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hermannsthumb · 4 years

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I love your writing so so much!! Prompt: middle-aged husbands! Newt gets back from a work trip with some salt and pepper scruff he didn't have time to shave and Hermann goes a little weak in the knees

oh ho ho....also everything im writing this month and next must necessarily be set a snowy setting sry. as always thank u to k-sci-janitor for bouncing ideas w me over discord mild sexy stuff below cut!

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When Newton stumbles through the front door in a flurry of snow and clatter of suitcases two weeks after he left for a research trip, Hermann notices two things; the first, that the cliche about absence making the heart grow fonder really is true, the second, that Newton’s cheeks (when Hermann rushes to meet him in a rather embarrassingly fast fashion and allows himself to be scooped up into Newton’s arms, of all things) are distinctly...rougher than usual. Rougher, and pricklier. “How’s the hottest scientist in the world?” Newton says, after an entirely inappropriate amount of kissing. The neighbors could see, for goodness’ sake. “God, dude, I missed you so fucking much.”

“Close the door,” Hermann laughs. “You’re letting all the heat out, and the bloody snow in.”

But Newton merely kisses him again and again, cornering him against the wall and settling his hands low on Hermann’s hips. His cheeks scratch Hermann’s skin; Hermann shivers, not knowing whether from it or the chill of the air. “How much did you miss me?” Newton murmurs.

“Not enough to put on a show for the neighbors,” Hermann chides, though he shivers again when Newton nuzzles against him. He taps the end of his cane against the sodden laces of Newton’s boots. “Mm, ah, come on, I’ve lit a fire, and, and made us tea, take your—wet things off, and—”

Newton steps back with a grin. “You gonna warm me up, Hermann?”

“With a fire and tea,” Hermann says. He shuts the door before more snow can drift in to melt on the hardwood. “Er. For now, anyway. And do hang your jacket this time.”

Newton stumbles out of his winter things in record time, and then stumbles after Hermann the moment they’re tossed haphazardly onto the coat rack. “It’s so…neat in here,” he says, marveling as they pass through the tidy kitchen to get to the equally tidy sitting room, where the fireplace blazes away. “Did you do anything besides clean while I was gone?”

The truth of the matter is that Hermann (lost to mathematical abstraction, and lacking a partner to snap him out of it) let his clutter—half-finished tea, discarded notebook pages, broken pencils and chalk—pile up on every available surface throughout the two weeks of Newton’s absence, and only remembered the previous evening that this was not the usual state of their flat and he ought to see to it very quickly before Newton arrived home. He hopes Newton doesn’t take a peek inside their study any time soon. “Er, something like that,” Hermann says. “Clean, and miss you horrendously. How was the trip?”

“Long,” Newton says. He sits on the couch and drags Hermann down with him. There’s something different in his face Hermann can’t quite put his finger on—he’s changed somehow, Hermann is sure of it, but the question is how? Has he resorted to his spare pair of glasses? No—these are the ones he usually wears; Hermann can see the miniscule crack at the bottom of the left lens, sustained after a particularly energic round of lovemaking in which Hermann rolled right over on top of them. Not that any of that is at all relevant, of course. “Lonely. Fascinating, though, I wish you’d come with me.”

Newton was excited about his trip for weeks. Even the extinction of his object of study couldn’t make him any less one of the top k-biologists, and he was brought in to oversee the salvaging of some of the very last kaiju remains in existence—preserved all these years since the closure of the Breach by the ice of Alaska. Newton sent picture after picture of it, the snow, him bumbling around in the snow in Hermann’s borrowed winter parka, the team he led bundled up in parkas of their own. Hermann knows he ought to ask about it and ask how the salvage efforts went; he knows he ought to ask about the cold, and the snow, and whether or not the other remaining k-scientists were anyone they’d worked with before. Instead, he can’t seem to stop squinting at Newton. “Have you cut your hair?” Hermann says. “Or styled it differently, perhaps? Only there’s something so different about you, I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Different?” Newton says, frowning. “What do you—?" Then he laughs. “Oh! Yeah, I was wayyyy too busy to shave. You’re looking at, like, about as close as I ever get to a full-on beard.” He drags his hand over his jaw, and it rasps audibly. Of course—how did Hermann not realize that from Newton’s scratchy kisses? His stubble, usually so carefully maintained (even in the midst of the war), is overgrown enough to verge on thick, and for the first time Hermann notices the decent smattering of grey across it. It’s—well—it’s hardly a bad look on him. Rather, Hermann might say it’s the opposite. It makes him look older, a bit more…er, distinguished. “You like it?”

Hermann remembers the marvelous way it scratched across his skin. “Hmm,” he says.

Newton laughs again, and tugs at the front of Hermann’s sweater. “C’mon, take this off already. It’s been two weeks, dude.”

Hermann can’t argue with that logic.

Later, in bed, as Newton—having volunteered selflessly for the duty of big spoon—snores away happily at Hermann’s back, Hermann considers recent developments. He’s never been dissatisfied with Newton’s appearance before; he’s never looked at his husband and thought oh, I wish his hair was a bit different, or I could do without those glasses. Certainly never I want him to have a big, magnificent face of grey stubble that tickles my neck and my chest and my thighs and… Hermann presses his face into his pillow and groans in mortification. Oh, but God, it is an improvement. It’s an improvement Hermann never knew Newton needed. Not that he did need it—it’s just—Oh.

