#something bout that fruity man

[saturnbourne]

Me waiting for the one (1) person who writes fanfic for this obscure character to release another fic like a crack addict

[antidesire]

a lazy lil rushed piece about (id/vendetta/di) leon eating you out, that’s all,, afab!reader

prickly stubble tickled and grazed the supple fleshy skin of your inner thighs- your body jolting and a faint yelp that would spill from your plush lips, bitten and glistening with a mixture of gloss and salvia from you and your boyfriend, leon, currently underneath you, in between your thighs.

“i’m not gonna bite you, honey.” the chuckle that vibrated in his throat ignited a domino affect of goosebumps scattering along your skin, reminding you how close he really was.

both leon’s hands were cupped at your thighs, casually slinked around them, rubbing and massaging fingertips into the plump of your skin, a gentle encouraging push to ease your hovering, surprised gasp erupting from your mouth when the tip of his nose came in contact with your clit, sparking the bundle of delicate nerves, “m’sorry sweetheart, i don’t mean to be impatient, you just smell so sweet..” he sighed out and you didn’t miss the way his brows furrowed, as though he was stressing in that beautiful head of his.

“you can sit down, i got you, your legs must hurt hovering like that.” he glanced up, speaking once again before you could worry about hurting him, as if, “i’m your big, strong, old man, don’t worry bout’ me.” he winked, “can handle sweet little things like you, my speciality.”

you couldn’t bear hear it anymore, thighs giving in, a ache lingering from holding yourself up- even though leon had been supporting your weight. “y-you’ll go slow?” you asked in something no more than a whisper.

you got no reply from the man beneath you though, about to speak up again incase he didn’t hear you but you broke out into a spew of mewls upon feeling his tongue dart out, taking a long drawn out lick of each of your labia before an even more painstakingly long lick in between, and gods, he knew he was already in love but surely this sealed the deal.

anyone may have found it overbearing, maybe silly that you were already so worked up it seemed but he just found it cute, so very cute, everything you did, your entire being, to him was cute.

and right now you smelt like that florally, fruity fragrance he bought you, and that some expensive soap from those hotels you’d been to whilst travelling with him.

you tasted even more addicting than you smelt, a sweet venom that lured him further and further.

you asked him so prettily earlier, he was really intending to do as you wish, be sweet on you, go slow but his senses were blurring along with his self restraint- if he weren’t stabilised on the bed, head between your pillowy thighs his own knees would’ve been trembling.

“leo— hghhnn!” you squeaked, hand flying up to cover your mouth, in a meagre attempt to muster up some composure.

oh but only if you knew your delicate little sounds only egged him on further, his tongue dashing out with much more force, a little sloppy but he’d chalk it up to how pretty and wet you already were.

his tongue was fucking you open, pussy slick with spit and your pearly arousal, and you only got increasingly pathetic sounding when the tip of his nose smushed against your clit, the friction and nudging adding a delicious sensation to the mix, having your toes curling and hands reaching out in a desperate manner to cling something, one of his hands reaching out, firmly lacing his fingers in between yours and squeezing enough to hurt but it didn’t matter, you squeezed back just as hard.

“m’ really— oh, oh.. think i’m really close.” broken moans gasped out, your free hand flying into his hair and tugging, earning a gorgeous grunt sound from his lips which only vibrated against you.

leon knew you wouldn’t last leon, despite your hesitations and lesser experience it didn’t take a genius to know how sensitive you are, how deprived your body really was before him, poor thing. leon was just being nice, doing you a favour, so kind of him.

he didn’t let up, neither did the grip he had on your hand or your thigh, it was painful, surely to leave bruises but your mind was far more preoccupied by the bubbling feeling sizzling in your lower stomach.

you sobbed, fat tears rolling down your warm cheeks as you pushed yourself further against his face, body moving on its own to greedily chase the oncoming euphoria.

he would’ve laughed at your eagerness if he didn’t have a face full of your pussy right now.

“le— leon! o-h my god, leon, leon!” you chanted out like a prayer and in your eyes, right now leon was the only god.

burning hot heat spread all throughout your body and you felt like you were cumming endlessly, eyes screwed shut and mouth draped open, chest almost burning from how long you had held your breath upon chasing your high.

“fuck, oh my god!” you cried out, whole body shivering as you fluttered your eyes open, heaving to catch your breath, your fingers in his hair relaxed but his grip on your hand never left, you could feeling his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand and it helped bring you back to reality.

you were dazed, brain almost lagging behind as you jutted out your lips, eyebrows furrowed as glanced down at leon between your legs, shifting your weight off of him with his help, settling yourself on his chest.

“you okay sweetheart?” he rasped out, tongue dashing out to lip over his cum soaked lips, chin glistening with it too, feeling a bolt of that same pleasure run through your body against at the sight.

you couldn’t muster out a coherent sentence, deciding a nod would suffice.

“n’aww, you’re so fucking cute, c’mere.” he pushed you against him until you were laying on his chest, brushing the back of his hand against his chin to help clean the mess you made.

you melted into a puddle as soon as his arms wrapped snuggly around your waist, your own coming around to hug onto him, head nuzzling comfortably into his chest as though he was your very own pillow.

“i love you..” you muffled out quietly against his chest,

you would’ve heard him say it back, more than once, would’ve felt the array of kisses on your head and fingers tracing along your back but you had succumb to the sweet call of rest far quicker than either of you expected, he didn’t mind though, he’d say it a million more times.

[m3lonpire]

Obey Me! Asmodeus Headcanons 💖

-We all know that Asmo needs to spend some time in Horni Jail, but… 👏NON👏SEXUAL👏AFFECTION!👏

-This man will be putty in your hands if you cuddle with him, kiss his forehead when he’s feeling down. Something bout the warmth of being with someone… I mean, hell, during the snowy day Devilgram story, he straight up comes to MC’s room and sleeps with them because he can’t sleep when it’s cold outside.

-I’m pretty sure this man is at least slightly fruity. He’s bisexual, totally. He’s kinda like Astarion in that way!

-Looking at his wings, they seem like they would be pretty warm, maybe a bit leathery? Kinda like a thin blanket. He can’t fly, though. I feel like with the other brothers, it would take quite a while for them to be okay with you touching their wings, *cough, cough* LUCIFER, but Asmo would be fine with that! I mean, affection is kinda his whole thing. He is the sin of lust, after all… -Bad day? Prepare to get pampered beyond your wildest dreams! He’s drawing a bath with rose petals, giving you a face mask, using his expensive perfumes and skincare, doing your hair and nails. Your skin is gonna be baby smooth by the time he’s done with you! But Mammon’s gonna flip, like he always does. XD

-More on his wings, he wouldn’t let anyone else touch them. He can’t let their dirty hands touch his beautiful wings! But yours… as long as you wash your hands, he’s fine! The man’s a sucker for everything you do, even though he tries to hide it a little bit. 💖

[somethin-stupid-67]

BCS HC's because I've been up all night and the brain rot is unreal

JIMMY/SAUL:

(More Saul?) Loves himself a cocktail, the sweeter the better. Fruity cocktails for a fruity little man. Only thing he can’t stand about them is how overpriced they are, no matter where he orders them.

Very strongly considered buying rings when he married Kim. Something about the symbolism stuck with him and really wanted their marriage, business arrangement or not, to present as more “socially official.” Would’ve definitely had them engraved with Wexler-McGill on the inside of the bands, too.

Eventually became pretty good at the guitar. Still struggles with tuning it and has, on more than one occasion, had a meltdown while attempting to replace broken strings.

Loves his white Cadillac, but definitely misses his Esteem.

KIM:

Smokes whatever cigarettes are on hand but is a ride-or-die menthol enjoyer.

The only person allowed to call her “Kimmy” is her mother. Jimmy tried once and wound up in a long,  long conversation about her distaste of the nickname.

Similarly, she doesn’t go by her full first name (at least professionally) because she feels it’s too preppy/thinks Kimberly Wexler sounds too much like the name of a ditzy blonde side character in a John Hughes movie.

Talkative drunk. Will have a conversation with anyone about nearly anything. Out for drinks and there’s a game on TV? She’s chatting up the nearest patron about every. single. play. Song she recognizes comes on the radio? She’s breaking down the lyrics, symbolism, and the artist’s motivation for writing it. Will apologize profusely the next morning for “talking too much.” Jimmy, naturally, finds it absolutely adorable and insists she shouldn’t feel bad.

NACHO:

Extremely shy as a child!

Grew up listening to/singing along with classic Mexican love songs and sings them softly to himself when completing any sort of task that doesn’t require a lot of focus. Very few people have actually heard him sing, but those who have all tell him he has a lovely voice.

He’d be lying if he said he disliked Lalo calling him “Nachito.”

Huge fan of an ice-cold Coke Zero.

Easily cries at tv shows and movies, most notably if there’s a trope pertaining to a father and son. Less than five seconds into a commercial for the ASPCA/Humane Society and he has tears in his eyes.

LALO:

In the rare instances he’s able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time, he snores. LOUD. Like, keeping the house up half the night loud.

If it wasn’t for his responsibilities to the “family business,” he would have pursued work as either a professional chef or professional hitman. Yes, the two couldn’t be farther from each other. Yes, they somehow both make total sense.

Would’ve 1000% slept with Nacho or Jimmy if the situation presented itself.

Opposite to Nacho, he was an extremely outgoing child. He was the type of kid to wander off with other children or walk up to total strangers and introduce himself.

Initially bothered by how quickly his hair went grey, but once he found out women (and men) thought it made him more attractive he never gave it a second thought.

HOWARD:

Strong aversion to water. He’ll get into a swimming pool and that’s about it, but even then he won’t go out farther than he can stand. His fear of drowning is the only thing preventing him from becoming a triathlete.

Keeps a photo of his parents in his wallet.

Definitely has anxiety. His tells used to be much more obvious when he first became an attorney (leg bouncing, shakiness in voice) but he has since been able to control it, most of the time. It’s a part of what keeps him up at night, why he’ll always opt for tea, and why he picked up boxing and cycling. It almost never interferes with his work the way it once did, but every now and again he can be seen swiftly pacing around his office or picking the skin around his fingers.

Despite his agility/flexibility, he’s an absolutely terrible dancer. Even in a bout of romance, an after-dinner slow dance in his own home proves he has two left feet.

Mailroom Era Jimmy definitely called him “Pretty Boy” to piss him off. It made him blush and/or stutter every time without fail and it took both Chuck and his father to convince him that Jimmy was insulting him and didn’t mean it as a compliment.

[lucy-sky]

Spark (tattoo master!Griff x f!Reader)

A sequel to Skulls and Roses no one asked for! Yaaaay!

Amaya said there was chemistry, and maybe yes, there in fact was :D  In a few months you return to Griff's Tattoos after a bad date.

Warnings: casual sex (with a hint to something more); oral sex f receiving; Griff says “fuck” a lot.

Words: 1473; AO3 link in case you prefer reading there

It was probably one of the worst dates you had in a very long while. The guy only kept talking about himself, his job and his projects, and you thought you’ve never felt that bored before. Bored and… Unimportant? No, but really… It was so bad that at some point you had to lie to him about some emergency at home in order to escape.

A part of you is relieved now that it’s finally over, but on the other hand it’s terribly frustrating. It’s the fourth man you’ve gone out with this month and nothing clicks. Actually it’s more like the opposite - each guy seems to be even worse than the previous one. Or… Maybe it’s not just them? Maybe there’s something wrong with you? Yeah, right, self-love and self-respect, you know that, but still the question lingers in the back of your mind. Maybe the problem is that you started dating a bit too soon? But it’s been months since your breakup, and you thought you were ready. You’re realistic enough to not expect to fall in love at first sight with a beautiful prince charming, but so far no one even made you want to go on a second date. And well… Dating is exhausting after all - you try hard to look pretty, to make a good impression, and for what? Shit, maybe you’re simply not meant to be with someone?..

Drowning in these troubled thoughts, you found yourself at Griff’s Tattoos porch again, as if your feet brought you there against your own will. You’re not sure why you’re doing this and what you’re expecting, but after a moment of hesitation you reach the doorknob and push.

“Good ev- Oh. Hey there, darlin’!” the man grins widely as he recognizes you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Didn’t think I’m ever gonna see ya here again.”

“Hey, Griff,” you say simply with a faint smile on your lips, as you walk in.

“So, uh… You want another tattoo?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” he frowns, dark brown eyes roaming up and down your body, taking in you outfit and makeup. “You look freakin’ gorgeous, by the way. Some special event?”

“I had a date.”

“A date, really?” his eyebrows raise in amusement. “You don’t seem to be very happy ‘bout that.”

“I’m not,” you sigh as you walk to the already familiar desk and sit right on the tabletop.

