let’s eat.”

Twenty minutes later, the double cheddar cheese layering my burger was blissfully floating in my veins. Better than B12. Rae caught me side-eyeing her thirteen remaining French fries - not that I counted - and smiled as she nudged her plate toward me.

“They’re all yours, tiger. However, I do feel compelled to tell you that this place is famous for their pie,” she chirped out, bobbing her chin towards something behind me.

Something in my neck popped I turned so quickly and made my tongue numb, but I didn’t care. All I could see was the glass-covered cake stand on the counter. Our waitress stood rolling flatware into napkins as I walked up.

“Hi, there! You folks still doing all right?”

“Even better ever since I learned you got pie!”

She beamed a hot pink, cigarette-wrinkled smile at me as she gestured towards the white glass dome. “Yes, sir! We’ve got exactly one slice left!”

Euphoria poured through me as I returned her smile. “I betchya it’s got my name on it.”

“Actually, I’m sure it has my name on it.”

Eyes. And legs. Holy crap. I mean, if I wasn’t so ready to throw down for this slice, I mean...wow. She was busy chatting up Polly Jean, every so often glancing at me with those eyes.

But - pie.

“Well, hun, my regular here says she called in an order for that pie.”

I will not be defeated.

I turned on the charm, leaning against the counter as I grinned lazily at Polly. “She might be a regular, but you said I was your favorite. Don’t favorites get a little sugar, sweetness?” I threw in a wink that may or may not have been caused by sugar deprivation. Or fear. Luckily, Polly giggled and batted her eyelashes at me.

“Well, now, I don’t know…” 

Sparkling-Eyes scoffed. “You’re not seriously buying this, Polly, are you?” 

I couldn’t stop the smirk. I should have, I know. But it’s an involuntary response for me, like blinking. “Now, don’t you talk that way to my girlfriend.” 

Perfectly eye-liner’d - is that a word? it’s a word - perfectly eye-liner’d eyes narrowed at me before they rolled fit to put Sammy to shame as she crossed her arms over her chest and stood straight on those legs. Holy crap.

“Listen up, Cool Hand Luke. I called fifteen minutes ago and ordered that slice of pie. It’s mine.”

“Did you pay for it?”

She blinked - hah! Hesitation!

“No.” I smiled and gestured as if to say, ‘well, there you have it’.

“Why don’t you fight for it?” Betrayal. I turned to look at Rae, the look on her face 100% mischief at the suggestion. Sammy, damn him, just sat here, out of words for the first time in ever. Smiling.

A snort from Sparkling-Eyes turned me back around. She eyed me up and down, the smirk on her face now.

“Good idea. How about a karaoke sing off?”

What? 

“What?”

Rae squealed and climbed over Sam to get out of the booth, bobbling her phone on the way. “I’m pulling up YouTube for karaoke music!”

“Now just wait a minute.” 

Sparkling-Eyes grinned confidently as she sauntered to Rae’s side. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Scared?”

“Not a chance. But, we need to make it fair. I mean, I’m all classic rock, and you,” I gestured towards her and her fancy red-soled patent leather and her pearls. She stilled where she leaned over Rae’s shoulder, peering up at me through her lashes. 

Looking back at it, her smile at that moment should have been a warning.

“Me? I’m all Sarah McLachlan and Handel’s ‘Messiah’?”

I raised my hands in surrender. “I just want to give you a fighting chance.”

She rested a hand on one hip - good Lord, those hips - and smiled again. 

“What a gentleman.” She leaned to whisper into Rae’s ear, stepped out into a more open space, and winked at me.

Then, the music started.

She’s my cherry pie. Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise. Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry. Sweet cherry pie!

Then, her eyes. She started...looking at me. Singing right to me.

Well, swingin’ on the front porch, swingin’ on the lawn, swingin’ where we want cause there ain’t nobody home. Swingin’ to the left and swingin’ to the right, if I think about baseball, I’ll swing all night, yeah!

Then, her hips started. Every beat got a swing, each swing hit me harder. The lyrics spilling from her glossed up lips kept on coming.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for her. Don’t even try ‘cause you can’t ignore her. Each note true, she stepped up into me, walking two fingers up my chest, and booped me. She actually booped me on my nose.

She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise. Holy crap. Tastes so good, make a grown man cry, sweet cherry pie! What is happening right now? She’s my cherry pie, put a smile on your face, ten miles wide. I might cry. Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye. Sweet cherry pie! 