Newton mumbles something in his sleep and rolls away from Hermann. His stubble catches and drags on the back of Hermann’s neck, and Hermann stifles a moan into the pillow this time. Newton intends to shave it off, Hermann knows. Hermann watched him unpack his suitcase in the bedroom, watched him carefully tuck his shaving kit back into the medicine cabinet with a laugh and a reassurance of that very fact (take a picture while you can, it’s coming off tomorrow), all while he felt the tingle of irritated skin between his thighs that Newton had left behind on the couch. He snuck a glimpse at it when he changed into pyjamas—a faded red that matches that on his neck.

To explain to Newton why it is imperative he not proceed with his planned shave would be far too mortifying an experience for Hermann to undergo. And Newton would certainly never let him hear the end of it. No; it would be better to take matters into his own hands. Hermann swings two socked feet to the floor and reaches for his cane as quietly as he can manage.

Newton’s back-up disposable razors are snapped in two and buried in the bottom of the trashcan, beneath two weeks’ worth of dental floss and paper Dixie cups. His nice shaving kit proves a bit more of a challenge, not in the least because Hermann bought it for him as a birthday gift not long ago, and the thought of intentionally damaging it makes him cringe. He settles on simply stealing all the razor attachments and hiding them at the bottom of the spare hand towel basket. Hopefully, by the time they turn up, Newton will have long-since decided to grow out his stubble even further.

Newton stirs very lightly when Hermann tucks himself back beneath the bedspread and Newton’s arm. “’S the matter?” he mumbles.

“Had to use the loo,” Hermann whispers back.

“Mm,” Newton says, and presses his lips Hermann’s shoulder once before his breathing slowly evens out.

Hermann lazes in bed late the next morning. Late for them, anyway; pseudo-retirement hasn’t managed to knock a decade of strict routine out of him and Newton yet, and they still wake and dress before the sunrise like the war never ended. However, a soft, warm, and jetlagged Newton in his arms is hard to pull himself away from, especially with nothing but a foot of snow outside to look forward to, so he lets himself drift happily in and out of dreams for a good hour or so. Until Newton’s cell phone alarm startles them both up, that is. “Ugh,” Newton groans, smacking around on the bedside table for it. “Stupid thing. Where—”

He left it on Hermann’s bedside table. Hermann switches it off.

“Thanks, dude,” Newton says. He yawns. “Got a meeting this afternoon about the, uh, samples. Never get a break.”

Hermann hears him walk to the bathroom. He hears him open the medicine cabinet. He hears the zip of his shaving kit bag. “Uh,” Newton says. He pokes his head into the bedroom. “Hermann, do you know what happened to my razor?”

Hermann sits up and feigns a frown. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Like, all the parts are gone,” Newton says. He rifles through the kit again, as if to be sure, and shakes his head. “Yeah. They’re all gone. Shit, did I leave them at the base?”

“Oh, no,” Hermann says. “Your nice razor? The one I got you?”

Newton ducks back into the bathroom; Hermann hears him rattle around in the medicine cabinet again. “All my razors are missing. What the hell? I have a meeting in a few hours, I can’t show up looking like—” There’s a loud clatter, as if Newton knocked all their medication bottles over into the sink, and he swears. “Oh, well that’s fucking peachy.” He slams the cabinet door shut.

“Newton, come back to bed,” Hermann calls. He and Newton have limited time before they’re meant to start their responsibilities for the day, and he would like very much to enjoy that time to the fullest. “You’re making a mess of things. I’m sure you’ve just misplaced your razor—perhaps it’s in your suitcase.” When Newton doesn’t immediately bend to his command, Hermann rolls his eyes and lowers his voice. “Newton, darling,” he says, though this time in more of a purr. “Come back to bed.”

Newton is back and on Hermann in a flash. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he says between kisses. His fingers creep up Hermann’s pajama shirt and graze over Hermann’s ribs before tugging the shirt off entirely. “Hermann, I missed having sex with you so bad. You have no idea. Ugh.” He grinds his prick, already hard, into Hermann’s clothed thigh, and nips at his ear. “I kept thinking about your stupid sexy face, and your stupid sexy dick, and your stupid hair—” He burrows himself into the crook of Hermann’s newly bared neck and shoulder and kisses his collarbone, and Hermann moans at the scratchy sensation of his stubble shadow before he can help himself.

“Newton,” he gasps, “oh, bugger—”

“Ha, yeah, you like when I talk about your sexy dick, babe?” Newton says. “It’s so awesome and sexy, I can’t wait to—"

“Not that,” Hermann says. “Kiss me there again.” Newton obliges; Hermann whimpers and shivers, and (before he can help himself) confesses aloud “Oh, that damn beard of yours… I want it all over me…”

Newton pulls away with a frown. “You do?” he says. “Wait. Hermann—did you do something to my razor?”

“No,” Hermann lies. He wiggles around in a desperate attempt to get Newton’s stubble back on his skin, but Newton only pulls back further. He sighs. “Er. Perhaps. They’re just hidden, is all.”

Newton’s frown flicks up into a grin, and he laughs. “Dude, you could’ve just told me. You’re so dumb. So you like when I do this, then?” He dips back down to kisses a trail along Hermann’s sternum, making sure to graze his cheeks over his skin at every inch. “Or this?” He ducks beneath the covers and nuzzles at Hermann’s abdomen.

“Yes,” Hermann moans to the Newton-shaped lump under the blanket. Newton’s fingers work open his drawstring and slowly inch his pajama trousers down. “Yes, Newton, ah—”

“Or—”

Suffice to say, Newton keeps the beard.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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rogershoe · 4 years

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Lights, Camera, Action

Part four

(Part three)

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 3.8k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings@glxctt @cavillxhenry@lovelyapplessss@hereagainsstuff@linkpk88 @aliceperdida@weeping-redemption@magicalsaladnacho @lancelotapricot@ineedyourskulls@fandomarstrash @cheythefangirl @pure-ghost @estrielle @tessxblxckthorn @isaac-lahey-is-bae @bubblyanis

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, slow burn

Notes: This has definitely been the most fun chapter to write out of all four so please let me know how you liked it!! Also I realised that Cursed was actually filmed in England so for the sake of the story we’re just gonna pretend like it was filmed in LA hahaha.