“No?” Griff comes closer, looking at you intently, trying to catch your gaze. “Why’s that?”

“Maybe dating’s just not my thing,” you mutter with a shrug of your shoulders. “Or maybe he’s just too dull and self-centered. Or… I’m just tired.”

“D’you want me uh… to make you forget ‘bout that shit, like last time?”

Griff’s hand reaches to brush a strand of hair from your face. Unconsciously, you lean into his touch.

“Maybe.”

Griff’s kiss is exactly the same as you remember - fierce and deep, and stealing the breath out of your lungs. It tastes like fruit bubble gum, which feels a bit weird to you - a guy with such a brutal appearance, his kisses must be like whiskey and cigarettes or at least like black coffee or something, but there’s this sweet fruity taste, and even though it’s strange, it’s not unpleasant. Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers caressing the shaved back of his head as you melt into the kiss, let the pleasant warmth of it wash over you, pushing all the frustrating thought away for a while.

Griff’s hands skim up your thighs, slowly pushing up the skirt of your dress.

“Hmm… Are those stockings?” he purrs against your lips. “That’s sexy as fuck, you know that, huh? Can I get a closer look?”

Without waiting for your answer, he drops on his knees, and soon you feel his teeth grazing against the tender skin above the hem of your stockings as he leaves a series of nips and bites on the inside of your thighs. The scratch of his beard makes you shiver, and all of this, especially seeing him between your legs like that turn you on so much you can barely hold a desperate moan.

“Just… Fuck me already, Griff… Stop playing,” you let out a shaky breath, writhing impatiently.

“Oooh, that’s how we’re talking now,” he quips. “No more hints, no maybes, just straight up to the point, are we?”

“You really have to be an ass right now?” you huff snappishly through gritted teeth.

“Relax, princess. M’ gonna fuck you just right,” he smirks, glancing up at you from between your thighs. “Wanna see what else I can do?”

“Surprise me.”

He chuckles at your request, his big hands already reaching to tug your panties down.

“Thank god there’s no fuckin’ shoelaces this time,” he murmurs as you simply shake your shoes off your feet to let him get rid of your underwear. Pushing your legs apart, Griff wastes no time, parting your folds with his thumbs and licking a long hot strip along your slit.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, hips twitching as his tongue meets your clit before diving deeper to taste your arousal.

This man’s tongue really works wonders - alternating between sucking harshly on your clit and light teasing flicks against its tip, he gets you on cloud nine in no time, you’re almost embarrassed at how fast it happens. Your legs are shaking as you come down from your high, trying to catch a breath. Griff’s beard is glistening with your juices when he’s crushing his lips on yours again, while he blindly reaches to fish the condom out of his back pocket.

There’s this pleasant, satisfying weariness in your body once everything is over, and you wish you could simply enjoy this warm post-orgasmic bliss, but your brain once again doesn’t let you do it, one stupid thought bothering you for some reason.

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Griff asks as he tucks himself back into his pants. “If you’re uh… feeling guilty for using me for sex or something - don’t worry, I’m more than okay with that.”

“Actually… I was wondering if you treat all your female customers like that,” you tell him honestly.

“Huh?” he cocks his eyebrow in surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” you shrug. “But somehow you always have condoms in your pocket.”

“You say it like it’s a bad fuckin’ thing.”

“It’s not, but it makes me think you don’t mind fucking around.”

“Yeah, so what? Maybe I do love fuckin’ around, you’re right, but I don’t… Sleep with customers on a regular basis, if that’s what you think. Who am I, a fucking gigolo?”

“Fine,” you raise your hands in a surrendering gesture. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend you, really.”

“Look, I’d never insist on anything if I wasn’t sure you wanted that too,” he continues in a calmer tone.

“Uhh… Okay, and… Why’d you think I wanted it? I mean… Back then, when I first came here.”

“Oh come on! There was this thing between us, you know, like… A spark.”

“A spark?..” you try to suppress an amused chuckle, as it’s definitely not something you expected to hear from him.

“Yeah! Or whatever you fucking call it… Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. You kissed me first, remember?”

“Right. But before kissing you I actually seriously considered slapping you.”

“But you didn’t!” he gives you a triumphant grin. “See, that’s what I’m sayin’. The spark.”

“Okay, you won,” you admit, because you really have nothing to say against it. Let it be a spark. “I guess I have to go,” you say quickly, not wanting the awkward silence to settle in.

“Wait, uh… Listen, I was thinking, you… Maybe you wanna grab a couple of beers in the pub ‘round the corner?” Griff suddenly suggests, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I…” you clear your throat, taken aback by his invitation. “Sorry, but I just think another date would already be too much for one evening.”

“Jesus, woman! Why’d you have to label every goddamn thing?” he snorts, rolling his eyes. “Date… Fuck it. It’s just… Shit, I just wanna hang out with you some more, that’s all. Thought you enjoy my company as well, so…” he trails off with a soft chuckle, and you suddenly think… What if he’s right? Maybe you just tend to overthink the whole dating thing too much? It’s true in fact - you enjoy Griff’s company, despite his ridiculous tattoos and the amount of swear words he says every time he gets to speak. At least with him you don’t have to think of making a good impression, you can… Just simply be yourself. That actually sounds pretty nice.

“Yeah, what the hell. I’d love to grab a beer with you.”

Thanks for reading!

no pressure tags for those who enjoyed the previous story: @sweetieswiftie @faithlove21 @marvelous-world-of-fiction @munsonownsmyass​ @darlingshane​

[dootiexcupcake]

Body

pairing: Heeseung x fem!reader, Jay x fem!reader, Jake x fem!reader, Sunghoon x fem!reader [no names are stated so anyone in hyung line can be in this fic. Jus let ur mind go crazy lol]

tags: first meetings, strangers to lovers, S2L, meet cute ?, club setting, flirty!HYUNG line member, bold reader ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), suggestive (not really), reader blushes but it can’t be seen so, black/POC reader 💃🏾

WARNINGS: drug mention (only once and it has nothing to do with the story at all), drinking, alcohol mention, club setting (not sure if that’s a warning but just in case), slight suggestive

WC: 1k

A/N: I wrote this in 2022 for a friend but I just decided to post it cuz why not 🤷🏾‍♀️

You have no idea why you’re here in this crowded and stuffy club. Well, that’s not entirely true. Your friends begged you to go clubbing with them and basically dragged you here with their boyfriends.

It’s just the fact that you agreed to go along with all of this is what’s so baffling.

The blaring music is giving you a headache, there’s so many people in this cramped building it looks like it’s at its max capacity, and the unbearable smell of some drug cocktail feels like you’re getting a second hand high, the cute dude from across the room is eyeing you up and down.

Wait…

Ok so maybe you’d be lying to yourself if you said the reason why you haven’t left yet was for the drinks. Because it definitely wasn’t the drinks that were keeping you here. You and the mystery guy have been undressing each other with your eyes for a hot minute. He also may or may not be the one sending drinks over to your table too.

You feel your heart begin to jog when you see the pretty brunette get up from his seat and weave his way through the sea of dancing bodies.

Taking his time.

Walking all the way.

To you.

“Hey.” He said with all the confidence in the world for such a concise greeting. You smirked back at him and replied, “hey.”

“Thanks for the drinks by the way, you made this whole club experience a lot more tolerable.” You said as you took a quick sip from the fruity drink he sent to your table.

“Of course, figured you would need a pick me up on one of the busiest nights of the week after all.”

You nearly choked. ‘God, why would these clowns not only drag me to a club but a BUSY club?’ You definitely gotta learn to put your foot down with your friends. No matter how much they give you the puppy dog eyes!

The man noticed your surprised expression and chuckled.

‘He has a really cute laugh…’

“You’re cute. You wanna go out on the floor and dance for a bit?” He suggested, head gesturing over to the huge dance floor. Your stomach dropped at the crowd of people swarming the dance floor, and you also felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment he gave you. “I think I’ll fare better over here if you don’t mind.” You announced while sinking further into the cushy loveseat and sliding over a bit to offer him a place to sit. The man smiled and sat down next to you. The distance between the two of you was nonexistent because of the small size of the sofa, which caused the both of you to avoid eye contact and hide your blushing faces. Luckily for you, it wasn’t as apparent. But the way you bit your lip was telling enough for him to quickly catch on.

With a smirk the man started up the conversation again, “Hate to be so cheesy but, do you come here often? I’m positive I would have remembered a pretty face like yours.” You can’t help but snort at the corny line he just used on you. In most cases you would have got up and flipped him off while walking away. But something about him was just..different. Different in a very good way. “This is my first time at a club actually. I just came here cuz my dumb friends dragged me along. How ’bout you, you go clubbing often?” You ask, relaxing a bit as the two of you continued on with your casual conversation.

You learned that he’s not a frequent club go-er and that previous comment was in fact, an uber cheesy pickup line to break the ice. You learned that he’s a pretty dorky guy despite all the confidence and you guys actually attend the same local college.

“Wait, if that’s the case then why haven’t I seen you around campus then? I’m pretty sure I would have remembered you at least.” You say as you purse your lips in thought, “oh, is that why you were eyeing me all night?” You momentarily stiffened in your seat before delivering a playful punch to his arm. Your attack on him caused him to giggle “Hey hey hey, I was looking too! Don’t get all shy!” He said in between giggles. You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your lips either.

After a moment of comfortable silence he spoke up again, “Are you seeing anybody?” The sudden question took you off guard a bit, “bold are we?” You say as you take another sip of your half full drink. “I mean..you were looking at me quite hard for someone who’s potentially in a relationship.” He says while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “What, I can’t admire someone from afar now?” You play along with his teasing, “hmm, good point. So you like to look around and see what you like, yeah?” He says as his arm snakes around the back of your chair, leaning in closer while his dark eyes stare at you alluringly, “what do you do when you finally have it, hm?”

You shrink under his intense gaze, loving the way his voice drops an octave lower as he speaks to you. You move your head closer to his ear and whisper, “I like to play with it.” You can feel his lips against your neck and you have to suppress the moan creeping up your throat. “Really? How are you gonna play with me sweetheart? You gonna do it right here with an audience nearby? You want everyone to watch? That’s how you like to play, baby?” He murmurs against the shell of your ear, lips trailing back to their original place on your neck. You bite your lip and internally fight with yourself to stop from doing this out in the open. You put your hand on his lap and it catches his attention. He looks in your eyes cautiously, worrying that he may have crossed a line, and asks you if you’re ok. You nod your head and whisper in his ear one last time before getting up and walking away, “meet me in the supply closet”

enha m.list | main m.list

[rcreveal]

(I just can't wait for) Season 3 Good Omens

I can't wait for Season 3 of Good Omens! After Season 2, I really needed to find out how Aziraphale and Crowley might survive the Second Coming, the world could be saved, and they could, eventually, get their reunion.

So, I borrowed the characters, and the world, and added some more characters to ask the first characters some pointed questions, to find out. This story is at about the same level of cursing, violence (well, maybe a little more Gaiman-esque), humor (definitely much more Terry Pratchett-esque) and romance as that of the second season.

So, if you need something to tide you over until Season 3 comes out (please Amazon!)...

Words had been said.

Offers made and rejected.

Inseparable friends, had separated.

And Heaven was under new leadership so the End of the World was on again…

Chapter 1: In which Crowley is on a bender.

Chapter Text

Crowley, traitor to Heaven and Hell, former serpent of the Garden of Eden, was drunk.

Not entertainingly, funnily drunk. Nor maudlin, crying drunk.  Not even loudly, angrily drunk, having already done all of those this evening.

No, he was diligently working towards under-the-table drunk, but, unfortunately, hadn't yet found a limit to the amount of alcohol he could drink and stay conscious.  It was an embuggerance, that.

After a long evening, that began after a protracted afternoon, following an extensive morning of continuous drinking, Crowley sat in a bar with a barkeep who found himself open after all the other bars had closed.  Crowley was his only patron. 

The place was dark and plain with the minimum of decoration.  This wasn’t a bar with karaoke, or songs of any kind.  There weren’t even any dart boards up.  There were no light fruity wines or interesting craft brews, nor colorfully named cocktails.  The patrons of this bar had one goal in mind and wanted to get to it as quickly as possible.

“Mor’ ov tha sa',” Crowley sat, face and shoulders bowed, holding his empty glass up loosely to the barkeep then setting it carefully on the bar.

“There ain’t no more,” replied the barkeep, whisking away the empty glass.

Raising a face expressing confused disbelief, the demon asks, “No whisk, whiskey?”

“No, you drank it all,” the barkeep said, tucking the glass under the counter.

“Scotch?” Crowley suggested.

“You drank that, too.” The barkeep moved to wipe down the bar.

