#i don’t want to buy like all the fancy pockets and sleeves just yet

[two-hands-toward-the-sun]

gonna try to start my first scrapbook tomorrow :DDD

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

Hello! Can I request an imagine with Draco and a Slytherin! Reader where they both are totally in love with each other and maybe one day in class Draco is being particularly needy/frustrated one day and she’s his partner and sees he’s super hard and she teases him but when class is over he asks the reader to give him a blowjob because he loves her mouth and he’s just so whiny and he later spoils the hell out of his girl at Hogsmeade!

This is literally SOOOO LONG!! I don’t know why I wrote so much, but I just really wanted to include all that stuff, lol. My excuse for the length is that I hit a 1,000 followers about two days ago so this is the celebratory piece! 

This goes without saying, but this piece contains a lot of sexual content so please do not read if you are underage or uncomfortable with said topics. I also wrote this in a different perspective because I wanted to try it out so I hope you enjoy!

Warning: SMUT, Oral (Male Receiving)

Title: Princess

                                                 ϟ ϟ ϟ

It was a warm summer’s day, close to the start of the new term. These past few weeks at Malfoy Manor had been tense and Draco often found himself rather stressed . A large part of him felt guilty for leaving his mother at home in the presence of Lord Voldemort, but another part of him felt grateful to be out of his sight. Finally, he could escape the Dark Lord’s watchful eyes, but he could not escape the plan set for him to complete.

Draco’s eyebrows knitted together as he squinted towards the merchandise wall inside Twilfitt and Tattings. Even when he was not around, Draco could still sense the Dark Lord’s influence and the constant reminder of the outcome if he were to fail. However, as he thought of better ways to mend the vanishing cabinet, something caught his attention.  

“Draco darling,” You called to him, stepping out of the changing room with a small smile on your face. Draco’s eyes widened in an instant, a lump forming in his throat as he examined the champagne dress clinging to your body. It was a delicate number with thin, spaghetti strap sleeves attached to the cowl-neck gown, the silk fabric shimmering softly as you stepped onto the podium.  

With a content hum, Draco pushed himself off the wall, his grey eyes locked with yours in the shop mirror as he walked towards you. He rested his hand against your waist, his fingers tenderly sliding down to feel the smooth silk against them, “You look ravishing,” he whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss against the shell of it before stepping back to get a better view of you.  

You smiled satisfyingly, taking a moment to admire the all-black ensemble he wore and how it slimmed him down in all the right places. He stood in a black turtleneck and a fitted suit jacket, his left hand in the pocket of his slacks while the thumb of the other swiped over his bottom lip. A string of questions crossed through Draco’s mind, “When would you wear this?” he thought, tapping his finger against his chin.  

Surely, there was no surprise ball this year, he would’ve heard by now. “Would you wear it on a date?” he questioned, imagining a scenario where the two of you ate dinner at a fancy restaurant, illuminated by just candlelight. “Even better,” Draco trailed off, his eyes lingering over your arse as you admired yourself in the mirror, looking over your shoulder to see the diamond detail that connected the open back, “What would such an expensive piece of clothing look like on his dormitory floor?”  

Draco recalled the conversation he shared with his mother a week prior, where she had counseled him after a particularly difficult day. Narcissa Malfoy had an interesting way of comforting her son. Of course, she sat and listened to him, holding him as he cried, a mixture of guilt and failure coursing through her veins as she fought against the Dark Lord’s plans for her beloved son. The next day, however, she entered Draco’s room with a smile and presented a brand-new wardrobe for him as a start of term gift.  

Pulling himself away from his thoughts, Draco gave a gentle smile and looked up at you, instantly meeting your hopeful eyes.  

“Oh, those eyes” 

“I’m not sure if I should get it,” You admitted, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout as you hopped off the podium and halted in front of the platinum-haired boy. Closing his eyes, Draco took a deep breath, captivated by the intoxicating smell of vanilla radiating off your body. An exquisite aroma, packaged in a —hand-blown— glass perfume bottle with delicate golden leaves painted onto it, finished off with your initials carved at the bottom of it.  

Another one of Draco’s thoughtful gifts.  

“And why is that?” asked Draco, his hand resting against the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing small circles against your jaw. The dress was cut just right, the tight, draped bodice granted him a wonderful view of your breasts, but he looked away to halt the tightening of his pants.  

“I’ve got no occasion for a dress like this,” declared a slightly defeated (Y/N), taking another glance in the mirror, “Well, we’ve still got the goodbye dinner with your parents” You recalled, running your hands down your hips, unintentionally catching Draco’s attention as he remembered the family dinner he had forgotten about. 

“That settles it then,” announced Draco in a chipper tone, “I’ll buy the dress,” he grinned, stepping towards his girlfriend, but halting by the display of diamond accessories. With a glance over the merchandise, he pointed at a necklace set with a pair of earrings, receiving praises from the shopkeeper. Taking the necklace from the older wizard, Draco walked over to (Y/N), “turn around,” he uttered and you happily obliged, watching him as he placed the delicate piece around your neck.  

“Draco-” you began to protest, but he only pressed a kiss against your cheek, clasping the necklace and letting his fingers linger at the back of your neck. The necklace was a breathtaking, diamond necklace with seven glittering emeralds spread evenly across the center.  

“The bracelet and earrings will do nicely as well,” Draco said, nodding his head in approval and signaling for the shopkeeper to begin ringing them up. You opened your mouth to protest again, but Draco placed his finger against your lips, “I believe you recall what I’ve told you, hm?” he teased, raising a questioning eyebrow as (Y/N) nodded, fighting back a smile, “Then, let Daddy spoil you, Princess.”  

There was no denying the power Draco’s tone held over you. His words shot straight between your legs, the feeling of his lips pressed against the side of your neck making you fall against him, finally becoming aware of his erection now pressed against your thigh. 

“Let's finish up so we can go back to the Manor,” you proposed, shifting your thigh ever so slightly to provide him with some much-needed friction. Draco bit his lip and gave a stiff nod, stepping away from you before you could tease him further.  

“Go change,” he ordered, the cocky smirk returning to his lips, “You’ve got five minutes.” Running back towards the dressing room, you peeled off the dress and stepped into your usual clothes, practically sprinting out of it once finished. After a hasty checkout, the two of you exited the shop hand-in-hand, the bag containing your gifts swinging in Draco’s other hand.

                                                             ϟ ϟ ϟ

This school year proved to be the most difficult one yet. N.E.W.T.s we’re now less than a year away and it was never too soon to begin revising. You, however, found it quite difficult to focus on school these last few days. Despite his constant reassurances that he was all right, (Y/N) found some of Draco’s recent behavior quite odd. This strange feeling first arose the week you stayed at Malfoy Manor, where the four of them sat cautiously at a table with Draco’s aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. You had always had a good relationship with Draco’s relatives, but it was clear to you something was occurring under wraps, something Draco did not want you to know about. Noting his hesitation whenever you brought up the subject, you decided against prying any more information out of him and returned to your studies. Your dedication to academic achievement, much to your surprise, did not go unnoticed by the new Potions Master at Hogwarts, who had heard all about you and Miss Hermione Granger, the two top students of the sixth year.  

Horace Slughorn was a portly, older man, but very gifted with potions and an excellent Professor. Upon arrival, he sought out some of the school’s most promising students and invited them to his office for an elegant dinner. One morning, during breakfast, your owl dropped the intricately decorated envelope right in front of your plate. You had no chance to conceal the envelope from your curious boyfriend, the same one that had tried, without succeeding, to get invited to said dinner.  

However, to your surprise, Draco was not upset. Instead, he pressed a gentle kiss against your temple and muttered the words, “You deserve it, baby girl.” The pet name sends chills down your spine, a smile playing at your lip as his hand rests upon your knee, the cold metal of his rings easing any sort of tension in your body. His left hand rested against your jawline, his slender fingers twiddling with the pearl earring, admiring the small ruby motif encrusted right above the hanging pearl.  

(Y/N) leaned her cheek against his palm, setting the invitation down on the dining hall table, “Are you sure, Darling?” you questioned, taking the time to rest your hand over his, “I might not be able to fit it into my schedule...” you admitted, thoughts of Draco’s mysterious disappearances crossing your mind. Bringing your hand up to his mouth, Draco pressed a soft kiss against the back of it before leaning to press one against your lips.  

“I think,” he started, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, “You should go show them what the brightest, most caring, and, without a doubt, sexiest girl in Slytherin House has to offer” Draco praised, giving your thigh a small squeeze before dipping to steal another kiss from you, “How does that sound?” He asked sweetly, showering you with yet another kiss, this one against your forehead.  

It was no secret that Draco Malfoy and (Y/N) (L/N) were truly and undeniably in love. Often, the corridors were filled with the incessant whispers of jealous girls who longed for Draco’s attention, but he paid no attention to them. The Slytherin Prince only had eyes for you, the only constant ray of sunshine in his life. Whenever he looked at you, he reminded himself of his vow to keep you completely satisfied, and the only reward he wanted was seeing that gorgeous smile on your face. You were everything to him. You were the only one who knew about his previous family troubles, the one who would hold him when he cried during the late hours of the evening. The one who would fix his tie the second it seemed out of place, the one who would rub his shoulders whenever you noticed him bent over his assignments.  

He would do everything and anything to ensure you felt like the luckiest girl in the world because he knew you, out of all people, deserved it the most.  

”You make an excellent point, Mr. Malfoy,” You grinned, nodding your head in agreement, and flinging your arms around his shoulders. A soft smile crept up Draco’s lips as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest and placing a kiss at the top of your head.  

“Don’t I always?” teased Draco, running his fingers through your hair as the other students exited the Great Hall and made their way towards the classes. Rolling your eyes at his response, you placed your hand against his cheek, stealing a kiss from him this time and rising from your seat.  

“We should go,” you announced, stretching your hand out for him to grab, which he happily obliged, rising from the bench and escorting you to your classroom.  

                                          ϟ ϟ ϟ

 A week had passed since Slughorn’s dinner party, the memory of the evening still fresh in Draco’s mind as he tapped his fingers against the wooden desk. Needless to say, he was not particularly pleased with the events of last Saturday. One of Slughorn’s guests had taken quite the liking to you, practically undressing you with his eyes during breakfast hours, something Draco found incredibly disrespectful. He recalled the way Cormac McLaggen eyed you this morning when you bent over to kiss your boyfriend goodbye, skipping out of the Great Hall without a care in the world.  

Draco clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as his eyebrows knitted together, sparks of frustration igniting within him. Not only was McLaggen ogling you like you were his last meal, but he was also casually brushing up beside you in the corridors, shooting Draco arrogant smirks when they locked eyes.  

Oh, how he would love to jinx that insufferable look off his face. Yeah, that’ll show him.  

He should have been paying attention to Professor Flitwick discussing the proper hand movement for the Gouging Spell, but the thoughts of McLaggen badgering you when he was not around boiled his blood. In hindsight, it was a good thing he was neglecting this lesson because the prospect of gouging a large hole through Cormac seemed very appealing. 

You were particularly busy this week and did not have a lot of time to spend with Draco. Sure, the two of you bid your usual goodnights in the Slytherin common room, but your studying had kept you away from Draco. Due to this, Draco Malfoy was left very touch starved and found himself daydreaming of your earlier rendezvous around the castle.  

Draco turned his head towards you, his face relaxing at once as he watched you diligently taking notes, as usual. You had your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing it softly as your quill scratched against the parchment. With a content sigh, he admired your concentration and wondered how a person could be that gorgeous. He was, truly, the luckiest man in the world when it came to you.  

He supposed that one could not blame McLaggen for falling for you- I mean, who wouldn’t? Any person would be swept off their feet if you entered the room wearing those silk dresses you were oh so fond of. Draco glanced down at those pretty, pink lips of yours, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as you parted them, tongue swiping over your upper lip as you added the final details to your diagram.  

Biting his lip, Draco forced his attention towards Professor Flitwick, but it was already too late. The thoughts of you, sprawled across his bed at Malfoy Manor were enough to replace his earlier frustrations with feelings of lust.  

“Stop,” thought Draco, closing his eyes to contain his feelings, but it was no use. Your lips made an “O” shape when you finally grasped the Charms concepts, making goosebumps appear on Draco’s skin as he shuddered.  

What he would do to have you begging for him right now.  

His pants grew considerably tighter and he couldn’t help but feel grateful towards the school uniforms. The robe he was wearing did a decent job at hiding his current problem, but he knew it would be noticeable when he stood. However, that did not stop him from hearing the way you called his name in the back of his head.  

“Please, Draco...”

“Fuck,” cursed Draco under his breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, a slight touch of pink dusting his cheeks. Unable to keep his eyes away, Draco looked back towards you, scanning the soft skin of your neck, and noting how awfully bare it looked. With his self-restraint wavering, he subtly slid down the bench you shared and rested his hand on your knee, something he did quite often. However, you did not question him until you felt his lips against your neck and a hand wrapped tightly around your thigh. Turning your head to face him, you were surprised to see him with his hand over his mouth, his eyes averted from yours as his fingers danced against the smooth skin of your inner thigh.  

“Draco,” you cooed, but the only response you received was a rather harsh nip at your neck, “Draco, someone will see…”  

“I don’t care,” Draco snarled against your ear, “I need this bloody class to be over…” He murmured in a much softer tone, his hand rubbing circles against your thigh and inching closer to your clothed heat. But once you turned to scold him, you noticed the dark, red blush that painted his cheeks and felt his hot breath fanning against your face.  

“Are you alright?” you asked cautiously, innocently rubbing your thumb against his thigh, but that only made Draco twitch in his seat, and his reaction suddenly lit the bulb over your head. Your lips curled into a smirk as your hand moved closer to the bulge on Draco’s pants, turning your attention towards the front of the class as you continued your movements.  

Luckily, the two of you sat at the farthest end of the Charms classroom, away from any overly inquisitive eyes. You were certain nobody would notice, if Draco kept his cool, the two of you would be in the clear.  

“Couldn’t even wait till class was over?” You tutted, delicately tracing your fingers over his crotch, and smirking as he shifted in his seat, “Be careful, I don’t want us to get caught.” You added, firmly cupping his erection through his slacks, a wide grin spreading across your face as he doubled down and hid his face behind a book he propped up. It was honestly quite surprising to see Draco this way. Usually, he would be the one teasing you to no end, but you were currently in control and that was enough to light the fire of your arousal.  

“D-Don’t stop,” Draco pleaded under his breath, biting down on his thumb to hold back a moan as your palm worked to release the built-up tension. Encouraged by his dick twitching underneath your hand, you quickened your pace and watched as he parted his lips, struggling to keep any sound from coming out. As his breathing grew more ragged, you felt his abdominal muscles tense up against your touch, indicating that his release would wash over him soon.  

Fighting to keep the small sense of composure he had left, Draco gripped (Y/N)’s wrist and halted her movements. It took him a minute to catch his breath, but when he did, he spoke in a low whisper, “Wait...” His eyes never met yours because if he looked into those beautiful eyes of yours, he would not be able to control himself. And although the prospect of taking you over the desk seemed quite promising, he did not fancy the idea of letting the rest of the student body see you bent over in such a vulnerable state.  

That was only for him, of course.  

“What’s wrong, Darling?” You teased letting your fingers trace over his crotch again, but he only clicked his tongue at you. Draco knew you too well, he knew you were only trying to rile him up again, but he could not let that happen, not right now. With adrenaline coursing through your body, you leaned towards Draco and let your breath fan against his neck before licking a stripe behind his ear, “Didn’t want to come all over those expensive slacks of yours, hm?” You murmured, gently nipping his earlobe, and taking his momentary lapse of strength to palm his erection once more.  

Draco gritted his teeth once again, pulling your hand away from his pants, “I said wait,” he growled, his lust-clouded eyes finally meeting yours, “You do know how to follow instructions, don’t you?” He asked in a much harsher, more desperate tone.  

“Depends on who’s giving them.” You replied sarcastically, placing your free hand on his knee with a smirk.  

However, Draco did not get a chance to shoot his response back at you. Once the bell signaling the end of class rang, he shot up off his seat and gathered both your belongings before taking your hand and hastily pulling you out of the classroom. A few students stared as the two of you rushed down the hall, blushing in embarrassment as you stumbled after Draco.

His hand gripped yours tightly, leading you towards the Prefects’ bathroom, and stuttering out the password once the two of you arrived. Flinging your book bags across the floor, Draco turned and stalked towards you making you step back until your back hit something solid.

“Think you’re funny, are you?” sneered Draco, pinning you against one of the cubicles, his thigh pressed firmly between your legs and his right forearm braced beside your head. Replicating your earlier movements, Draco dragged his tongue underneath your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth, making you gasp. “Why don’t we put that filthy mouth of yours to better use?” He cooed, blowing a puff of air against your ear, and admiring it as it turned red.  

With a sudden burst of confidence, you gripped his robes and pulled his face towards yours, breaths mingling together, “I think,” You muttered, leaning your lips close to his, “That’s the best idea you’ve had all day…” Looking up at his half-lidded eyes, you crashed your lips against Draco’s, fingers immediately tangling themselves in his hair. Draco returned your kiss eagerly, his hands cupping your arse underneath your skirt and pulling your body flush against his.  

You could feel Draco growing more impatient by the minute. His hands were grabbing desperately at your skin, squeezing every inch of bare flesh he could feel. Longing to have you closer to him, Draco slipped his hand underneath your thigh and hooked it over his hip, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. Your back arched off the wall, hips grinding against Draco’s as your tongues laced together in a heated kiss. Tugging at your tie, Draco reached to unbutton your blouse and pulled it open, exposing your bra-clad breasts.  

He pressed his lips against the base of your neck, biting and sucking encouraged by your moans beside his ear. One of his hands held your thigh firmly while the other kneaded your left breast, pulling the fabric of your bra down and taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You gasped harshly, bucking into him, and digging your fingers into his hair, messing up the parts that remained previously neat. Draco rolled his erection against your soaked panties, smiling down at your face as his hands kneaded your clothed breasts, “So pretty,” he murmured, captivated by your flushed face and the shameful sounds passing through your lips.  

Your hands reached up to grab his face, pulling him down for another kiss. This time, using the momentum to switch your positions so Draco’s back hit the stall door, earning a small moan of surprise from him. Grinning up at him, you pressed your lips against his neck and slid your hand down the front of his body, cupping him firmly as you sucked the sensitive skin. 

Draco let out gasping breaths as you moved your hand, his fingers digging into your waist, “On your knees,” commanded Draco, trying to regain some sort of control over the situation. You obliged happily, dropping down to your knees and lazily running your fingers over his thighs before reaching up for his belt. After fiddling with the buckle, you took your time sliding Draco’s slacks down, purposely neglecting his throbbing dick hidden in his underwear.  

“Don’t be a tease,” snapped Draco, gripping your chin harshly, “Suck,” He commanded firmly, releasing you as you pulled down his boxer briefs. Draco’s thick length snapped up towards his lower abs, almost slapping you in the face when it sprung out of its constraints. Almost drooling at the glorious sight of his cock, you took it in your hand, running your thumb over the pre-cum leaking out of the reddened tip. Draco bucked his hips forwards, hissing at the light touch, and looking down at your concentrated expression as you slowly pumped your hand.  

Lolling your tongue out dramatically, you leaned forwards and gave the tip a kitten lick, earning a frustrated groan from Draco. Satisfied with his discomfort, you gave the swollen tip another kiss before taking his length fully into your mouth. He let out a strangled gasp in response, his eyes squeezed shut as you enthusiastically licked up his length. Sealing off your lips, much like a vacuum seal, you bobbed your head up and down his shaft, tongue swirling around it as Draco trembled underneath you, his hand over his mouth attempting to stifle the sounds coming out of it.  

Draco looked down at you, unable to control the string of low moans and grunts spewing from his lips. The sight of your plump lips stretching around his cock made him lose the few ounces of coherent thoughts he had left in his mind. Draco let out another strangled moan, throwing his head back against the stall door as you swirl your tongue around his shaft and use your hand to pump the base of his cock. His hand flew to the back of your head when you moved to take all of him in your mouth, your nose brushing the trimmed tufts of hair as you choked around him, the contraction of your throat making him groan out your name.  

With another husky moan, Draco balled your hair up into a ponytail and used it as leverage to thrust into your mouth. “Yes, yes,” whimpered Draco, his face flushed red and his breath caught in his throat, “Just like that, (Y/N)” he hissed, his grey eyes flickering down and meeting yours, making his roll back again as he pulled his lip between his teeth. Your fingernails dug into the back of his thighs, squeezing them tighter as he quickened his pace. You moaned around his dick, the vibrations sending a violent quake through his body as he face-fucked you, his climax only moments away.  

“Ah, you take my cock so well, Princess” groaned Draco, his pace stuttering, “You’re so bloody gorgeous” He sighed, his fingers delving tightly into your hair as you continued to swirl your tongue around the shaft, relaxing your jaw to let the tip of his penis hit the back of your throat.  

The sounds coming from Draco’s mouth had you soaking wet and yearning to feel his load shoot down your throat. Determined to finish him off, you moved your hand to fondle his balls, moaning with satisfaction as his cock pulsated in your mouth. His breaths grew ragged and the only sounds coming from him were small whimpers and grunts. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, his platinum blonde hair fell messily over his eyes, which were currently screwed shut as his face twisted with pleasure.   