Sunday, January 13th, 2019

10:31 am

You rubbed your eyes, swiping across your phone’s screen to turn your alarm off. The sun’s light bled through your curtain, giving your room an eery glow.

It had been almost a week since Huey had informed you that you’d be working with the make-up/costume department as well. You thought you would start on Tuesday of last week (the day after you got the message), but Huey had apparently “forgotten” to inform you that you would actually be starting in a week. On Monday. Meaning tomorrow.

To say you were a bundle of nerves was an understatement. Naomi had also approached you last week warning you about how you’d be working with the actors a lot more and how you should work on “being completely comfortable” around them. Had she really been that intuitive? Still, you hadn’t had any interaction with them at all since you’d delivered Daniel’s costume to his trailer on Monday. You’d only seen them shoot scenes and talk to the director and other crew members from far off. (Never to the production assistants.)

You tried to ignore the nerve-wracking thoughts of having to actually interact with the actors and instead focused on Bradley. Yes, Bradley.

He had invited you to have breakfast with him at the Original Pantry Cafe, a breakfast place he had said was the “very best in LA”. To be completely honest, you were a bit taken aback when he had asked you….did he mean as in a date? You of course, being the idiot that you were, didn’t bother to clarify, so now you had no idea whether you were just meeting him as friends or something more. You hoped to god it was just as friends. You couldn’t deal with dating at this point… especially with Mr. Daniel Sharman on your mind 24/7.

11:13 am

The sun warmed your face as you stepped out of your parked car. You had just pulled up to the cafe and proceeded to subtly peek through the window as you walked to the door. Bradley was sitting on a small table inside by the window. Thankfully he was on his phone so he didn’t see you staring. You entered the shop, a small bell tingling above you. The warm smell of fresh bread and eggs and syrup wafted towards your nose. For a second, your belly rumbled and you forgot about all your worries. You glanced towards Bradley and saw that he was now walking towards you, a huge smile on his face. An uneasy feeling suddenly grew inside you as you realised he might think that this was some sort of date.

“Y/N! How are you?”

You both started walking back to the table after you gave him a hug, “I’m good” you shrugged off your maroon jacket laughing, “Tired too”

“Really? When’d you sleep last night?” he suddenly swerved around you and pulled out your chair.

“Thanks” you said, sitting down, a funny look spread across your face, “I slept around 4:00”

“Seriously?” his eyes widened.

“Yeah…found a good series on Netflix” you rolled your eyes, smiling.

“I still don’t have Netflix” he sat down and pushed a menu towards you that you then proceeded to open.

“Really?” you laughed loudly, “You’re working on a Netflix show and you don’t even have Netflix?”

He smirked slightly, “I guess I’ll get it once Cursed comes out…anyways, what do you wanna get?”

You flipped through the menu, chuckling, “A coffee for sure”

“Well….. the pancakes are really good….. and so are their omelettes” he said pointing towards a mouth watering picture of a stack of chocolate pancakes. Healthy eating could go out the window for today.

“Oh, I’ll definitely get those..how about you?”

“I’ll go for the bacon cheese omelette I think”

“Sounds yummy” you said and closed your menu

Bradley called the waitress over and you both gave her your orders. He also ordered a lemon raspberry smoothie. There was an awkward silence when she picked your menus up and left.

You clasped you hands together resting them on the table, “Bradley?” he looked up at you, “I have a silly question to ask ” you smiled slightly, a nervous feeling growing inside you.

“Shoot” he said grinning.

“Was this meant to be a date?….Or-“ before you could continue, he thankfully interrupted,

“Do you want it to be?”

Your mind went blank. Of course you didn’t want it to be…but judging by his answer he probably did.

“Well..” you tilted your head, raising your eyebrows slightly

“You don’t do you?”

You shook your head slowly, a sorry expression on your face, “Did you?”

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it?” he said tightening his lips.

Before you could respond, the waitress suddenly came up to your table carrying two plates of mouth watering food.

“One order of chocolate pancakes” she placed your dish in front of you, “and one bacon cheese omelette…..Enjoy!”

“Thank you!” you and Bradley both said simultaneously.

You grabbed your utensils, spooning a large bite into your mouth. You couldn’t deny that they were delicious..maybe this was the best breakfast place in LA.

“How is it?” Bradley laughed, cutting up his own omelette in from of you. You chewed quickly and swallowed.

“Delicious Bradley…how about yours?”

He had taken a bite, “Just as good as it was the last twenty times I had it”

You giggled, going back to your own food. The next half an hour was thankfully not awkward at all. Both of you talked about Cursed, the actors, what jobs you had had before….and of course, your little, “promotion”.

“I’m nervous……how much do you even have to talk with the actors on a day to day basis?” you asked

“Oh barely for me” he said finishing off his omelette, “I mostly work with the basecamp and costume department’s crew…when I accompany the actors to their set it’s usually a silent walk unless they feel like making conversation…which is rarely”

“So you’re saying I won’t have to talk to them as much either?”

“No Y/N you definitely will” he laughed at your widened eyes, “You’re essentially going to be helping the departments get the actors ready for the day…you might not have too much one on one conversation but you will be spending loads of time with them”

“You know that scares the shit out of me” you said scraping the remaining chocolate sauce off of your plate,

“Aw don’t be….they’re only humans like us after all”

You supposed they were.