Peering owlishly over the bar at row upon row of empty bottles lined up around the recycle bin, Crowley asks, “Wha’ ‘bout vodka?”

“And that,” the barkeep raised his eyebrows on glancing at the pile of bottles.

Plumbing the horror of it, Crowley asked, “Sherry?”

“Even that,” though he usually didn't carry the stuff.  There'd been a dusty old bottle that materialized under his hand in the back of a cabinet when the man had asked for it earlier.

“No alcohol?” Crowley stared at the man uncomprehendingly.

“Some bugger even nicked the hand sanitizer out the loo.  But you’d be blind if you’d drunk that.”  Though, frankly, the barkeep didn’t know how the man could still be breathing, much less talking.  He’d never seen anyone drink like that.  Wait.  Why had he kept the bar open after closing, and why did he keep serving this man?

“There’s nothin’ left.  You’ll have to go home, mate.  I’ll call you a car,” and he wiped his hands on a clean cloth and walked around the bar to help Crowley out.

“Don’ needa car .  Gotta car .” Crowley staggered to his feet and stumbled towards the door.  The barkeep started to protest, going so far as to put a restraining hand on the demon’s shoulder then miraculously forgot that he didn’t let drunk patrons drive anywhere.  As Crowley made his unsteady way to the Bentley, the barkeep locked the door and turned off the lights while shaking his head.  No one was going to believe why he would be closed tomorrow.

The Bentley’s door opened at Crowley’s touch and he collapsed into the driver’s seat.  Taking a pull of the last of the hand sanitizer, he mumbled, “Wanna go home,” and, finally, passed out.

Which put the Bentley in something of an existential bind.

The Bentley had, for years, been the best maintained car ever made, because that’s what Crowley expected.  But, it had slowly come to anticipate and respond to its owner’s wants, as well.  Living in it for the past several years had nearly completed the car’s new found sentience. So, when Aziraphale found the car producing travel sweets, he wasn’t surprised, because he thought that’s how any respectable car behaved with a new guest.   Aziraphale had inadvertently moved matters along even further by telling the car to park itself, on those occasions when his own parallel parking skills were too rusty.

In short, the Bentley was now alive.  And fiercely protective of and loyal to its owner.  

Who had just given it a direct command, but hadn’t put his hands and feet on the controls to start directing the car.  The Bentley started up, buckled Crowley in (even though Bentleys of it’s era were never manufactured with seat belts), and proceeded to try and drive home.  Wherever that was.

[eddie-redcliff]

Okay another day another fic i won't write. So hawkeye/bj. who knows whether this premise holds any water So Potter is in seoul visiting the hospital there where he runs into sidney. Sidney pulls him aside and is like "Listen there's this big name phych going around to a bunch of units. And this guys gives out blue discarges like candy, if he gets the slightest hint that there might be something queer about a guy he'll double down on them until he gets them. Now you and I both know that hawkeye likes to make his little jokes, but you need to tell him that when this guy gets down to your unit there will be no space for that. I know he likes to mess with any visiting brass that comes through but you gotta remind him that it's not just his military career - but also his medical one on the line here." And potter who of course loves his surgeons very much but also has heard the shit that comes out of hawkeyes mouth is like "will do." So a few weeks later word gets out that yeah this major or colonel phych it coming to the 4077 and after anouncing that to the staff he's like "captain peirce you should stay back a muinet.. and you better too klinger." and is like "listen. love you guys. but no fruitiness okay i don't want you two to get fired i need you." (but of course in lexicon more fitting of a man born in the 1800s) This is where the plot really starts. Hawkeye is like "I don't physically think i could stop making gay jokes about myself I don't even realize i'm doing it half the time" and potter is like "Well you better stop! How bout you make a concious effort starting now and by the time he gets here your brain will be used to it. " So hawkeye is like "okay. for the next 2 weeks i will be the straightest man alive." and compleatly stops with all the gay jokes, all the flirting with men, all the feminization, ect. BJ meanwhile was not privy to this convo. From his POV his best friend has suddenly been acting.. weird. off. not as friendly as usual. not as up in his personal state. It's been at least 2 days since hawkeye has so much as called him by a pet name. So BJ is convinced that hawkeye is mad at him or something - what other reason would there be for this sudden cold shoulder. Problem is they still spend all their time together, they still play chess and eat lunch (though slightly further apart) and read their mail to each other. So he can't even say that Hawkeye is no longer treating him as a friend.. because he is. It just feels like a step down from whatever they were last week... Now i don't know how this will all work out. i'll think about it while i try to fall asleep. largely a lot of the middle part is bj (master gaslighter) feeling like he is being gaslit into thinking nothing is wrong with hawkeye but really he's not he's just paranoid and missing his boyfriend. Potential scenes or ends: - BJ gets to worried about what he thinks is hawkeyes unexplained behavior that he calls in SIDNEY off all people like "Sidney i'm worried hawkeye hasn't called me babygirl in a while do you think he's sick?" - BJ goes around to all the other members of the camp/hawks friedns and is like "hey does he seem weird to you" and they are like "he's normal that's normal hawkeye." and BJ is like "NO IT"S NOT" and they are like "you are crazy.." - He straight up confronts hawkeye and hawk is like "this is a normal male friendship. you ever see me blow charles good night kisses? - the phych leaves and hawkeye immedietly drops the bit and everyone is like "okay now that he's back to doing it we realize what was different you were right BJ - hawkeye, being very careful to not reveal his bisexuality, makes no effort at all to hide his hatred for the US goverment, the concept of militaries, or the US army. and so he gets written up anyways for being a communist. - the phych is like "this Dr. Hunnicut is almost obsessed with this Dr. Peirce... something to investigate there..." Okay.. will think more. this is very vauge.

[gxdmade]

@chatcambrioleur asked [Fruity Headcanons]

🍐, 🍎 [how intelligent is my muse overall?  are they smarter than the average person,  or less than?  are they primarily self-taught,  or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school?  are they more street smart or book smart? ] [how stable is my muse’s mental health?  have they been diagnosed with any mental illnesses and  /  or conditions?  do they have any undiagnosed mental illnesses and  /  or conditions?  do they or should they attend therapy? ]

Usopp is pretty smart for being self-taught mostly! Especially when it comes to being a tactician, engineering, and insects! He's a quick learner, and really loves to dig into knowledge when something interests him. He wants to learn all about it!!! He studies art sometimes, and loves trying out new mediums and discovering their differences from other mediums.

✨Mental Illness Innit✨Bro is for sure not neurotypical. Like he's definitely stable enough that he's not a danger to himself or others. But boy has an anxiety disorder something crazy. On top of that, he's on the spectrum, ptsd, abandonment issues, depression, yknow fun stuff. He's not exactly diagnosed for most things, unless Chopper has done so. Although he is medicated for the anxiety, it's something he could not avoid if he wanted to life any semblance of a 'normal' life.

hhahha....therapy....man don't they all need therapy?? Especially since he still struggles with the death of his mother (nightmares and random bouts of deep grief) and his feelings towards his father are extremely tangled. His self-esteem issues probably should also be discussed, as seeing yourself as the most expendable crewmate is not healthy in any capacity (looking at you too sanji.)

[prettyinpink350]

Kiss and cry

Summary: steve Roger's was known as the 'nice guy's but to you he was the son of satan. He made your life hell on earth. But that all changes when you one day when your parents invite him and his family over for dinner.

Warning: down talking, bullying, manipulation, masterbaition, slight stalking, forced relationship, smut. Abo.

Dark! Alpha steve Rogers x innocent sweet omega reader

This story take place in the late 80s early 90s

April 16th freshman year...

Steve and his friends stood in the hallway before school waiting for the bell to ring signaling that school has started. Bucky and Sam where carried away in their conversation.

Steve was quite letting out the Occasional 'mhmmmm' or 'wow' Just watching people pass by then he saw you.

You were walking with your friend, your soft hair flowing as you walked, in that moment the world stopped to a screeching halt. When the breeze caught your as you passed him by, steve could smell the fruity scent off of you, mangos, apples and honey lemon.

He watched you walk away, his eyes never leaving you until your and your friend where out of sight He had never seen you before but it looked like bucky had.

"God look at that! Damn I'd to dick her down." Sam said while his eyes just got done watching your ass.

"Yo, you talkin' bout y/n y/l/n. Nahh man she won't let nobody touch her." Bucky responded

"who is she?" Steve asked playing it off as if he hadn't just seen the girl of his dreams walk by.

"Y/n she's in my history class, shes sweet an all. But rumlow tried askin' her out and she declined. Like ain't every girl crushing on that dick" bucky finished his rant.

"Wait! The senior football player asked and she said no! Yo something must be wack about her" sam mused.

"Huh? That's weird." Steve commented. The next day steve saw you walking into your Home room. During lunch steve went to the office and got his home room changed to yours. And that when all the trouble began.

Saturday

The doorbell rang, your mother opened the door with a wide smile. You stood sheepishly with your father in the living room. Worry and anxiety rolled in thick hot waves into you.

Your mother had recently befriended steve rogers mother Sarah. Mrs rogers was the most sweetest person ever, with her honey blonde hair and brown eyes. Her slender short figure was almost comically to her husbands and sons.

Steve had her loving face except for the brown eyes, his blue that swirl to green in the middle. His lighter blonde hair taken from his father and his huge muscular build made him hulk only at the age of 18. His father had blonde hair and blue eyes as pale of the sky in summer. His father slightly bigger but that would soon change once Steve grew into his full alpha body

Steve and his family walked in chatting and smiling with your mother.

“Hiya y/n, how have you been?” Joseph Steve’s father asked.

“I’m good” you answered weakly. You could feel Steve’s eye burning into you but you wouldn’t look at him.

How could Steve the devil have come from such nice people? As your parents led sarah and Joseph into the dinning room for “grown up talk” you and Steve stayed behind in the living room. You stood awkwardly my the arch door way.

“Umm..so how was day?” You asked trying to break the silence.

“It was fine.” He replied bluntly and annoyed

“So y/n’s a junior now?” You and Steve over heard the conversation from the dinning room.

“Yea she is!” You father responded

“Have you guys found an alpha for her? Is a very pretty omega” Sarah sad with joy.

“We have been looking for a suitable match, we’re nervous to talk to her about it. She’s shy, I’m sure you can tell” your mother chuckled after she spoke. “ we wanted to let her gong her own, but we’re worried she’ll get taken advantage of, or she won’t find anybody since she’s so shy” your mother finished.

You could feel Steve eyes on you again.

“Does Steve have an omega lined up?” Your father asked

“Well we thought Sharon, but suddenly sophomore year he just stopped talking to her. Now he’s a senior, I’ve been trying to make him start to get a nice girl. Or convince him that Sharon is a good match but he just waved me off and told me that he has his eyes on another. The boy refused to tell who she is” Joseph said in response.

“You don’t have a mate lined up” Steve asked his eyes looked into your mating gland.

“N-no I haven’t found a nice one yet, a-and no one ever shows interest.”

“That’s because you don’t talk, or because no one wants a slut mate” Steve spoke lowly and mean, low enough so your parents or his wouldn’t hear him.

The rest of the dinner you sat silently trying to not cry from Steve’s words and glare.

Monday

You sat in front of Steve's and his friends trying to pay attention to your work.

"Look at the omega brat! All small and scared" bucky kept jabbing your shoulders with his fingers.

"Little slut, huh? Omega whore, I bet she'll suck any guy off." Steve said right before he shoved your back, your chest slamming into the desktop. You whimpered the pain in you chest hurt like hell.

"Awww is the omega hurt" steve mocked pretending to care in a baby voice. You started to pack up your things, tears rolling down your face. You stood up walking out of the classroom the sub to busy sleeping on the job to notice.

You ran down the hallways finding the farthest bathroom to hide in. Right before you were about the lock the stall door the girls bathroom opened loudly banging. Heavy footsteps followed. You quickly shut the stall door and locked it.

"OMEGA! get out here right now!"

Steve yelled punching his fist into the door. You cried harder, so confused of what you ever did to Steve to make him hate you this much. Ever since you met steve in your homeroom class in freshman year you had a crush on him.

He smelled like apples, smoky wood, and warm chocolate. All you ever wanted was to be his friend, but somewhere along the lines you must have messed up. Because now steve was slamming his body into the stall door trying to break it down.

"Y/n! Open this fucking door right now!" You whimpered scared that you'd upset the alpha you longed for.

"I'm scared" you sobbed out, that's what did it for steve. He broke down the door eyes landing on you small figure cramped into the corner of the stall.

"Please don't hurt m-me. I dont know what I did wrong."