Draco’s eyes fluttered open, meeting your eager ones for a second time, but it was too much. Cursing loudly, Draco’s pace grew sloppier and rougher, his body trembling as you fondled his balls once again.  

“(Y/N)!” He cried out as you gagged around him, thick ropes of cum coating the inside of your mouth as he came, hard. You struggled to swallow his heavy load, but you were adamant on taking every last drop, just how he liked it. Draco gasped as he caught his breath, his hand still in your hair as he gave your mouth two final shallow thrusts, pulling out as you licked him clean.  

With his chest heaving, Draco delicately placed his hand against your cheek and slid his thumb over your swollen lips. You press a chaste kiss against the pad of his thumb, the corners of your mouth curling up into a loving smile. He brought you back up to your feet, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all tongue before pulling away with a satisfied smile on his face.  

“You’re quite chipper now, aren’t you?” You teased, hitting him playfully on the shoulder as he pulled his slacks up, tucking his shirt back into his pants and shooting you a wink.  

“Yes, actually,” He retorted, his usual smirk appearing on his lips, “And why is that?” You asked, taking the time to button your own shirt, blushing as Draco stalked towards you. He placed his hand on the side of your neck, pulling down your collar to admire the angry, red marks that decorated it.  

With a small huff, he dipped down and sucked on the spot below your jaw, your knees buckling and hands gripping his shoulders as he bit down. Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, Draco pulled away, smirking at the mark that would surely be visible for days.  

“Because I’m the only one who gets to have you like this,” admitted Draco, pulling you into a hug and resting his chin atop your head, “Can’t wait until I catch McLoser drooling over you, I’ll make sure to remind him who he’s dealing with.”  

You laughed at Draco’s declaration, your arms tightening around him as you embraced, “Are you ready for lunch then? He could already be there” You teased, pressing a kiss against his nose, and pulling away to pick up your bag from the bathroom floor. Draco chuckled as you skipped back towards him, giving your behind a playful smack as you walked past him, “Don’t run off thinking I won’t return the favor,” stated Draco salaciously, catching your hand and pulling you back before you could exit the bathroom.  

You looked up at him with a curious expression, “Is that so?” You questioned with a grin, walking towards him, and placing your hand on his chest, “Is it something I should look forward to?” You asked, tilting your head to the side innocently.  

Draco laughed, raising his hand to cup your cheek, “Come to my room tonight at eleven, wearing that pretty little dress from Twilfitt and Tattings,” muttered Draco, his lips close to yours once again, “I’ll make it worth your while,” he winked, his fingers dipping underneath your skirt to swipe over your clothed core.  

Shivering under his touch, you blushed embarrassingly as he examined the slick now coating his finger, “All for me, Princess?” He teased, contently licking his finger clean and grabbing his own book bag, “Actually, I was thinking about McLaggen” you quipped, stepping out of the Prefect’s bathroom with a bounce in your step which Draco followed after, his eyebrows furrowed as he flanked you. 

“Careful, Love” warned Draco with a hum, his hand sliding into yours as you walked, “or I’ll have to teach that naughty mouth of yours another lesson.”

                                               ϟ ϟ ϟ

 Your four-year anniversary drew nearer, and you found yourself worried about Draco’s behavior yet again. He grew increasingly distant as the term progressed and you could not help but worry, despite his constant reassurances, stating there was nothing to worry about. This, again, left you feeling frustrated. You and Draco started dating during your third year and it had taken a while to break down his walls to understand him, but now it seemed like some of that progress was overturned. 

However, when he was around, he always made the effort to shower you with affection and ensure you were being taken care of. Draco knew your habits better than anything, he knew you would be questioning his behavior and launching your own investigations to find the underlying cause of it, but he could not let you interfere. He was already under fire for having ‘distractions’ and had promised the Dark Lord nothing would come in the way of his success.  

To keep you safe, you had to be left in the dark. It wounded Draco to see that distraught expression on your face when he came into the common room past midnight, sometimes even asleep, curled up on the couch waiting for him to return. He felt guilty for putting you through all this, but it was necessary for your safety and nothing was more important than protecting you.  

His nights were constantly haunted by horrifying images of you injured or worse, dead in his arms after some terrible mistake he made. These thoughts were constantly wearing him down, but he could not tell you, it was just too risky to involve you in this situation. This stressful internal struggle encouraged Draco to show you how much you meant to him.  

He wanted you to know that you were, truly, the most important person in his life.  

“Draco,” You whined with your hands over your eyes as Draco led you through the empty streets of Hogsmeade, “Can’t I just open my eyes? I’ve been to Hogsmeade plenty of times” you reminded him, but he only chuckled beside you, holding you by the waist as you walked.  

“I’m trying to surprise you,” Draco stated, rolling his eyes, “So why don’t you stop complaining and follow me.” He declared, pressing a kiss against your cheek, and leading you towards the clothing shops in the village. Draco halted in front of a large store window, looking up at the dress and envisioning you in them with a proud grin.  

“Alright,” he started, grabbing the hands that covered your face, “Ready?” He murmured, pressing a kiss against her fingertips as you nodded. Counting to three, Draco pulled your hands away from your face and stepped out of your view, letting you take in the sight before you.  

In front of you stood a tall mannequin wearing a floor-length shimmering, emerald green gown with small silver detailing the bust, “Wow” you muttered breathlessly, leaning closer to the window to get a better look of the design. The mannequin turned 180 degrees, giving her a better view of the open back and long train that followed the dress.  

“Do you like it?” Draco asked, looking down at his ring with a content smile on his face. 

Your eyes scanned over the glittering, diamond pendant necklace complete with matching water drop earrings, “It’s gorgeous,” you replied, looking over at your boyfriend with a puzzled expression, “Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?” You asked, quirking your eyebrow at him as he laughed.  

“You know me well, Darling” Draco admitted sheepishly, leading you towards the door of the stop and holding it open, “I just thought, since you’ve been attending Slughorn’s dinner parties, that you would need some more evening outfits to show off,” He stated proudly, his hand against the small of your back as he gestured you towards the changing rooms.  

“Draco, I couldn’t possibly! You bought me one at the start of term!” You protested, grabbing his hands but part of you knew his mind was already made up. 

“You’re right,” He agreed with a nod, placing his hand against your cheek, “And I’m going to buy you four more today,” He stated nonchalantly, looking back at the four sets of the dresses brought over by the shopkeeper, “You better get started,” he urged, taking a seat on the ottoman in front of the dressing room.  

With a loving smile, you captured Draco’s lips in a kiss, “I love you” You said, squeezing his hand as he returned your smile.  

“And I love you most,” He replied, pressing a kiss against your forehead, and urging towards the dressing room, “Come on, I want to see how stunning you look in those.” Giggling, you ran into the changing room, winking back at Draco before sliding the curtain close and getting into the first dress.  

Several hours later, you and Draco exited the shop with four bags containing various dresses, jewelry pieces, and, even, a brand-new suit. After one final stop at Honeydukes, the two of you made your way towards the castle, treasuring the time you spent together and the memories you created while doing so.

[owlespresso]

Witching Hour: 2 AM

getou suguru x reader x gojo satoru

warnings: alcohol mention, reader is drunk, spice below the cut

Satoru stuck sweet to your side, rubbing your back and watching you down your coveted alcohol. He told you jokes and teased your side with probing fingers to get you to giggle, pressed closer and closer into his side with every sip. The booth he managed to secure was small and private, a haven as far away from the music as possible. 

“You still in there?” He nudges you, voice lowering into something soft and doting. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, your eyelids growing heavy as you nestle against him. He’s warm, the scent of his cologne comforting and spiced. You curl a hand into the fabric of his balenciaga sweatshirt. “Mmm, maybe it’s time for us to head home—ah—” 

A sharp, loud ding draws his attention to his phone, the screen illuminating his pale face bright as he draws it close. You can see him squint behind his rounded shades, reading whatever text he had been sent with a contemplative sort of trepidation.

“Mmm, Suguru’s not too happy,” Satoru acknowledges with a small, dry laugh.

“Did you not tell him we were going out?” you muster up the brain cells to reply, jolted from your sleepy stupor at the mention of your other partner. 

“No~pe!” he hums, leaning down to press a few kisses to the side of your face. His soft lips flutter against the column of your neck, prompting you to whine and tilt your head in his direction, shoulder raising at the ticklish sensation. “Just wanted you to myself for a little bit. Can you blame me? You’re always so needy for his attention when he’s around.” His long fingers venture underneath the thin fabric of your tank top, dimpling the tender flesh.

“Do not,” you grumble. A breathy little whine escapes you as he finally reaches the crook of your neck, teeth delicately grating over your warm, sensitive skin.

“Yes, you do. But I don’t expect you to admit it,” he says with a heavy, exaggerated sigh. His phone indignantly rings again, causing his face to wrinkle in an unsettled grimace. Its fluorescent light illuminates the pale stretch of his face, catches on those brilliant sapphire eyes and lulls you into a state of silent awe. “Yeah, we should really go. Suguru’s threatening to make me sleep on the couch.”

He laments the possible consequences, but at the same time sharply squeezes your hip, clever fingers venturing closer to the crux of your legs while you squeal and squirm. Long, warm digits stroke a line up your clothed cunt through your leggings, prompting you to grip his sleeve tight, face buried into his shoulder. Fresh, buzzing warmth writhes in your lower stomach, thin panties already moistening. The haze that blankets your mind eases you into that balmy state of arousal, makes it easier for him to coax little sighs and moans.

You’re in public, your remaining brain cell reminds you, but it’s a herculean feat to act on that realization when Satoru is so big and encompassing and warm.

His phone beeps a third time, prompting him to pull away with a hassled sigh. 

Immediately, you whine, legs reflexively shutting in an attempt to keep him there. The embers he’d been stoking die out, leaving you cold and empty. 

“Alright. Let’s get you home, sweetheart.” Satoru hums, patting you in the back. The next few moments are all but lost to you, being pulled and tugged to your feet and along the wall to avoid the dancing crowd. 

The incessant, thrumming of the club’s upbeat music dies to a low vibration as you hastily traverse the thin hall. It takes every piece of your concentration to not trip over your own sneakers. The space between your eyebrows throb, your eyelids heavy. The past two hours are a blur, lost in a tumble of vivid neon lights, loud conversation and hearty drinks. A prescription to get you out of your head, if only for a little while.

The neon lights fade, leaving you at the end of the hall, right before the double doors. The back entrance, you numbly realize as Satoru hums. He stops in place, and you’re barely given a moment to prepare before he sweeps you into a one-armed embrace, lips pressing to your own in a sloppy, intense kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, mind numb as your hands instinctively curl in the expensive fabric of his shirt. Licks of flame roll up your intoxicated form, lost among the rolling waves of his oceanic affection. 

The next sensation you register is the press of the hard wall against your back. Your eyes shut, your head rolling to rest up against the painted concrete blocks, Satoru’s warm lips running up and down the column of your neck. Shivers roll down your spine, spark goosebumps up your arms and shivers down your spine. The air feels thick with each breath you pull in. 

“Satoru,” you murmur. One of his large hands spans across your left hip, fingers crawling over untouched skin, venturing towards the round of your breasts. Your shirt rides up along his arm, cool air sending a shiver up your spine. You shouldn’t do this here, the far flung remainders of your consciousness remind you, anyone could see, “Satoru—” you gasp, words smothered by his lips. 

One of his palms shoves the cup of your bra promptly upwards. He swallows a little yelp, dexterous fingers pinching at your nipple, pulling and twisting. Your thighs press together, cunt wet, panties pressed sticky to your cunt. The pleasure sends you reeling, mind swimming, heart thumping slow and low in contrast to the erratic beat of the faraway music. 

“Satoru, ah, Satoru!” your little cries are cast into the air, whines building low and hot in your chest. 

At last, at very long last, one of his hands ventures towards the waistband of your leggings. The fabric feels all too stifling against your body, rationality slipping from your grasp like water through a patch of swamp cattails.

“Satoru,” a familiar voice, dark and firm, jolts you both from your pleasure-inundated states. Through the fog, you feel a jolt of immediate alarm—Suguru stands behind the both of you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweatpants. His outfit is casual, cozy, something you’d see him wear around the house. His expression is flat, but a subtle twitch in his eyebrow betrays his irritation. 

Satoru fumbles for a brief moment, yanking down the cup of your bra and pulling your shirt back over your stomach. Clumsy yet practiced, a testament to how many times he’s done this before. You’re not granted any time to contemplate it further before he’s pulling away, taking his warmth with him. He faces Suguru with a comely smile, hands resting atop his hips. 

“Ahh, Suguru!” He rocks back and forth on his heels, reaching a hand back to sheepishly rub the back of his neck. “Fancy meeting you here~”

“You didn’t answer my texts. Or my calls,” Suguru crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side, utterly unamused. 

"Well,” Satoru says, swallowing thickly to buy himself time. 

“It’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t drunk off your ass and in a gutter,” Suguru interrupts before he can muster an explanation, gaze sliding past the flushed Satoru to you. The firm lines of his expression melt into something tender, something delicate as he appraises you, those lovely lips curling into a welcoming smile. “And how are you? Satoru didn’t tire you out too much, did he?” he inquires, ignoring Satoru’s indignant squawk. His arms part to either side of him as he beckons you forth, the low purr of his voice reverberating through your every cell .  “Come here.”

Even cast in dingy, dim lighting, Suguru looks warm and comfortable in his casual wear. They hang off his broad frame ever so slightly, but still allow you to see the outline of the packed muscle underneath. His hair is tied into the bun you’ve grown so used to seeing on him. Whether by instinct or conscious choice (you can no longer tell), you push off the wall and stumble into his waiting arms. 

The smell of him soothes the nerves frayed by your previous arousal, muscles loosening as you bury your face into his chest. He’s saying something to Satoru, the words lost among your drunken haze. Their voices sound nice, and Suguru’s chest rumbles ever so slightly when he speaks. His warm arms encircle you, securing you snuggly against his body. You’re not sure how long you remain standing there, be it seconds or minutes, but you do notice when he begins to pull back. 

You startle with a whine of protest, blearily looking up at him. There’s unadulterated admiration in his eyes. 

“There you are,” he murmured, voice a quiet blessing for only you to hear. He presses his lips to the crown of your head, irreverent. The hand on your back rubs delicate circles into your lower back.

“Let’s go home.”

[costellos]

author’s note: this wasn’t a request, just something super self-indulgent that I wanted to do! ❤⃛(*ૂ❛ัᴗ❛ั*ૂ) also this ended up taking 2.5 hours to write aldkf;j so much for unwinding at the end of the day. overall, I’m super proud of how this came out — please enjoy!

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang realizing that they’re in love!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati realizes he’s in love when he sees you defending civilians.

he is a man made of love. for his people, for his community, for his goals — he firmly believes that everyone and everything can be built on yes, but more importantly, taken care of.

he sees you protecting an elderly couple during a stand battle. in a split second do you throw your stand at the couple, taking a hefty amount of damage in their place. you’re bloody and your arm is definitely broken, but you still turn to them. "you need to leave. now,” you say. although your words are harsh and hoarse, your smile reminds them that yes, everything will be fine, I just need you to trust me.

you didn’t have to protect them. any other gangster would have left them to die. they’re old, no one would miss them.

but you did. you put these two strangers, two no ones at the wrong place at the wrong time, before yourself. even if it meant you’d die.

Bucciarati would visit you shortly after the battle. Giorno had already tended to your wounds, evident by your lack of bandages. his hair is normally neatly placed, but it looks like he had been rustling it, with his clips out of place and the braid atop his head uneven. his concern is apparent; he’s wracked his brain waiting for your recovery. you knew that Bucciarati cared about his team, but when did he care this much? ↳ “I admit, your actions were certainly reckless,” he would say to you, taking a seat beside your bed. “you’re lucky that fight didn’t end worse than it did. nonetheless...” his voice is tired yet soft, comforting. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m... I’m incredibly glad.”

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio realizes he’s in love when he sees you upholding true justice.

although he would never admit it, he is haunted by his inability to save his partner during his time as an officer. as such, Abbacchio envies those who back justice in spite of the system Italy lives under.

you’re patrolling one of La Passione’s turfs with him when you see it: two officers harassing a young girl. even though Abbacchio tells you not to get involved, you quickly storm over to the scene. their voices are loud and clear, despite them being several meters away. the girl looks scared.

it turns out she had stolen a handful of painkillers from the corner store. the cops noticed her scurrying out as they were buying a pack of smokes. and now, they were threatening to take her into the station. “I need them for my family!” she explains, but the cops don’t buy it. they huff something about her bringing them to school and selling them to her friends.

“here. I’ll pay for her. just leave her alone.” Abbacchio watches as you flash 30 euros to the cops, more than enough to pay for the medicine. playing them at their own game, he sees. thankfully, they relent, pocketing the money and leaving the scene. and after you talk to the girl, explaining that if she needs more help to come find you, you both leave the scene too.

it’s a brief affair. truthfully, he wouldn’t have gotten himself involved. he wishes you hadn’t either. it would’ve been less of a headache, and now that girl is going to pester you again in the future. but he can’t stop replaying the scene in this head. how you willingly stood up for her, reassured her that everything would be okay. how you smiled and looked so content after the fact. ↳ “ I envy you,” he would say as you walked away from the scene. “doing the right thing is...” he pauses. stupid? naive? “...it’s not easy. you didn’t have to do anything but I admire your valor. just don’t be surprised if that girl comes up at your doorstep begging for more money.” nonetheless, he wants to learn more from you. to be good again, he thinks. maybe then he can be someone that he himself is proud of. and maybe, eventually, he’ll make you proud too.

giorno giovanna.

Giorno realizes he’s in love when he sees your ambition.

he prides himself on his resolve. to him, resolve is committing to something regardless of the difficulties that a person faces. seeing you be so goal-oriented would make him believe that he’s found his match.

it doesn’t have to be a huge goal, like dedicating yourself to a field of practice or learning a new language. it can be as simple as trying to keep your houseplants alive. in fact, those little things come off as more charming to him. it shows that you’re passionate about everything you do, no matter what it is.

seeing you continuously try despite numerous failures would make Giorno’s heart pound. you refuse to give up. even with everything against you, you still roll up your sleeves, take a deep breath, and pick yourself up again. he adores this about you.

he realizes it when you’re rambling about your next move in your goals. your face is so excited, your eyes so wide and bright. your mouth is voicing your steps a million words a minute but all he can focus on is how beautiful you look. the smile on his lips is unmistakable. ↳ “tell me more. I want to know everything. tell me about every detail, every step, what you’ll do when you’re finished... all of it.” he won’t say it — after all, he doesn’t want to come off as too desperate — but he wants to be there every step of the way with you. and when you’ve completed your goal, he wants to be the one next to you, the one to say, “I am so, so proud of you.”

guido mista.

Mista realizes he’s in love when you laugh at one of his jokes.

life should be simple. that’s the mantra he lives by. despite being a gangster, he just wants to have a simple life filled with simple pleasures. one of those ways is through telling stories.

it happens when the group is eating dinner at a local restaurant. Mista is telling some long-winded anecdote, something about how he heroically beat up a landlord for harassing his tenants over money. at the end, it turned out to be the set up for a really brief and really stupid punchline.

everyone is looking at him. “ah? ahhhh?” he muses, but no one responds. the silence in the air is unbearable. hm. wow. is it hot in here or what? finally, Narancia breaks the silence, muttering that he doesn’t get it. Fugo tells him that Mista could have made the joke so much shorter. Bucciarti exhales quickly from his nostrils, a half-assed attempt at laughing. Giorno and Abbacchio don’t say anything.

but then you. oh, you. it takes you a moment to get it, but when you do, your giggling disrupts the awkwardness. it sounds like bells, Mista thinks. sweet bells, ringing like how they used to at the church every Sunday morning in his hometown. it makes him feel warm, welcome, and he can’t help but feel his face flush when he hears your laughing.

Mista stays in place afterwards, pushing his white beans to and fro on his plate. he’s not hungry anymore. he keeps looking up at you, and while he had acknowledged you were attractive before, something about you was now beautiful. you were happy here, with your eyes bright and your smile wide. eventually, he would say: ↳ “hey, thanks for covering me back there. those guys never laugh at anything I say.” he rolls his eyes playfully, adding a slight shrug of his shoulders. “lemme make it up to you. what can I do for you?” he’s trying to be smooth, but he’s so giddy at the prospect at spending more time with you!

narancia ghirga.