12:22 pm

The second you got home and into your apartment, you shed your jacket, pulled out your phone, opened your contacts and called Talia. You two had met in university and been inseparable ever since. There was no friend you were closer to than her.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Y/N!! It was meant to be a date right? I knew he was into you!”

You chuckled putting your keys on the table and falling onto your couch. “Slow down Tal…he didn’t say that”

“Well then what did he say?”

“He asked me if I wanted it to be a date”

You could practically hear her eyes roll back into her head, “You idiot…! If it wasn’t meant to be a date, he would’ve been straight up with you and just said so”

“Are you sure?”

“Obviously! Even if it wasn’t meant to be a formal date, he’s definitely into you”

‘What am I supposed to do now?” you huffed

“Is that a serious question?”

“…….Yeah” you said after a pause, guilt lacing your words.

“You go out with him again!” you rubbed your eyes and groaned after hearing her say that.

She ignored you, “Then hopefully he’ll forgive you for being so clueless and in three or four years I’ll be an aunt to three little kids” she said laughing

You laughed too, “Talia! I’m being completely serious…..I only see him as a friend anyways”

“Why Y/N? If you saw a guy this cute, with a great personality I might add, two weeks ago, you would’ve been head over heels for him”

“That’s not true!”

“You know it is Y/N…..what changed?”

“I don’t know……I guess it might be my little crush on Daniel”

“Daniel?….You’re really going to let a tiny celebrity crush hold you back from true love?”

“I know it sounds bad Talia! And in the past I wouldn’t have…but now that I’m working with him things are….. different”

“Have you even talked to him?”

You paused thinking, “Yeah I have”

“And was that more or less than five words?”

“Less” you said scowling..”But it still counts!”

“Ugh Y/N, fine…If you see Bradley as just friends that’s okay….but don’t let Daniel cloud your real feelings for other guys okay? It’s not healthy to stay loyal to a guy who doesn’t even know your name”

“Okay Talia…thanks…I won’t” you said. She always did give the best advice.

Monday, January 14th, 2019

6:48 am

“Y/N! You excited to work on basecamp?”

You turned to see Louis standing behind you in the studio next to the crafts (snacks) table.

“More nervous than excited” you said laughing.

“Well Huey wanted me to tell you that the timings have been changed and you’ll be helping the basecamp from 7 to 9 not from 8 to 10”

You checked you watch and your eyes widened, “ But that’s in ten minutes!”

“I know Y/N….you know how Huey is with his last minute changes” he said comfortingly

“Oh I know alright” you said sighing, “I guess I should get going…wish me luck”

He gave you a warm smile, “You’re gonna do great…you’ll have Pandora to keep you company anyways”

You faked a smile….Pandora was better than nothing you supposed.

You walked out of the building, cold damp air hit your face as you let the heavy door close behind you. There was not a hint of blue in the sky, just grey clouds. It had been raining when you had gotten to work and by the looks of it, it was going to rain again later. The ground was wet and you had to walk around dark puddles to prevent your shoes from getting wet.

You went up to the same trailers Bradley had taken you to yesterday. You didn’t know anyone except Siara….thankfully you saw her through the open door of one of the trailers.

“Hey Y/N!” she said as you walked through the door, wiping your feet on the mat inside the vehicle.

“Hi Siara…..do I just help you out or is there someone else I’m answerable to now?” you said smiling and tucking your hands into you back pockets.

“I was told that Huey or Naomi would guide you and Pandora” she responded, going through a rack of dirty looking costumes

As if on cue, a voice sounded through your headset, “Pandora and Y/N, please report to trailer nine”

You tapped on your earphone indicating to Siara that they had just told you and walked out of the trailer.

“Good luck!” you heard her yell.

“Thanks!!”

When you got to trailer nine, you walked inside to find it was huge, almost double or even triple the size of what Daniel’s had been. It had long mirrors on both sides of the van and six white chairs on each side instead of three. There were almost 9 people in the trailer (which you would think would be a lot but in the huge vehicle it seemed like barely any). You looked around and saw Naomi and Pandora standing together in a corner opposite from the trailer’s door. You went up to them.

“Y/N!, how’ve you been?” Pandora said, a huge smile stretching itself across her face. Why was she being so nice to you all of a sudden?

“Good, how about you?”

“Ladies! We don’t have time for chit chat. The talent and extras will be here any second and you need to be ready”

You nodded crossing your arms over your chest. “I told all this to Pandora but I’ll repeat myself”

She turned towards her, “Pandora, you will be helping out mainly with the extras since they have such extensive make-up and costumes…you might help with the talent if they need it too depending on the day”

Then she turned to you, “Y/N, you on the other hand will also be helping out with the readying of the extras and-“ she checked her watch and you could almost see the tension paint itself across her face. “And you’ll be giving a hand to Daniel Sharman’s make-up crew…since two of them resigned”

For a second you didn’t hear what she said and your mind fixated on just Daniel’s name. You nodded subconsciously, swallowing hard. A rush of adrenaline and nerves hit you when you processed that you’d be working with his make-up crew. You honestly still didn’t know what that meant but you were both nervous and insanely excited to find out. Naomi then without another word rushed down the stairs of the trailer and out into the gloomy weather.

Did this mean you’d get to talk to Daniel? Would he actually notice you now? Or would you just be another part of the huge make up crew? Before you could bombard your poor mind with more intriguing questions, you froze in your spot when you saw the door to the trailer open. Multiple people walked through…extras.

You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding and looked towards Pandora to see her also watching the extras. A realisation suddenly dawned on you that she was probably being nice to you because she knew beforehand that you were working with the Daniel. You honestly didn’t mind…it was better than when she was in a pissed off mood.