Steve's breaths came out in pants. Steve felt shame he scared his omega, made her think he was going to beat her. He regretted the day that sam and bucky started to tease you because you told bucky no you wouldn't go on a date with him, and he played and followed along. He hated that he did because now he was watching the girl he knew was his mate cry and shake at the sight of him.

Steve slowing walking in, holding his arms out for you. You flinched away from him -that broke his heart.

"Let your alpha make it better" steve murmured while he pulled you into his arms you shook and sobbed into him.

"Why?" You asked "why are you so mean to me steve? All I ever wanted was to be your friend" steve hugged you tighter rubbing his nose to your neck senting you.

"I'm sorry omega. Alpha just wanted you." Steve spoke while he needed your ass. Letting out a high whine from your throat when steve continued to run his mouth over your gland.

"I know my sweet omega, alpha's sorry"

A/N: I am making this into a short series, this first chapter is pretty short but I'm tired. Sorry, love ya hot stuff🤭😉

[peanutpinet]

Yuta as a cold yet soft mafia boss

Prompt: 99) “You think prison is the worst place you could go? You pull some shit like that again and I’ll have you thrown in places that’ll make prison seem like a wet fucking dream.” from 100 Dialogue Prompts for Mob Boss AU

A/N: just like the Jeno fic, I've always wanted to do a Yuta fanfic and it wasn't until I saw this writing prompt that I'm like, this feels like something Yuta would say.

Warnings: probably some cursing since it's Yuta XD

Now, we all know how cold and scary Yuta looks when in fact he's a big softie. Which is probably one of the reasons why you fall for him; because of how soft whipped he is with you and the rest of NCT.

Like the boy is very much whipped for you that he would even have time to ask you 'have you eaten', 'what are you up to' while being on a mission. The boys also like to tease him about it, even WayV (who we all know are slightly terrified of him)

Would definitely take you out on a date every now and then if he can. A/N: Kay, hold up, we're getting a bit ahead. I forgot to tell you how y'all met XD

So, it was a school night (well, you're in college); and you were quite stress with your final assignment that you decided to go to the nearest convenience store to grab some coffee and snacks to pull an all-nighter.

You wore an oversize hoodie and some sweats (cause comfort is key) and was walking through the snack aisle, about to grab (your favourite snack) when another hand was about to reach for it (ehem, Yuta, ehem)

Despite wanting to grab the snack, you insist the tall, handsome man to have it instead (even if you were wondering how a guy like him like your fave snack). But the man insist you take the snack; which led to the both of you having a little debate and eventually the man took the snack, paid for it but gave it to you, saying that you needed it more

"Take it. Finals are tough and you need the little boost to keep you going. Also, don't worry so much about the result. What matters is you did your best, mkay? See you around kid" the man lectured, giving you a slight smile before leaving with his own coffee

After he left, it took you a while to process what just happened before going back to your dorm and continue your final assignment

But oh how the universe like to bring people together ;)

It was right after your finals and you and your friends decided to have some drink at a nearby bar since you guys were curious and have never experienced the bar aura.

You weren't much of a drinker despite your amazing tolerance in alcohol so you were rather confused what to order until a familiar sound came.

"She'll have the orange-mango crush" a familiar voice stated

Turning around, you saw the same man you bumped into at the convenience store almost 2 weeks ago but this time, he looked way more put together and even wore a suit. Lowkey, your mind was starting to wander around and thinking whether there was going to be a fight or some sort or if this was that typical mafia story you secretly read.

"Didn't think you'd be the type to come to a bar on a school night. You done with your finals kid?" the man asked

"I, uhh, yea. Wait!! What do you mean the type to come to a bar?" you stuttered; not aware that your friends were staring at the both of you

"Don't worry, I don't mean it like it's a bad thing. People do what they want. Who am I to judge. Anyways, you ladies enjoy your night. If there's any problem, don't hesitate to let me, the bartender or the guards know. Also, the drink is on the house" the man winked at you and your friends, giving a slight wave before leaving

Cue your friends immediately plastering you with all sorts of question. Wondering how you met a handsome hunk in the midst of your finals. Not to mention, that handsome hunk even remembers you. Cue you becoming a blushing mess; especially after the bartender came with the drink the man requested for you.

Though you were worried that the drink was spiked, you gave a little sip and it was all fruity and delicious. Mental note to yourself: not only is he good-looking, kind but also has good taste in food; great, just great.

The rest of the night went fairly nice. You and your friends were sipping on your drinks, having a nice chit-chat bout life in general, catching up since you guys were not in the same classes. Once the clock hit 1 am, you figured that it was time to head back to your dorm.

Since you decided to wait for your friends who were calling an uber to head back to their homes since they live near your college. Whilst waiting, you told your friends that you were going to go to the bathroom for a bit.

Right when you came out of the bathroom, a random man tried to hit on you and it made you very uncomfortable that you eventually hit the wall behind you. But luckily, a certain someone came and save the day ;)

"Oi. Hands off the girl. Looks like someone is new to my bar since I don't accept any sort of make-out if there's no consent between two parties. Scram before I make you" your saviour growled, making the man leave you alone

"Are you alright?" the man asked while you were catching your breath

"Yeah. Yea, I am. Thank you again. Uh..." you mumbled

"What is it? Are you sure you're alright?" the man questioned, worried in his tone

"It's just, you've basically helped me twice and I still have yet to know your name" you chuckled, making the man chuckle as well

"If that's really what you want. I'm Yuta" the man called Yuta chuckled

"Thank you, Yuta. I appreciate it" you thanked him, giving him a genuine smile; not knowing what that smile does to Yuta's heart

And folks, that was just the beginning of your relationship. Ever since that night, Yuta made it his goal to get to know you more before actually asking you in a relationship; which, when the time came and Yuta asked you, without thinking twice, you said yes.

Throughout your relationship, Yuta was pretty blunt in telling you what he does as a living and mentioned that while he may live a dangerous life, he still had morals and his job was actually putting down all the bad people hiding in the shadows.

Despite all, you trusted Yuta and he also trusted you. You still had your freedom and was allowed to go wherever with whoever you wanted as long as you told Yuta beforehand. Even throughout your near one year anniversary, both of you knew each other's friend group and you even get to see how soft Yuta was when it comes to his mates.

However, all those sweet moments you both felt like a dream the second Yuta heard news that you were captured by some lowlife gang that NCT made go broke. Hearing the news, it was only a matter of minutes before the whole NCT used their network to find you and create a well thought out plan to get you back.

Once Yuta got you back, he made sure you were alright whilst the other members lock the gang up in their basement. Yuta made sure that you had no injuries; which, if you do, he would tend them himself and if he can't then he'll have someone come but stay by you until you were alright or, until you fell asleep.

After tucking you into bed and making sure you were fast asleep. Yuta peck your forehead for a moment before quietly sneaking off the bed and out of his room, going down to the basement and confronting the gang with some of the other members.

“You think prison is the worst place you could go? You pull some shit like that again and I’ll have you thrown in places that’ll make prison seem like a wet fucking dream. Now, which one of you nutjobs came up with the idea in the first place?!" Yuta growled, smirking once he saw the gang cower in fear

A/N: hope you guys enjoy this Yuta fic that came out of nowhere XD and hope you all stay safe and healthy :) xoxo

[buckybarnesdiaries]

“Love's my religion but he was my faith, something so sacred, so hard to replace. Fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace”.

PART ONE. INDEX.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

word count: ±1.4k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Four years had passed since you left New York to study in London. Your parents went to visit you every two months, but it wasn't the same. You missed your home, the rest of your family, your friends. England was pretty different from the USA in many aspects, so you couldn't wait to leave that city as soon as you were done with your final exams. Your father was supposed to visit you in the next few days, but you wanted to surprise him too by coming back home earlier.

You didn't tell anyone about your flight, taking a taxi outside the airport. Along the way, you were fascinated looking through the window. Your city hadn't changed too much, maybe a couple of shops and cafeterias, but that was everything. You couldn't help but sigh when you left the jungle of skyscrapers to Cold Spring, where you grew. A beautiful and small village with its own charm. Checking the time on your phone and finding some unread messages from your mother, you bite your lips with a soft grin on your lips imagining her face when she watched you there.

But before, you had to make a stop in your own house to leave your suitcase, have a shower and change your clothes. Yes, you would have preferred to have a quiet evening at your home, with your family, but James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was giving a party.

Oh, that man. Your first love. You knew him ever since, being the son of your father's best friend and, now, his associate. He had more than twelve years than you, but love didn't understand about age. And you were conscious that he felt something for you. Maybe attraction, maybe desire. Whatever was enough for you to keep alive the flame inside your heart. You weren't going to lie, you wanted, needed to see him after four years. Four long years without knowing anything about him more than what your father used to tell you about businesses and the presents Bucky used to send you on your birthday and Christmas with a short letter.

You didn't lose time in your task, getting ready to join the party in less than twenty minutes. Looking at your reflection in the mirror of your private bathroom, you couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering within your belly, fantasizing about what he would do when he had you in front of his eyes. You were almost sweating, remembering how good it felt whenever he touched your hand slightly, or how his fingers gripped gently around your thigh sitting together —under the table. Bucky never crossed the limit since he wasn't an associate yet, but now he was the boss the story was pretty different.

The parking attendant took the keys of your car after opening the door for you and stepping out. You said thanks before taking a deep breath with a hand on your belly, trying to calm the nerves as you raised your eyes to the luxurious and ostentatious manor occupying completely your field of vision. The guests outside enjoying different kinds of conversations turned at you astonished but pleasantly surprised. You weren't the innocent girl that left that village four years ago anymore. You were a woman. A lawyer ready to take your throne. To take your place in the company. And you were stunning and radiant on your silk white dress with the back open and exposed.

Not wasting more time on being contemplated, you walked in swinging your hips sensually, calling everyone's attention. Your gaze traveled the place all around till they got bewitched by a pair of oceanic blue eyes among the crowd. Bucky was there between other men, listening to a conversation he wasn't interested in, with a glass of whisky close to his mouth. He took a sip, licking the flavor impregnated on his lips. For a reason you didn't understand, he didn't look surprised, nor curious to know how it was possible you were there. The smile that appeared on your face suddenly went down with disappointment, turning at the amazed tone of voice your father used to call you before embracing you into his arms.

The next hour, your parents introduced you to anyone who didn't meet you personally four years ago, making you feel out of place. Yes, you missed your home and your family, but Bucky's indifference broke your heart in a thousand pieces, glancing at him flirting with any women rattling his saber. Adoring him as if he was some kind of god. It was suffocating you to the point of watering your eyes. As soon as you could escape from the situation of your father showing you like a trophy, you went upstairs to the old library George Barnes owned, and where you used to spend a lot of time in your adolescence. It was a quiet room, soundproofed and packed with huge windows to the nearest forest. A view you liked to stare at in silence during autumn.

Walking inside and closing the door, you toured the hundreds of books thoroughly placed and conservated through the years, landing your fingers in an original version of Alice in Wonderland. You always felt like that, surrounded by people only moved and controlled by money. Money that gave you freedom for four long years in England, but the same that now was your sentence for life.

You couldn't help but shut your eyes when a fingertip traced your bare backbone, causing you goosebumps all over your skin. His strong scent flooded your lungs racing your pulse, as his closeness made jump your heart bout to fly off from your chest. You could recognize that touch between a million. The tenderness with he caressed you, the delicacy he had to admire your beautiful and warm skin.

“White makes you look like an angel”. Bucky whispered hoarsely into your ear, noticing him placing himself behind you.

You swallowed hard, keeping your lips parted while both hands found their way to your arms, pawing them down slowly till being laced with yours. Then, a fond kiss was placed on the back of your head. A sigh escaped his throat when he was able to sink his nose in your hair. The fruity, but subtle, smell dizzied him.

“Red…” He mumbled urging you to turn around and face him, stroking gently your bottom lip with his thumb when he had the opportunity. “Red makes you look like a dangerous weapon”.

“I've been both all my life, not needing clothes or makeup to demonstrate it”. You replied raising your chin in a proud gesture that caused him to chuckle.

“How many boys have kissed them?” Bucky wanted to know, shortening the distance between the two of you until he was practically melting with your body, wrapping his left arm around your lower back. His voice was so sensual that it made your legs feel weak.

But you didn't answer his question. No one. You didn't kiss anyone while you were in London. Barely neglecting your studies, only desiring to pass your exams and come back home to finish the last year of college in New York. You could swear that a lustful shine crossed fleetingly his pale blue eyes, trying to maintain his gaze while his thumb wandered down your throat, moving slowly between the gap of your neckline and enjoying how good it was to touch you again, continuing to your abdomen. Bucky urged you to rest your back against the library, bringing his lips closer to your ear at the moment his hands meet almost in your ass.