I think Sammy is laying face down on the table doing that high-pitched, wheezy laugh he does when he gets super tickled. Rae might be legit cackling as she taps away at her phone. It’s hard to know for sure because I can’t move. All I can do is stand there in shock.

My pie is gone.

Polly doesn’t wait for my turn - not that it’s even necessary - as she wobbled the slice of flaky, fruity goodness into a clear plastic container with aplomb and handed it over to her. The, Sparkling-Eyes sashayed over to me with her prize. With one finger, she lifted my jaw closed with a nudge under my chin, then cupped my face in her hand. 

“Better luck next time, sweetheart.” Then, she waltzed out the door.

Holy crap.

Wiping a hand at the hilarity misting his eyes, Sam dragged his bag over a shoulder and ambled over to Rae and me.

“I’m sending this to Charlie,” she crowed, bopping up and down on her toes in her glee.

“Just hang on, Benedict Arnette. Stop your potty dance and don’t send anything.”

Rae didn’t even complain about my label for her little jig as she trotted to grab her to-go ginger ale. Sam draped one of his orangutan arms on my shoulders, his mouth twitching as he tried to stop laughing.

“You got beat by a girl!” Fresh guffaws chortled against my arm as I elbowed him off me.

“Shut up.” Before I could stomp away, Polly snagged my attention, waggling a white paper bag at me.

“It’s not pie, but it’s on the house, sugar.” I shot her a wink before tossing another wounded frown over my shoulder as the two traitors tipsy-giggled their way after me. A peak at Polly’s gift showed a chocolate chip cookie as big as my face. I ain’t sharin’.

Out on the sidewalk, a glance to my right saw those legs taking those eyes on their way. As if she knew I was there, she turned around and gave a flirty little wave. Turning a corner, she was gone.

Taking my pie with her. Maybe a piece of my heart, too.

Tagging my 2 lovelies: @thesassywallflower and @pinknerdpanda. :0)

[drosophilase]

fic: Yoda, Yuletide, and You

Title: Yoda, Yuletide, and You

Author: @drosophilase

Gifted to: @djchika as part of the @crisscolfergiftexchange 2017

Original prompt: “We made the mutual decision to go to this party separately and when I arrived there was this asshole flirting with you and I’m trying not to make it obvious that I’m seething with jealousy but it’s really difficult”

Ratings/Warning: Teen; allusions to sex (non-explicit), boss/employee relationship

Read on AO3!

Sorry this is two days late, thank you for the gracious extension and Merry Christmas Deej!  Thank you so much for all you did to arrange this exchange <3

--

It had started, as most great love stories do, with a Yoda figurine on the corner of Chris's desk. "That green figurine, I like," croaked a terrible Yoda impersonation from the twenty-fifth (ok, just fifth) person Chris had interviewed that day. Darren Criss, his application said.

Chris raised an eyebrow. Giving interviews for a job at a nerd pop culture online news source, Chris thought he had heard it all. This guy is the first to be bold enough to do such a confident and terrible impersonation. Chris touches Yoda's pointy ear. "From my sister. She's determined to get me the entire Star Wars Funko Pop set over the next 20 Christmases and birthdays." He doesn't comment aloud on the terrible Yoda voice, but he does write a little Y in the corner of Darren's resume.

"That's so cool, man, it's awesome that your family knows what you love. I have a ton of Pops but I can't ever seem to finish a set. There's just too many other things I like. I just put my Chewie next to my Harley Quinn and go with it." There's a sort of sparkle in his eye, glowing gold in the sunlight filtering through Chris's office blinds.

Chris sets the resume aside (he'd already noted this one for the qualifications - degree in Theatre from Michigan University, four years on the Michigan Daily staff with one as senior editor. Proficiency in Final Cut and a few credits in web series and local theatre productions. Currently working in local news media and writing a blog on the Star Wars Extended Universe on the side. Even before he walked in looking like a dream, Chris was hooked). "Suicide Squad Harley or Batman: The Animated Series Harley?"

Darren scoffs, the black curls over his forehead bouncing. "Animated Series, dude. Hands fucking down. I try to forget that Suicide Squad ever existed. It's hard to be a DC boy these days."

Chris cracks a smile. "That's why the girls - well, Patty Jenkins, really - are going to save us all. Haven't you seen Wonder Woman?"

"If I've learned one thing in my time in this industry, no one ever listens to women when they should. You're right though, if they let Patty work she's going to do the whole damn thing."

"If only Ben Affleck could do his civic duty and disappear from the earth, I'd feel better about it."