“I guess we should start helping out?” you said looking at Pandora

She nodded going over to the chairs where the extras were getting seated, the make up crew bustling around them. There were even more of them now, they must have trickled in when you were speaking with Naomi. You saw Jasmine and the blonde make-up artist enter through the trailer…Daniel’s makeup artist. You suddenly gasped, only realising after you did so.

Pandora looked at you with a funny expression, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing…sorry” you said shaking your head and walking over to her. Your back faced the trailer door.

A man, most likely a makeup artist from the looks of it (he had a belt around his waist with multiple makeup brushes and other tools), came up to the both of you.

“Are you the extra help?”

“Yes” Pandora said

‘Great..” he looked around the trailer, “You guys won’t be doing anything crazy…just acting as assistants essentially to anyone who needs it” You saw his eyes widen as he looked over your shoulder most likely at the trailer door. You didn’t want to seem rude but you couldn’t help yourself as you turned around to find Daniel walking through the door of the trailer. He didn’t have his keys or anything for that matter on him so he must have left them in his personal trailer. His hair wasn’t tied up in a bun today and looked wet…it must’ve started raining outside.

“Sorry I’m late!” your heart stopped for a second when you thought that he was talking to you, but he was actually looking over your shoulder at the crew member you and Pandora had been talking to.

He quickly rushed past you and to Daniel, “Oh no no Daniel, you’re just on time!”

He smiled and walked past him to a chair where Jasmine and that other woman were setting up their supplies. You really had to learn her name. You knew you should go to them seeing as you were supposed to help but you were frozen in your spot, you heart beat thudding through your ears.

“Y/N! You’re helping us today right?” you tore your eyes from Daniel and to Jasmine who was calling out to you from her place next to him. How she knew your name you had no idea…Naomi must’ve told her.

You opened your mouth to talk but realised that it was better to just go over and see what they need help with. Your mouth tended to go dry when you were extremely nervous (or even excited).

You walked over to the three of them. Daniel saw you through the mirror and maybe it was just you but you could’ve sworn there was a hint of recognition in his eyes. The second you caught his blue eyes you looked away and at Jasmine.

‘What can I help with?”

She bent down and pulled out a white cape looking sheet from a shelf and put it on the long table.

“It’s similar to a hair salon really” she opened a drawer and got multiple long clips out, then proceeding to go stand behind Daniel, “I’ll teach you the little tasks you’ll have to do so don’t worry…the basics are the same for the extras’ makeup as well”

You kept looking at Jasmine not wanting to be caught staring or even looking at Daniel through the mirror. She took a brush and brushed his hair back, using the different coloured clips to clip it out of his face, most likely to get him ready for the makeup. You had never been this close to any of the actors you knew and loved. It felt a bit like a dream really. Maybe it even was.

You were snapped back to reality when you heard Daniel’s voice. “I know…aren’t we all” he said laughing.

He must have been responding to something Jasmine or the other woman said, you wished you had been listening.

“If you pick up things quickly you can be doing all this and I can focus more on the makeup” you heard Jasmine say. She had picked up the white sheet and was now putting it around Daniel’s neck, making sure it was covering his clothes.

You nodded smiling and suddenly felt his eyes on you. You took a sudden risk and looked in the mirror right at him. His eyes were darting across the trailer now, thankfully not looking at you anymore. You crossed you arms over your chest, an act of subconscious self defence at how self conscious you were feeling at this moment.

“Can you pass me the makeup wipes?” you heard Jasmine say. She was pointing at a white box on the counter. You quickly grabbed them and handed them to her. She didn’t take them from you but instead pulled a couple wipes out of it.

“His makeup is essentially the same everyday” she said. She then proceeded to take the wipe and gently rub it across his face, most likely to make sure there was no oil or residue and so they could have a fresh canvas for the makeup. “The tears are the hardest and longest part to do so you’ll probably be needed most then”

You felt a bit more comfortable now and spoke, "Do you do those too?”

You glanced in the mirror and saw Daniel grin a bit. Jasmine smiled too shaking her head, “Oh no, I’m still learning. Cassandra does the tears and most of his main makeup. Hopefully by the end of the process I’ll be able to do some of it though”

You smiled feeling like a bit of a fool, of course she was still learning.

You heard Daniel’s voice and assumed he was talking to Jasmine, “You’re a production assistant right?”

He wasn’t.

You looked over at him through the mirror to see him looking directly at you. You nodded, smiling. You wanted to say something but the words just wouldn’t make their way out of your mouth. God, you probably looked like such a starstruck dumbass.

Cassandra had seemed to disappear, you looked around the trailer and she was nowhere to be seen. You swallowed and breathed deeply trying to calm the adrenaline still making it’s way through your body.

“Will I just be watching today?” you asked, curious to know how much actual work you’d do.

“I guess so…Cassandra will let you know when she comes back” she said shrugging. She threw the makeup wipe into the bin and smiled.

“Daniel probably has some of the best skin I’ve ever worked with” she said laughing, “There’s barely any oil….ever”

He laughed too, “I doubt that”

Your eyes suddenly fixated themselves on his smile and you found yourself beaming too.

You quickly snapped yourself out of whatever day dream world you were living in.

What in the living hell was wrong with you? He was an actor and suddenly just because you had seen him in real life you were falling for him? You had to get your act together….otherwise it could end up being a real and unnecessary distraction.

You tore your eyes from him and looked at the door to see Cassandra walk back in.

“Have you shown Y/N the basics?” she asked walking over to you three.

“Yes ma’am…I believe so” she said smiling.

Cassandra smirked looking skeptical, “Has she Daniel?” she said jokingly.

He nodded, lifting a hand to run it through his hair but dropping it at the last moment when he remembered his head was adorned with clips, “I think she has”.