Shameless, he settled himself between your legs, leaving a kiss on the sweet spot behind your ear before tracing it with the tip of his nose. “So… you kept your promise”.

Your fingers got tangled strongly in the laps of his jacket when you remembered that precise instant before leaving your house four years ago.

September came with warm evenings and different kinds of orange, brown, and red decorating the trees all around Cold Spring. You were sitting on the grass of the back garden of your house, alone, drinking a glass of vodka. You knew how hard it was going to leave the place that gave you life, happiness, love. Bucky joined you without expecting it and gave you a bracelet made of white gold exactly like the one his father gave him for his eighteenth birthday, with the coordinates of his home —what took you some months to notice was that yours had his coordinates too—. And he asked you if you would wait for him all that time till you were back to his arms.

And there you were, with his lips tracing a path of sweet, loving kisses through your jawline. But they never touched yours, leaving you wanting more, needing him.

“Welcome home, doll”.

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[marvel-ousnesss]

Hand in Hand

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Y/N and Harry the night of the Brits.

word count: 2806

masterlist 

A/N: I wrote most of this on my phone so sorry for any typos or mistakes. Lots of love 💜💜💜

“Y/N, Y/N!”

You approached the source of the storm of voices with a wide grin on your face. You still couldn't hide the thrill that your fans brought you, nor you could stop yourself from just hanging with them for a bit. You ambled through the red carpet exchanging smiles and posing for selfies until you reached the end of the path.

When you stepped inside, you greeted a few other people who had arrived at the event and went to freshen up a bit so you could pose for some photos.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and grinned widely. You felt like the girl singing covers in her room, yet here you were, attending your first-ever music awards as a nominee —with one of the best albums of the year under your arm.

As you made your way back from the restroom, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn around, they spoke.

"Well hey, fancy seeing you here.” Harry's voice was raspy, tinted with mischief.

You stopped, turned toward him with an amused half-smile.

"Right back at you,” you joked back. “Do you come here often?"

He exhaled a fruity laugh and smiled at you, finally allowing his gaze to drift down onto your figure and then back to up to meet your own. "You look… wow."

He made you blush with almost no effort but you were quick to cover it up, doing your best to get rid of the tension that seemed to constantly glide around the two of you.

"Well, don't you look 'wow' yourself", you smirked.

It had been going on for a few months now; flirting here and there, hanging out at parties, and even a few dates which you had tried to keep out of the spotlight. Nevertheless, headlines hadn't stopped gushing on about 'the newest, freshest face of the industry' and the 'beloved, eclectic Harry Styles.'

Looping your arm around his you subtly prompted him to continue walking toward the awaiting cameras, where you were headed before bumping into him. He obliged, smoothly guiding you through the crowd of crew members, press, and artists.

After a moment of hesitation, his hand traveled to the small of your back. When you felt his tender fingers against the silk of your gown, you lifted your head to look at him.

"So, what’s the game-plan for tonight?”

“Y’know how ‘t goes,” he explained. “Step one: performance, step two: get hold of all the tiny statues, step three: world domination.”

You laughed, but insisted, “really, how’re you doing; ready?”

Even if he seemed to be perfectly collected, you knew that tonight’s show had his head spinning. This was gonna be his first live performance of the year, and, to be honest, you thought it was admirable that he decided to go through with it after what had happened that weekend.

“‘m just a mess of nerves and excitement right now. Tonight needs to be brilliant.”

He didn’t wanna talk about Caroline’s death and you were ok with it, so you didn’t push on the topic.

“I’m sure it’ll be. The whole album’s just amazing; and, you know, the guy who sings it isn’t that bad either.”

He chuckled lightly, then sighed, “just hope I make it justice.”

You smiled, “you will.”

That’s when you found yourselves between the gray wall upholstered with logos and brand names and the army of photographers equipped with cameras of all sizes.

You both faced them and quickly displayed your best angles.

Offering a smirk as he fixed the collar of his blazer, Harry asked, “what ‘bout you, eyes on the prize, I assume?”

You turned around with grace, so that the back of your outfit was visible, then faced the cameras over your shoulder.

“Well, yeah,” you sighed dramatically. “But, to be frank, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep them there with you looking so dashingly handsome.”

His eyes widened for a second and he let out a ringing laugh, his cheeks reddening slightly. It was truly a beautiful sight. However, no longer than a moment later, he concealed the gentle blush with a snort and a devious grin, which he directed at the cameras.

“I know ’m irresistible, love,” he smirked. “And I hate to tell you this, but I‘m ‘a be professional tonight, no funny business.” His tone was dripping with feigned seriousness.

"Your loss," you flipped your hair.

_______

You guided Y/F/N to the table where your team had been placed. Being honest, she was thrilled to be there with you, but also quite surprised that you had honored the promise you both made back in middle school. When you had first told her about your YouTube channel —after a fair amount of bugging on her part—, she had shown complete support and joked about being your date to the met gala. But, as the met was still clearly out of your league and you had missed the Grammys because of your mom’s birthday, here you were.

She already knew your manager so you introduced her to the rest of them before taking a seat, ready to enjoy the rest of the evening.

The first few minutes were full of laughter and conversation. When the event officially began, you watched the presentations with a gaping mouth and cheered hastily when every award was presented.

Before you knew, it was already time for Harry’s performance. You bit the inside of your lip when he climbed upstage, effortlessly rocking a lace jumpsuit that gave a deific, but simple air to him.

“Can’t believe you turned that down to bring me,” your friend whispered to you.

“Seriously?, my first ever-awards were something I needed to share with you, dork.”

“Awww, friend.”

“Aww”, you mocked, then hit her shoulder lightly. “Shush, let me listen.”

Everything happening on stage was truly breathtaking. You mouthed the lyrics as your gaze followed his every move. His eyes were full of stars and his voice was so flooded with emotion that it made chills run down your spine.

“I’ll rip his throat out with my teeth if he ever fucks up.”

Those words somewhat pulled you out of your daze-like state. Part of you wanted to ask her what she meant, but it was no use. For her, you were an open book, so you didn’t even try to hide how bad you had fallen.

Only with a glance your way, Y/F/N managed to catch the way in which your eyes twinkled when you looked at him and the way you blushed ever so slightly when she brought him up.

You tried to conceal the impact of her words with a sip of your drink, to which she responded with a smug wink.

The following half an hour or so went by uneventful. You nearly fainted when Lizzo performed, and it didn’t get better when you discovered she was but a few tables away from you, next to where Harry had been placed. A couple of categories where presented and the moment you dreaded the most arrived.

Celeste was flawless on stage, and you couldn’t be happier for her. Yet, as you listened to her song, your brows were glued in a frown and the corners of your mouth seemed to weigh a ton. It was time for the rising star award, and then came international female solo —to which you had been nominated.

You turned your head to the side when you heard the scratching of a chair against the floor, and offered a quivering smile to Harry, who had not so discreetly sneaked to your table.

“Hey,” he mumbled, taking hold of one of your hands under the table.

“Hey.”

Celeste’s speech, which ended before you would’ve wanted, was followed by Sporty’s introduction to your category. You tried to stay positive as the nominees were announced.

Y/F/N managed to dodge Harry and get her hand on your shoulder. She gave him an awkward attempt of a smile, then looked at you. “You got this.”

You nodded at her words but, not so deep down, you knew this wasn’t gonna be your year.

“I’m so excited, they’re all so brilliant,” Sporty began.

Harry’s grip tightened on your hand while she opened the envelope, and you barely heard him mumble, “come on.”

That’s when the winner was announced. Billie’s name echoed through the speakers across the place and your face fell for a few seconds.

You were quick to recover and clapped just as eagerly as you had for the rest of the winners, but the smile plastered on your face quivered a bit as you swallowed a wave of disappointment.

That changed when she got to the stage, that’s when utter pride kicked in. While Billie said a few words in acceptance of the award, Jack Whitehall made his way to the table and squeezed a chair between you and Harry. You let out a snicker as he clumsily tried to sit comfortably, then you moved a bit back.

He was given his cue by the camera guy and began.

“Congratulations, to Billie Eilish! Now, I’m just so excited to be here with this power couple who, for some reason, are not officially a couple yet.”

"Glad to have you."

His eyes drifted between the two of you, then settled on Harry. “Harold, you’ve been coming to the brits for 10 years. Not to make you feel old.” Then he looked at you. “Y/N, on the other hand, this is your very first time here.”

"Yup," you chuckled. "Total newbie."

“Sorry for the stock question, but how’s it feeling so far? Kidding, we don’t wanna talk about that, do we? I bet you’ve already got at least five rehearsed versions of the answer to that question.”

You snorted.

“Let’s get to the point here.“ Jack leaned closer to the table, to which you responded by mimicking his posture. “Ever since the ‘Up All Night’ era, when Harold here was just a lad with his little bow tie and a mop on his hair, he’s been a ladies man.

Harry scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.

"And, as such, he can only be paired to someone like you,“ he pointed his finger at you in mock accusation, “my dear Y/N, who has been leaving a fair share of lads and ladies’ hearts broken —including my own— ever since your very flare-up on that strange platform which somehow houses both Rebecca Black’s ‘Friday’ and your phenomenal album ‘Tears of Blade’. However, putting my broken heart aside, I wanna Know… you didn’t come as each other’s date, why’s that?"

Harry took a sip of his drink, "I tried, but she turned me down."

Jack faked shock. "Should I get my hopes up then?"

"Oh no, none of that."You shook your head. "I just brought a friend tonight."

His mouth opened in realization, then he smirked, wiggling his brows. "Not to intrude, but… a special friend of yours or a friend friend."

You threw your head back, laughing, then said, "Jack, this is Y/F/N. Y/F/N, Jack."

"Hi." She stretched out her hand, which the host gladly took.

“I like the way your hand fits in mine,” he gushed.

——————————

You struggled to stay awake in the car to your place, your eyelids didn’t seem to be obeying you anymore and your head was feeling too heavy for you to lift. Harry chuckled when he looked at you, bringing you closer to him so you could use him as a pillow. For the rest of the ride, he quietly hummed to the music playing and did what he could to ignore the feeling of numbness that was beginning to invade his arm.

You woke up when the car stopped and raised your head, scanning your surroundings. When your gaze met Harry’s, you smiled. He grabbed your purse and helped you out of the car, then you both took the lift to your apartment.

"Make yourself at home," you said, taking off your coat and shoes.

"Thanks, love." He hanged his blazer on the rack by the door, together with his vest and the purple pashmina that adorned his neck.

After changing into some sweatpants and a t-shirt, you made your way to the living room and found Harry, neck deep into your fridge. That's when you recalled you hadn't done any grocery shopping.

"Tell me if you find something, my fridge's just sad to even look at," you jested, standing behind him.

"S'not that bad. I mean, carrots, beer, tortillas, we could do wonders out of this," he scoffed, still looking for something worth looting.

After no avail, he closed the door.

"Or… we could order pizza."

He chortled, "Y/N/N, we ate like an hour ago."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

He sighed, letting himself fall to the couch in fake exasperation. "Woman, you’re a bad influence." Now, that was a yes.

You giggled when he ended up sitting on the floor, then taunted, "worried your Gucci suits won’t fit you anymore?"

"Ha-ha very funny." Harry settled on the floor, grabbing one of the decorative pillows.

"C’ mere," he patted the spot beside him.

"The couch’s right there."

"So?"

"So?" you mocked, "you come here." You clumsily sat on the couch, but he grabbed your ankle and pulled you to the floor. You let out a squeal but, taking advantage of the boost he had given you, managed to place yourself on top of him, caging his body between yours and the couch.

You were about to gloat, but he placed a hand on your waist and used the weight of his body to push you back, turning the cards.

"You got me where you want me, what are you gonna do?" When you spoke, your voice came out quieter than intended.

Harry's hand found the hem of your shirt and he began tugging it faintly, brushing your skin ever so slightly. He looked at your lips for a moment, then your eyes.

"'Ve got a few ideas-" his words were drowned by the doorbell ringing.

"Fuck," he groaned, head burying in the crook of your neck. Your fingers curled around his silky locks, then you mumbled, "I have to get up, you know."

He grumbled something else, but you pushed him off you.

You received the pizza and locked the door, proceeding to put the cardboard box on the marble counter. As you cut the tape with a small knife, Harry joined you in the kitchen. Stepping behind you, he placed his hands on your sides and a kiss on the line where your neck met your shoulder.

"Patience is a virtue, Harold," you teased.

"Don't care."He rested his head on your shoulder but his hands carried on with the feathery strokes.

Just then, you opened the box and swiftly turned around, giving him a quick peck before stepping out of his grasp.

"Help yourself," you instructed while grabbing two beers from the fridge.

After giving him one, you took hold of a slice and walked toward your previous spot on the living room floor. "Don’t know bout you, but I’m starving."