Darren laughs with his whole body, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Dude, yes. Just go softly into that dark night."

Chris cocks his head. "You didn't just make that pun, oh my god."

Darren smiles. "You didn't notice 'witty wordplay' under my skills? It's like in my top 3 best attributes."

Chris wishes he had the power to cancel the rest of his day's appointments and just end the day with Darren's interview. Instead, he takes the scant three minutes he has until the next interview to smile absently back at Yoda and make another note on the resume.

1. Wordplay

2. Smile

3. -Ass- Experience

The great thing about PopNow's building is the super cool collaborative open floor plan with lots of coworking tables, glass doors, and zero fucking privacy. Chris had always cringed sitting at the long tables, having to work face-to-face with someone else's computers and get distracted every time they got up to go to the bathroom. Honestly, half his drive to move up to staff editor was to get one of the more private (loosely) offices around the edges of the room with a single desk and a wall to stare at instead of a strange coworker.

Being promoted to division head of PopNow Nerd was Chris's ultimate dream (private office, final say on all published material, sitting in on meetings with creative directors and sometimes, investors. The control freak inside of Chris was fucking delighted). That is, until 3 months later when PopNow shifted their entire focus and all their resources to video reporting. Luckily, they weren't completely cutting out the website or articles that Chris joined the company to write. And, Chris was getting a lot more flexibility to hire new talent and explore new realms of reporting. And thank fucking god, Chris never had to be in front of the camera.

He knew he had to change with the times quick, though. He had writers - he just needed producers. And, after a quick poll of the office didn't yield many nerds willing to get in front of a camera (who would’ve thought), some on-air personalities.

Enter: Darren Criss.

The first day Darren’s new hosted series “Heroes and Zeroes” went live with an episode rating Disney villains on some complicated ranking system based on hotness, degree of evil, and personal style, the PopNow Nerd Facebook page gained like 5,000 followers.  Darren’s video instantly became their most watched.

And the comments, well—Chris’s cheeks reddened just thinking about them. A bashful Darren appeared at Chris’s door two hours after the video went live, one hand buried in the shorter hair at the base of his neck. “So… I think people like it?”

Chris raised his eyebrows, looking over his glasses where he had the comments section open on his own computer. Girls and guys alike were tagging their friends just to point out how hot Darren is. With him there draped casually in his door frame, Chris would have to agree. “I would say yes, they do.”

Darren laughs an embarrassed sort of huff, looks down at his feet. Chris can tell that though he might be humbled by the success of the video, Darren is definitely feeling proud of himself.

“Actually,” Chris continued, “maybe you should reply to a few of them. Start building some rapport with the fans.  Couldn’t hurt, and the higher-ups really want to see viewer engagement.”

The next day the Facebook page following had grown again by the thousands.  Suspicious, Chris scrolled to Darren’s video again. The views just kept going up.  And Darren himself was in the comments section, cheekily replying to a few of them.

Brittany Smith Oh my god, @Ashley did you watch this? I don’t even know what he said, I just keep staring at his hands for some reason

Darren Criss Next time pay attention to my face, we pay the makeup department a lot to cover up my lizard skin! ;)

Chris had one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  Darren was fucking funny. As if Chris didn’t have enough problems drooling over him already in production meetings, writing pitches, and the million times a day he stops by Chris’s office with just “one quick question.”

Chris glanced out his glass office doors to Darren’s desk (the one he has a perfect view of if he just pretends to work at his computer but instead looks right past his monitor out to the main office, no Chris didn’t put him there on purpose the desk was just open). And Darren’s comically large hot pink headphones, and Darren’s brow furrowed as he works hard at something on his computer, and Darren himself chewing on his lip and tugging on a curl and oh, god—

Chris has got it so bad.

“Fuck,” Chris says quietly, taking off his glasses to rub his tired eyes. He should have known better.

--

The crush stays mostly on lock down for almost two weeks.  Chris is like, acutely aware every time Darren walks near his office door (inconvenient, since he has to walk that way for the bathroom, the breakroom, and pretty much everything else) and he gets flustered during staff meetings when Darren starts smiling at him.

And then, of fucking course, there’s Lea.

“Who is this Darren again? You’ve said his name like ten times in the last five minutes.”

Chris swallows hard and tries to keep his tone casual. “Just one of the on-air personalities we hired.  He’s a good writer too, when we can keep him focused.  The best idea man we have, after me of course.  He’s been working here for like three months.  I swear I told you about him. Curly black hair, stupidly big brown eyes?”