Narancia realizes he’s in love when you don’t lose your patience with him.

he doesn’t have much of a formal education. hence, critical thinking skills don’t come easy to him. he tries his best, he really does, but it’s difficult when he’s hardly flexed his brain.

he’s writing a song. nothing fancy, but music has always been a part of Narancia’s life that he wants to give it a go himself. maybe one day he’ll be a famous hip hop artist, touring across Europe and maybe even the U.S. one day! the thought makes him excited. but for now, he needs to establish the lyrics.

rap is easier said than done, though. Fugo is teasing him about his inability to write poetry — what makes Narancia think that he could write a whole song? he grits his teeth and turns back to his paper. 

that’s when you approach him. you sit down with him, asking him what he would like to write about. “oh, uh... growing up in the streets, I guess,” he mumbles. he’s taken aback by your help. plus, talking about it now makes him embarrassed. but you don’t judge him, no; you sit down with him and try to help him nail down the theme. and once you have that, you assist him in finding snappy lyrics and catchy rhymes. 

you don’t criticize him for his ideas. you don’t yell at him for his suggestions. you just listen and add on. the encounter is foreign, to say the least... but not unwelcome. Narancia finds your help incredibly productive (much better than Fugo could ever offer him). and the time goes by so fast! within a few hours, his song is done. yet he’s not happy... no, he starts to feel lonely the moment you stand up, off to assist Bucciarati with whatever he needs. ↳ “wait, hold on, [Name]!” shit. his voice is way too desperate. he softens it as best he can muster: “can... can we write another song sometime? I have a lot more ideas and I can’t do it without you.” fuck. he did it again. but when smile at him and nod, promising that you’ll help him hit the Top 40, Narancia can’t help but smile back.  

panacotta fugo.

Fugo realizes that he’s in love when you put him before yourself.

genius. prodigy. failure. Fugo is defined by how others see him. after his parents abandoned him for leaving an abusive establishment, he finds himself lost in the world. who is he? what is he worth?

he’s escorting you to your mission when his car is attacked by a rival gang. the assault is a blur. he can remember the car flipping over, tumbling off the road and into the Mediterranean Sea. it happens so fast. the salty water surrounding you both. the windshield cracking. the airbag goes off, suffocating him. he can’t see. he can’t breathe. and suddenly, it’s dark.

when he wakes up, he realizes that you’re both on the beach. “where are we?” he musters out. it hurts to talk. you hush him to take it easy, that he had most certainly broken a few ribs. and that’s when he sees it: when he looks down, his wounds are tended to. gashes have been tenderly wrapped in gauze and minor cuts treated with balm. a pain relief patch has been placed on his chest, no doubt where the air bag hit him. but when he looks at you, you’re bleeding through your bandages.

that’s right. there was a first aid kit in the car. based on his injuries, you spent the majority of supplies on him, even though you definitely had it just as bad. “why?” is all he can say.

why? you shake your head. “because you’re my friend,” you answer, adjusting the gauze on his wrist. “I’m taking care of you because you’re worth it.”

your words catch him by surprise. he doesn’t believe it, but... your face is honest enough. his thoughts are jumbled, as mixed as the sand and water at the shore just a few meters away. and when your hand touches his wrist... he shakes his own head.

↳ “you should’ve tended to yourself first.” his tongue tastes of nothing but blood and salt and his words show it. a beat, and gentler this time: “I appreciate your thinking of me. thank you.” that’s all he can say, at least for now. it hurts to much to talk, moreover think. so he places his hand over yours as a gesture of thanks. friends, huh? the idea before sounded laughable, but now... there was something warm about it. the answer to his question — who is he? — had come as quickly as the waves beneath him: a friend.

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Miguel Diaz fluff alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Miguel loves your smile. He’s a funny guy and he thinks your smile lights up a room so he makes it his mission to make you laugh as much as possible. If you have some crooked teeth, he thinks it’s adorable. Also, looking at your smile makes him think about your lips which just makes him want to kiss you.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Yes, after he gets a stable job. He would love kids but he doesn’t want to be like his dad and end up abandoning his family so he would make extra sure he could support the child and you and makes a conscious effort to be there for his family no matter what. Asking about their day, being involved in their sports/clubs/hobbies, making snacks when they have friends over. He just wants to be the Cool Dad ™ and would probably try to teach them karate before they could even sit up.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He loves to have you sit between his legs and lean back against his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and make sure you’re always safe and warm. It’s the perfect position for movies, video games, deep conversations, baths. He will also often come up behind you at a party and hold you like this if someone is hitting on you or if you look uncomfortable or bored. He can whisper little jokes in your ear or kiss you on the cheek.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

He loves fun dates. You both have always found fancy dinner dates really awkward. He likes something where you guys can move around, do activities, and just let loose. The go-to’s are usually mini golf, the arcade, the zoo, or just a nice picnic in the park. He often gets you little gifts before dates, though, like flowers, a stuffed animal, or a cool rock he found. His Yaya taught him never to show up for a date empty handed. And he’s a total gentleman, never making you uncomfortable or rushing things. Miguel keeps his hands to himself unless instructed otherwise.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

You are my sunshine. As cheesy as it is, Miguel sees you as the shining light in his life. You make everything better, whether that’s an injury, a bad day at school, or losing a fight at training. He knows he can always go to you and be distracted by your beautiful smile.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

Miguel first knew he was in love with you when you met his family for the first time. They invited you over for dinner one night and he told you his Yaya didn’t speak much english, so you asked him to teach you some spanish so you could talk with her. It wasn’t perfect, you made lots of grammar mistakes and really only said a couple sentences to her, but the effort you made combined with the smile on Yaya’s face made him fall absolutely head-over-heels.

If you already speak spanish, it would be seeing you talk with his Yaya and joke around with her over dinner.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

The most gentle boy on the face of the Earth. Like I said earlier, Miguel keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him otherwise. The first time you guys kiss, he barely moves a muscle. You had to grab his hands and put them on your waist. Even now, when he’s teaching you karate, he refuses to hit or grab you, so you honestly don’t really learn anything lol and if you’re sick or sleeping, he’s like a feather, so scared to disturb you. It’s like touching a kitten honestly

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

All. The. Time. He’s not too big on PDA, except for hand-holding. This is how he lets everyone know you’re taken without seeming possessive or gross. Miguel will grab your hand at the mall, at school, while y’all are cuddling, at the beach, literally whenever you’re in arm’s reach from him, he’s holding your hand.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Miguel’s first impression of you is that you’re this bright ray of sunshine. He’s drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes, your smile, your laugh! And when he finally works up the nerve to say hi (Strike first!) he thinks his heart might actually melt. When you actually laugh at the joke he makes and hold out your hand to introduce yourself, he turns bright red and can barely speak omfg this poor boy. But luckily you think it’s sweet and keep talking to him.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

He did at first, we’ve all seen how he acts with Sam and Robby, but you lay down the law. You have to tell him that it’s not cool, it makes people uncomfy, and then he finally starts to work on it. Now he’s better. He still feels jealous sometimes, but he trusts you and can control himself a bit more.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

So your first kiss. You were giving him The Look for like 10 minutes straight and he never made a move. He just stared at you. So you had to be the first one to actually lean in, but once you did, he met you halfway. His kisses match his personality. Sweet, gentle, and goofy, but with a more dominant, aggressive side if you know how to bring it out ;)

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He did. After you had dinner with his family and he realized he loved you, he told you almost immediately. This boy just wears his heart on his sleeve. He was walking you home and when you got to your house and turned around to kiss him goodnight, he had a funny look on his face. When you asked him what was wrong he kind of went ILOVEYOU! Really fast and you had to make him say it again slower because you thought he had a stroke or smth lmaooo but once he took a deep breath and said it more clearly, you jumped on him and kissed his whole face and said it back a hundred times.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

When he first introduced you to Sensei Lawrence. He thought Sensei was gonna be super mean and make fun of you, but turns out you guys had a lot in common. You loved 80’s rock music, and responded to his sass with even more sass. Johnny almost couldn’t believe Miguel was able to get such a cool babe. You guys all had lunch after taking a tour of the dojo, and it was a super fun day! You all drove around in Johnny’s car with the windows down listening to Guns ‘n Roses.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Miguel spoils you in his own little way. His family isn’t as fortunate as others, but he still finds ways to make you feel special. Instead of a diamond necklace, he gives you a cool rock he found outside and cleaned up. Instead of taking you to expensive restaurants, he spends all day cooking with Yaya to make a nice picnic for you guys to have on the beach. And he saves up to buy you nice gifts for your birthday or anniversary.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Rose gold. You’re so beautiful to him and have this natural charm that everyone falls for. You’re so radiant and yet soft and unique. He just love love loves you.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Sweety, sweetheart, baby, gorgeous, and Princess during more intimate moments.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

80’s rock music. He learns to love it through Sensei Lawrence. He even saves up to buy a record player so he can feel more connected to the past.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Build blanket forts, cuddle, bake cookies, he might even let you put makeup on him if you ask nice.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Humor. He loves cracking jokes and lightening the mood. If you’re ever feeling down you know you can go to him and he will turn that frown upside down in mere minutes. Honestly even just being in his presence makes you happier. He cheers himself up by working out, taking some alone time to get his feelings out, and then going out with some friends or with you.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Umm, karate! Duh lol the boy is obsessed with it. Also superhero movies, video games, his day, he’s honestly kind of a rambler. He can talk about anything and everything if he’s nervous enough. Let’s not forget the gas station scene in season 1…

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

You, dark rooms, white noise, puppies, linen scented candles, his mom’s cooking.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

His new muscles. Ever since joining Cobra Kai, he’s gotten pretty ripped and now it’s a struggle to get him to keep his shirt on. He worked hard for that body, he wants people to see how good he looks!

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

After college, he takes you on a hike up to this ridge overlooking a lake. It’s fall, the leaves are changing colors, and there’s no one around. You guys have been holding hands the whole time, but his hand is super sweaty even though it’s like 50 degrees out. You guys finally get to the top of the ridge and he grabs both your hands and tells you all the things he loves about you. This boy basically recites your whole love story, and as soon as he sticks his hand in his pocket you know what’s going on. He barely even got the box out of his pocket before you were jumping on him screaming Yes! You guys fell to the ground and he stopped you so he could officially get the words out. You were both crying, it was very beautiful.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

More Than Words by Extreme. You guys dance to this at your wedding.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Absolutely. Y’all marry pretty young, like right out of college. He knew you were gonna get married on the first date.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Iguana. He thinks they’re like little dinosaurs! He would name it Wade because we know he loves Deadpool.

[shyvioletcat]

for striking matches au: "It looks like you have more fun with them than with me."

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Here’s a little bit of Firefighter fun for your day.

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Rowan sat slumped on the couch, arms crossed across his chest as he waited for Aelin to finish getting ready. It had taken him minutes to get ready, with his dark jeans and button up white shirt, a pair of lensless glasses frames tucked into the chest pocket. They were going to a Halloween party at Aedion and Lysandra’s place, and very honestly, Rowan didn’t want to go.

He and Aelin had only been going out for just a little over a month and he had met her family and friends a few times, but they definitely weren’t his friends yet. He knew what would happen tonight once they got to the party, and he would be left with two choices. One, he could follow Aelin around the whole night as she lit up the room and thrived on all the social interactions. Or two, he’d sit in a corner with a beer and watch. Considering that he’d just come off a hard shift, Rowan was feeling more inclined to do the second. The subject of him staying behind had been broached but Aelin wasn’t having it. She said it would ruin their ‘matching’ costumes and added that her friends wanted to spend more time with him. So of course Rowan relented for her. Only her.

“Alright, ready,” Aelin sang as she appeared from her bedroom. She was wearing a long black coat and a pair of black boots, her golden hair in soft waves with the ends chalked a vibrant red.

“You’re wearing that?” Rowan asked, not bothering to get up yet.

Aelin grinned at him. “No, I”m wearing this.”

She opened her jacket to show him what was underneath, and Rowan felt his eyes go wide. Aelin had decided on their costumes, they were going to the party dressed as each other professions. Rowan’s costume had been all too easy to put together, all he had to buy was a pair of cheap glasses from the discount store and pop the lenses out. Aelin had bought the entirety of hers new, unless by some design of fate she had this firefighter costume lying around. But Rowan seriously doubted that.

His eyes started at the black boots she wore – and maybe he had seen those before – but her long legs were mostly bare except for a small pair of black shorts with a trim of red on the legs and a yellow belt. A strip of her stomach was bare as well, the shirt hugged her waist and upper torso, and zip ran up the middle instead of buttons, leaving it open in a deep V as it precariously contained her cleavage. It was all topped off with a pair of suspenders that she had her thumbs hooked under as she still grinned at him.

“So, what do you think? Reckon Lorcan would let me join the team?”

Rowan blinked once before he managed to look up her face. The neckline was proving more of a distraction the longer he looked.

“Do we have to go?” Rowan blurted and Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

“We most certainly do.” Aelin did her jacket up and grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter as well as a plastic firefighter hat. “Come on, Mr Whitethorn. Let’s go have some fun.”

Rowan was about to tell her they could have fun here, probably better fun too, but he just sighed and closed the apartment door behind him.

Aelin left her coat in the car. Rowan had parked and within seconds Aelin had deserted the car only leaving a heap of black material behind. He was quick to follow and the elevator arrived just as he got there. 

“Look at this fancy apartment building with it’s elevator,” Aelin mused as she pushed the button and then lent on the railing. “You never answered my question. You think Lorcan would let me on the team?”

Rowan turned, seeing that teasing look written on every feature of her face. “Definitely not. But that has nothing to do with the costume.”

Aelin laughed again. “You haven’t even told me if you like my costume or not. You make a very sexy Teacher if I do say so myself.”

He moved, they were chest to chest and almost touching. Then Rowan gave her a lingering once over that made Aelin breath just a little faster. Leaning in he kissed her, and he felt her smiling against his lips before she fully committed to it. The only sound was the mechanisms of the elevator, then there was the definitive sound of a zipper being pulled.

Aelin let out a comical gasp. “Mr Whitethorn, keep your hands to yourself.” 

Rowan chuckled and kissed her again, quickly, and stepped away, hands raised. 

“I was wondering how long it would take you, that was damn near obscene,” Aelin laughed, readjusting her suspenders.

He hadn’t been pulling the down, he’d been pulling it up to try and give him a little more peace of mind when he walked into the party. It was a stupid, jealous thing to do, and he expected Aelin to rip into him for it. But he was mistaken, it was all a ploy from Aelin to get his attention it seemed. The elevator arrived at the right floor and she pulled his glasses from his pocket, slipping them onto his nose before grabbing his hand and leading them out. They walked down the hallway, arriving at a door with music pulsing behind it. Aelin didn’t bother knocking and walked in, almost running into the hostess herself. Lysandra was dressed as Red Riding Hood, a bright red cape over a short green dress.

“You made it!” She nearly yelled as she hugged Aelin, obviously already a little drunk. Then her green eyes landed on him. “Nice lipstick, Rowan.”

Confused, Rowan rubbed at his mouth, his fingers coming away red. He gave Aelin an accusing look but she just grinned and rubbed away what was left of the lipstick.

“You look great,” Lysandra said, then she pointed between them. “I get it. You’re dressed as each other. Clever.”

“Thank you,” Aelin said, tucking into Rowan’s side. “Where’s Aeds?”

Lysandra waved behind her. “Somewhere. You guys have fun, now!” 

She was gone through the crowd and Rowan held onto Aelin’s hand as she led them to the drinks. He spotted Elide and a few other familiar faces, but overall there were a lot of people hadn’t seen before. Aelin waved to people she recognised, saying hello here and there, but she never let go of him. She found him a stool in a corner, letting him sit while she leaned into his chest. Aedion eventually found them, as did Elide and Lysandra, the women begging Aelin to come dance but she declined. 

Rowan could tell that she wanted to, so he leant forward and kissed her cheek. “Go have fun love, I’m fine here.”

She turned to face him then said hopefully. “You could always come dance with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Rowan said, shaking his head. 

Aelin pouted at him but she didn’t push him. “I’ll be back soon I promise.”

True to her word Aelin came back after a few dances, Rowan’s eyes had been drinking her in the whole time and she made sure to send him flirty smiles as she did. That costume combined with the way she moved was nearly driving him insane. But soon after she arrived she was dragged off again for a game of beer pong with Aedion. As a team the two cousins were unstoppable and by the time she wandered back to Rowan again she was definitely a little tipsy. She threw her arms around his neck, leaning fully into him.

“Come dance with me, please?” Aelin begged. 

That smile was almost his undoing but then a voice he actually recognised sounded from behind her.

“There you are. Not surprised to see you hiding in a corner, Whitethorn.”

Looking up Rowan saw Fenrys and Aelin turned to face him as well. 

“You made it!” She exclaimed.

It was then that Rowan took in exactly what Fenrys was wearing… or not wearing. He had worn most of his work uniform, just about everything except his shirt. Even with the jacket over the top Rowan could tell that he’s taken care to oil up his bare chest beneath, only ever so slightly covered by his suspenders. He lent his elbow on Aelin’s shoulder, and looking at the two of them they were the ones that looked like they had come dressed to match.

Fenrys tilted his head. “Who are you supposed to be? Clark Kent?”

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest but it was Aelin who answered. “No he’s a teacher. You get it?”

“Oh, yep yep. I get it,” Fenrys said nodding. “You’ve swapped professions. And, might I just say Miss Galathynius, you make a fine firefighter.” 

Aelin shoved him. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

Getting a drink turned into a few dances, followed by a game of magnetic darts and then at least three songs worth of awful karaoke. In between the activities Aelin and Fenrys wandered away from each other, but always seemed to find the other again. At one point Fenrys came over to drop off his jacket now that he was getting a little warm, Rowan had even rolled his sleeves up to his elbows for a little relief.

Rowan fixed his coworker with a look. “You know you’re not supposed to wear your uniform outside of work.”

Fenrys’ reply was a shrug and a grin.

“You look like a stripper,” Rowan added and Fenrys let out an incredulous laugh.

“We all gotta live a little sometimes,” Fenrys said before disappearing to Aelin’s side again.

Rowan felt himself getting more sullen by the second, watching how Aelin and Fenrys smiled and had fun together. It was moments like this that Rowan wished he was more… sociable. More willing to put himself out there in situations like this, but instead he was sitting in a dark corner by himself, with only Fenrys’ jacket for company. Aelin wandered back to him, her hands immediately going to his face to make her look at him.

“What is it?” She asked him.

“It’s nothing,” Rowan said and she tried to shake Aelin off but she kept hold of him and just lent in closer.

“What. Is. It.”

Rowan sighed. “It looks like you have more fun with him than with me.”

Aelin smirked. “And him meaning Fenrys.”

Rowan nodded.

That smirk turned into a coy smile and she slotted herself between his legs, his hands finding her waist. “Well maybe if you got off this stool and came out to play.”

Rowan started to frown but Aelin kept his attention. “Hey, I’m kidding. I get it. Funny thing is that I invited him so you would have someone to talk to. Maybe I should have invited Lorcan instead, except he’d never say yes to me.” Rowan managed a laugh at that. “And I definitely don’t have more fun with Fen, trust me.” Aelin added earnestly.

“It certainly looks like it,” Rowan grumbled.

Aelin slid that much closer, her mouth right by his ear. “Oh yeah? Well, would I ever let him…”

She whispered in his ear, so close the breath that accompanied her words tickled his skin, making him break out in goosebumps. They were words that described something obscene about sliding on fire poles, on his fire pole to be exact. When she pulled away Aelin’s smile was feline and Rowan felt his cheeks heat.