Harry followed with the box in hand, after settling once again, he placed the box between the two of you and grabbed the remote control.

You shook your head and scoffed, "all that wailing and you're just as hungry as I am."

"Not my fault that the bloody doorbell killed the mood." He took another bite.

Three beers per head later, as the credits of Dirty Dancing rolled up the screen, the pizza had been discarded long ago. You hummed to the credits song as your head rested on his lap, enjoying the feeling of his hands playing with your hair.

"Thanks for tonight," he mused.

"What d'you mean?" You adjusted yourself so that you were looking up at him.

"Just, you know, "he hesitated, finding the words. "You made sure it was a great night."

Your mouth opened in realization before you smiled, lifting one of your hands to his cheek. “That's what 'm here for." Then you sat up, and joked, "besides, 's only fair to admit that, for a business night, it was fun."

"You break my heart, love" he sighed, "all your business partners get after parties like tonight’s?"

"Nah," you avowed, "just the cute ones."

"I'm relieved, then." He pulled you to him by the waist.

You beamed, throwing your head back, "you're unbelievable."

When you straightened up, after your laugh died down, his gaze found your lips once more and he leaned in. "Can I kiss you?"

Your hands moved up to the back of his neck and, without a word, you pressed your lips to his.

Requests open!

[silvercrystalwhump]

The Town's Matron

TW: starvation, hunger, parental abuse, bbu warning

Flynn watches Kai out of the corner of his eye. Using one of Flynn’s mechanical pencils, Kai draws on the back of an old receipt. Eyes fully entranced on the pencil lines. Flynn pushes the shopping cart forward gently, so as to not disturb Kai who is sitting inside. A yawn leaves Flynn’s mouth as he looks across the shelves. The shopping list, if one could even call it that, sits clapped to the baby holder on the cart.

Holding up one of the sturdy backpacks, Flynn asks Kai, “Do you like this one?”

Kai eyes it for a second and hesitates before snapping to the chipper attitude he usually has and nods. Flynn blinks and looks back at the shelf, trying to follow where Kai flicked his eyes.

One thing he learned about box boys was that they never said no. That fact alone made Flynn worried for him.

What do they do to you to make you so compliant?

“Is there another one you like more?”

Kai pauses his drawing and slowly looks up at a green one. He points the pencil at it for a moment before going back to doodling. Flynn pulls the bag free from the shelf and holds it out. Kai beams and nods back at him, scrunching his nose like he usually does when he’s actually happy.

So, it’s safe to say that Kai really likes green.

Flynn looks over the price and the pockets of the bag. It’s made of decently sturdy material and is big enough to hold things other than one notebook. He slides it beside Kai in the cart and grabs the largest one he can see to go with it. These bags will need to hold a lot of things for a while.

Flynn tries to rub away the tiredness that eats at his vision. He had been driving for two hours before arriving at the nearest city to buy this stuff. He couldn’t do this in town. Everyone there knew him and someone would tell his father and he knew he would taste another piece of hell.

All of this needs to be yours and no one can know.

Kai sits in the cart surrounded by clothes for multiple seasons, bottles of soap, boxes of nonperishables, and a dozen donuts to use as a bribe for when Flynn returns to his Father’s house. One more month. That thought alone keeps Flynn going, keeping his eyes up. One more month until I take Kai and drive out west, leaving this hell behind.

Kai looks up and points behind him. Flynn looks over his shoulder and feels his stomach sink.

“Flynn!” an elderly woman, whom he knew well, cheers from across the aisle, “How are you?”

Pulling on his calm, practiced happy face, “I’m doing well Mrs. Dane, how are you and the family.”

“Oh excellent,” Mrs. Dane chirps, “The grandbabies are just so sweet and God has been good, what’s a young man like you doing this far out of town?”

“I could ask you the same,” Flynn smiles as he turns to the elderly woman. Mrs. Eliza Danes, the oldest woman in his small town and a woman who was respected. She is the kind of elderly woman with the tenderest heart but, at the flick of her eyes, could instill the fear of God into the devil himself.

“One of my kids lives out here sweetpea. Visiting the grandbabies, six, four, and three they are. All sweeter than honey! But you didn’t answer my question young man,” she beams as she looks past him into his cart, “And who’s he?”

“Oh, that’s Kai, he doesn’t do much speaking and well, something you just gotta come to the city for.”

Mrs. Dane raises a withered eyebrow, “Flynn, sweetie, you look like you haven’t seen a good warm meal in days. Whatcha doing with yourself?”

“Don’t worry, I’m walking on my own two feet.”

She smiles at him and says, “I don’t doubt it for a second honey. How ‘bout you come help little ol’ me finish shopping and come back with me to get you nice and fed.”

Flynn gives her a nervous smile, “I shouldn’t, my old man would wring my neck.”

And hurt Kai if he’s really mad.

Mrs. Dane drops her gaze and gives Flynn a knowing look before perking up again, “What did you eat last?”

A piece of toast yesterday morning.

“A sandwich for lunch, I’ll eat supper when I get home.”

Mrs. Dane shakes her head, “Lying does not please the Lord young man, and I know your father well enough to know exactly why you’re dodging this.”

“Mrs. Dane please-”

“Do not interrupt me young man, you and Kai are coming over to my house tonight and I’ma feed both of y’all, you hear? I do not care what your Father says I will personally escort to the Lord if he tries anyhing stupid.”

“Yes ma’am,” Flynn says, eyes on the floor and now very aware of the emptiness in his stomach.

Mrs. Dane looks up, “Now. Look at me.”

Flynn raises his eyes and meets Mrs. Dane’s. Fear eats at the lining of his stomach along with hunger. He feels his hands begin to shake against the cart handle.

“I remember when I was your age,” Mrs. Dane begins with a much softer voice, “There were alot more men like your Father raisin’ youngin’s and I know what that cart is for and you will be finishing the story after you're fed, is that correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Flynn turns around and locks eyes with Kai. Kai curled himself under Flynn’s hoodie and was watching the entire conversation. Unease reflects off the mirrors of his eyes. Flynn tries to give Kai a comforting smile but Kai sees through the facade like looking from a window.

Mrs. Dane talks about everyday things as they finish their shopping. The air presses into Flynn’s skin as he pays for what will be his salvation.

If Mrs. Dane doesn’t stop it before it even happens.

Kai helps Flynn stuff the bags into the area behind their seats. Flynn slides into the driver’s seat and Kai grabs his hand and gives him a sort of tender, questioning look. His slender fingers press into the hardened skin of his hand and send shivers up Flynn’s spine.

“It’s okay,” Flynn says, trying to reassure himself more than Kai, “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Kai nods and lets go of Flynn’s hand. Kai returns to a still sitting position that he is sure is one of the numbered positions but he just doesn’t remember which one. Flynn lets a panic attack stew under the surface of his skin. The air in his lungs doesn’t taste right and it’s never enough. His vision is only clear on the road, his periphery blurred beyond usability.

Somehow, he makes it to the small log cabin next to the church.

Mrs. Dane lived alone, her husband passed a decade prior. Flynn, despite only being eight at the time, still remembers the suit his mother wrestled him into for the trip to the church. Mr. Dane was buried in the church cemetery.

Flynn steps out of his car and lets the crisp air of Fall snap him awake. Kai zips to his side, clinging to his arm. Kai’s fingers squeeze around Flynn’s arm and Kai nuzzles his nose into his shoulder. Flynn nods to himself and walks up towards the house, Kai on his heels.

He opens the door to let Kai and Mrs. Dane through before carrying all of her groceries into her home. All while, Flynn fights through the pain of hunger and fear. The ache of his stomach drags at his eyes. The emptiness in his gut almost feels too full and Flynn chokes back the urge to vomit up air.

Flynn can’t deny, the idea of any food in his stomach, no matter how revolting, was tempting.

Mrs. Dane gives him a warm smile, “Thank you, now about supper, I have a pork roast in the crockpot and I’m gonna bake up some potatoes for you and your little buddy. Now you two wash up and sit down.”

Flynn’s stomach growls and it takes every ounce of willpower he can muster to keep from curling in on himself. The cramps get worse by the second and they keep growing in area and intensity. Kai, after washing his hands, wraps Flynn in a hug. His eyes silently apologize.

Since Flynn has been giving Kai his food for the past couple of days.

Mrs. Dane finally calls them to the table. The food looks like gold and diamonds to Flynn. The pork is falling apart on itself and he can smell the spices and marinade from across the table. His mouth waters as he pushes Mrs. Dane into her chair.

Kai sits anticipatedly at the table, bouncing in his chair.

Flynn wraps an arm around his stomach as he sits. Mrs. Dane bows her head and says, “Let’s say grace.”

Flynn doesn’t hear what Mrs. Dane says as a prayer of thanks leaves her lips. The warm smell of food encapsulates his senses.

“Amen, Let’s eat.”

That’s all he had to hear.

If it weren’t for the years of table manners drilled into his skull, he might have ripped the pork out with his bare hands. He lets Mrs. Dane fills her plate first and then he fille Kai’s, out of both respect and to excuse the fact he wanted to eat everything on the table.

After the couple seconds that felt like years, he finally sunk his teeth into actual food.

His body just takes over after that and eats.

“Hasn’t eaten today hasn’t he?” Mrs. Dane says after a minute of Flynn snarfing down his food.

Kai, barely through a baked potato, shakes his head no.

Kai! Why do you betray me like this?!

“I knew it,” Mrs. Dane huffs, “I’ma kill that man, starving his son because of what, a lack of care!”

Flynn looks up and pauses eating, “I- It’s not- Um-”

Mrs. Dane shakes his head, “Let me tell you a story. When I was a young woman I had a sister, Anabel Peterson, she was a lot like you.”

Flynn shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He glances over and sees Kai leaning in, listening attentively.

“How so?” Flynn asks as he continues to stuff his face, slower now.

Mrs. Dane sighs, “Your Father likes to talk and most of the town knows that you… as we would call it back in my day, fruity.

That I’m gay. Yeah, he yelled it out in church last weekend.

“So was my sister, and she had… relations with a woman who was of a darker shade than we are. My Father found out one day and began to treat her very poorly and one morning I saw her grab similar things to what you have in your car and left. I have not seen her since.”

Flynn looks up from his plate and sees remorse and regret across the elderly woman’s face, “That must have been hard.”

“Yes,” she replies with a sigh, “I deeply regret not going after her, to take back many of the hurtful things I said.”

Kai looks back at Flynn and blinks. His eyes have a flavor of understanding that looked unfamiliar even to Kai. It is strange to behold. Flynn looks back at Mrs. Dane, “What are you getting at?”

“I know you plan to leave and never return, it is obvious and I do not blame you for the sentiment. I want to help you,” she says as she finishes her plate, “I know we will more than likely not see you again but I wish to at least make your last memories of here have some dignity.”

Flynn sighs, tons of worry and fear falling away like petals in a torrent. His head falls into his hands and has to hold back the reins of his tears to keep himself from crying in relief. “Thank you.”

“Pack your things here and let me know if you need anything, when you decide to leave come here and pick them up.”

The world both spins and tears for Flynn at once, some pieces of this plan come together and he finds himself smiling, “I- Thank you.”

Mrs. Dane smiles, “You’re welcome sweetheart, I hope God leads you to a better place than this one.”

Flynn and Kai look at each other and Kai beams a thousand stars worth of joy in Flynn’s direction. Flynn can’t help but absorb some of that happiness and smile at himself. The air seems lighter around him and for the first time in weeks he feels like he can breathe.

“Do either of you two want ice cream?”

Kai instantly perks up at the idea of anything sweet and nods frantically. The redhead practically vibrates in the chair.

Flynn nods, “Yes please.” Letting himself feel calm for a moment, he takes what he’s offered and eats.

Then his phone rings.

[allegra-writes]

"Lights Up" part I

Peter Parker x SHIELD Agent!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: And there was only one bed!!

Peter must deal with the aftermath of what Mysterio did, but he's not alone: Nick Fury and Pepper Stark have a plan, one that includes you, Peter and the tropical desert island of Eroda.

Series Masterlist

His lungs were on fire, his legs burning with the strain, he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to go on. The sharp pain piercing his side was disconcerting, he used to be familiar with it, he remembered as much, but he hadn't felt it in years, not since the spider bite. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had gotten so much as winded just from running, but he had been at it for hours now, ever since he had ditched MJ and his suit in that dingy alley in hopes of Peter Parker being a little more inconspicuous than Spider-Man. 

But by then, everyone in the city knew his face, and in the age of the internet and smartphones all it took was one single snap, one tweet, one livestream, to find himself surrounded by an angry mob, screaming for his blood, like something out of an old horror movie. All they were missing were the pitchforks and torches. There was nowhere to hide. 