Lea gasps. “Christopher Fucking Colfer. Do you have a crush?”

Chris instantly feels his face burning.  “You know Karyn Colfer would never give me such an unsightly middle name.  Jesus, Lea, I don’t know… He’s just a great guy. We get along well.  He’s my employee, for fuck’s sake.”

Lea scoffs. “That’s the highest praise I’ve heard you give another human in the entire time I’ve known you. You definitely like him.”

She’s always so infuriatingly good at pointing out the one thing Chris is trying to pretend doesn’t exist. “Yeah I… guess I do.”

She hums, sympathetic.  “It’s been a long time since you’ve embraced another human being, Christopher.  Maybe try leaning in this time instead of running away. It might do you some good.”

Eager to not hear yet another long-spun tail about her and her fiancé’s meet-cute, recent cohabitation, or extensive wedding planning, Chris says quickly, “Okay, yeah. Lean in. I’ll try that.”

“Just talk to him! You’re very charming, in your own way. He willingly works at PopNow Nerd, for Christ’s sake, just talk about your elaborate Halloween costume for next week, he’ll love that.”

Chris can’t argue with that.

--

“Lean in,” Chris murmurs to himself as he sees Darren get up for his second coffee and first trip to Chris’s desk right around the usual time, 9:20.

“Hey Chris,” Darren says, rapping on the open glass door twice.  Chris looks up from pretending he’s engrossed in end-of-year reports and not sweating into his hoodie.  “Quick question, to settle a debate: Richard Harris or Michael Gambon as Dumbledore? Must cite sources.”

Chris smiles. “Michael Gambon, without a doubt.  I loved the look of Richard Harris, don’t get me wrong, but Order of the Phoenix Dumbledore, tracking down horcruxes Dumbledore, was not frail. Richard Harris could have never pulled off standing up to the Ministry and escaping with Fawkes, no way.”

Darren cocked his head.  “So not what I would have thought you would say.  And honestly, you’ve almost sold me on Gambon.  I’m one of those who can’t overlook the didjupuyurnameinthegobletofire debacle but you have excellent points. Always surprising me, Chris.”

Was that… flirting? It was so hard to tell because Darren was so easily entrancing like this just all the time, but something about the way he said Chris’s name made him think it was different.

Darren had already half-turned to go but Chris calls him back, saying his name.  Darren turns around, eyebrows quirked.  This was deviating from their normal routine, Chris knew.  He tries to calm his pounding heart.  Lean in.

“You know, the real casting tragedy in the Potter series was how old James and Lilly were. Like, alright yes, the ‘mother’s eyes’ thing was absolutely shot to hell. But how are they going to tell us James and Lilly died at literally 21 years old and cast middle-aged actors?”

Darren smiles.  “Dude, yes. They fucked up the ages of everyone in the Order of the Phoenix except for like, Tonks. And maybe they got away with Lupin since he would be more weathered. But casting mid-50s actors for characters barely pushing 35? It totally takes away the resonance of these young people fighting for the future of the world.”

He sits in one of the chairs Chris has arranged along the side of the wall (PopNow has a thing about the formality of sitting with a desk between them) and Chris should move to go sit next to him but it feels like this new thing is a bubble that he might burst at any second if he moved the wrong way.

Darren leaves twenty minutes later to go back to his desk, his empty coffee-stained Vader mug forgotten on the floor.

Chris smiles as he catches Darren eye through the glass.  He’ll be back in an hour or two.

--

By the time mid-November rolls around, it seems that Chris and Darren’s quick coffee run questions have turned into thrice-daily chats have turned into… something.  It’s started to become a running joke at staff meetings, that Chris and Darren are usually more ChrisandDarren these days.  Chris ran into Darren once at his favorite lunch Chinese spot, and then he suggested another lunch spot for tacos and Darren suggested they go together, and now lunch is just always assumed to be theirs.  Even when Chris had to work three days straight through lunch to meet the deadline on proposals for the next quarter, Darren showed up every day with cashew chicken, disappearing when Chris was stressed or offering alien conspiracy theories when Chris needed a break.

That was the thing about Darren, he was always just there. As soon as Chris opened the figurative door by starting a conversation, Darren blew the whole fucking thing open and made himself at home.  It was hard to remember work before Darren.

It doesn’t dawn on Chris that they really haven’t seen each other outside of work until he overhears a few other producers and writers making plans to get drinks after work the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.  Chris doesn’t think anything of it—he never wanted to get drinks with anyone in the office before, and he figured no one wanted to drink with their boss anyway.