“Can we go now, please?” Rowan’s voice was nowhere near as smooth or confident as he wanted it to be.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Aelin said. Rowan stood and went to take his glasses off but Aelin stopped him, her hands running up his arms to where his sleeves were rolled up. “You’ll be leaving those on. All night, if you please, Mr Whitethorn.” 

~~~~~

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silliness. 

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[trentaafcsblog]

Writing Challenge - Random

“Is that...my shirt?” - Harry Winks

Thank you to the lovely @penguintransporter for this one 🤍

There’s a drizzle in the air, misty and almost intangible, and the wind that carries it is gentle, but cold, feeling fresh against his freckled skin. His hair is slightly wet, the tips stick to his forehead, and he feels like he should probably find a cover under some roof on the side of the pavement, but he doesn’t do it, afraid that she won’t see him if he steps away.

It’s a quiet Thursday afternoon, almost too quiet, and the only sound he can hear is the loud laughter from the nearby pub where the regulars are getting rowdier and merrier with every pint they consume as the aroma from the nearby chippy shop along the street fills his nostrils and makes his stomach grumble.

Hopefully, she’ll be here soon.

Not long after his stomach voices yet another complaint, he notices her while she crosses the road, for a second blending in with the crowd of Londoners, and he smiles to himself as he takes his hands out of his fish-tail parka pockets – excitement filling up his stomach, and he suddenly feels no hunger any more.

“Bloody hell, Winksy,” she stops in front of him, shaking her head as she tries to shake off the excess raindrops out of her hair, “what is this weather? Didn’t we settle for today because it was supposed to be sunny? Can we go back to Spain or wherever they have sun every day?”

Harry grins.

“Hello to you to Sophie. I’ve been alright, thanks for asking. Yourself?” he teases subtly, making her look up at him with a grin, and something inside of him shifts.

“Won’t you look at the lack of my manners, huh? Hi, Harry! It’s been a while, no?” she responds – her words mumbled as he brings her into his arms for a quick hug, aware that the surface of his jacket is wet from the rain.

As he pulls away, he unzips his parka and takes out a beanie hat from the inside pocket before pulling the zip back, all the way to his chin. “Here,” he murmurs as they start walking along the Bermondsey Street and towards their favourite coffee spot, “it’s not exactly an umbrella, but it’ll do until we get inside. Keeps that bird’s nest of yours dry,” he adds to make it more light-hearted.

“And what about you?” Sophie inquires as she looks up at him, blinking away the raindrops that were trapped in between her eyelashes. “Plus, this feels freakishly expensive. Is it merino wool? I am afraid I will stretch it. Take it back, Harry, I know I will stretch it.”

“Sophie, you’re rambling,” Harry points out, sticking his hands back into his pockets, “just put it on, or I will be forced to do it myself. It’s just a hat.”

Sophie doesn’t say anything but smiles before putting the beanie on, gently pulling it over her ears until they were neatly tucked in.

Harry and Sophie have known each other for a bigger portion of their lives – way before they realised that one cannot get cooties by kissing someone, and way before they acknowledged the fact that being adult is not as cool as they thought it would be. Harry was five and Sophie four years old when they met for the first time, tagging along with their fathers to one of their regular pints-before-the-match meetings around Hertfordshire.

Sophie was an odd-ball, with fine, straight cut hair – a bit chubby and with pale cheeks that were constantly stained with a blush while Harry was a lanky, hyperactive boy who was able to recite all the strikers that ever played for the England’s National Team.

Growing up, week after week, they kept tagging along, sometimes actually eager to watch the match, but mostly just running around the dark pub, knocking over things and making other people and pub-owners annoyed with their antics, but, once the tiredness overpowered them, they always ended up doing one thing – sitting together in between their fathers, drinking juice and sharing a packet of crisps.

Twenty years later, despite growing up, changing interests and music tastes, schools and extracurricular activities, neither Sophie nor Harry forgot how strong their friendship was when they were kids. Even if they had different circles of friends, schedules and timetables, ambitions and aspirations, they always made sure to at least devote one day in a month for one-another.

“How’s school?” Harry asks as he walks back from the till where he had been picking up their drinks – a flat white for himself and some weird mocha-something for her, but before he has time to set the mugs down on the wooden table, he stops in his tracks, watching Sophie shrug her coat off. “Is that… my shirt?” he asks as the warmth fills up his body, and he feels his stomach do a flip.

Sophie blushes and sits down before pulling on the sleeves of Harry’s Champion’s crewneck. “Yeah,” she admits,  smoothing the collar a little, “it somehow ended up in my suitcase when we got back from the holidays, and I forgot to return it.” Sophie smiles as she takes a sip of her drink.

“Forgot or didn’t want to?” Harry teases as his mind goes back to their last trip to Mallorca together, a year ago – a trip where Harry realised that Sophie wasn’t the same chubby, pink cheeks, and missing front tooth girl he used to play tag with in a dimly lit pubs.

“Both,” Sophie responds, looking away, trying to hide her blush from Harry’s curious eyes, but he notices it and tries to hide his smile.

Harry has always had a soft spot for Sophie, and if asked to why, he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to give an answer. Maybe it was the fact that they met at such young age, or maybe it was the constant prodding and poking of their mothers, subtly hinting that they would be a perfect couple. He couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, recently it only became stronger, and it made him feel a certain kind of excitement whenever he texted her, whenever they face-timed one another, and whenever he knew that she was watching him from the stands, wearing a shirt with his name on the back.

“It looks as if it has stopped raining,” Sophie murmurs as they both look through the window of the cafe where they had been sitting for the past three hours, chatting their afternoon away.

Harry nods, glancing at her and lets his eyes linger on her for a second, watching her observe the clearing sky on the outside, and his stomach makes that familiar flip yet again. “Do you want to go somewhere for a pint? I probably shouldn’t, but I fancy one.”

“Only if you buy me a packet of crisps,” Sophie smiles, and he pulls a face at her, but he knows that he would buy her the world, if she asked him to. They quickly get up, putting their coats back on, and  he makes sure to hold the doors open for her before they step out in, now, with sun streaked London street. Sophie sighs happily as they start walking before reaching out the beanie towards him. “Thanks, but I don’t think I will be needing this from now on. But if you’re wondering what to get me for upcoming Christmas, I am letting you know that one of these, merino, alpaca or whatever hats might be a good idea, but it doesn’t have to be fan—,”

“—Careful!” Harry interrupts and Sophie yelps a little as he pulls her closer to his side.

“Jesus,” she whispers – side of her face still pressed against his side.

Harry is grinning now as he looks down at her. “Sorry, but you almost stepped into a huge puddle. See there, and I have no spare socks to borrow you if you get yours wet.”

“Oh,” Sophie breathes out, but quickly feels the temperature rise in her body as she glances at where Harry was holding her hand in his, and it makes him stop as well – his boyish smile disappearing for a second, but he never drops his hold on her hand. Instead, he intertwines their fingers together – his thumb stroking over her soft skin before he smiles again.

“I like this,” he mumbles, “I don’t know about you, Sophie, but it feels nice. Can we hold hands for a bit longer?”

Sophie is quiet, looking down at her shoes as she tries to gather her thoughts, but she doesn’t need to say anything in the first place because her blush is answering all the spoken and unspoken questions.

“I like it too, and I’d love to hold hands with you,” she answers, and Harry only grins as they start walking again – hand in hand, and with their stomachs filled with thousands of little butterflies, dancing on the beat of their hearts.

This imagine is in collaboration with Cancer Research UK 💗 please feel free to follow the link if you would like to donate, but as always, there is no obligation 🦋 if you’ve got the time, then please have a little look at their website and check out the amazing work that they do 🤍 they also have an online shop where you can buy products for yourself (mugs, notebooks, blankets) or something for those affected by Breast Cancer (anxiety help books, mastectomy bras, support cushions) - all of which have the option to be donated to out to those affected by the disease if they can’t afford these things themselves, or would prefer to receive something physical instead of a donation, with all of the proceeds going directly to the same causes as general donations x

[chiafett-moved]

Using all the clones from ur high school au, what kind of civ clothing do you think they'd wear?

Okay okay okay I took some time and went to TOWN on this one so clone clothes below the cut

Fox:

First and foremost, Fox has his own pinterest board. There’s not much in the way of clothes there, but yeah. 

Lots of red and black

Hoodies and jeans. Jeans and hoodies. Hoodies and Jeans

If you saw the shape of my body No You Didn’t 😁

Someone help him

Always dressed as though it’s approximately 20C. Sort of like a comic character who wears variations of the same outfit.

For someone who hates being perceived, he does wear some tight clothes

Overall, sort of unintentionally punk/emo and tired

Lip, tongue, and ear piercings

Hunter:

Also has two pinterest boards (butch AU and normal)

Cottagecore farmer. Lots of neutral tones and loose, soft fabrics

Loves knit things

Very picky about texture and fit. If it’s tight, it gets donated

Wears things until they fall apart. This does not take long

Soft, waterproof, ankle-high hiking boots that he wears everywhere

L a y e r s 

Constantly putting his hair up or taking it down

Very concerned with taking care of his curls (and for good reason; they’re gorgeous)

Farmer’s tan n freckles

Tech:

Business casual some days, absolute trash others. There is no rhyme or reason. 

If Hunter’s all about consistency, Tech is the opposite (autism vs ADHD in a nutshell lmfao)

Pockets are a must

He has a messenger bag a la Spencer Reid 

Big ol’ glasses with a thick enough lens that you can see behind him if you look at the right angle

Converse

Has these awful graphic tees from the time he went to Goodwill with Hunter

Wrecker:

Big comfy sweaters like those ones they sell at Old Navy

Walking hug with steel-toed boots

He has trouble finding XXL Tall clothes that aren’t Barbecue Dad™ so he takes what he can get 

Rips the knees of pants first

Rips the tags out of everything

Cannot match colors to save his life and hasn’t yet figured out the Hunter tactic of just owning neutral things

He has a lot of fun hats

Carhartt short sleeve shirts and jeans with sharpie and paint on them

If he can’t move in it, he doesn’t want it

Big fan of open short-sleeve button downs over tees

Constantly asking Tech to hold things for him (they get lost in the Bottomless Messenger Bag)

Crosshair:

Typical teenage boy with a side of edgy

You know those joggers with the puffy knees or the cargo pockets? Big wearer of those

Sneaker Snob

Once he dressed up for a school event and he looked so good but pretended not to notice

Big City Gay energy

Constantly has a pack of cigarettes on him, so he’s got to have a pocket for them. He’s got to have a pocket, right? I just can’t see it from here. There must be a pocket because otherwise where is he getting those he’s pulling them out of nowhere send reinforcements—

Steals Hunter’s worn-out, oversized flannels but he’s a tall bitch so they’re pretty normal on him. How is he making them look so edgy?

Dogma:

Wears the same outfit a concerning amount. Like, you don’t notice anything and then all the sudden he’s been wearing the same thing for two weeks. Doesn’t smell bad or anything, though, so ?????

Always put together, but in that way that’s kind of fraying around the edges

I don’t really know how to describe his clothes beyond a sort of vibe? Idk

He’s a really skinny guy and he loves clothes with angular shapes and hard edges, so he kind of looks like a stick figure with really cool geometric designs

He tries to look sort of formal and aloof, but it doesn’t work

His Manic Art Kid vibe is visible from space, though

He looks cute but in a freshman kind of way. Like, “aww, look at him!”

But also radiates the kind of energy that makes people highly concerned

Many ear piercings and one eyebrow piercing

Tall gangly and intimidating

Always carrying his backpack

Tup:

Basically Dogma but with softer edges and rounder shapes

The Ridiculously Well-Adjusted Art Kid

Always has paint somewhere

Looks like a mess but makes it work

Messy buns

Big fan of overalls and colorful shirts

Likes long sleeves

Converse out the ass, but in a ton of different colors

Big sweaters

People forget he’s tall and Stronk because the way he dresses makes him look small (oversized things do that)

Got his ears pierced when Dogma got his third helix, but let them close

Stacked bracelets

Echo:

Somehow soft punk meets varsity kid? He makes it work

Khaki pants but cool 

Open zip-up hoodies and comfy, well-fitting tee shirts

Sneakers only, unless he has to be fancy

Sometimes wears fingerless gloves and refuses to explain why

Undercut

No I lied sometimes he wears stompy boots just because they’re at odds with the rest of his aesthetic

Basically big calm comfy vibes without looking sloppy or informal

Will wear button downs as normal shirts with jeans

Likes to do the graphic tee over thermal shirt thing

Joggers

SKATER BOY. That’s the word I was thinking of. Soft skater boy (he and Fives both skate)

Fives:

Band tees and jeans 

Not a fan of shorts. Has anyone ever seen his legs?

Constantly has this big-ass set of headphones around his neck

Beanies

Also a graphic tee and thermal shirt layerer

Rarely not wearing jeans

Sometimes wears pajamas to school specifically to piss off teachers

Snapbacks

Paints his nails a variety of colors, but mostly black. Somehow the polish is always chipped

Big wearer of Vans, actually is a skater

Tears through the elbows of his jeans jackets falling 

Cody:

Gay smart kid. Debate team captain. Soccer captain. Looks better than you. Looks better than the teachers. Could kill you. 

He wears a lot of half-zips and khakis, but makes it look less nerdy than usual

Sports paraphernalia helps. Hard to look nerdy when the zip-up you’re wearing is from wrestling Nationals

When he wears tee-shirts, they’re always tight? Does he buy them a size small on purpose? (yes, yes he does)

Collector of those really nice zip-up hoodies with the geometric designs that make them look really nice and neat

Actually wears sunglasses when it’s sunny

Has never been seen in a hat

Neyo:

Oh god oh fuck DIY punk? He’s oh god he’s

Neyo my dear that sweatshirt is falling apart

Neyo is. Troubled and in a Bad home. His clothing choices reflect this. 

He does not want to touch or be touched and he wants to look cool doing it

Stoner kid but Spiky

And also he doesn’t actually smoke

Wears combat boots that look like they’ve seen blood

Skinny jeans bc he’s edgy and cool

Patch pants/vest

Also has a pinterest board

Bacara:

Bland depressed kid. Jeans and dark hoodies

Seriously he’s just trying to vibe. He wants to be comfy and he doesn’t want to draw a ton of attention

Black converse

Constantly has a farmer’s tan

Not a fan of short sleeves

Thinks Neyo looks ridiculous

Has never been dress coded in his life 

Seriously Bacara’s idea of spicing up an outfit is wearing like. A polo. 

[softlass27]

whoops, this is long after midnight. oh well!

Robron Week Day 6: Family

Fed up with Chas and Paddy fighting in front of Eve yet again, Aaron decides to take her away for the day.

AO3 link here

“Ah, shit,” Robert muttered, frowning at the bread bag in his hands.

Aaron looked up from where he was shoving an extra bottle on suncream into a bag. “What’s up?”

“Bread’s gone mouldy.”

“What, already?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I’ll nip to David’s and get some fresh – ”

“He’s closed the shop today, remember? Him and Eric have that family do on.”

“Okay, we’ll just have to stop at Tesco or something and buy some sandwiches.”

“Or you could nip to the pub and see if Marlon’ll make us some? Maybe those chicken and avocado ones he’s started doing?”

Aaron sighed and set the bag down. “Seriously?”

“What?” Robert shrugged innocently. “They’ll be nicer than some shop-bought ones.”

“Why do I have to go?”

“Look, if you go now, I’ll get the rest of the food sorted and handle getting Seb ready. Deal?”

“Fine.”

Aaron power-walked up to the pub, checking the time on his phone as he went. It was a bright, sunny Saturday morning – the first warm weekend of the year – so they’d decided to take Seb to the beach for the day.

The pub wasn’t due to open for another couple of hours, so Aaron bypassed the main entrance and went straight for the back door, only to stop short at the sight in front of him. There on the doorstep sat Eve, still in her pyjamas with her knees pulled up to her chin and tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, squirt.” He approached her slowly, keeping his voice soft. “What’s with the tears?”

Eve just shrugged, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

Aaron crouched down to her level, lightly chucking her under the chin.

“Come on, what’s the matter? Has something happened? Someone upset you?”

She hesitated for a moment, before getting to her feet and pushing the door open to step inside. Aaron followed her and was immediately assaulted with the sounds of his mum’s furious shouts coming from upstairs, loud enough to echo through the house. They were soon followed by Paddy shouting back just as angrily, his voice high-pitched and defensive.

Aaron sighed and picked Eve up for a cuddle. “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” she said into the fabric of his t-shirt, breath hitching. “Mummy’s been cross with Daddy since last night.”

“For god’s sake.” Aaron muttered through gritted his teeth, scowling as her carried her into the back room.

His mum and Paddy had sworn to him that this sort of thing would stop, that if they had to fight, they’d at least make sure Eve wasn’t around to see or hear it. He set her down in front of the TV, where Saturday morning cartoons were playing.

“Okay, I have to speak to Uncle Marlon really quick, then I’ll be right back. Wait here, alright?”

He darted through to the pub’s kitchen, where Marlon was preparing food with the radio blaring. When he caught sight of Aaron in the doorway he jumped a mile and scrambled to switch it off.

“God, make a noise, would you?”

“Yeah, sorry. Can I ask a favour?”

Marlon sighed heavily, putting his peeler down on the counter. “I suppose?”

“Me n’ Robert need some sarnies but our bread’s mouldy and David’s is shut. I was wonderin’ if you wouldn’t mind whipping us up a few?”

“Sorry, you think I have the free time to just make you and your husband a packed lunch?”

“It’s not like the pub’s open yet.”

“I’m still busy!” Marlon threw his hands in the air. “Just because there’s no customers doesn’t mean I don’t have meals to prep, do you know how long it takes to do ratatouille?”

“… I don’t even know what that is. Please, you’ll be doin’ us a massive favour, I’ll owe you one.”

Marlon held out for about five seconds, before rolling his eyes and grabbing the bread. “Fine. How many am I making for?”

“Three.” There was a sudden loud thump from upstairs, the sound of something being shoved or thrown to the floor, shortly followed by the loudest shout yet.

“They’ve been at it all morning,” Marlon grumbled irritably. “That's why I had the radio on so loud.”

Aaron glanced up at the ceiling, thinking quickly.

“Y’know what, make that enough sandwiches for four, actually.”

He left the kitchen without waiting for an answer and returned to the back room.

“Hey, how d’you fancy a day at the beach with me, Rob and Seb?”

Eve’s head whipped away from the TV to look at him, her eyes lighting up hopefully. “Today?”

“Yep, we can go right now. What d’you think?”

“Yes!”

They went to Eve’s room upstairs so Aaron could help her get ready, digging some beachwear and a swimming costume out of her wardrobe and doing his best to distract her every time the sounds of shouting from behind her parents’ closed bedroom door increased in volume.

“Oh no,” Eve froze as Aaron tied her shoelaces for her, looking at him with alarm. “I don’t have a bucket and spade.”

“That’s alright, we can get you a bucket and spade when we get there.”

“Will they have pink ones?”

“I’m sure they will.”

Picking her back up with one hand and grabbing her backpack with the other, he tiptoed down the stairs and made his way back to the kitchen.

“Those sandwiches ready, Marlon?”

“Here you go.” Marlon handed over a tupperware box. “There’s some leftover crisps in there, too.”

“Cheers, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Marlon!” Eve waved her current favourite stuffed bear at him with excitement. “I’m goin’ to the beach!”

“Wow, lucky you!” Marlon grinned at her. “Alright for some.”

Aaron let her slide down to the floor and passed her the tupperware. “Why don’t you go wait by the door for me, yeah?”

Eve nodded and exited the kitchen, holding onto the sandwiches tightly.

“Do, er, do Chas and Paddy know you’re taking her?”

“Nope.”

“Is that wise? Not letting them know?”

“Marlon, they were so busy tearing strips off each other they didn’t even notice me comin’ upstairs and getting her ready to leave with me.” He sighed heavily. “They can’t keep doing this in front of her, it’s not fair. I couldn’t just leave her sitting around by herself, not with all that goin’ on.”

Marlon chewed his lip. “I suppose you’re right. I always tried to keep my relationship problems hidden from April when she was that age – not that I always managed it,” he added with a slightly sad smile. “I wish those two would try a bit harder sometimes. Eve’s lucky to have you for a brother, honestly.”

“Cheers, Marlon. And good luck with your rata-whatever.”

“Ratatouille.”

“Yeah, that.”

He led Eve outside, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping on his mum’s contact. It took a few rings before she answered.

“Hi love, now’s not really a good time – ”

“This won’t take long,” Aaron cut her off sharply. “Just thought I’d let you know that Eve’s with me, I’m takin’ her out for the day.”

There was a short silence, followed by a noise of confusion. “Wait, what? What do you mean she’s with you? She’s downstairs watching cartoons.”

“She was, but now I’ve got her. I’ll bring her back sometime tonight.” He glanced at Eve, who was playing with her bear a couple of feet away, and lowered his voice. “Or I can always just let her stay over at mine, if you and Paddy need some more time to hurl abuse at each other?”

“What? No, we’re not – I’m just, I’ve been so tired this week, Aaron, and Paddy was getting on my last nerve, you won’t believe what he said to – ”

“Save it, Mum, I really don’t care. I’m just letting you know where your kid is, in case you were interested. Talk to you later.”

He hung up and slid the phone in his pocket, before taking Eve’s hand and leading her towards the Mill. She talked excitedly the entire way, all traces of her earlier upset gone as she babbled about everything she wanted to see and do at the beach.

They entered the Mill to find Robert and Seb sitting on the sofa, shoes on and ready to go.

“Hey,” Aaron kicked the door closed behind him. “Room for one more?”

Robert’s eyes briefly flickered down to Eve before he looked back at Aaron. They held each other’s gaze for a split-second, before Robert nodded in understanding.

“Course there is.” He got to his feet and grinned at Eve. “Come on then, sooner we get there, sooner we can get started on the world biggest sandcastle.”

Seb whooped loudly and took off outside, grabbing Eve’s hand as he went, the two of them chatting animatedly to each other as they dashed for the car.

“Your mum and Paddy at it again?” Robert asked quietly.

“Yelling loud enough to make the windows shatter. She might need to stay over tonight if that’s okay?”

Robert sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Like you have to ask. Come on, we'd better get a move on before Seb tries to drive off without us.”

*