You smiled feeling a bit nervous…Cassandra was a tad more intimidating than Jasmine. “You have to pick up things fast okay Y/N?” She went up in front of Daniel and grabbed what looked to be translucent powder and a brush, handing it to Jasmine. “We don’t have the time to slow ourselves down for you or Pandora”

You didn’t know what else to say other than, “Okay…of course”. You had no room for error apparently, you just had to get into Cassandra’s good books and you’d be fine. She wasn’t as sweet as she’d been on that day where you were still only a set PA.

You looked at Daniel and found that he had closed his eyes and Jasmine was dabbing a bit of powder over his T zone…probably to absorb the excess oil that she had proudly told you he didn’t have.

“Do you do a lot of makeup yourself?” Jasmine asked you

“Not usually but sometimes I guess” you said

“So you know all the different brushes?”

You thought back to the hours of mindless makeup videos you would spend hours watching at 3:00 am when you couldn’t sleep.

“Yep, I do actually” you said confidently. Thank god you weren’t completely clueless in this new endeavour.

Part five

#daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fic #isaac lahey #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman one shot #daniel sharman headshot #cursed #cursed netflix #netflix #cursed fanfiction #cursed fanfic #weeping monk x reader #lancelot x reader #nimulot #cursed fic #lancelot x oc

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notfckincool · 4 years

Text

DIRTY GIRL

CHAPTER 10

Negan x Ana (OC)

Ana embarks on a casual but obviously filthy affair with Negan, accidentally falling for the man, knowing he will never love her. Angst and Kinky fuckery.

Its Negan so expect swearing and strong sexual content throughout

Chapter 10 - Giant box of sex toys

Negan x Ana (OC)

Ana is invited to stay the night with Negan before he leaves for a long run. Seeing yet another side to Negan's personality, she realizes her feelings for her handsome fuckbuddy might run a little deeper than she cares to admit. (ctd from shower scene ch9)

WARNINGS🔞 marking, sensation play, sex toys, butt stuff. daddy kink, edging, lil bit o' fluff

"You are mine now, to do with as I please. I don't have to leave until the day after tomorrow and when I'm finished with you, you won't be able to walk. I'm going to make sure you can still feel me while I'm gone."

Legs clamped around his hips, face inches from mine, his words reverberate through me...I'm completely under his spell, caught up in the intensity in his dark eyes and the promise of his undivided attention. I've longed for this. Eyes still locked, he lowers me gently, smirking at the power he knows he has over me.

"Now turn around princess let's wash that shit outta your hair"

My hair is lathered, massaged, and gently rinsed. The last of the blood of those who dared to defy us, swirling away down the plughole. A long but comfortable silence falls over us as his fingers glide softly over my neck, shoulders and arms. The first time we've been together without the constant banter and I don't feel the need to fill the space with chatter. I focus on his soapy hands moving firmly but gently over my body. A softness to his touch, a tenderness I'm not familiar with. He finds the knots above my shoulder blades, thumbs pressing circles into my aching muscles.

"Ugh...That feels so good"

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, there...down a bit..left a bit"

"What about there?" he applies more pressure, chuckling as he squeezes a tight knot.

"Ow...fuck..ow..yeah...that hurts" I laugh, wriggling beneath his strong hands "...Dont stop though"

"What about this bit…..right...here…"

"Oooooohh….you fucker" I squirm and chuckle" You really fucking love hurting me"

"Hahaha, yes I fucking do….and don't pretend you don't love it. Now stop fucking wriggling" He delivers a stinging slap to my wet ass.

"Ahhh"

"Never get fuckin tired of hearing that, princess" he chuckles giving me another slap.

"Ahhh. You're a sadist"

He laughs a genuine warm laugh. I feel his breath on my neck and a row of delicate kisses. I react to his touch with a roll of my head giving him better access. Sweeping my hair aside, grazing me softly with lips and teeth, we almost feel like a normal couple….almost

"Yes I am...a sadistic fuck….mmmmm….your ass looks good with my handprints on it...and you girl, you, are a masochist....so what the fuck are we going to do about that?"

Hands weaving into my hair, twisting until it's balled in his fist, his weight shifts behind me, lurching forward, pressing me splayed against the shower wall. My breath hitches, the sudden change in tone and temperament excites me. Teeth clamp down onto my neck, and I moan quietly as he sucks marks onto my skin.

"See.." his voice low in my ear "Fucking…..Mine".

Withdrawing suddenly, he releases my hair and switches off the water. My heart pounding, I wait silently against the wall, listening as he moves behind me. I love the excitement of never knowing what he's going to do next.

...And then I feel the softness of his lips kissing my freshly bruised skin and I'm carefully turned around and wrapped in a large fluffy towel. I look up at him from under my lashes, mesmerized as he gently rubs my hair and tenderly pats me dry. Well this is….a whole new level of unpredictability. I'm surprised by this softer caring side of him but I've got to admit, I like it, and I can't help but wonder if this is what it's like to be a wife. Arranging the towel around me he tucks it in, my look of total confusion is lost on him as he flashes me one of his heart stopping smiles. He kisses my forehead before turning and grabbing himself a towel, tucking it casually around his waist as he strolls off into the living room.I peer around the door frame after him as he pours two drinks from an expensive looking decanter, following him into the room as he sets the glasses on the coffee table. He sits on the sofa, pats the seat beside him, I sit, like a good girl, and accept the glass he offers me.

" We did a great fucking job tonight….we make an awesome team"

"No one messes with us" I grin, raising my glass.

"Damn fucking straight!"