So he’s pretty floored when he clearly hears Darren (speaking in his still-loud “low voice”) ask Denise if Chris is invited.

Chris doesn’t even try to hear the answer (it’s no, Chris knows) as he reels.  He can see Darren outside of work.  Darren maybe wants to see Chris outside of work.  Chris would have a reason to go somewhere other than home to his cat.  He had never thought of it before but now Chris really, really wanted to be invited out to drinks. By Darren, that is.

Darren stops by his office (fifth time that day) with his coat over his arm and bag slung over his shoulder on his way out.  “Happy Thanksgiving, Chris.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, he automatically replies.  “Headed down to Republic with Denise and Lars and everyone?”  Chris says it just to see how Darren will react.

Darren winces and looks sheepish.  “You heard about that, huh? Yeah it seems like it’s just a writers’ thing, sorry about that, I didn’t decide that it would be exclusive.”

“No, yeah, it’s totally okay,” Chris says, waving his hand.  “I wouldn’t want to like, intrude on the group anyways.  Frankly, there’s few people in this office I’d want to see outside of these stupid glass walls.”

Darren pouts, put-upon. “I hope I made your short list.”

Chris knows his ears are red-tipped but he swallows and forces himself to say, “Duh. You’re like, the whole list.”

Something comes over Darren’s face.  He’s more beautiful than Chris has ever seen.  “Yeah? You’re at the top of mine. Maybe after the holiday we can compare lists.  Have a good Thanksgiving, Chris.”

“Y-yeah, you too,” Chris manages to say, half-strangled, awkwardly waving as Darren turns and leaves.

Holy shit, Darren may have just asked him on a date.

--

There are three things Chris learns on the Friday a week after Thanksgiving weekend.

It is most definitely a date, Darren’s preferred drink is a whiskey sour, and he is the best kisser Chris has ever known.

“I thought maybe you only wanted to hear more on my nuanced analysis of Star Trek captains,” Chris teases after they break apart just inside his front door.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I love your analysis,” Darren says breathily from where he’s kissing Chris’s jaw.  “It’s just that I also love the way your arms look in your tee shirts and your butt looks in your jeans and that your lips are so damn kissable.”

Chris thrills as Darren stretches up to kiss him again, basically on his tiptoes.  How is someone who appreciates all those things even real?  Chris runs his hands along Darren’s shoulders, grips his elbows, squeezes his waist.  Darren slips his tongue into Chris’s mouth and Chris reflexively grabs Darren’s perfect ass.  Oh, he’s real all right.

“That’s awfully fresh, Mr. Colfer,” Darren says breathily even as he pulls Chris in, walking backwards.  “Don’t you think that’s better suited for the bedroom?”

Later, Chris’s best shirt is maybe ruined and Darren is sleepy and soft and come-dumb, draped across Chris’s chest (he’s a cuddler, as Chris should have guessed).

“Give me five minutes and I’ll get up I promise,” Darren mostly mumbles as he rubs his face into Chris’s belly.

“Mmhmm,” Chris replies skeptically, sinking a hand into Darren’s curls and tracing his thumb over the sweat gathered at his temples.  “I really don’t mind.”

Darren groans, low and long.  “I have like, a thing about my hair being played with, dude. Once you start I’m always going to beg you to keep going.”

Chris smiles wickedly, pulling his fingers slowly through the soft strands and listening to Darren’s responses.  “I could be okay with that.”

--

Chris thinks they’re totally rocking the first day back at work giving off very “we definitely didn’t have sex last night, no way, thanks for asking” vibes. Until a very concerned Eileen stops by his office after their afternoon meeting.

“This is definitely not my business Chris, but you know I care deeply about the balance of the workplace ecosystem, so I’m going to meddle just this once.  Are you and Darren—”

Chris immediately opens his mouth, panicked, “Oh uh, no, I—”

“—Mad at each other?”

Chris stops mid-sentence.  “Wait, what?”

Eileen is unfazed, as usual. “You definitely snubbed him during that planning meeting and he’s only stopped by your office once today instead of the usual six.  I count on you two to keep meetings fun and productive. He makes you less cranky. I don’t know what you did, but fix it.”

She leaves before Chris can put words together.  Well, that wasn’t what he expected.

Eileen apparently thinks we’re fighting.

Maybe we went too hard in the other direction.