The four of them had a great day. They managed to snag themselves a decent spot on the sand, with enough space for them to build what did turn out to be a pretty epic sandcastle. They took the kids paddling and rock pool exploring, Aaron kicked a football about with Seb while Robert helped Eve look for seashells. And when the kids were happy enough playing with each other, Aaron got to stretch out in the sun next to Robert, sighing contentedly as his husband played with his hair with one hand and held a book with the other.

Saturdays didn't get much better than that. Aaron must’ve snapped about a hundred photos on his phone, saving a great one of Robert with his freckles coming out in full force as his new wallpaper.

As the afternoon drew to a close, they packed up their things and wandered along the seafront until they found a nice-looking pub on the seafront, deciding to stop there for their tea before heading back home. Since the air was still warm, they parked themselves on one of the outdoor tables, a young waitress bringing out a couple of children’s menus and crayons for them.

While they waited for their order to arrive, Eve started using the crayons on the colouring-in section of the menu, tongue poking out in concentration, while Seb pulled a few handfuls of rocks and pebbles out of his pocket, pouring them onto the table.

“Dad, are any of these fossils?”

“Let’s have a look.”

Aaron spread them out and the two of them bent their heads over each one, Aaron showing Seb what to look for. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eve repeatedly pushing her hair out of her eyes with increasing frustration, only for the coastal breeze to blow it back in her face again, blocking her view of the picture she was trying to colour.

“Rob, can you get – ?”

Robert nodded and pulled Eve along the bench towards him. “C’mere, let’s get this sorted otherwise you’re gonna end up with a proper bird’s nest.”

He grabbed a hairbrush and a bobble out of one of the bags and started brushing Eve’s hair, doing his best to tame the messy tangle of curls. He’d just finished putting it in a neat-ish plait, when the waitress reappeared with their food. Aaron quickly moved Seb’s rock collection aside so she could put the plates down and Robert picked up Eve’s colourin, carefully folding it and putting it away so she could finish it later.

“Thank you,” Seb said to the waitress when she set his plate down in front of him, keen as ever to talk to adults like he was one of them.

“Fank you!” Eve immediately copied him, even as her mouth was full with a handful of chips she’d already started scoffing.

The waitress smiled fondly at them both. “You’re very welcome.” She glanced towards Aaron and Robert. “Well-mannered, aren’t they?”

“Hm, when they want to be,” Robert said lightly, tucking a napkin into Eve’s collar before she inevitably got ketchup all over her t-shirt.

“You should see them in the mornings,” Aaron added. “Then you might change your tune.”

She just laughed and shook her head. “You have a lovely family.”

Huh.

Aaron froze, eyes flicking to Eve before he looked at Robert, who also had a slightly surprised expression on his face. It was a fair assumption, he supposed – no one would guess he and Eve were siblings, not with their age gap, not when he and Robert were closer in age to most parents than his mum and Paddy were.

“Oh, uh, actually she’s my – ”

“Thank you,” Robert talked over him loudly, mouth upturned in a polite smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

They both shook their heads and she went back into the bar, while the kids both tucked into their food hungrily, oblivious to what had just happened. Aaron slowly picked up his knife and fork, catching Robert’s eye.

“She thought… ”

She thought Eve was ours.

“Yeah.” Robert popped a chip in his mouth, raising an eyebrow at him. “Is that so bad?”

Aaron stared at him for a moment. He thought of his mum and Paddy, probably still back at the pub screaming bloody murder or giving each other the silent treatment, filling the house with a frosty atmosphere. Or perhaps Paddy had stormed out, hiding in the surgery and leaving his mum to stew, oblivious to anyone or anything other than her own anger.

He thought of how Eve would have spent her day if he hadn’t popped into the pub for sandwiches, and felt his stomach turn. She would have spent it stuck in among the tension, miserable and lonely and probably spending her Saturday bored out of her mind. He shot a glance at her now, sitting across from him with a happy smile on her face, cheeks pink from the sun as she nattered away to Seb in-between bites of her food.

“Nah. It’s not.”

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Madarcher fanfic - In which Alice and Robin try on some of OUAT's most iconic gowns

It had been six months since the united realm was created and Alice and Robin had split their time between their two favourite things: exploring and being with the people they love. They had just returned from an adventure that took them through Arendelle and the Southern Isles to Neverland, Avalon and Treasure Island. It had been the perfect opportunity to practice the seafaring skills Nook had been teaching them and they were eager to tell him all about it and hopefully convince him to accompany them next time. Therefore, as soon as they had docked their borrowed vessel at Storybrooke marina they made their way to Alice’s Papa’s new place of work, Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop.

Nook had taken over running the shop shortly after the realms were united as a way to honour his old friend. He also viewed it as an opportunity to get to know people and be connected with the community. It didn’t hurt that organizing the store was essentially a treasure hunt, either. When the little bell above the door rang announcing the girls’ arrival Nook immediately dropped what he was doing to envelope them both in a hug. After touching on how much they missed each other. Alice quickly took hold of the conversation telling her Papa all about her and Robin’s latest adventure. When she was done Nook was beaming.

“I’m glad you ladies had such a wonderful time and were able to put my lessons to good use,” he offered, “and I’m glad your home in time for the ball, I was worried you were going to miss it.”

The ball he was referring to was being organized to celebrate the uniting of the realms. It had been scheduled for the 6-month anniversary of the united realm’s creation in order to give everybody enough time to get settled. When it was first announced Alice had been ecstatic. She had never been to a ball before and looked forward to dressing up all fancy and spending the night enjoying free food and dancing with the people she loved, but her busy adventures had pushed the ball completely out of her mind.

“I completely forgot,” Alice explained.

“Me too,” Robin added, “when is it again?”

“Tonight,” Nook answered, “In five hours, to be exact,” he added, checking his pocket watch.

“So, we have five hours to eat lunch, have showers, buy dresses, and get ready for the ball,” Robin supplied, “and if we want to stay at the ball later than 8pm, I think we’ll need to find time for a nap, because I for one am wiped.”

Alice nodded in agreement. Her face had taken on a look of disappointment as Robin talked but then lit back up.

“Well, it won’t be easy but if anyone can do it, we can. Where should we start?” she asked.

“I think I can help,” Nook offered, “There is a rack of ballgowns in the back that I just finished organizing. I’m sure you can find something suitable among them and while you do, I’ll run across the street to Granny’s and get us all something for lunch.”

“That would be great!” Robin exclaimed

“Thanks Papa,” Alice added, placing a kiss on Nook’s cheek before grabbing her fiancé’s hand and pulling her further into the store.

They found the rack of dresses Nook was referring to without problem and Alice immediately grabbed a handful of hangers and handed them to Robin.

“This will be fun,” Alice exclaimed, “I loved playing dress-up when I was wee but there was never anybody to play with in the tower,” she finished taking a handful of hangers for herself.

Robin had hung the dresses Alice had given her on a hook in one of the newly constructed changerooms.

“Some of these are ridiculous,” Robin said as she thumbed through them. “There’s no way I could wear them to the ball.”

“You can’t know that until you try them on,” Alice replied hanging her own dresses in the changing room across from Robin, “and even if you can’t wear them to the ball, that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun trying them on.”

“Fine,” Robin relented, “but I’m only doing this for you.”

Alice smiled and clapped her hands together. “You’ll enjoy it. Just wait and see,” she said before disappearing behind the curtain.

Robin closed the curtain in front of her own change room and began changing into the dress at the front of her pile. It was blue and looked more like a cupcake or a jellyfish then a ballgown.

She rolled her eyes but put it on determined to make this experience as fun as possible for Alice. Afterall, she remembered spending hours as a kid playing dress up with her friends and Alice deserved those kinds of happy memories too.

When Robin finally got the dress on and emerged from the change room Alice was already waiting for her and upon seeing each other both girls broke into fits of laughter.

Alice’s dress was black and burgundy with exquisitely bedazzled seems and the biggest and spikiest collar Robin had ever seen.

After catching her breath Alice spoke, “I like the colour,” she offered, “and these are kinda cool,” she added running her hand through the streamers hanging from Robin’s skirt.

“and I don’t hate that neckline for you,” Robin offered gesturing to the deep-V of Alice’s dress as a blush covered her cheeks, “but I think we can agree neither of these are a winner.”

Alice nodded, “Well then onto the next,” she said slipping back into her change room.

Robin followed suit. The next dress on her pile was only slightly better than the first but she changed into it excitedly, anticipating Alice’s reaction. Alice’s laugh and smile was all it had taken to energize Robin and get her into the game.

When Robin emerged, she was once again met with that magical laugh.

“Oh my gosh, we look like a bedroom set,” Robin laughed taking in Alice’s white, feathered gown.

It complemented Robin’s red and white dress with a seemingly quilted front, almost perfectly.

“Wait, I have the perfect thing to complete the set,” Alice exclaimed before disappearing back into her change room then reappearing in a large, white fur jacket with red lining.

Robin burst into laughter as Alice twirled to show off her newest accessory.

“We’d definitely be the talk of the town,” Robin offered.

“We could become mascots for Sleepy’s new mattress store,” Alice replied.

“Or we could try on more dresses,” Robin countered

“Deal,” Alice replied disappearing once again behind the changeroom curtain.

Robin was surprised and happy to find her next dress was actually quite pretty. It was shiny purple and strapless with some jewels inlayed on the bodice and a huge skirt.

Alice had once again beat Robin out of the changeroom. She stood waiting in a simple black, beaded dress that highlighted her figure.

(See Cruella's dress above - because I can only have 10 images)

“Wow,” Robin stuttered “You look good, like really good.”

Alice blushed and let out a short laugh, “Thanks, you look gorgeous.”

It was Robin’s turn to flush. “Thanks, it is beautiful, but I just don’t really think it’s me. Too purple. Too poufy. Just too princess. You know?”

Alice nodded. “I like poufy and colourful,” she replied, “this one’s kind of boring,” she added running her hands down her dress.

Robin laughed. “Fair enough. Should we try the next ones?”

Alice agreed and both girls returned to their change rooms. Robin’s next dress was not ball worthy, but she was having so much fun playing dress up with her fiancé she didn’t care. She quickly put it on and was surprised to find that she had beat Alice out of the changeroom. Alice emerged a couple minutes later in a stunning red ballgown with long sleeves.

“I think, that’s the best one yet,” Robin said, “you look beautiful.”

Alice smiled “You too,” she replied, “I like the green on you. It brings out your eyes.”

Robin laughed. “Thanks Al. I like the colour too. But there is no way I can wear this to the ball. It’s way too short.” She emphasized the ‘way’ as she pulled the dress down for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to keep it covering her butt.

“I don’t see the problem.” Alice teased giving Robin an exaggerated wink.

“It’s probably for the best,” Robin pushed on, “if we went like this we’d look like a walking Christmas display.”

Alice shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. Christmas is great. Yummy cookies, snow to play in and lots of time with loved ones. But I don’t think this is the right dress either. Still a little too plain.”

Robin nodded. “In that case, onto the next.”

Robin was down to the last dress Alice had handed her. She stepped out of the change room at the exact same time as Alice and they immediately both stopped.

“That’s the one,” they exclaimed in unison as their eyes landed on each other.

“I know,” they both replied.

Robin gestured for Alice to spin and she obliged. Her gown was shiny blue, with a big, poufy skirt and covered in decorative embellishments.

“You look wonderful,” Robin said, “that one really suits you.”

Alice was beaming. “Ya, I think it’s a winner,” she said admiring herself in the mirror. “But enough about me. Look at you. Talk about beaty and elegance.”

Robin’s dress was gold, with a skirt that was long but not too poufy and an embellished neckline with off the shoulder sleeves.

Robin smiled. “It is pretty beautiful. But the real question is can we move in them.” She offered a hand to Alice. “May I have this dance.”

“Why. Of course.” Alice answered in her poshest tone.

They started by simply swaying back and forth but as they continued to dance the moves became more and more elaborate. By the time Nook returned with the food they were spinning and dipping each other all over the store.

“Save something for the ball,” he said coming through the door.

The girls stopped dancing immediately, distracted by the delicious smell wafting from the carry-out.

“You both look beautiful,” he offered, “I might even have to give you those dresses on the house.”

Alice and Robin smiled and shared their thanks before heading back to the changerooms while Nook set up the food.

30 minutes later. They were leaving the pawnshop with full stomachs and two beautiful dresses and three hours after that they were rested, showered, dolled up and on their way to the ball to dance the night away.

[pinnithin]

invited home

This started as a “haha funnie gman eat a pizza” fic and turned into a soft little story about family. 3406 words.

Remembering etiquette was, perhaps, the hardest part of this.

The “hardest part of this” changed pretty frequently — often associated with whatever he was dealing with at the time. The week that took Gordon’s hand and very nearly his life was several months behind him, but he still heard the echoes of the Resonance Cascade in little things as the days passed. He heard it in the low hum of the air conditioner in his window and the backfire of a tailpipe outside. He kept the lights on at night and heard the echoes in his sleep.

It would never really go away, he guessed.

The best he could do, dealing with the hardest part of whatever his day brought him, was to simply keep living. A clockwork routine grounded him. He did normal things like buy groceries and hike in the county foothills - sometimes alone, sometimes with Tommy. Black Mesa and all the horrors it held may have broken the two of them, but they were slowly putting the pieces of each other back together.

So it shouldn’t have surprised him when he invited him to dinner with his father, right?

They were... well, they were something. Gordon found it difficult to call Tommy his boyfriend when they’d crash landed straight from acquaintances to partners in Black Mesa. The guy was the only reason Gordon was still alive, and he felt that he’d be repaying that act of kindness for the rest of his days. That sort of unwarranted devotion wasn’t exactly grounds for a normal courtship.

But this is what people did. They bought groceries and went for walks and had dinner with family. Tommy was offering this ritual to Gordon in an attempt to ground him, just like he helped him establish his other routines. It was in his best interest to take it.

The one story adobe in Sandia Heights was far more nondescript than Gordon was expecting, fitted cozily into the neighborhood on a street named Desert Finch Lane. It was evening, and the setting sun washed the walls a soft pink. The front lawn was xeriscaped with a bed of gravel and some strategic placements of yucca and saguaro, and a straight stone path marched right up to the front door. Gordon checked his phone one more time before he exited his vehicle - this house seemed far too normal to belong to someone like Tommy’s father.

No, the address Tommy sent him matched the numbers on the mailbox. Briefly, he glanced over the rest of the conversation as he reached with a free hand to kill the ignition.

T: Only if you want to! I know the last time you spoke was kind of weird... G: its fine it was a weird day haha G: no yeah id love to though G: do i need to bring anything? T: :D T: I guess you can if you want? It’s not going to be fancy or anything - we’ll probably order takeout. T: We just like to get together every month or so to catch up and I wanted to bring you along this time! No pressure. G: oh is this like G: a family thing? T: Well, yeah. Is that okay? G: its great! just checking G: see you then

T: :) T: See you.

A smile touched his mouth. Tommy rarely asked Gordon for anything, so he knew this was important to him even if he downplayed it. Gordon wouldn’t say he was a fan of Tommy’s father, but if Tommy wanted him to smooth things over after the Black Mesa incident, well, he’d try. For him, he’d try.

He didn’t know if Tommy’s father drank, so he passed on the wine, deciding instead that one can never go wrong with garlic bread. His eyes fell to the loaf he’d picked up from Albertson’s on his way over, still warm and wrapped in a foil package in the passenger seat.  He’d done the meet-the-parents dance a few times before - a lifetime ago, it felt - but none of his partners had ever mattered this much to him, and none of their fathers had ever been gods.

Remembering etiquette, he reflected, was the hardest part of this.

He slid out of the car, taking the bread with him, and marched up to the front door. It was painted a bright turquoise with the word Bienvenidos scripted across the middle in white decal letters. This struck him as odd, because Tommy’s father didn’t seem the type to care about suburban design motifs, but he only hesitated a moment before raising a fist to rap his knuckles on the door.

Only a few seconds passed before the door swung open, and relief rolled over Gordon when he saw it was Tommy in the doorway. He was dressed in his usual button up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and he smiled like a sunrise. Gordon grinned back. He didn’t think the rush of affection that overtook him every time he laid eyes on the man would ever really fade. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Tommy answered, still smiling. “Come on in.”

He stepped back to allow Gordon entry, and his presence somewhat quelled Gordon’s trepidation as he crossed the threshold into Mr. Coolatta’s house. 

“I hope garlic bread is okay,” he said as Tommy shut the door behind him. His eyes caught the neat line of shoes in the entryway, and he began jimmying his sneakers off. “I wasn’t sure what we were having.”

“It’s perfect,” Tommy answered, turning from the door. He watched Gordon attempting to remove his shoes without the help of his hands with a hint of amusement. “Um, do you want me to take that?” he asked, indicating the bread.

“I’ve got it,” Gordon muttered distractedly, finally kicking off one shoe and then the other. “You didn’t grow up here, did you?”

Tommy watched the sneakers go flying down the hall, a laugh in his eyes, but he didn’t comment. “God, no,” he answered. “Dad downsized a couple years ago.” He paused, flicking a brief look around the room, before adding, “He decorated the place himself.”

Gordon followed Tommy’s gaze. It looked like a house, at a glance. There were throw pillows on the leather couch and an artificial plant rested tastefully on the coffee table. Picture frames and various ornaments adorned the mantle, functionally useless objects stuffed between photos of the Coolatta family through the years. His eyes caught a decorative globe, some pillar candles, and a geometric silver figurine before landing on a sunny portrait of a smiling child - Tommy, he guessed. A wall hanging of colorful overlapping rectangles covered the space next to the south window.

All at once, Gordon felt he was in a place that was trying very hard to be a house, without quite knowing what a house’s qualifying factors were. Aside from the photos, the only clue to the owner’s tastes was the record player against the far wall, crackling out music from a time period Gordon didn’t recognize. Something with a strange time signature and a dreamlike melody. It was possible the song was from an era that had not yet happened.

He looked back to Tommy and found him studying his face. “It’s nice,” he offered summarily.

Tommy laughed quietly through his nose. “I think he just went to the home decor section of Target and picked out some stuff he liked,” he said.

“Oh,” Gordon replied. “Y’know, now that you say it - yeah. Yeah, I can see that.” 

Tommy didn’t exactly look uncomfortable with Gordon’s presence in his father’s house, but he didn’t seem wholly relaxed either. The set of his shoulders betrayed him, as did his hands, which fidgeted at the seams of his pockets before extending to take the bread from him.

“Here, let me - we can put this in the kitchen,” he said, gesturing behind him. 

It was possible that etiquette slipped his mind as frequently as it did Gordon’s, and that made him feel a little better about the whole thing. He should have assumed as much - he and Tommy both used the skeleton of routine to prop themselves up, despite the fact that they found social rules tiresome at best. A necessary framework for people like them. Gordon allowed Tommy to take the package from his arms and followed him down the hall. 

The kitchen was a little more homey, if only for the healthy clutter of appliances on the counter. Two boxes from Dion’s Pizza sat on the island, and seeing them pulled an audible sigh of relief from Gordon.

Tommy noticed. “Yeah, we’re not - we don’t cook a lot around here,” he admitted, sliding the package of garlic bread next to the pizza.

“That makes me feel better about bringing over store bought bread,” Gordon chuckled. “Where’s uh,” he darted a glance around the room, as if the man in question would materialize if he mentioned him aloud. “Where’s your dad at, anyway?”

“Oh, he’s...” Tommy finished his sentence with a vague wave of his hand. “He’ll show up sooner or later.”

He didn’t seem concerned, as if his father disappearing to another time and place arbitrarily was something that happened a lot. It made sense - Tommy was self-sufficient to the point of being an outright loner - and Gordon guessed that Mr. Coolatta’s inhuman qualities probably didn’t lend to a very warm upbringing.

Tommy was watching him, observant as always. “He’s not really a bad person,” he said at length. “He just… he sees things differently.”

“Shit, man,” Gordon laughed and shook his head. “Sometimes I think you can read my mind.”

“Oh, I never told you?” Tommy responded, raising his eyebrows impishly. 

He didn’t seem to want to discuss his father any further, so Gordon laughed at Tommy’s joke and didn’t press it. They fell into a comfortable discussion, standing together in the kitchen and waiting on the third member of their little party. This part Gordon knew how to do - speaking with Tommy always felt like coming home, and while they were still learning things about each other, he never felt any pressure to behave in a way that wasn’t his whole, genuine self. He saw the slope of Tommy’s shoulders slowly relaxing while they talked, and felt himself mirroring him as the minutes ticked by.

Tommy’s father materialized in the time it took for Gordon to blink, one moment absent and the next present. Spooked, Gordon jumped slightly at his appearance, while Tommy uttered an unaffected and congenial, “hey, Dad.”

Mister Coolatta stood under the kitchen lights exactly how Gordon remembered him. His suit was as smooth and clean as his hair,  and he wondered if the man even thought about wearing anything else, much less owned a varied wardrobe. Tommy’s father was, in many ways, like Tommy himself. Tall and neat and watchful. Seeing them side by side, it was easier to envision them as family, and Gordon no longer wondered where Tommy picked up his carefully neutral expression from.

The man in the suit fixed his cool gaze on Gordon. “Mister Freeman,” he said. “It is, hm, good to see you again.”

Gordon extended a hand before he could lose his nerve. This was what people did. And while Tommy’s father may not necessarily be a person, that was no reason for Gordon to deny him the courtesy of a handshake.