So he ran. 

And he kept on running, but even he couldn't run forever. At least not without eating anything, the calorie deficiency starting to take a toll on his super-metabolism, causing him to become dizzy, his reflexes slower. 

That was probably why he didn't realize his mistake until it was too late, until he reached the intersection and found himself surrounded: He had been ambushed, led like a lamb to the slaughter. He came to a halt, turning around, looking in vain for a way out, but the circle they had arranged around him was a tight formation, he was either going to have to fight his way out or shoot a web and swing away and he could kiss goodbye any chance left at keeping his identity secret after that…

"Looks like we caught ourselves a spider, guys!"

"Not so brave now, eh boy?"

Peter cursed internally. There was no other way, falling into stance, he braced himself for the fight. But before he could make a move, he saw it. A car, a rather distinctive one, heading straight their way, and it wasn't slowing down. If anything, it seemed to speed up the closer it got to the crowd, forcing people -including Peter- to jump out of the way to avoid being run over. 

"Get in!" 

He didn't need to be told twice, jumping into the passenger seat, the car speeding away before he even got to close the door completely. You stole a glance at him. He looked tired, maybe a little pale, but uninjured. You sighed in relief. He was there, you had gotten to him on time. He was safe.

Safe and openly gawking at you.

"Y- y/n?" 

You flinched,

"Yeah, not my real name" You took your eyes off the road to give him an apologetic look, "Sorry 'bout that"

"Then who are you?" His voice was steel. So much for being grateful for saving his ass, then…

"I'm agent 16 of S.H.I.E.L.D's Special Service. I was assigned to protect you" You threw him a side-glance, "and a little 'thank you' would be nice"

Well, that explained the uniform and you driving Item 20-25. God, he was so stupid! Of course you were a spy, why else would a girl like you even give him the time of day? The pretty girls at his school weren't nice, not to him at least. But now it all made sense, down to the very first time he saw you, beaming at him as Mr. Warren pointed at the empty seat beside him. All the times your hands brushed in class, fingers lingering on test tubes and books a couple of seconds longer than necessary. All those little touches, all the secret looks when you thought he wasn't watching, it was probably all part of your mission. Probably just to get close to him, to gain his trust. After all, you had demonstrated you weren't truly interested in him when you turned down his invitation to prom. 

He had cried afterwards. Not much, not like at Ben's funeral, or when Mister Stark… No, definitely not like that, but he had shed a couple of tears that night. 

He had lost sleep and appetite over you. Lost hours daydreaming about you, about the fruity smell of your hair, wondering what your strawberry lipstick would taste like. But the truth was, after all this time, after all that staring, all that pinning he didn't know anything about you, did he? Not even...

"Can you tell me your real name?"

"You don't have the clearance for that"

You replied, turning to face him. And maybe he ought to fasten that seat belt after all, or shut up and stop distracting you from the road, cause you were still going too damn fast and breaking all traffic laws known to mankind. Mr Dell's shocked, appalled face after your driving test flashed through his mind.

"Spider-Man has a level 6 clearance" he protested.

"You need a level 9. At least." 

"I thought 9 was the highest level" Gods, his frown was adorable.

You just smirked and made another turn, driving through an entrance and a ramp that hadn't been there a second ago. 

"We're here" You announced, killing the engine. Peter didn't move.

"Where exactly is 'here'?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D's Manhattan headquarters"

You got out of the car, rounding to his side and pulling his door open, then closing it once he had gotten out. The gentleman in him protested it should be the other way around, he should be the one opening doors for you and helping you out of cars. It was absurd, of course. There, with you in that black catsuit, thigh holsters on both your legs, walking like you owned the place there was no mistaking it: You weren't y/n, his school crush; you were a highly trained special agent, escorting him through the premises.

… Pretty familiar premises, actually. 

"Avengers Tower? S.H.I.E.L.D bought Avengers Tower?"

"It was a donation, actually" you explained as the elevator's doors opened to the Stark Memorial Garden, an open garden as majestic as it was massive, located right in the heart of the building.

"A donation? But wh-"

"Peter! Oh thank god!" A relieved voice and the clicking of hills on the stone path interrupted him.

"Mrs. Stark?" Peter let himself be crushed into Pepper's chest, closing his eyes, the tears he hadn't known he was holding back starting to fall as soon as he felt safe in her embrace.  

If Tony Stark had been like a father to him, Pepper Potts-Stark was a mother trough and trough. She had tried to step into her husband's role of a mentor for Peter, knowing fully well she couldn't ever replace him or occupy his place; but she would be damned if she allowed that giant Tony shaped hole on that boy's life to go unattended, to bleed out or fester. The kid had already lost so much, almost every parent figure he had ever had. And she knew what that kind of loss could do to precocious boys with too big hearts, had seen it first hand with Tony. 

"Mrs. Stark I'm so- I'm so sorry"

"Shhh" She said soothingly, "It's not your fault. You're going to be ok, I promise. We'll figure it out" Pepper sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. 

"Pete! Six!" 

Peter broke the hug just in time to see a little dark haired meteor jump into your arms. He watched, stunned, as Morgan clung to you. He knew once upon a time she had been an outgoing, confident child but ever since her father's death she had grown timid. She didn't open up easily to strangers, Peter being a rare exception, and even that had been solely because of the stories Tony used to tell her about her 'super big brother' adventures. She had developed a sort of hero worship for Peter that only rivaled the one she felt for her father. For her to be so friendly towards you had to mean you had spent a considerable amount of time together, and Peter remembered the tales you used to tell in class about the adorable little girl you babysat sometimes. 

"You did it! You found him!"

You smiled at her.

"Told you I would, Morgs. And I always keep my word" He watched you squeeze her again in your arms, he could tell you cared about the kid, probably even missed her while you and him were in Europe. But the sweet reunion was short lived, as soon another voice, more stern, resonated through the garden.

"In our line of work, I'm not sure that can be considered a good thing"

You gasped in mock trepidation, making Morgan giggle and Peter smile despite himself.

"Uh-oh! We've been caught!" You passed the still laughing kid to Peter and stood straighter, trying to sober up. Peter could see the corners of your mouth twitch as you greeted, "Director" 

He gave you a nod,

"Agent. Parker, Mrs. Stark. Good, now that everybody's here, we can get a move on"

Without waiting for a reply, Nicholas Fury started walking again, leaving everyone to scramble to follow.

"I know this seems like the end of the world, Mr. Parker, and I'll admit the situation isn't ideal," the intimidating man punched a code into a hidden panel and another elevator opened. "but our main priority right now is your safety. We'll treat this like any other blown cover, following the same protocols we follow when any of our agent's identity is compromised: Immediate extraction and relocation of the agent into a safe house, with an armed escort for protection, of course" He explained as everybody climbed in.

"You're sending me away with a bodyguard?" Peter sounded less than pleased and you couldn't help the pang of sympathy. You didn't like to be pulled off the field either.

"I understand how that could be uncomfortable for you," it didn't sound like he particularly cared, though, "so perhaps it would be less unpleasant with an element you're already familiar with. Agent 16 here is going to be your companion"

"What does that means, Six?" Morgan turned to you, still perched onto Peter's torso, like a baby koala.

"It means I'm going to babysit your brother instead of you, for a while…" You threw the brunet boy a wink and his protests about not needing babysitting died on his lips. It didn't sound so bad, actually. Being cooped up with you in some secret location for an indeterminate amount of time.

"How long would we be gone?" 

"As long as it takes for the director and me to fix this" Pepper spoke with the authority only her seemed to possess, the one that could reing in crazy geniuses dash heroes and master spies alike. Fury could only nod in compliance.  

"What about May?"

"She's with Happy, already on her way to the lake house" 

Peter still looked unsure, but Pepper smiled, eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint surprisingly similar to the one her husband used to have.

"Don't worry, Peter. You'll love the safe house. I know Tony and I did…"

…

Leaving Morgan at the launch bay had been the hardest part. Her tears soaking Peter's t-shirt as Pepper tried to pry the fabric out of her little hands, were enough to break his heart. She didn't want to let her big brother go, probably terrified he wouldn't come back, just like her father. Far too perceptive for a six year old kid, she understood Peter was in trouble, in danger, and she was scared.

Peter was scared too. 

How could he not? He might be naive but he wasn't stupid, he knew that no matter the outcome of whatever plan Mrs. Stark and Fury came out with, his life as he knew it was over. 

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry" Your earnest voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts, "For lying to you, for what Beck did, for everything."

Peter stared at your profile, something he seemed to be doing a lot that day. Who was he trying to kid, he did a lot of that everyday. It actually seemed to be the only normal thing that remained, the one thing that seemed to stay constant as the world shifted and changed around him. He should be mad at you, he knew that. He should feel betrayed, hurt, and he did, a little but it was hard to stay angry at you. Even when you were partnered at school and you failed to do your part in the projects, he used to have trouble not forgiving you the second you flashed those doe eyes at him. 

He sighed,

"It's not your fault, any of it. About the lying, you were only doing your job" It wasn't your fault that he had been dumb enough to fall in love with a girl that didn't even exist. "And as for Quentin… that definitely wasn't your fault"

"My job was to protect you. If I had done it right, none of this would have happened" there was a slight catch in your voice "I should have realized he was a fraud, I should have told Nick as soon as I started having doubts about the guy, I should have stopped him before he stole E.D.I.T.H; I should have-" You turned away, pretending to get engrossed in the navigation controls of the Quinjet.

"I should have found that video and stopped it from reaching the news" You finished, voice finally under control, but still not meeting Peter's eyes.

"I was the one that literally handed E.D.I.T.H to him" You felt his hand cover yours over a lever, and looked at him in surprise. He found your eyes, a soft look in his that made your insides fill with butterflies, "He tricked me too. Do you blame me for that?"

"What? No, of course not!" 

Your indignation on his behalf warmed his chest.

"Then why blame yourself for the same thing?" 

He had a point. Luckily, you were saved from having to answer him by a blip in your instruments.

"Looks like we're here" You commented instead, initiating landing maneuvers. 

"Where is here, exactly?" He peered out of the windscreen, into the darkness of the night, trying to get a look. And who knew, with his super senses maybe he could. 

"Somewhere in the middle of the Pacific. An island, apparently, a very isolated one..."

"So you've never been here before either?"

"No, this isn't one of S.H.I.E.L.D's safe houses. This one is Mrs. Stark's" 

"Oh" Peter smiled for the first time since leaving NYC, "It must be really cool then"

"Yeah, I imagine it is" You smiled back

The house was not how you imagined Tony Stark's safe house would be like. For starters, the wooden construction wasn't even a house, a bungalow would have been a more appropriate title. The one-room little shack stood semi hidden by palm trees on the beach, and you knew the island was probably beautiful, but you couldn't see much in the moonless night.

Inside there wasn't much to see either, just a queen sized bed, a cupboard with a chest of drawers and a recliner by one of the windows. Ever the gentleman, Peter had offered to take the recliner, but you had rolled your eyes and pointed out the bed was big enough for the both of you. 

"I don't know why we're so surprised" Peter's voice reached you through the bathroom door, where he was changing into his pjs, "I mean, we've seen the Lake House and, sure, it's very luxurious for a cabin but that's what it is: a cabin"

"Maybe" You replied, flopping on the bed. At least it was comfy "but they have FRIDAY over there. Here we barely even have electricity"

Peter stopped in his tracks as soon as he walked into the room, and you pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on your exposed legs, your tiny cotton sleeping shorts not covering much at all.

"It's just, I can't possibly believe Tony Stark didn't installed any defense system on his safe house. I mean, you knew the man better than I did, but doesn't it strike you as a little… odd?"

"Huh? Ye-yeah, I mean, I…" You could see his cheeks turn red. God, he was adorable.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming to bed?"

He choked on his own spit, and you had to suppress a giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he truly did forgive you for lying to him. Maybe you still had a chance.

…

Peter couldn't sleep. He could feel the heat coming off your skin through the small distance separating your bodies, your perfume invading his nostrils with every breath. Being so close to you in the dark was torture and yet he couldn't bring himself to get up and go to the chair on the other side of the room. He was pinned to the bed, mesmerized by your sleeping profile, enthralled by the way your chest rose and fell with every deep, steady breath. Irrevocably and inescapably drawn to you like a moth to a flame, too scared to move, too afraid to disturb your dream.

Because it appeared to be a very good dream. He could see the blush spreading from your face to your neck, all the way down to where the neckline of your tank top obscured his view. He could hear your breathing starting to quicken, feel the temperature of your skin rise. He could smell you, sweet and enticing. Beckoning. 

Your lips parted, letting out the most captivating little sigh in the history of mankind, and his eyes zeroed in the movement, his tongue darting out to wet his own. 