O M G. She’s so nosy. Our coworkers are way too perceptive.

There’s only one way I want you hard. This ain’t it

Fuck. Why are my office walls made of glass?

That’s hot, Colfer. Feed your cat and come by my place tonight.

…Was that a euphemism?

--

Pre-Darren, holiday parties at the office were to be endured and survived.  Chris would show up for the shortest time he could, drink two vodka sodas, talk to ten people, and get the fuck out. Now in the Age of Darren, Chris is actually brushing his hair and putting thought into his outfit and humming Christmas carols on the train.

Almost one month into their relationship feels way too new to tell all of PopNow, let alone just their department. (Chris had gone to HR with the intent to file their relationship but his hypothetical questions were met with vehemence that superiors could not date subordinates. So Chris had slunk out of there and didn’t mention it to Darren in case ignoring it meant it wouldn’t exist.) They’re arriving to the company holiday party separately and meeting oh-so-casually by the Christmas tree, avoiding all mistletoe and any game that might lead to awkward kissing with anyone.  They are totally (almost) masters of acting totally normal at work, they can handle this.

What Chris can’t handle is the blonde with godawful dark roots and nose ring practically pushing her breasts into Darren’s face.  At 20 freaking degrees outside there’s no need to wear a sweater that low-cut.  Darren, Chris begrudgingly credits, is looking unwaveringly at her face.  But this girl is hardcore flirting, hip cocked and chewing on the stirrer in her pink drink.

Chris knows he’s being ridiculous but at the same time, he can’t stop. She touches his shoulder for a second and Chris downs a shot.  She laughs way too loudly and Chris crushes a cookie into crumbs.  He tunes out the droning anecdote from some guy in accounting and instead vividly daydreams, replaying in his mind the past weekend spending a full 48 hours locked in Chris’s apartment.

Chris was so wrong to think that he could keep it together for this entire party. Darren is just so damn charming and every single person who works at PopNow is gravitating towards him. Chris understands the feeling, but the possessive jealous lizard brain just wants to take.

He spots an opening as Darren is trying to physically move away from a man who is whispering in Darren’s ear every other sentence.  Hell no.

Chris steps between them deftly, delighting at the way Darren’s face absolutely lights up. “Chris, hi. Thank god.”

“So sorry to steal him away, but Darren there’s someone I want you to meet,” Chris apologizes to the guy in a rush, grabbing Darren by the elbow and leading him away.

“Thank god,” Darren says again from behind him as Chris weaves through the crowds. “That guy was like a level 5 creeper. I’ve been looking for you for half an hour and just couldn’t disentangle myself from these people who all want to talk about my videos.  Which is flattering, I guess? But they’re like, strangers. I’m just trying to get buzzed and play that piano in the corner and start a Christmas carol sing-along.  Wait, this is the bathroom…”

“Yes, it is,” Chris says, leading Darren into the single room family bathroom and following quickly, locking the door.

He presses Darren against the door and kisses him hard, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.  “That was torture,” Chris whispers, tugging on Darren’s earlobe with his teeth.

“Colfer, were you j-jealous?” Darren chokes out, head lolling back as Chris moves down to kiss his neck.  He wants to leave a visible mark. He settles for one right below Darren’s collar, right in the hollow of his shoulder. Darren moans, cradling Chris’s head. “Fuck.”

“Maybe I was,” Chris admits, pulling back and pushing stray hairs off his forehead.  “That one girl was just so blatant, it was awful. And I couldn’t do or say anything! Maybe I should ask for a department transfer. Or find another job, I…”

Darren is wide-eyed. “Are you trying to abandon me?”

Chris shakes his head. “God, no, it’s just some ban on superiors dating their employees, I didn’t want to tell you before….”

“What about superiors dating their equals?  Would that be okay?” Darren asks, a mischievous smile curling the corner of his mouth.

“Uh yeah, I think so,” Chris says, confused.  “I don’t see why not?”

“Good,” Darren says, full-out grinning now.  “Because Rebecca called me into her office today. Honestly I thought I had to be getting reprimanded or something, but she promoted me. Well it’s not totally official yet, but next week they’re creating new Video Editor-in-Chief positions in some departments. Equal with the department head. A new team-leading thing to further focus on video content.  And the job in Nerd is mine.  She said she heard I work great with my department head and I had to agree.”

Chris reels.  “Holy shit. I knew Rebecca had asked me about you, but I didn’t know why. Holy shit!  Darren, that is amazing.  You are amazing.  I am so proud of you.”