“You too, sir,” he answered. “Happy to be here.”

Tommy’s father paused for a moment, studying Gordon’s outstretched hand with interest. “I trust the hand hasn’t been giving you trouble since your little incident?”

“Uh,” Gordon faltered only for a moment. “No. It’s been just fine.”

“Dad,” Tommy intoned quietly, passing a glance between his father and Gordon.

This spurred the man in the suit to recall etiquette, himself, and then Gordon was shaking hands with a god.

It was surprisingly normal, all things considered. His grip wasn’t quite as solid as Gordon expected, though that was less a testament to his grip strength than it was to his short-of-corporeal nature. His skin felt like something that was pretending to be skin, and it was the same temperature as the air around them. But he nodded and looked Gordon in the eye like any other man, so he guessed he’d had worse handshakes before in his life. 

Mr. Coolatta released him and angled his head to his son. “Forgive me for my lateness, I… had to take care of some things on the ah, ‘out-side,’ as it were.”

“It’s fine, Dad,”  Tommy answered, then added, “I picked up the pizza.”

His father’s eyes lit on the boxes, seemingly for the first time. “Dion’s,” he observed. “Excellent choice.”

After a short, awkward silence, Gordon blurted, “should we eat?” and Tommy sighed a grateful “yes,” before nudging his father toward the dining room.

As Gordon took a step to gather the pizzas into his arms, he felt Tommy skate his fingers delicately across the inside of his palm. 

“Thank you,” he murmured in his ear, quiet and just for him.

Gordon wasn’t sure what exactly Tommy was thanking him for, but he caught his hand before he could withdraw and gave a reassuring squeeze. He was warm and solid and alive, and it anchored him.

“We got this,” he told Tommy, smiling.

The dining room was another testament to Mr. Coolatta’s decorating tastes. Gordon was not quite successful in withholding a chuckle when he noticed a Live, Laugh, Love sign on the wall, and this earned him a gentle elbow in the ribs from his partner. Tommy was carrying a set of plates and silverware in one hand and some napkins in another.

When Gordon offered to help set the table, Tommy only shook his head mischievously, and the cutlery leapt from his hands on their own.

Right. He was dating a demigod. This was a detail Gordon often forgot about, if only for the fact that Tommy displayed his power in subtle, quiet ways that went unnoticed. Here, however, he had no such reservations.

This was a Tommy Gordon hadn’t gotten to see yet, and he caught himself staring as he set the table without even touching a plate. He handled himself with an ease he didn’t show out in public, manipulating space with a well-practiced comfort that indicated years of doing it this way. A Coolatta ritual, for Coolattas only. Gordon, an outsider, felt his nervousness slowly melt into gratitude at being invited to the table. He understood now - Tommy didn’t want Gordon here just to smooth things over with his father. He wanted to share his life with him, every jigsawed piece of it. 

Conversation was easier than anticipated. Tommy led the discussion at first, updating his father on his new job at the VLA in Socorro. Working with radios in the quiet desert, listening to the stars, seemed to suit him, and the fondness with which he recalled his nighttime shifts alone was genuine. Gordon tucked into his slice of 505 (pepperoni and green chile) and watched Mr. Coolatta’s facial expression as he absorbed the information.

The man sat perfectly still except to give acknowledging nods here and there, and his pizza remained untouched on his plate. At least, that was Gordon’s first assumption, until he realized the slice was gradually disappearing bite by bite every time he looked away. Mr. Coolatta’s face was impassive as always when Gordon gave him a questioning look, and when Tommy didn’t acknowledge the mystical pizza disappearance, he chose not to say anything about it.

“Mister Freeman,” the man in the suit said after a time, turning his swirling gaze on his guest. “It is my under-standing that you… have a new profession, as well?”

Gordon, figuring he’d picked up the “Mister Freeman” thing  from Tommy, didn’t bother to correct him. “Yeah, I’m teaching physics at NMT,” he answered.

He didn’t think he’d enjoy an academic environment all that much, choosing to teach as a backup while he pursued streaming in the meantime, but he was developing a fondness for it. His students were bright individuals, and some of them were just as weird as he was, which kept his days interesting.

Gordon wasn’t one to discuss his new job at length with anyone. It felt strange, after everything he lived through, to complain about something as trivial as grading papers or writing coursework. But Mr. Coolatta was among a handful of individuals who knew exactly what happened to him during his employment at Black Mesa, so he felt what he said next was entirely understood by everyone at the table.

“It’s a nice change of pace,” he added. “Things are better.”

“Yes,” Tommy’s father answered. “I have… heard the same from Tommy. It is, good to know that the two of you are, hm, recovering well.”

His tone was one step away from apologetic, and Gordon was sure he imagined it, but he was touched by the sentiment nonetheless. Tommy smiled softly down at his plate and didn’t say anything. They were recovering well, weren’t they? Finding a place for themselves. Learning how to be human again.

Gordon wasn’t sure, at first, if it would ever be possible. The Resonance Cascade was the worst thing that ever happened to him, but… Tommy was the best thing that ever happened to him. And even with all the complicated emotions that surrounded the Coolatta family, he was happy to be here. He was happy to see that small, private smile cross Tommy’s face. 

The evening concluded with Gordon and Mr. Coolatta getting into a discussion about whether a hotdog was actually a sandwich, with Tommy joining in as moderator and rewarding imaginary points as they each went over their arguments. They wiped out the pizzas handily between the three of them. When Gordon had to excuse himself to begin the drive back to Socorro, Mr. Coolatta initiated another handshake with him. It was only a little less weird the second time. 

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” Tommy offered.

The setting sun bled a soft orange onto the neighborhood as the two of them left the house. Tommy kept his hands in his pockets, just barely brushing shoulders with Gordon as they went.

“Thank you,” he said again.

“Yeah, thanks for inviting me,” Gordon responded. “It was nice.”

They pulled to a stop next to the station wagon. “Sorry Dad’s so…” Tommy trailed off and shrugged. “Like that,” he finished.

His eyes were down, studying the sidewalk as he scuffed the sole of his shoe on the concrete. His expression was drawn, but Gordon could see from the crinkle of his eyes that he was happy with how the night turned out. 

“Hey,” Gordon said.

Tommy’s eyes flicked up to meet his. His gaze was sharp and watchful, cutting Gordon in a way he found he liked.

“Don’t feel like you need to apologize for your dad,” Gordon said. “He’s cool. And I’m… Like, I’m glad you wanted me there. I had a good time,” he rambled further, “and it’s - I haven’t been to dinner with someone in a long time, and it was just - like it was really nice to just talk about stuff with family like that.”

Tommy’s mouth split into a smile, face flushing slightly as Gordon said the word ‘family.’ “Yeah,” he agreed. “It was nice. This is - we should do this again.”

The fact that there would be a next time sent a rush of emotion into Gordon’s chest. He loved Tommy, loved how trusting he was to invite him to such a private part of his life. Certainly this was difficult for him to do, but he allowed Gordon Freeman, of all people, to cross the threshold and see inside. He was close enough to be considered family. Sheer affection made him dizzy.

Tommy’s smile was infectious, causing Gordon to grin outright. “I’ll see you back home later?” he asked.

“Mm hm,” Tommy nodded. He leaned in, but stopped short when Gordon held up a hand in protest.

“Uh,” he intoned, pointing. “Your dad is totally watching us from the window.”

Tommy glanced over his shoulder and caught the dark visage of his father beyond the glass. He rolled his eyes, still smiling, and gestured with a hand. The curtains snapped shut at his command. “No, he isn’t,” he said.

They kissed on the curb, Gordon laughing softly into Tommy’s mouth. He was home already.

[bts-roses]

Spilling Coffee | 1

➼ summary: You’ve always prided yourself in being a naturally graceful and reliable person. So an internship at BigHit seemed like a walk in the park. That is, until a certain goof slide-kicks you off your feet and makes your life a whole lot harder.

/

Namjoon is a misunderstood klutz and y/n thinks too much.

➼ pairing: idol!namjoon x intern!reader

➼ genre: fluff, angst (if you squint), idolverse

➼ word count: 3,700

| next

‣

You have always been proud of your natural grace. Throughout your life, it’s granted you the title of being the responsible and reliable one. The one to do the important jobs. You were always the child the teacher would pick to fill a glass of water up for the paintbrushes during art class. You would do that with a smug grin on your face, holding a big ass jar of water with both of your tiny hands. You would hand it to the teacher, whip your pigtails as you turn around and walk back to your seat looking at your jealous classmates like hell yeah I just did that, you bitches could never.

So naturally, finding out you were about to intern in a big entertainment company, you just knew you were going to unquestionably nail it. Being responsible for mundane tasks like going on coffee runs or carrying boxes to different places? Uhh, you lived for that shit.

Obviously, these weren’t the only tasks and they were definitely not going to help you in the long run of your dream profession. But being able to put down that you received work experience from Big Hit Entertainment sure was. And there was an opportunity to get a job there after your internship! And the internship pays really well! And apparently the food in their canteen was pretty good! In conclusion, it was a win-win situation all around. And how hard could it be?

The answer to that was hard. Very fucking hard.

‣

Namjoon has always been in awe of how clumsy he actually was. Even his bandmates wonder how such an intelligent, grown man can be such a dumbass. Whenever he tried to fix something? Boom, it instantly got 10x worse. His fans even call him the God of Destruction. He would be offended by the nickname, but he can’t hate the truth. And the title is pretty badass if you think about it.

He was more of the kid in art class who was always given small jobs like making sure the aprons weren’t tangled up when it was time to put them away. Even though he wanted cooler jobs like holding those cool big ass glass jars, he understood that sometimes it’s just best to mind his own business and do his own designated jobs. You know, for world peace.

But today. Wow. It’s like the gods above are punishing him or something.

He actually woke up feeling pretty good. Today was going to be his day. Or so he thought. His clumsiness, once again, ruins it for him.

Long story short: he accidentally broke a bit of the toilet seat off. In his defence, he really needed a shit and someone left the toilet seat up again. He was definitely not going to fall into the toilet bowl this time. So Namjoon did the only thing a human could do in such a limited space of time: he slam-dunked that toilet seat down as hard as he could. Not his smartest idea. To his dismay, he spent his morning poo hovering over the toilet, with a piece of the seat held in his left hand. Let’s just say the other members were not thrilled when he walked out to the kitchen holding the piece of the smashed toilet seat from one of the most used bathrooms in the house.

After sitting through another one of Seokjin's speeches about the importance of handling things with a bit more caution, Namjoon decided it would be best to go to the company a bit earlier than the others today. Especially when the younger ones wouldn’t stop roasting the shit out of him. It was when he tripped over walking into the company building he thought to himself.

Maybe today wasn’t his day.

‣

This was the tenth day of your internship. And you don’t like to boast but you think you’re owning this shit. Sure, your boss is scary and likes giving you lots of monotonous tasks. But she’s not that bad. Besides, this is what you signed up for! And you’re having fun. Kinda.

“Intern.” You look up from your desk to see a smiling Joowon, one of your coworkers, “Lee is asking for you.”

Giving him a nod, you swiftly get up from your desk. You knock on your boss’ door and walk in when she acknowledges your presence.

“Yes, Mrs Lee?” you say, beaming brightly.

“I need you to go on a coffee run for the marketing team. We have an important meeting regarding TXT’s comeback and I do not want to see anyone slacking. If I do, I will kill someone,” she says looking up from the screen, giving you a small vacant smile. See? She’s warming up to you!

“Of course! Do you want me to buy you a knife while I’m out? Just in case?” You joke while giggling lightly.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” She asks, with no amusement in her face.

You immediately stop laughing. Fuck. Maybe she’s just a tad bit scary. You stiffen a bit and nod ashamed.

“Yeah. I don’t need any of that here” she glances at you up and down and then looks back at her computer, “you should leave now.”

You bow and basically run out of her office. Okay. Fine. She’s fucking terrifying.

You knew working in a big establishment like BigHit was going to be intimidating but not this intimidating. It didn’t help that you had a subliminal fear of attractive people. Of course, you liked looking at them but talking to them made you so nervous. Maybe you should've taken that into account before working in a fucking entertainment company. They were everywhere. At least you were working in the marketing team, where your interactions with the idols were very limited. However, you still would have the odd occurrence with one. On your second day, TXT's Soobin asked you for Mrs Lee's whereabouts. You nearly cried... But let’s not think about that.

Thankfully, your department is quite small and you only had to go get nine iced americanos. The lady at the counter also gave you two paper bags that held eight of them which made your life easier. Since you were feeling fancy and had the room, you got yourself an iced latte. Realising you were a bit short on time, you quickly dashed back to the company.

Entering the building, you check the clock on the lobby wall: fifteen minutes until the meeting starts. Cool. That's fine. You can totally get there before it starts. Totally. Deep breath. You'll be fine. After violently stabbing the elevator button multiple times, you hastily enter and press the floor you needed. Seeing no one was going to get on with you, you push the button to close the doors. Just once. Maybe a few times for good measure. Before the doors shut, you catch a glimpse of the clock again. Thirteen minutes. More than enough time.

When you reach your floor, you check inside the bags to make sure nothing has spilt. You can't help but smile. Look at you. Two coffees in each hand? Not a spill. Holding two bags of coffee? Not a single drop. You really did that. You were that bitch. I am the elite intern. You think to yourself with a chuckle. Then you stop yourself and wince. Jesus Christ. You really needed to get a life.

Remembering your task, you carefully pull out your phone from your pocket to check the time; ten minutes. Just to be safe (and to beat your previous coffee run score of having eight minutes to spare), you speed down the hallway.

You can literally see the glass walls of the meeting room. Not even half of the team is there yet. You were that early. On the opposite side of the corridor, you see your boss, who is facing away from you, and Joowon talking to each other. He glances at you and smiles. You quicken your pace, about to return the smile.

Suddenly, you're seeing him horizontally.

What the fuck? Why the fuck? Oh my God. You're too busy soaking up the mess in front of you that you don’t feel the searing pain on your left ankle. You blink hard and freeze on the floor.

The coffee is spilt. Everywhere.

Shit. You’re gonna get killed. You're gonna get fired. Before you start crying on the ground, the floor starts moving... Wait. Floors don't move. Uuugh. And floors sure as hell don't groan.

You look sideways to realise you're on top of someone's chest. That said someone looks down at you.

Your heart drops.

You jump up to stand and you instantly feel the sting on your ankle. You look at the scene in front of you. You feel like sobbing again. You just spilt your drink all over RM. Fucking Kim Namjoon. You know, the leader of the biggest fucking boy group on the planet? That's the one. You aren’t just going to be fired. You're gonna be banished from Korea. Burned at the stake. Mauled to death.

"I'm so fucking sorry." You burst out, desperately getting back down on the floor to clean up the liquid with your clothes, "I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to."

You warily look at him. He's just lying there in this weird, starfish-like position. Not really moving. Oh my God, you think to yourself. You fucking broke him. Did you kill him?

You stop helplessly scrubbing the floor with your jumper sleeve and shakily ask him, "are you alive?"

Abruptly, pulls himself up in a seated position. You flinch. Fuck. He's gorgeous. Great, now you’re nervous. He stares at you blankly and you wince a bit. You mentally prepare yourself to get screamed at and you feel a sting in your eyes. God, you're about to cry. You’re gonna lose your internship. You’re gonna have no future. You're so fucking terri-

All you hear is a deep chuckle.

"Shit. You've done it again Namjoon" he mutters to himself in disbelief, "Did I hurt you?"

He looks at you in concern and shuffles closer. Carefully, he puts a hand on your shoulder. Well, he’s never seen you before. He glances down at the ID card hanging from your neck. There’s a picture of you grinning cheerfully and your name: Y/n L/n. An intern? He also notices that you don’t have the same red lanyard as the other staff here; you switched yours to an Animal Crossing themed ribbon. Cute. He looks back up and his brows furrow when he sees a tear run down your cheek.

“U-uh. I-I’m fine.” you stutter, not really paying attention and avoiding eye contact. You feel yourself shaking.

“Are you sure? I just completely wiped you out with a sliding kick.” He jokes to try to ease the situation, offering a kind smile. Fuck, he has dimples, you think to yourself. You feel him brush his thumb over your cheek to wipe the stray tear.

“Oh my God. Namjoon-ah are you okay?” your boss asks, pushing past you to check on the man, “What is with this mess? What on earth did you do, intern?”

You stumble upwards, preparing for your death. You close your eyes in anticipation. Here it is. Your life was fun while it laste-

“It wasn’t her fault. And I’m fine. Just a bit of liquid.” You hear him say.

You open your eyes and face them. The idol makes eye contact with you and you quickly divert your eyes down. You feel your face heat up from the sudden attention.

“Namjoon-ah, it’s okay. You don’t need to cover up for her. She’s just an intern.” your boss says, impressed with his supposed kindness.

Excuse me? You look up at her disbelief. He was the one who caused you to fall. Before you’re about to defend yourself, you glance at him again and stop yourself. Oh, what the hell? Fine.

“I’m so sorry! I’ll clean this up straight away!” You shout and bow deeply, accepting the fault. It was just going to be easier this way, you’re just a disposable intern anyways.

Namjoon watches you bow deeply towards them. What? This was his fault.

“Wait, no this was my doin-” He started.

“I really expected better than this, intern.” Mrs Lee sighs in disappointment, not wanting to waste time, “Clean this mess up.”

You bow at both of them again as she walks past you, heading for the meeting room. Well that went better than expected. At least you’re still alive. You sigh weakly and started your hunt for something to help clean the mess up.

Before he could intervene again to clear things up, his phone rings.

“Hyung! Where are you? We need you now, the business call is just about to start.” Jimin shouts down the phone.

Namjoon curses himself. He takes a quick look at your back before running to where he was needed. So much for first impressions. Throughout the call, all he could focus on was the cute intern he wiped out and his coffee-stained hoodie sticking to his chest.

Yup. Today was definitely not his day.

‣

After two weeks of whatever that was, you’ve been trying really hard to redeem yourself. Just a few examples: you started colour coding the meeting notes to make it easier to read; you call the coffee shop ahead of time so your coffee runs take no longer than seven minutes; you bring running shoes to work so for any errands you need to run, you literally run. Oh, and most importantly, you steer the fuck out of Kim Namjoon’s way. This step has been proven difficult because you now see him everywhere. (Apparently, their group is heading into more product deals with different companies so your department is becoming a regular for them).

You tell yourself you aren’t trying to avoid the man because that would be stupid. But you know deep inside you’re just really fucking scared of him. Here are some reasons for your new founded fear:

1. He drop-kicked you down to the floor and you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt like a bitch. You walked with a limp for a whole week. You’re pretty sure you could’ve sued him.

2. He’s the reason Mrs Lee now hates you with a burning passion. (Bit of an overstatement but since when did your mind not blow things out of proportion?)

3. He’s too tall. His mere size towers over you. It’s petrifying.

4. He’s so fucking attractive? Like? Who allowed him to look that good daily? And when he smiles, his dimples show? The thought of them breaks you out in cold sweat.

5. He smells too nice.

6. And oh yeah. Whenever you see each other, he tries to walk up and talk to you.

It scares the living daylights out of you.

‣

Namjoon has never experienced this before.

It’s like he’s the bloody plague. The guilt was eating him alive. For two weeks now he’s been trying to come up and talk to you. And for two weeks you have been running away from him like your life depended on it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Surely you knew it was an honest mistake and he did try to defend you against Mrs Lee. He even apologised, right? Did he apologise? Oh God, he didn’t apologise. He needs to apologise.

“Hyung!” Jungkook pushes him, “Were you even listening?”

Namjoon looks up at the youngest in confusion, “What?”

“He’s too busy thinking about his latest victim.” Jimin teases.

Jungkook laughs with him, “It’s not like she hates you or anything. If you feel so bad about it then just go talk to her and sort it out. You said she was on the marketing floor right? So just go find-”

His words get cut off by his hyung groaning and banging his head down to his table, watching the surrounding objects jump up from the force.

“You think I haven’t tried that?” He mumbles sadly into the wood, “She runs away from me.”

The two younger men look at each other.

“Hyung, you’re totally just overthinking this. She doesn’t run away from you.” Jungkook chuckles, offering a supporting hand on Namjoon’s back.

After a few hours of trying to work on some songs, Namjoon yawns loudly and stretches out his long limbs. From behind him, he hears the two yawn straight after and they all let out a small laugh.

“I think we should call it a day,” Jimin stands up, starting to pack his things, “Yoongi hyung said we were gonna have dinner tonight so we should get going.”

Moving towards the elevator, Namjoon sees you, holding a big stack of papers, from the corner. Shit. Instantly, he pulls the two members in front of him.

“Oh my God, it’s her.” He hides and whispers, even though you are out of ear reach.

Jungkook and Jimin look at the small moving figure, who is currently trying to move hair out of her face with her mouth. So that’s the girl who is clouding their leader’s mind. They watch you a few feet away from the elevator. As if they knew what the other was thinking, they exchange a mischievous look. Without warning, they forcefully drag their hyung forwards before he could process their actions.

Jesus. You whine to yourself. These papers are so fucking heavy. When you hear the ding of lift, you walk in and stretch your pinky to the ground floor button. You move to the back of the elevator, resting your back on the railing. You only have this job to do and you can finally go home. Smiling at the thought, you mindlessly look at your feet, oh and the large feet in front of you. Wait, what?