Our glasses chink together and we take a sip, his eyes never leaving mine, watching me over the rim of his glass

"You did good…...I'm real fucking proud of you"

Proud of me? He leans forward to wipe a splash of liquor from my lips, his thumb lingering. Then closer still, his lips tantalisingly close to mine. My stomach does a weird and unexpected thing. That feeling you get as the rollercoaster tips over the first dip? And did I just blush? A smile plays at the corner of his lips, his thumb still lightly resting on mine. I find myself searching his eyes, softer now, and the wicked twinkle is back. Overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him, I lean in…..and of course he pulls back, sinking into the sofa taking a sip of his drink. Damn it! Why did I do that? I know the rules. Trying to disguise my disappointment I fiddle with my towel and take a large swig, emptying the glass while thinking of something to say to ease my frustration.

"So, you all set for the run?" I ask casually.

"Yeah, Simon's just finalizing a few things, then we're good to go"

"I wish I could come" I glance across at him. God, did that sound needy?

"Yeah.. me too... but I need you here" he glances back, looking sincere.

"You sure? I can be so much more useful..."

"Ana, no, it's decided." he interrupts "You're staying here" He drains his glass.

Is he angry with me? Did I go too far? Nodding, I draw up my legs, resting my chin on my knees, and stare pensively at the empty glass... I'll miss you...That's what I wanted to say, but I didn't. What's wrong with me? I know what this is. Ok, enough now, stop being weird you'll scare him off and he'll pack you off back to your own room. I have him all to myself for tonight, and tomorrow, and I'm making the most of it. He looks back at me, resting his hand on my knee.

"You know, you're one of the few people I trust to handle things here while I'm gone...I need you….here"

More praise. My stomach does that thing again and I try to look cool, but I know he sees right through it. I need to get a grip. There's a long lingering eyelock and a bite of his lip before he snatches the glass from me and rises from the sofa with a chuckle. I hear him refilling the drinks.

"I got you something"

"Really? What is it?"

Resting the refills on the table he sits next to me, passing me a box fastened with a satin bow. I look at him puzzled as he grins like an excited child on Christmas morning.

"You're gonna fuckin love this!...come on, fuckin open it"

I grin back and pull the bow, lifting the lid and stare into the box.

"Oh…...A giant box of sex toys…for me…..you shouldn't have" I smile

"Yeah! You fuckin love it, right? I knew you fuckin would. Don't worry they're all brand spanking new in the wrappers. Couldn't believe my fuckin luck when we came across this sex store on a run, surprisingly well stocked, not really survival essentials I guess, well except for you? nudges me and chuckles "Been keeping them here….cos…..Well.... I knew you'd fuckin appreciate...."He wiggles his eyebrows, his tongue poking out between his teeth. He's genuinely pleased with himself.

"....ya know….Since I'm gonna be away…." he grabs my wrist. "…and it might be a while…." pulls me towards his lap. "....and I know how antsy you get if I'm not around to satisfy you..." I straddle him smiling widely."...so…." he grasps my hips tightly.".....you will wait for me until I get back…." rolls his hips upwards. "...no screwing around…" he grabs at my ass. "..no one gets to fuckin touch you but me…." squeezes my ass. "...you behave when I'm not here…understood?" He grips my chin firmly."... Are you gonna be a good girl while daddy's away?"

Oh yeah, I know what this is. I like this game and I'll happily play along. I am definitely going to make the most of it.

"Yes" I nod"

"That is exactly fuckin right." His grip tightening on my chin.

There's a sudden knock at the door that jolts us both. I sigh and reluctantly dismount. He answers the door, returning with a tray of snacks, a tub of ice cream, two spoons and a satisfied grin.

"Time to eat princess" He sets down the tray as I rummage through the box, selecting a large dildo, wiggling it with a smirk.

"Yeah... but look at this"

"Impressive" he chuckles sitting himself back down " I mean, not as good as the real fucking thing obviously" he clutches himself under the towel " but it should tide you over while I'm gone"

"You are so thoughtful" I smile sweetly

"I really fucking am" he grins " I am sooooo fucking good to you. Now eat. You're going to need your energy." he winks, I turn my attention back to the box, inspecting and unwrapping a shiny new butt plug, waving it at him.

"But daddy… I want to play"

"Get back here on my lap you bad fuckin girl... I said eat...Now open wide princess" I look shyly at him as I open my mouth for him. "Oh princess..who do you think you're fuckin kidding? I know you can open wider than that" And then we feel normal again. We eat and talk and laugh, teasing and fooling around like best friends, as though the cruel world outside never existed. I get to see the part of him that no one else does, except maybe the wives. Maybe that's why they do it. Maybe it's not so bad afterall. A sliver of ice cream escapes the spoon, trickling down my chin.

"You're not doing a very good job of this" I laugh "I can feed myself you know"

Leaning forward his tongue strokes over my chin and across my lips.

"Yeah, but this is more fun"

His cool lips brush against mine as he trails the spoon lightly down my neck and collar bone, cold metal grazing against warm skin. His eyes on mine he unfastens my towel and it falls away. The spoon continues its journey torturously slowly across the curve of my breasts, resting on a nipple which hardens on contact, sending a shudder right to my core. I react with a whimper and grind against him. He watches the spoon travel to the other nipple. I inhale sharply, grinding again.

Leaning in he licks slowly over my nipple, teasing with cold lips and tongue over the sensitive bud. My body begs for more, arching backwards, grinding rhythmically against the hardening beneath his towel. He reaches between us pushing it away, revealing his swelling cock, and pulls me to him as he takes my nipple fully into his mouth. Sucking, cold tongue swirling, teeth nipping and pinching. The other nipple between finger and thumb rolling and tugging.