Darren’s eyes practically disappear, he’s smiling so hard.  “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.  I guess we don’t have to hide in this bathroom anymore…?” Even as he says it, Darren rubs a hand right over Chris’s crotch. Chris sucks in a loud breath.

“We don’t have to, but maybe we should for this part.”

--

Three whiskey sours in and with no prodding, Darren hops behind the piano and leads a rousing chorus of the promised Christmas carols, Broadway songs, and Disney hits.  Four vodka sodas in and Chris is pulled into a clumsy duet of Baby It’s Cold Outside after he makes everyone in the area hold both hands up so he knows no one is recording.  There’s no way this won’t end up in the Monday morning email thread, but tipsy, warm and fuzzy Chris is okay with that.

It’s the best company holiday party he’s ever been to. Which on the surface makes no sense—it’s in the same venue, with the same cheesy decorations, the same too-strong drinks and the same terrible ornament exchange.  But this year, the Christmas tree seems taller and fuller and more beautiful than ever. And this year, the bartender is wearing a Santa hat and smiling and singing along.  And even though an ornament exchange game with no stealing or trading allowed is a totally lame game, Chris somehow gets a Yoda ornament. He gasps, looking up at Darren, who is just across from him.  Darren has that shit-eating grin, toasting his glass to Chris as he takes another sip. He remembered.

And then Chris realizes that it wasn’t the party that had changed, it was him. And it was Darren. Because of Darren.  Even the most dreaded event of the year has Chris laughing, smiling, relaxing, even feeling the joy of the Christmas spirit.

He blames Darren and his magic that when someone comes up to them shrieking mistletoe! and dangling a bunch over their heads, Chris doesn’t laugh it off.  He looks at Darren, closer than the careful distance they’ve been keeping all night, and is hit with the full force of his sparkling brown eyes. You’re beautiful, Chris thinks, and grabs Darren’s lapel before he can think too hard.

Darren is dazed when they pull apart, the mistletoe bearer long-gone.  “Merry Christmas,” Chris says so fondly, brushing his thumb over the spot hidden under Darren’s shirt.

“Merry Christmas,” Darren says, taking Chris’s hand and holding it tight, laced with his.

[theriseofimagines]

Anticipating {Rey}

Anon asked: can you do a one shot of bb-8 trying to get rey to confess her feelings for the reader?

Anon asked: literally anything with rey I love her so much tbh!!!! (Female pronouns for reader)

A/N: so this is about 600 years old and i apologise. have fun. little bit of stormpilot thrown in there. unedited.

There was a sense of camaraderie Rey and Finn shared, being raised in hostility, learning to express themselves without fear of punishment or rejection. The shift was jarring, and everyone was so nice and wanted to help and sometimes Rey liked to remind them that she could do things herself and-

“I’m grabbing lunch, want me to get you anything?” Rey was curled partially inside the Falcon, taking a look at some wiring that had been damaged on Starkiller Base that she hadn’t gotten to before leaving to train. Now she was back, had a spare moment, and everyone from General Organa to BB-8 wanted to pass her a wrench or tell her how to fix the ship she had rescued, that she had studied.

“I know how to get myself lunch.” She snapped reflexively, jerking to an upright position, banging her head on the way. When she recovered, she saw the crestfallen expression of a pilot she knew only as ‘The One With the A-Wing’.

“You just- you seemed pretty invested.” The pilot’s weight was balanced on the balls of her feet, fidgeting with her hands as if she were stopping herself from going to the Jedi in training. “And I know you can get yourself lunch- I- sorry.” There was a nervous energy to the pilot that hadn’t been there before, genuine concern that she was trying to push down, embarrassed that she had possibly offended a Jedi.

“What is your name?” Rey asked, grabbing a rag and wiping the grease from her hands, trying to clear her mind the way Master Luke had taught her. This girl was only trying to help,

“Me?” The pilot asked, eyes wide, something almost imperceptibly shifting in her demeanor. She was still nervous, but there was something slightly awed about the way she regarded Rey. “[Y/N]!” She responded, before wincing at her overzealous introduction. Rey smiled at her enthusiasm, and though it was nervous, the pilot smiled back.

The pilot is quiet, Rey learned, this is her default setting, quiet and kind and always ready to lend a hand, when able. She spends most of her time buried in her own ship, always making modifications, upgrades, chattering away to the droids about what they think she should do next. BB-8 is of the firm opinion that the next step is to paint her ship bright orange, and Rey has to stifle a giggle as the pilot explains that it would just make her a target. When the droid rolls away, the pilot meets Rey’s gaze, with a grin mirroring the padawan’s. Something tightens in Rey’s chest when she sees it, and she tries not to think about it too hard.