You look up in shock and meet eyes with your greatest fear. He gives you a nervous smile and you notice the two other attractive people on either side of him. Another fear of yours. (Not the biggest fear at hand but albeit still a fear). God. It’s like you were in a horror movie, where the ghosts were unfairly good looking. You feel your heart speeding. You scream inwardly when you see the idol opening his mouth.

Namjoon stutters and starts when he feels Jungkook hit his back, “Hello aga-”

He feels a gust of wind run past him.

You just sprinted out of the elevator.

As the doors close, the three turn around and watch you racing away. Gobsmacked. Before the doors fully shut, Namjoon is the only one that sees you trip, papers flying everywhere. He lets out a quiet gasp. The small room is silent.

“Well,” Jungkook quietly coughs out, “Maybe she does hate you...”

“You think she hates me?” The oldest pitifully questions and watches Jimin hit the youngest.

“No, don’t be stupid,” Jimin weakly persuades and gives an insincere smile, “She might just be nervous or something.”

Namjoon instantly frowns. She hates me.

‣

You lay face down on the floor, soaking up all the embarrassment of what just happened. Did you just fall? You? Over nothing? What in God’s name is happening to you? You look up and instantly wince. All the documents you organised, sorted and colour-coded are all messed up. There goes your early night.

Picking up the stray papers, you think to yourself: what the fuck is wrong with you? If you weren’t such a big pussy, your life would have been so much easier. You think about all of the time you would have saved if you just walked the quicker route, regardless of whether or not he was in the way. You think about all the plants you wouldn’t have hid behind to prevent his attention. You think about all the information you could’ve learned about your dream job if you didn’t reject the offers just because there was a slim chance of running into him.

At the end of the night, you have one question burning into your mind: why were you so scared of him?

‣

“You like him.” Daeun proclaims. You just told her about your most recent encounter with him.

You stare at the fellow intern in confusion, “What?”

“You have a big fat crush on him.” She repeats, taking a bite out of her lunch, “Just think about it, you said it yourself, your heart races when you see him... So you like him.”

“My heart races because I’m scared of him” You point out.

“No. You dumb bitch. Your heart races because you are nervous.”

Oh. Well, this was not what you were expecting when you asked your friend for advice. You have a crush on Namjoon?

“B-but I don’t know anything about him.” You argue, shaking your head.

“You don’t necessarily have to personally know him to crush on him,” she continues, “You find him attractive right?”

“W-well, yeah I guess so-”

“There you go. We’ve cracked it. You’re just horny for him.”

“The fuck? No, I’m not.” you push her and she laughs.

“I don’t blame you, he walks like he’s got a massive cock.”

You shriek and whack her in detest. She screams jokingly at the pain. When you two look around and notice people staring, you both can’t help but laugh hard.

At 9PM, you were laying in bed, thinking about your friend’s words and you couldn’t help but to be curious about him. Sure, you liked his music as much as the next person but you didn’t know much about Namjoon as a person. Since you just graduated from college, you didn’t have much time to spend on immersing yourself in the world of the BTS. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you start doing research, telling yourself it’ll only take a few minutes.

After watching countless interviews and videos, you wonder how such a person could exist. He’s intelligent, loving, kind, gentle, passionate and- well you just go on for hours. You laugh a bit when you realise his only fault: he’s the biggest fucking klutz.

It hit you at 3AM when you finished watching his UNICEF speech with a big ass smile on your face.

Fuck, you totally have a crush on Namjoon.

a/n: hello! thank you for reading + i hope you’ve enjoyed. i’m also already in the process of writing the second part, if that is something you would like to see!

[draconica]

25: Keeping the other person warm

pspsps I wanted to see that praise kink too, bro  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Nick shut the front door on the howling wind as it tried to follow them indoors, having to grunt with the effort but managing to hear the click of the lock. He slumped against it with a breath of relief and turned to Ellis who was shaking the snow from his coat.

“Damn, that blizzard came outta nowhere!” Ellis remarked and removed his beanie hat, shaking out his hair.

Nick nodded as he reached out to grasp Ellis’ shoulder, steadying himself as he toed off he shoes. They were only his loafers – he hadn’t planned on wearing them for snow, so now his feet were freezing. “God damn it,” he mumbled, taking off his jacket and hanging it up in the closet by the front door, then moved both his shoes and El’s boots into the shoe racks. “Crank the heat up, would you, sport?”

“Already done,” Ellis called as he turned up the dial on their thermostat. The young hick then moved through into the living room, peering out their front-facing window. “Shit, would’ya look at it! Looks like Narnia out there already.”

Nick joined him, placing a casually affectionate hand onto Ellis’ lower back. “Well, no poker for me tonight,” he sighed, mentally ripping up that evening’s plans to go to a buddy’s house for a few games.

“I’ll go put the groceries away,” the southerner remarked, rubbing his hands to try and warm them up a little.

“Do that,” replied Nick. “I’m gonna sort something out in here.”

Ellis waved a hand at him, not really paying enough attention to ask what the ‘something’ Nick had in mind would be. He just busied himself with putting away the food they’d bought and trying to keep moving, hoping it would warm him up a bit.

“Jeez, Nick… why’d you buy so many jars o’ pickles?” Ellis grimaced – he’d always hated pickles, but Nick loved them. Just one of many compromises they’d had to settle over the last year. The mechanic continued to unload the groceries until his hand found a bottle and blushed upon pulling it from the bag. It was a bottle of lubricant, a new kind they hadn’t yet tried – a special tingling variety. Nick… that sly bastard. He must’ve slipped it into the cart when Ellis wasn’t looking. Instead of setting it aside to take up to the bedroom later, Ellis slipped it into his pocket, biting his lip a little as he imagined what it would be like to use it. He wondered just how long it would be before they did.

Once he was done, he tossed the paper bags into the recycling and walked back into the living room, pausing when he noticed something was different. First of all, the fireplace had been ignited for the first time since they’d moved in, bathing the room in luscious orange warmth. And secondly, a bundle of thick white blankets had been laid across the couch. In amongst them was his boyfriend, the blanket pulled up to his chin as he looked up at Ellis expectantly.

“Well, I’ll be a bull’s breakfast,” Ellis chuckled, shaking his head. “So this is what’chu were up to in here?”

Nick said nothing. Instead he simply pulled the blankets away from beside him, leaving the space open for Ellis to shuffle in. It wasn’t too often that Nick was willing to cuddle, and would go to such lengths to do so. Perhaps this was just his ingenious way of dealing with the cold?

“El, you coming in or not? The longer I leave a gap in these covers, the colder we’ll be under here.”

He thought so.

Ellis rolled his eyes a little and removed his hoodie before pausing, shrugging, and removing his jeans and t-shirt aswell. Now in just his boxers, the Georgian climbed onto the couch and crawled next to Nick, tugging the covers back over them both and making sure they were tucked in nicely. The younger man looked up at his lover with a smile as they snuggled up closely, both their arms around each other. “This is one o’ yer better ideas,” he murmured.

“What?” Nick opened one eye, tilting his head slightly. “All of my ideas are good ones.”

Ellis had to chuckle again, rubbing his cheek against Nick’s shoulder and allowing one of his hands to gently smooth over his lover’s chest. “Oh yeah? What about that one time you put that Chinese takeout in the microwave while it was still in its cardboard container?”

The conman snorted a little, looking away. “It was only a small fire.”

But Ellis wasn’t finished compiling a list of Nick’s past accidents. “Or that one time the barbecue wasn’t lightin’ so you poured, like, a whole can of gas onto it?”

“Alright,” Nick turned and hushed his lover with a kiss. “Just be glad this fire turned out okay.” He nodded to the fireplace in front of them, blazing away with the occasional comforting crackle. The homeliness of the situation was incredibly charming.

“Love you,” whispered the mechanic, tilting his chin upwards so that he could bury his face into Nick’s neck, something the gambler liked and accepted.

“Love you too, kiddo.” He turned his eyes back to the window. It was almost dark outside, the sky was so gray with heavy cloud, even more snow flurrying down. “Shit, I wonder how deep it’s gonna get?” he chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s a good thing we just went food shopping, we might be stuck at home for a while if this keeps up.”

Ellis peeked out from his bundle of blankets to have a look for himself. “Man, look at it out there. Hope we don’t get bored.” He shuffled slightly under the covers, nuzzling his lover’s shoulder again. “Lord, and I’m still cold…”

Nick sighed, feigning annoyance, as he tugged Ellis even closer. “C’mere,” he whispered, turning the tables on his lover slightly by moving his face into Ellis’ neck, beginning to kiss and nuzzle there. He was starting to get another one of his brilliant ideas on how they could turn up the heat even more.

And Ellis seemed to warm to the idea very much so, sifting his hand through Nick’s hair and encouraging his affections. With a hum, he turned his body a little more towards the gambler’s, trying to gather as much heat between them as they could. Fortunately, it also meant their chests could press together, Nick’s slightly furred pecs grazing over Ellis’ smoother ones.

“Nick,” whispered Ellis, by now trying to get as much contact between them as possible. “Please tell me we ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

“Take another look outside,” Nick chuckled, his hand finding Ellis’ and trailing slowly up his arm. “We probably won’t be leaving the house for a fucking week.”

Leaning back into the couch, Ellis pulled Nick with him until he was almost on top of him. “More than enough time for what I’m thinkin’.”

There was a small glint in Nick’s eye that sparkled just before he leant in for a heated kiss with his lover, pressing him into the back of the couch. It wasn’t always that Nick and Ellis were on the same page about something (more often than not, Nick wondered if Ellis was on the same fucking book) but one of the things they agreed on the most was the right times for sex. Though Nick did like to initiate such things more often, Ellis tended to get more touchy-feely while the pair were in bed together after a long day and they both needed winding down. This time it was ingenious. They could kill two birds with one stone, finding a way to combat both the cold and the boredom.

Ellis gave a long hum of content as Nick’s hands began to wander over his body, trailing over the deep-set lines of his chest muscles. Eventually, as Nick’s fingers went lower to his hips and stomach, Ellis couldn’t help it – he started to giggle.

“C’mon, Nick,” the mechanic blushed harshly, trying to move back slightly from his fingers. “You know I’m ticklish there.”

Nick pulled away from where he’d been kissing his neck. “That’s exactly why I did it, babe.”

“I hate ’chu, sometimes- oh, Nick…” Ellis writhed a little closer to Nick again as the older man’s hand rubbed between his legs, teasing the tent of his boxers even higher.

Nick grinned against the golden skin of Ellis’ neck, his plan set in motion quite nicely. The hick began to buck his hips into the stroking, pawing motion of his older lover’s hand. It soon became clear that Nick was intent on teasing him as he usually liked to do, drawing the foreplay out for as long as possible. And so the smaller man initiated his own plan.

Bracing one hand onto Nick’s shoulder, Ellis pushed his lover until they rolled on the couch and he ended up straddling Nick, pinning him to the cushions with his knees on either side of the man’s hips. The sudden manoeuvre had caused the blankets to fall away slightly, revealing more of their skin to each other. In the orange glow of the fireplace, it was even more inviting. Ellis got immense satisfaction from seeing Nick’s expression turn from surprise to arousal in a matter of seconds.

“You ain’t the only one with tricks up yer sleeve, fancy suit,” purred the Georgian, his hands rubbing Nick’s shoulders as he leant down for a hot kiss. The conman returned it with full fervor, hands travelling over Ellis’ body now that he had more room to do so and in turn the kisses grew more hurried, both men already feeling the heat like it was contagious.

Nick grunted and pushed the blankets off the couch entirely, the bundle falling to the floor unneeded. “Too hot,” he murmured against Ellis’ lips as the younger man cupped his face.

“Perfect,” Ellis replied and began to move his hips against the other man, panting at the friction caused by their underwear. Nick gave a strained noise at the back of his throat at the movements, as his hands went straight to Ellis’ ass and tugged him even closer, encouraging his lover as much as he could. The only times they broke apart from kissing was to moan and whisper sweet come-ons to each other.

Ellis knelt up a little, his head rolling back as Nick’s lips moved across his chest, purring against the smooth skin. He carded his fingers through the thin hair at the back of Nick’s head, scratching his scalp lightly. And Nick responded in kind, slipping his hands beneath the band of Ellis’ boxers and pushing them over the curve of his rump.

“Jeez, Nick,” panted the kid, gasping as his erection finally sprung free from his underwear. He gave his lover a slight smile before backing off the couch to fully undress, pulling off Nick’s briefs while he was up. Another purr left this throat as he stood up before the older man, looking at him with a cheeky smile as he caught those green eyes rake up and down his naked body. “Like what’chu see, mister gamblin’ man?”

Nick responded by licking his lips, gesturing to his erect cock. “What do you think?”

Ellis bit his lip and reached to the floor for his coveralls, his mind going back to the lube in his pocket he’d unpacked from the groceries earlier. Guess they were going to be using it sooner than he thought. “Tingling lube, Nick?” He held it up in his hand.

“I’d try anything once,” shrugged the conman, by now rubbing himself.

The sight urged Ellis on, not wanting to wait any more for the both of them. Not breaking eye contact with his lover, he slowly got down on his knees until he was between Nick’s legs, the man’s erection rising to greet him. There was a knowing glow to Ellis’ blue eyes and Nick recognised it instantly – it had sent his arousal spiralling many a time before. There was only a small flash of a boyish grin from Ellis before he took a hold of Nick’s cock and guided it to his lips, teasing the head with his tongue as if licking up ice cream.

“God damn it, El,” huffed Nick as his head fell back, eyes closing. It wasn’t frustration – anything but – it was more a realisation and rediscovery of how kinky and dirty Ellis could get. His tongue could work true worldly wonders on whatever part of Nick’s body he decided to lavish with it. At the moment, it was curling around his dick head, tracing the dips and curves of the shaft, his eyes occasionally flicking up to give him a predator gaze. Nick returned it with a look of his own, one that begged Ellis for something else – silently so. Nick rarely begged out loud. Thankfully, Ellis took the hint, well versed in their mutual language, and came up for a small breather before sinking his mouth down onto his erection and bringing him in as far as he could.

If Nick hadn’t been aroused beyond hell, he would’ve been completely embarrassed by the noise that he’d made. Mind you, he took complete credit for how good Ellis was at giving blowjobs. Before they’d met, the mechanic had never sucked a dick in his life. While it did make for some awkward first times when Ellis would nearly choke on the length, mumbling timid apologies, now, two years down the line, he easily rivalled any Las Vegas whore who did it for a living. And Nick was proud to say it was from his own valuable teachings that Ellis picked it up so naturally. Like now as he swallowed Nick at the back of his throat like it was nothing. The conman couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment in their relationship when Ellis’ gag reflex had stopped working, but he was just glad it had.

Judging by his moans, he was very glad.

On one particularly good suck, Nick could feel the pleasure in his lower stomach start to coil up and acted quickly, reaching for his lover and tugging his hair gently. “Ngh, off…”

Ellis obeyed and pulled away, licking his lips and admiring the work he’d done. He was pretty pleased with himself to say the least if the grin on his face was any indication. But he wasn’t about to stop there. Gingerly, he picked up the lubricant one more time and squirted a little into his palm. “You were the one so keen to use this,” he reasoned, rubbing it between his hands and feeling it tingle already.

Nick gave a shrug, though had a smug look on his face. “Thought it might be fun.”

The younger man winked at him. “Well, let’s see, shall we?” He leaned in and wrapped his hand around Nick’s cock, paying close attention to his lover’s face. It was rewarding when the older man gasped, his hips melting back into the couch slightly, and gave a small chuckle.

“Shit… it feels kinda nice,” he surmised, and Ellis knew what would make it better. Gently, he began to move his hand up and down, slowly massaging and coating Nick from top to base. It was a move that seemed to meet with approval when Nick hissed and leant his head back. “Overalls,” he moaned, one of his hands going up to cover his eyes.

Ellis rested his chin on Nick’s thigh and watched him dreamily, his lubricated hand never stopping. There was something so delicious and satisfying about being the one to break the conman like this and also being the only one to see the more submissive, intimate side of him. The young Southerner flicked his gaze between Nick and his erection, purring as he watched it shine in the fiery orange glow. Moving it slightly towards himself, he subtly licked the head, tracing the tip with his tongue. “You had enough, yet?”

Nick’s mouth was open, breathing shallowly at all the sensations assaulting him at once. “Holy shit.”

With a triumphant smirk, Ellis moved up to kiss his boyfriend some more while at the same time climbing back aboard to straddle his lap. Moans and short breaths filled the room as well as the smacking of their kisses, the intensity growing by the second. Reaching around, Nick grabbed Ellis’ ass in a squeeze and tugged him closer, a dominant purr leaving his lips.

“Baby,” he crooned as one on his hands curved around the cheek, his finger finding and teasing Ellis’ pucker. The action had a desired effect when the hick gave a small whine, his backside cantering back into the touch.

“Yer a damn tease,” Ellis gasped and Nick just gave him a look that promised more. A promise he kept moments later when he penetrated the hole with one finger, teasing in a second not long after. And if Ellis thought he was winning the game of who could make their lover moan the loudest, then he was sorely mistaken as a particularly loud moan was torn from his lips.

Nick broke into a triumphant grin, opening his mouth against the younger man’s in a soft sigh of satisfaction. “Hold on tight, killer.”

Obediently, Ellis clasped his hands behind Nick’s neck and leant back on the man’s lap, using his knees to lift himself up a little. He levelled the gambler with a lusty look, pinching his lower lip between his teeth as he felt Nick’s hands part his behind and guide him down, gently and carefully. It was a frequently practised act for them to say the least and Nick knew exactly what Ellis liked, how to go about doing it and most importantly how to read his lover’s reactions perfectly. Right now, his eyebrows were pinched in concentration, the corners of his lips quivering a little as they gradually became joined together in the most intimate way possible. It amused Nick to no end.

“Feel good?” he asked around a chuckle, running both his hands up and down Ellis’s waist.

“Y-yeah,” replied the hick, showing Nick a smile of his own. “Sure does tingle.”

Nick was a sneaky bastard at the best of times and barely gave Ellis a chance to get used to the feeling before he bucked his hips up into Ellis roughly. The mechanic yapped and grabbed a hold of his lover’s shoulders while his mouth hung open. “Down boy,” he teased, making Nick smirk.

“Never heard you complain about that before,” the gambler chuckled before readjusting his grip and bouncing Ellis in his lap.

The mechanic soft moans filled the fire-lit room as he rode his lover’s cock like a practised rodeo rider. Nick bit his lip as he watched his young boyfriend’s face begin to relax, eyebrows pinching in pleasure and pillowed plush lips parting. Ellis could see just how much this was ticking Nick’s boxes and leant in to treat his lover to hot kisses. He began to pant against his mouth.

“You’re so fuckin’ good, Nick,” he purred, melting into a moan as he continued to grind his hips down. Nick let out a groan, and Ellis smiled as he went on. “So good to me… ain’t no one better than you, darlin’.”

Nick grunted as he pushed his shoulders more firmly into the couch and kept up the pace of his thrusts, trying to fuck Ellis into more talk just like that. “Yeah?” he responded, eyebrow twitching upwards. “Tell me more, sweetheart.”

Ellis opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sudden strike to his prostate, bringing a gasp to his lips. “Christ. N-Nick… ain’t nothin’ better than when yer inside'a me. Y-you… you’re the best I’ve ever had…” The younger’s head tipped back as he desperately seek out that perfect angle again.

With a gasp of his own, Nick reached up and grabbed Ellis’s hair to give him a tug. “Say it again,” he husked while his gaze was transfixed down, watching his boyfriend ride him like he was so good at doing. Ellis was all too happy to oblige.

“Yer the best.. I’ve ever had,” he panted, feeling the sting of Nick’s hand on the back of his head. “I love ya so much… you get me so goddamn hot… ah, Lord, Nick!”

By now Ellis was rolling his hips like thunder in search of release, helped along when the older man offered him a hand, curling his fist around the mechanic’s cock and giving him something to fuck into. Nick was already lost in the heat as those song-like praises hit his ears but now that Ellis was taking control the way he was, the end was getting closer and closer. There was just something about his Southern lover spouting praise during sex the way he did that was like pornography.

Nick let go of Ellis’s hair and reaffirmed his hands on the younger’s hips. “El, I’m close,” he warned.

“Inside me,” Ellis replied, looping his arms around Nick’s neck once he settled into an angle that worked wonders for him. He panted against Nick’s lips. “Please!”

With a roar of pleasure, Nick’s fingers went white around Ellis’s hips as he hit a climax that touched every nerve in his body. He made good on Ellis’s wish and filled him up just as a long moan arrived from his lover, his cock convulsing between them as he released at last. Nick moved his hand back to pump him through his orgasm until Ellis humped his last and fell forwards. Nick caught him easily and shut his eyes.

“God damn,” he husked, feeling Ellis’s head nod a little before kisses were pressed to his shoulder. He looped his arms around his lover, brushing softly over the smooth and slightly sticky skin. Nick chuckled. “Guess that warmed us up, right?”

“Yeah.” Ellis eventually moved back and off to look at his lover, not wasting time to kiss him as their lust subsided. He then looked back out of the window at the blizzard that was blanketing the world in white. “Don’t look like it’ll let up anytime soon.”

Nick had just finished wiping them both off with a tissue, throwing it to the trash can across the room (and missing) before looking up also. “Reckon we’ll be doing this for a while, then.”

Ellis gave him a look. “Nick, if we’re gonna be spendin’ the entire snow storm havin’ sex then can I at least make some snacks first?”

The gambler snorted, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind Ellis’s ear. Leaning into the touch, Ellis curled himself back into Nick’s side but not before reaching down to retrieve their previously forgotten blanket, wrapping them both up in a nest they would be reluctant to leave.

“Hey Nick?”

“Yeah?” The man opened one eye to peer down at him.

Ellis blushed, pushing his face into Nick’s neck. “You’re also the best at cuddlin’.”

Nick chuckled and brushed his lips against El’s temple softly. “It’s because I’m cuddling you, Overalls.”

[kaalamarii]