Peter felt his blood rushing south and was disgusted by himself, he felt like a creep. What kind of psycho got off of watching a girl sleep? Yet he couldn't bring his eyes to avert their gaze. 

He needed to get out of there, give you some semblance of privacy, as your hips started to twitch minutely, seeking a friction they wouldn't find. You let out a soft whine and he screwed his eyes shut. 'Come on Parker, get a grip on yourself' he thought, trying to gather enough strength to pry himself from the bed, to pry himself from your side. He was about to, he truly was, when it happened. 

You rolled over, half trapping him under your body. And it wouldn't have been hard for him to escape if he wanted to. But he really really didn't want to. The voice inside his head telling him it was wrong was growing weaker and weaker with every pretty noise leaving your mouth. Your hot breath was searing against the skin of his chest and he both cursed and blessed the instant he decided to forego wearing a t-shirt to bed in the sultry island heat. 

"Peter" You murmured in your sleep and his heart stopped. You were dreaming about him. You were panting and burning up for him, and he knew it didn't necessarily mean anything and dreams were not real life, but your legs fell open, one knee on either side of one of his, and he could actually feel your warm wetness through the thin fabric of your sleeping shorts and his threadbare plaid pajama pants and fuck!

Whatever last trace of logic might remained in his brain flew out the window as you started rubbing yourself on his thigh, finally finding the friction you so desperately needed. His hand went to your waist to stop you, but it ended up aiding you instead, sliding to your lower back, pressing down and releasing rhythmically, rocking you against his leg harder. 

He glared at the traitorous appendage, but how could he reproach it it's betrayal, when you were moaning so sweetly? He wanted to commit those sounds to his memory, to tattoo them on his brain to play over every night when he'd found himself alone on his cold bed, one hand around his length and the other over his mouth to stop himself from yelling your name at the ceiling, as he had so many times before. 

You breathed out his name again, and his free hand went to his pelvis, of its own volition. He palmed himself over his pants, but that's as far as he would let himself go. He refused to be the guy who jerked himself off next to an unconscious girl. 

A new wave of moisture left your core, soaking his skin through the fabrics. 

"Fuck!" He cursed softly, head hitting the tall headboard as he threw it back.

"Peter?" 

He froze. No. Oh god, please no...

To be continued...

[robron1609]

Robron Week 2021 - Day 1

Meet-Ugly + "That's not an explanation."

New Beginnings

(ao3 link)

Aaron’s eyelids fluttered like a candle in the wind, the hustle and bustle of the city pecking away at his head with a sledgehammer. The bitter taste of ale, the fruity taste of wine and all the combined spices of every spirit known to man were stagnant on his tongue as he peeled his damp limbs off the leather sofa beneath him.

He let out a dry cough and it felt like someone had shot him in the brain during his sleep. But other than that, he was as right as rain.

It took him longer than he would care to admit to remember that he did, in fact, not own a single item of furniture that had even an inch of leather on it, and he lived in the in the middle of bloody nowhere where the only thing (apart from his mother) that made him shake a leg in the morning was the bellows of Moira’s cows when their troughs were being topped up.

So, there’s that.

His brain caught up and he bolted upright, his whole face moulding into a sculpture of what, where, when, how and why. He took in his brand-spanking-new surroundings; a lavish penthouse overlooking London’s skyline, decked out from head to toe in a fusion of ultra modern and industrial pieces. Not really his style, to put it nicely. It looked like something straight off the front page of one of those overpriced interior design magazines on the top shelf of David’s shop that no one ever bought.

Aaron could only hope that whoever lived here was some bloke he’d pulled in the haze of last night, if it wasn’t then… what the actual fuck was he doing here?

When the room had stopped spinning on all its axis and Aaron was eighty-nine percent sure that he would be able to hold his vomit in if necessary, he braved the hallways in search of other life. He detoured to stand in front of a back-lit mirror that had beckoned him over, and he was introduced to his reflection. It gawked right back at him, dressed in nothing but a pair of neon yellow boxers and a Scottish flag that he was wearing as a cape. The flag was fastened loosely around his neck with a frayed shoelace and there was a big tear down the centre of it.

Jesus fucking shit. Absurd didn’t even begin to cover it.

Sweat dripped down his top lip when he heard a deep voice through the wall. He teetered around the corner until he was close enough to pick up most of the words.

“I won’t be in today.” There was a pause. “Does it fucking matter?” Nice manners, then. “Look, unless you want me hurling all over the new contact, I suggest you grow a pair and attend the meeting without me.”

Aaron gripped the glossed door frame, his clammy hands squeaking on the wood as he snuck a look at who the voice was coming from. The man was stunning. He was all sun-kissed skin, choppy blond hair, and a gorgeous mouth that dipped dramatically in the corner.

“Shit!” With a jolt, the blond dropped his phone and it landed on his face with a mocking smack.

“Sorry-”

“Why are you in my house?!”

“I’m Aaron.” No shit, Aaron.

“That’s not an explanation!”

“Sorry.”

Aaron cringed. All of a sudden he was big on apologies, apparently. Blondie was now sitting up, scratching the fluff on the nape of his neck as he shuffled out of bed and adjusted his duvet accordingly whenever it slipped below his waistline. He just glared at Aaron, waiting to hear something that made sense.

“I was kinda hoping you could tell me,” Aaron said, using all of his self-control to stop his eyes from drifting downwards. “My head’s mashed. I remember being on the train with Adam and Vic, and then-”

“Vic as in my sister Vic?”

Aaron just stood there, catching flies. “I- I dunno, I think so. Sugden?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ohhhh, Robert Sugden. Aaron finally put a name to the face and felt like giving himself a pat on the back.

…..

“Here you go. Extra strong.”

"Ta."

Aaron warmly accepted the cup of coffee, the steam flying off it and dissolving in his pores. He used the piping hot liquid to swamp down some paracetamol before tightening the strap on the dressing gown that Robert had lent him a little earlier with a side-eye and a grumbled, “Make sure you give it back.”

With the current cycle rumbling the machine into the ground, Aaron glanced at the digital timer displayed on the appliance. Just forty-eight minutes until he could grab his screwed up clothes, slap them on, and leg it to the underground with his tail between his legs. The longest forty-eight minutes of his life, no doubt.

Hoping to make a crack in the ice, Robert led Aaron to the scene of last night’s crime. Through the sliding doors, across the patio and up the spiral stairs, secluded in the corner and illuminated by the steady flicker of the firepit. Robert was surprised that it hadn’t burnt out in the early morning under the April showers.

The rooftop terrace was what sold this place for Robert. It was his haven, complete with everything that made his superficial heart weep. This morning, however, it looked how he felt.

He absorbed the aftershocks of his party (shards of glass littering the outdoor table, remains of finger foods welded to the deck, and a pair of nude stilettos abandoned on the bar) and sagged. Turning thirty was dismal enough without having to clean up after his colleagues. Or, as he liked to call them, a bunch of wound up, hoity-toity pen pushers who didn’t even know his middle name—just a sniff of free booze and they were squeezing into a Ralph Laurent polo that still had the label on, and patting him on back with a bout of boisterous laughter as if they were best mates.

Wow, he was in dire need of some proper friends.

Aaron propped himself up on the bar. “Bet you don’t get tired of this,” he said, looking out at the sparkling city.

“It’s a great hangover cure,” Robert said, nursing his Americano and watching the ripples dance over the surface as he lightly blew it. “It can be lonely, though,” he admitted, unsure as to why. This handsome and hungover stranger was just waiting for his ticket out of here, he didn’t want or need to become Robert’s agony uncle to fill the time, that was for sure.

“Why’s that?”

Oh. Perhaps Aaron, for one reason or another, cared. Or he’s got nowhere else he needs to be and Robert’s left him with no choice but to sit and listen because it's the polite thing to do. Aaron looked at Robert all doe-eyed and Robert wanted to stay here until he’d told Aaron every single intricate detail of his life up until this point. But that seemed a little crass.

“Don’t know, really. I just… don’t like to be alone with my thoughts, I suppose. And being up here, well, it’s a whole lot of that.”

“I know what you mean,” Aaron said. “How long have you lived here?”

"Nearly two years on the whole." Robert calculated, Aaron giving him an amicable nod in response. Robert licked the coffee froth off his lips, clearing his throat. "I've lived in London a while, though. Since I left the village, pretty much."

"And you never thought about going back?"

"I couldn't." That would mean looking back. And after the trail of destruction he'd left in his wake, that was never going to happen. They were better off without him. Or at least his Dad and Andy were. Vic and Dianne never stopped reaching out, however, offering their support through texts and unanswered voicemails.

Aaron changed the topic, sensing that Robert's internal trip down memory lane wasn't a smooth ride. "You heard anything from Vic and Adam?"

"They were both flat out in the spare room last time I checked," Robert answered. He'd been less than pleased to find them entwined together on top of the duvet, dead to the world as Adam slobbered away on the satin pillowcase like an excited dog, and Vic let out a mishmash of unconscious sounds from sniffles to whistles, her makeup crusty and her outfit dishevelled by a night's sleep in it.

"Vic had a whole itinerary planned. Some museum, Leicester Square, and then this ridiculous hipster coffee shop near the station," Aaron said with a dreary eye roll. "Even though our train leaves just after two."

"She's just excited. She doesn't come here often."

"'Suppose not."

"Anyway, I recommended that coffee shop so you better not miss it," Robert said. Aaron snorted because of course he did. "Come on."

Robert rose, perking up a bit as he stretched his arms until they clicked with satisfaction. Aaron followed in his footsteps, literally, but they stopped in their tracks, coming face to face with a rumbled Victoria.

She looked dead and alive all at the same time as she swung her phone about. "There they are, the newly engaged couple."

Robert choked on air and Aaron gave him a splash of side-eye before snatching Vic’s phone. "What are you on about?" And Aaron had to check that the digital date displayed in the top left corner of the screen wasn't April the 1st. Nope, it was indeed the 23rd. And under that was a Facebook post on his profile; a blurry, backlit photo of him and Robert flashing the camera with two rings that didn’t even match, accompanied by a slurred caption.

yayy ENGAAAAAGED! whoop whoop!! hears to many many many many many year <3

Aaron groaned, throwing his head back in sheer embarrassment when Vic grabbed a hold of his and Robert’s left hands. Sure enough, the rings were still there. “Oh my God,” she cackled, her voice like a siren in the middle of the night. “This is brilliant. A few more of those cocktails and you’d be halfway to vegas, ey?”

Robert massaged his temples, kneading roughly at his dry skin. “Whatever’s in them is lethal,” he grumbled, peering over Aaron’s shoulder as he watched him scroll through the comments and squeeze his eyes shut in disbelief at each one.

“It’s your bar, mate. You should know what it’s serving,” Aaron said. He had a point. “Let’s just pray we left it at cheap rings.”

(Aaron couldn’t even begin to fathom at what point during the party he and Robert had fled the penthouse and ended up at a jewellers of all places. Who’d thought a proposal was the perfect end to a not-so-perfect night? Who’d taken that photo? And who in their right mind was selling giant fabric flags in the early hours of the morning? It would be a miracle if he becomes sober enough to answer at least one of those questions.)

Robert pouted. “That’s a shame. I’ll cancel the tickets to Vegas, then,” he teased.

“I dunno, I could do with a holiday just to get over the shame.” Robert grinned at the younger man’s flirty tone.

“Cheers,” Robert scoffed. Aaron handed the phone back to Vic who watched the pair with a knowing glint in her eye, her head bouncing back and forth between them.

“Only joking,” Aaron said. “Could be worse.”

Vic pocketed her mobile with a yawn and tightened her ponytail. “Right, I’m gonna drag my lump of a boyfriend out of bed and start gathering our stuff. I’ll leave you two to plan the wedding of the century, shall I?”

Vic left the rooftop, her flats scuffing all the way down the metal staircase. Robert gulped down the remains of his coffee and turned to Aaron with a smirk.

“So, fiancé,”–Aaron shot Robert a fiery glare which, if Robert didn’t know any better, would leave a bruise on his ego–“I know a great place where we can get some brunch. Why don’t we ditch Vic and Adam and I’ll drop you off at King’s Cross after.”

Aaron pulled a face. “ Brunch? I’m not paying £8.99 for a plain scone.”

“My treat.” Robert offered, hoping that would seal the deal.

“Like a date?”

“If you want it to be.” Aaron paused for a beat, not that there was ever much to contemplate.

“Fine.” Robert didn’t miss the bashful smile taking over Aaron’s face. Robert bit the inside of his cheek when Aaron began to descend the stairs. He crammed his hands in his pockets, his heart going into overdrive as he kicked his feet into gear.