It gets worse, with every moment she spends with the pilot, Rey can feel herself being suffocated by her own thoughts. You’d adjusted yourself to fit her without even realising, it seemed like you were always there when she needed someone to talk to, though you were never patronising. After your first interaction, you’d never offered to do something for her, instead, you’d ask her to tag along, you made her feel invited without even trying.

“I think it’s a pilot thing.” Finn had mused while watching Black Squadron prepare for a mission, both he and Rey sitting in the Falcon’s cockpit that overlooked the opening of the aircraft hangar, as the woman replaced some faulty wires in the dashboard. His starry-eyed gaze was focused on Poe, who turned, grinning brightly at Finn, before giving him a wink and ascending the ladder to his cockpit, beginning his pre-flight checks. Rey huffs, her stomach fluttering as she looked up in time to see you bounding into the hangar, zipping up your flight suit with one hand as you carried your helmet in the other.

“You saved his life and he’s not exactly shy about how he feels about you, yours is not a universal experience, Finn.” Rey shot back at her friend, who was silent as the two watched you across the hanger as you stopped, gave a small wave and a shy smile to the pair.

“So how do you feel about her?” Finn asked, turning his attention away from you as you made your way to your A-Wing. Rey remained stubbornly quiet. “I’m just saying that it’s not all ‘big, grand gestures’ that mean someone loves you.” He mused with a shrug. Rey’s blush was all the confirmation he needed.

The real shock came, however, when BB-8 confronted the Jedi-In-Training, doing the best impression of a frown that Rey had ever seen on a droid, whistling about how they heard Poe and Finn talking, and if Rey didn’t say something to you soon, the boys planned to do something both dramatic and probably embarrassing. Half of Rey wanted them to just get it over with, it was getting harder every day to meditate these feelings away to serenity, and to have them out in the open would probably help. The other half, however, knew that you would hate something so public like the boys would probably have planned, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she loved you, and did want to keep you in her life, rather than chase you off with some big, public display.

“But what if she doesn’t like me like that?” Rey finds herself confiding in the droid, who, for the first time she’s known them, takes the time to be reassuring and compassionate, relaying all the instances of mutual heart-eyes they’d seen between the two of you, and the way you would gush about the young Jedi to Poe whenever the topic came up. The way Rey’s cheeks heated up at the simple story seemed to satisfy the astromech, who rolled away, announcing that they were going to fetch you before Rey had time to change her mind.

She tried to come up with a plan in the short time she was given, sorting through her feelings and thoughts for something, anything to say. That wasn’t the whole truth, she knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to get the words out. They were heavy on her tongue, dripping through her mind like syrup, too sweet and cloying to be real. Rey didn’t like being unfocused or unprepared, her heart was hammering in her chest. You smiled expectantly at her when you arrived. BB-8 whistled.

“Are you alright?” The way you smiled at her, so sincere and open and genuinely caring, all of Master Luke’s mindfulness training left her mind, and she’s left looking foolish. Feelings were so inconsiderate sometimes.

“Yes.” It sounds more like a question than anything else, which only proved to make you more confused, raising an eyebrow, resting a gentle hand on her elbow.

“BeeBee said you wanted to see me.” You told her, voice calm and level. She hates this, hates that she can barely function around you, around the uncompromising sincerity you project, the overwhelming desire to be kind and helpful you somehow carry.

“Yes, I do.” It was said with a far more confident air than the previous statement, and already you looked placated, expression shifting from one of faint apprehension to affection and the barest trace of amusement. “I love you.” Finally she got the words out. It seemed like every little thing you did had her singing those words in her head, and finally she got to speak them, her expression calm and confident.

“I love you too.” There was nothing but fondness and affection written all over your face, but there was something about your tone that set her on edge, something familial, or possibly even a tinge of resignation.

“Romantically.” She clarified, and there was a moment where she watched the way your eyes glazed over, smile freezing before it cracked into something more excited and genuine as you squeezed her shoulder.

“Oh, thank goodness.” You breathed, and the relief and happiness in your voice had her laughing out of shock. “I love you too,” you repeated, eyes sparkling, “romantically.” The way she kissed you was neither serene, nor was it appropriate conduct for a Jedi in public, but Rey was sure Master Luke would make an exception for young love.