Victor/MC part 1

Sup demons it’s ya boy.

Look who decided to post something. First a few notes...

This was getting really long (like the longest I’ve ever written actually!) and I worked/am working very hard on it. I just wanted to get the first part out and will hopefully get the second part out this weekend. 

MC is not at all how she is in the game in this fic.

There’s no smut in this, but will be in the next one 😉 so no warnings here except language.

anddddd I guess that’s it. Hope you enjoy. 💕

MC chewed her lip, eyes scanning her kitchen where piles of dirty dishes and a mess of ingredients taunted her, an embarrassing reminder of her failed attempts at baking. She cursed herself, wishing she was listening as Kiki asked if she’d be willing to make a cake for a company bake sale. “Sure, uh huh,” was her exact response as she focused more on beating her high score on Doodle Jump than the meeting. (Willow later made fun of her for that… “who even plays Doodle Jump anymore?”)

Standing amongst the disaster that was her kitchen, she sighed, picking up her phone and hovering her thumb over Victor’s number in her contacts, for once not giggling at the nickname “Bitch” she had oh so affectionately given him. God, she did not want to call him. Admitting defeat was difficult enough already without the LFG CEO’s insults.

MC shook her head, turning the screen off and shoving the phone into her bra. Sure enough there’d be a shop or two open still and she could get a mix and call it a night. That would be preferable to asking Victor for help and getting berated for “not being able to follow directions” or whatever he might say. MC grabbed her wallet, adding it to her very handy boob/phone holder bra.

Luckily for her, there was a shitty little corner store within walking distance and it wasn’t cold out. It was a bit dark, but she had walked there on several different occasions, at later times than this-and oftentimes intoxicated in some sort of way-so she wasn’t too nervous to make the small trip.

After a ten minute walk she made it to the store. A bell rang as she entered, the lone cashier welcoming her in a monotone voice, eyes not budging from his magazine. She let out a very informal “‘Sup”, though the cashier didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Do you have cake mixes here?” she asked, earning a sigh and an eye roll from the worker. Still not looking at her, he pointed her to one of the aisles. She thanked him before heading over. Squatting down to get a better look, she took a box off the shelf and looked it over. Vanilla should work, she thought, and read the instructions on the back to make sure she had everything else she needed for it. 

MC heard the door ring again but didn’t think much of it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure. “Think I can trick people into thinking I made this from scratch?” She asked, holding out the box to the stranger beside her. He didn’t answer, and she looked over at him, jumping at the sight.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Victor’s fine, thanks,” he replied, taking the mix from her and narrowing his eyes at it. “Really, box cake mix?”

“What are you doing here?” MC asked, crossing her arms. “Also, did you just try to make a joke?”

“Somebody pocket dialed me,” The CEO held his phone up to show her that he was currently on a call with...her. 

MC’s face heated up instantly, and she pulled her phone out of her boobs (much to Victor’s surprise and confusion) to see that, indeed, her phone was on and had been on a call with him since she had left for the shop. She sighed as she hung up the phone and shoved it back into her bra, bracing herself for his insults. 

Victor’s eyes followed the phone into her cleavage unintentionally. The lightest of blushes brushed over his cheeks, so light that MC didn’t even notice. “Haven’t you heard of pockets?”

“Why do I need pockets when I have a perfectly good set of tits to store my stuff in?” she retorted, placing her hands over her aforementioned breasts, giving them a squeeze.

“Goodness gracious,” the CEO griped. “You really are a hot mess.”

“At least I’m hot, right?”

Victor scoffed, ignoring her quip. “You need to pay more attention. I don’t appreciate random calls this late at night.”

“Late?” MC teased, looking down at her phone and pressing the side button to turn on the screen. It illuminated her cleavage as she read the time. “It’s only nine, grandpa.”

“It’s dark out,” he replied, once again ignoring what she said to him. “You never know what creeps are out this time of night.”

“Oh, like the one I just ran into?”

Victor’s eyes darkened as he looked down at her. “Cut the attitude.”

MC didn’t have a chance to talk back as Victor set the box of cake mix back on the shelf. “Were you actually going to buy this nonsense?”

“I agreed to make a cake for the company bake sale and it turns out I’m not a baker.”

“Don’t you make pudding?”

She shrugged. 

“Whatever. I’m not going to let you buy that and I’m most definitely not going to let you give it to anyone else. Come on. We’re going to Souvenir and we’ll whip something up.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

Victor wrapped his hand around her wrist, guiding her to his car. MC was surprised by how gentle his hand was on her, how he led her but not forcefully, but almost protectively. She looked up at him, taking a moment to admire his profile. She couldn’t help but smile. He was an asshole for sure, but she still always enjoyed spending time with him, and she couldn’t help but feel excited at this late night trip to Souvenir.

At Souvenir, MC waited patiently as Victor rummaged through the kitchen, grabbing flour, sugar, and other ingredients as well as measuring cups, mixing bowls, and the rest of the various items they needed. She hopped up onto the counter, watching him. He was a handsome man, that was for sure, but whenever he cooked, she found him drop dead sexy. He wasn’t even cooking yet, but already had that focused look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line. She wasn’t sure of his feelings for her. Hell, she wasn’t even sure of her feelings for him, but seeing him like that, she couldn’t help the absolutely raunchy images running through her mind.

“Were you raised by wolves? Get off my damn counter.”

His annoyance at her made her chuckle and she slid off, feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. 

“How many times have I told you not to do that? Not only is it unsanitary, you could fall and get hurt.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then quit acting like one.”

MC sighed. “You know, you don’t have to do this. I can just go home and buy a premade cake from the grocery store tomorrow morning.”

“Pointless of you to say considering we’re already here,” he argued, “Plus I am not letting you give up that easily. You promised you’d make a cake and you’re going to make one. A real cake, not some crap from a store.”

MC couldn’t help but giggle from his choice of words. “Oooh, you said crap.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “You really are a child.”

“Box cake mixes aren’t that bad, you know,” she said as he handed her an apron. She pulled it over her head and tied it around her back. “Sometimes junk food can be satisfying.”

“What do you mean? I eat desserts.”

“Yeah, but you eat, like, fancy dessert. Not junk food. Like, don’t you ever want to go get a shitty fast food burger or milkshake?”

“I would rather die.”

“You are so dramatic!” MC said with a chuckle.

“Why would I want to eat something that can be described as ‘shitty’?”

Victor rolled his eyes as she once again found humor in his language. She had heard him cuss before and he didn’t really understand why it was so funny to her. He’d never let himself admit that he found pleasure in her laugh.

“Because it tastes good! Even though it’s bad for you. It’s like a guilty pleasure.”

“Are you quite done?” he questioned, the usual irritation in his voice. Not letting her respond, he continued, “ I preheated the oven and greased the pans already, so now you need to sift the flour and baking soda.”

He spoke as he rolled his sleeves up and also donned an apron. MC couldn’t help but look him over, admiring the muscled arms and chest pressing against his button down shirt as he moved. He handed her a sifter. “Use this.”

MC looked at it, confused. 

“Don’t be intimidated. It’s simple,” he told her. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around to hold her hands. With one hand, he guided her to the bag of flour and together they dumped some into the top of the sifter. With his other hand, he placed hers on the crank on the side and began moving it. MC looked up at him and he smiled ever so slightly. “See? Idiot proof.”

Realizing the close proximity between them, Victor cleared his throat and moved away from her quickly. “Measure out the sugar next,” he told her. “I’ll do the butter. We have to add them together in the mixer.”

Victor handed her a measuring cup, and their fingers brushed together as she took it from him. MC paused for a moment, looking up at him, searching his serious face to see any hint of emotion. None.

 He watched as she carefully measured out the sugar, adding it to his butter in the mixer. MC didn’t see the small smile on his lips as he watched her.

He turned on the mixer. “Now we have to put in the eggs.”

MC nodded, grabbing an egg and cracking it into the mixture. Part of the shell fell in and she let out a “shit!” before reaching in and swiping the piece out with her finger.

“What are you doing!” Victor’s voice boomed, making her jump.

“What?”

“You don’t touch the mixture, you idiot!”

“My hands are clean!”

“It’s still disgusting. Furthermore, don’t just crack the egg into it like that. Crack them in a separate dish.”

“Why does it matter?”

He scoffed, taking the eggs from her. “So you don’t get a shell or a bad egg in there, obviously.”

MC scoffed right back at him before putting her finger into her mouth and licking the ingredients off.

“For fuck’s sake,” he murmured, though she heard it.

“What? You’ve never licked cake mix off your fingers?”

“No, I’m not an animal.”

“Try it.”

“Absolutely not.”

MC poked another finger into the mix much to Victor’s chagrin. She held her hand out to him. “Just do it.”

“If I do it, will you stop touching the mix?”

“I’ll consider it.”

Victor sighed, face twisted in disgust as he leaned forward to tongue the mixture off of her finger. His gaze met hers and for a moment they stared at each other, each one waiting for the other to move. Though Victor was the one to pull away, standing up straight, shoulders stiffening. 

“Well, that was awful. Wash your hands and we’ll continue.”

MC frowned, disappointment and embarrassment settling in. She often felt this way around Victor. Though he annoyed her, there were certain little moments when something he’d say or do would make her heart flutter, and for a split second she’d wonder if there was something between them. She couldn’t help but feel happy at the thought of it, though she tried to bury it. There’s no way that Victor was into her that way. He barely tolerated her.

And, she scolded herself, what would really come out of it even if he was interested? He was her boss. He was an asshole. And she was a moron, as he often reminded her. 

MC took a breath as made her way to the sink to wash away the traces of their tongues on her hand. Victor instantly noticed the change in her demeanor. He didn’t say anything but watched her out of the corner of her eye. He, of course, knew all too well about those shared moments, and had to stop himself often from admiring her. It was inappropriate, and could mean danger for her, and he only wanted what was best for MC. 

❤Part Two coming soon ❤

Masterlist

[i-do-trash-fanfictions]

A Wolf's Howl Ch. 5

It was over four months later when the two hunters met again, this time when they got matched on the same team in a Crucible match of Elimination. She noticed him first, still wearing the same armor he had that time ago. He noticed her staring.

"I know you?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

"Thera. I beat your ass at a pistol duel a day after my rez."

"Shoot, yeah I remember you! Shaxx should just call the match right now with us as the winners if we've got you on our team."

"This is that new light who beat you in the Crucible?" Asked the other team member, a warlock in black and pink robes.

"That's her. Sh-"

A shot fired from the enemy team, all three swarming at them. During the conversation, they had totally forgotten where they were at.

Thera aimed her newly made submachine gun and fired, with the help of Zane's hand cannon, an enemy went down. The warlock took one down on her own using her shotgun and then used her void light on the other. Zane cut him down quickly after that.

"Amazing teamwork!" Came Shaxx's booming voice.

The next round started, and it wasn't long before they were four to nothing.

The three bolted as the final round began. The warlock knew where the other team would start, so they split up. Zane would take middle, Thera would take right, and the warlock would take left. They covered their ground quickly, and Zane jumped from the high ledge he was on, right into the center of the three on the opposite team just as Thera and the warlock came in. A hunter fired at the warlock, but she slid and fired with her shotgun. The hunter was down. Zane stabbed into one's chest, then shot them with his handcanon, while Thera threw a flaming dagger at one and shot them with her own handcanon. They had won the match.

"We won five to nothin!" Exclaimed Zane-2 as he raised a hand to Thera.

She returned the high-five.

He pointed to the warlock. "Alright Sora, you said you'd pay for drinks if we ever won 5 to nothin! And she's included in that." Zane threw his arm around Thera's shoulders casually.

She sighed, though there was a bit of a chuckle in there, as if she would have brought her along even if Zane didn't offer. "Fine."

It was ten minutes later that Thera was in her small room, preparing for her trip to a restaurant and bar down in the City. She had never had an alcoholic drink before, well, not that she could remember, so she honestly hoped they didn't expect her to drink anything too strong. They had decided on a place and a time, that time being thirty minutes from now so the three could get ready.

With the help of her Ghost, she decided to wear a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt with the hunter sigil on the left breast pocket, and a leather jacket. Also a pair of combat boots. She took one look into the full length mirror on the wall, then decided she looked good enough. A quick brush of her hair, and then another look, this time at her face. She had visited nearly all the stores in the City, yet never thought to buy makeup. Why would she? She didn't expect to go to a bar with two old-lights that were impressed with her prowess in a Crucible match.

Thera now wished she had. No, wait, or would makeup like eyeshadow or eyeliner be too fancy? What would Sora and Zane even be wearing? Would they show up in something fancy? Thera took another look at her clothes.

"Thera, it's the fighting and thinking skills that make a Guardian. Not their clothes, and not their looks. Come on. You stand in the mirror any longer and we'll be late, and we wouldn't want that." Her Ghost said.

Avoiding another glance at the mirror, Thera left her room and began her walk to the city below.

Zane-2 and Sora were already there. She was quite surprised to find that they did not stick to a certain style, the two of them. Zane wore grey sweatpants and a hoodie with the hunter sigil square in the middle of it, while Sora on the other hand had on a tight, sparkly, dark purple skirt with slits down the thigh, black tights, black heels, and a dark purple (minus the glitter on this one) v-neck shirt with cold-shoulder sleeves. She even had on earrings, a necklace, and Thera saw the glare of a bracelet.

Zane waved her over, and Thera sat at the rounded table with them. She took a moment to look around and examine the place. The bar wasn't empty, but it wasn't full either. There were a few groups, all gathered around their own tables. A few people were sitting at the bar nearby. The lights were dimly lit, and music played from the speakers in the ceiling.

"Ever been to a bar before, kid?" Zane-2 asked.

Thera shook her head.

"Then I suppose you haven't had a drink yet." He said.

"You don't have to get an alcoholic drink if you don't want to." Sora assured her, lowering her menu. "And I'll get any food you want from the menu too."

"Okay." Thera smiled.

She picked up the menu in front of her and perused through it for a second before Zane said, "Can I make a suggestion?"

Thera lowered her menu to the table.

"What about just an appetizer? Like cheese sticks or fries or somethin?" He said.

"That's alright with me. Thera?" Sora asked, turning to the young guardian.

"Cheesticks sound good." She nodded.

"Alright. And hey, I heard Pimm's is a great drink to order for someone who's new to drinking. You want that?" Zane asked her.

"Sure."

He called a waiter over and placed an order. Soon the appetizer and drinks arrived. Sora got a cocktail, while Zane ordered simple whiskey. It didn't take long for Sora and Zane to start conversing. They began talking about their separate patrols, then their two missions, one of which scouting, in which they worked together on. Then they began on the subject of Zane's sparrow, still in repairs after his last race.

It was then Sora realized Thera hadn't said a word, and had only taken sips of her drink and helped herself to the cheese sticks in front of her.

"You don't seem to talk too much. How about you tell us about your day?" She attempted to get the three-month-old guardian to talk.

"I only went on three patrols, went for a fly in my ship for a bit, then completed a few bounties for the Crucible." Thera shrugged.

"Man, you haven't been going on many interesting missions huh?" Zane commented.

"Zavala explained that I'm still too young of a Guardian to go on any big missions, unless I can get a few older Guardians to go with me."

"Do you want to go on bigger missions?" Sora asked.

Thera nodded, then said, "I've been sneaking out some to go check out some of the areas where Cayde's told me some enemies have been causing trouble. Places the Ikora and Zavala aren't too worried about."

"Good old Cayde. Always directing his hunters to where the action is." Zane said.

"Which he shouldn't do." Sora pointed out. "One of these days those new lights are going to get hurt, going out on their own in places crawling with enemies like the hive and the fallen."

"They haven't been too hard for me. I can fight well and I'm a good shot. Cayde said so."

"You know," Sora said after she and Zane shared a look. "We've been hoping to make our fireteam of two into a fireteam of three. You'd make a great addition to our team."

"Really?!"

She nodded. "Yes. Zane told me about your fighting skills in the Crucible, and has been asking Cayde about you. You seem like the perfect fit. We were looking for a titan, but I believe another hunter will do, especially one with your skillset."

Thera grinned ear to ear.

"So kid, what do ya say?" Zane asked her as he raised his glass to her.

"I'll join!"

"Woo! To a new fireteam member!" Exclaimed Zane as the three clinked glasses.

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

May Flowers Challenge Day 7

Prompt: “What are you doing?” “Hiding” + “Know any jokes?” requested by @bkwrm523

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: None

You hated parties. Sure the dressing up and getting to wear fancy clothes was great, but the spending hours upon hours of socializing with people so painfully dull you felt the urge to burst into tears was enough to make you want to pull your hair out. So when you escaped up onto the roof of the overpriced hotel, just to get away, you didn’t think you could really be blamed.

It was nice up here. With everyone else on the floor below enjoying the free food and drink, the rooftop terrace was deserted. The humdrum from the party could still be heard, but it was muffled enough that everything was peaceful. Walking to the edge of the roof, you leaned against the railing as you looked out over Gotham, taking in the twinkling lights and the buzz of cars down below. It was a mess at times, most of the time, but you loved it here and were still determined to help it as much as possible. Even if it meant schmoozing a bunch of rich assholes.

“What are you doing?” You hadn’t heard anyone come up onto the roof behind you, so when the voice spoke you nearly had a heart attack. Whipping around you saw Bruce standing there, cheeky grin saying he knew exactly what he’d been doing by sneaking up on you.

You glared at him. “Hiding,” you said turning back around to face the City. “I thought that would’ve been obvious.” 

Bruce came up next to you. “You’re not one to hide, usually.”

“There’s only so much ego one can take before needing a break.”

“Fair point.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

Bruce looked at you, smiling, “Hiding.”

You laughed, “Bruce Wayne, hiding? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Like you said, only so much ego one can suffer through,” he said, laughing with you. “It’s going well though, we’ve raised a lot and they aren’t even that drunk yet.”

“Good. Thank you, for helping me with this, Bruce.”

“Of course. It’s a good cause, and you know I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

“You old softie,” you chuckled, nudging Bruce’s arm with your own.

“Less of the old, thank you!” Before you could react Bruce grabbed you, fingers finding your ribs through your dress and wiggling them, making you squeal and try to wiggle free.

“N-no! Stop!” You gasped through your laughter, trying your best to get loose out of his iron grip. “I give in! I’m sorry!”

Bruce finally stopped, looking quite pleased with himself as he watched you catch your breath. His hands stayed on your arms, keeping you steady. “You’re freezing.”

You hadn’t really noticed, but the night air was cold and it had left goosebumps all along your bare arms. “I’m fine.”

“No. Here, take this.” Bruce didn’t give you a chance to protest before he was shrugging off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders instead. 

Slipping your arms into the sleeves and embracing the newfound warmth, you smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

 “Can’t have you catching cold before we finish stripping some fat cats of their money.”

“You make a very persuasive argument, Mr. Wayne.” From the party below, an old song began to play. “Wow, I haven’t heard this in years. It used to be my favorite.”

“Used?”

“They played it during prom and at first it was great because it meant I got to dance with Jerry, my date with whom I was very smitten.”

“What happened?”

“About halfway through he tried to cop a feel and when I said no got mad, and said I ‘owed’ it to him. So I did the only reasonable thing.”

“Report him?”

“Knee him. In the...you know.”

“I’d have given all my money to see that.”

“Yeah, it was pretty badass of me. He sulked off home, and everything was fine, but also kinda ruined.”

Bruce nodded and watched you for a moment before taking your hand and leading to the center of the terrace. “I say we fix it.”

“Fix what?”

“A ruined song. Let’s make it your favorite again.” Bruce pulled you into a hold, his free hand resting on your hip while yours came to his shoulder.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” 

Conceding you let Bruce lead, swaying you both around in time to the slow music. It almost felt like you were the only two people in the world, standing up so high with no one else in sight, and it was perfect. Your head ended up resting on his chest, eyes fluttering shut even as your heart skipped a little. There’d always been something between you both, but neither of you had ever acted upon it. But this? This was nothing short of romantic, and you were sure Bruce felt it too. 

The song ended but neither of you let go. Instead, you looked up to see Bruce watching you with eyes soft and kind. “Y/N, I-” he started but didn’t need to finish. You knew.

“I feel the same,” you whispered.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

One hand coming to cup your jaw, Bruce leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, and it was everything you’d ever dreamt of and more. 

You couldn’t say how long it lasted for, the two of you getting lost in each other, but when you finally broke apart you were both flushed and breathless. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“We waited too long to do that.”

Bruce nodded, brushing an errant strand of hair from your eyes, “We did. I wasn’t sure you felt the same.”

“That’s what I thought about you.”

“Now we know.”

“Yeah.”

Bruce was moving in for another kiss when a beeping interrupted you. With a sigh, he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Our presence is being missed.”

“I guess we have to return to the fray then,” you said, taking off Bruce’s jacket and handing it back. “Know any jokes?”

“Only their fashion sense.”

You snorted a laugh and swatted Bruce’s chest. “Bruce Wayne, I never!”

Bruce’s eyes twinkled as he offered you his hand. “Together?”

“Together.”

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