And just like that I want him.. again. Never get enough of the way he makes me feel, the way my body reacts to him. I want him on me, in me, but more than that, I crave the intimacy, the closeness. No longer satisfied with a quick casual fuck, am I becoming obsessed? Feeling him growing beneath me, all self control goes out of the window. I slide along his length, giving myself the friction I need, coating him in my arousal, my hands threading into his hair.

"Look at my needy little princess getting herself off on daddys big cock" His hand grabs firmly at my hair and tugs.

I know he doesn't feel that way about me. Just another toy, another plaything, willing to let him do whatever he wants, but I can't help myself. I always want more.

Reaching for the metal plug he dips and holds it in the ice cream, then puts it to my lips, offering it to me to lick clean. I hold his gaze, his eyes darkening again as my tongue swirls across the cold surface.

"I know what I want to eat next" he smirks "On your hands and knees princess"

Obediently I pry myself from his lap and position myself on all fours. His long large fingers slide tantalisingly between my folds, exploring the wetness flooding from me. Fingers gliding up and down from clit to ass and back again, spreading my arousal.

"Babygirl, you are fuckin soaked...practically dripping….and it's all for me….I want to taste that sweet honey now, princess, hold still for me"

I quiver as I feel his mouth on me.

"Mmmmmmm" he hums against me as he hungrily devours me and I desperately try to hold still as his tongue teases my pussy and ass.

"Princess, I said hold still, and you better not cum until I say."

I feel his finger circling the tight hole, permitting him entrance as he slowly eases in. I inhale sharply, stifling a moan, holding off the inevitable.

"Fuck!" I gasp

"You like that princess?"

"Mhm" I mumble into the leather

"Use your words princess. Tell me what you want,"

"I like it...I want more...please"

"Good girl"

Another wet finger is pushed inside, stretching me. It feels so good I can't resist the urge to bear down.

"Oh god...I'm gonna.."

"..Tsk tsk" he tuts at me withdrawing his fingers, delivering a spank "I said keep still" he scolds

"Please...I'll behave" I plead, desperately needing my release.

"Yes, you will, darlin"

The icy cold metal of the plug is pressed against my clit, it sends electricity pulsing through me. He teases my cunt, coating it in my juices, dipping it inside me, sliding its way to my ass where it rests. Pushing in a little he holds it there,fingers back to circling my clit, the perfect speed and pressure. My jaw clenches, eyes clamp shut, teetering on the edge of orgasm, I pant and clutch at the leather.

"Oh god, oh god...please"

"Breath princess, you're doing so well but, I want to hear you beg" he insists, pushing it in a little more, meeting resistance as I subconsciously clench, twisting, taunting me. I wriggle and get another slap.

"Fuck! Please"

"Beg me"

"Please...I need to cum...please...please daddy"

"You've been so good babygirl……"

Easing in further, the cold metal, the stinging burn on my ass, the rubbing of my clit, its overwhelming.

"Thats it, Babygirl…..cum for me"

Pushing it in all the way, I'm sent soaring over the edge, back arching, trembling, convulsing. I cum so hard I feel it dripping from me.

"Such a good girl. I'm so proud of you…."

The jewelled plug sitting snugly inside me, he runs his hand down my back, strokes tenderly over the sore pink handprints on my cheeks as I shake from the waves of pleasure rushing through me.

"...Mmmmm….your ass looks so pretty princess."

I feel him lining up behind me, running his shaft between my folds coating and wetting himself, teasing me with his tip. I'm still shuddering and shaking as he grabs my hips and plunges into me.

"Holy fuck!"

I'm completely filled. Holding me tight as I contract around him, he growls low, withdrawing slowly only to snap back in as far as he can go. I moan loudly, the double penetration almost too much to bear. Snap. Hold. Snap. Hold. Over and over. Every thrust as powerful as the last. Gradually picking up speed I brace myself against the sofa, his fingers digging into my hips as he sets his pace, hitting me deep inside, the sound of his groans triggering the heat again, building and spreading, washing over me. Praise and obscenities pour from his lips. Hard relentless fucking until he loses his rhythm, withdrawing quickly and the warm wet splash of his release spills on my back.

Exhausted, I collapse onto the sofa.

"Fuck, princess!...God fuckin damn!"

Gently, he wipes me down and casts away the towel.

"Does look good that pretty jewel in your ass, might request you wear it to the next savior meeting" he grins "our little secret, I'll enjoy watching you squirm" He chuckles. "Think you're gonna enjoy my little gift?"

"Sorry can't speak"

He laughs and lifts himself from the sofa, taking the box of toys and tray of snacks over to the bedside table, nodding for me to join him on the four poster.

"Can't walk either" I laugh

Shaking his head he scoops me up carrying me to the bed, placing me down gently and handing me a bottle of water. He lays down beside me, head propped on his arm, watching me sip the water.

Reaching across me to the tub of rapidly melting ice cream, he kisses my neck and says in my ear

"Oh, I am in no way finished with you yet"

He grabs the tub and sits himself upright, loading up his spoon, looking at me with a dark smirk.

"Best eat up, princess. I promised to fuck you all night, and I am a man of my word"

MASTERLIST

@chloejanedecker1 @negan-love @bychrissi @nayghtynegan @negans-attagirl

#negan fanfiction #negan smut #negan x oc #twd negan #negan #television #smut #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead negan #jeffrey dean morgan #jdmorgan #jdmporn #fanfic #twd fanfiction #the saviors #the sanctuary #negan fic

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bitchesgetriches · 4 years

Note

Hey bitches, let's dream. What would you do with a no strings attached $10k, $100k and $1m donation to BGR?

Oh. OH.

This question made my brain blush with serotonin. I will happily answer this.

If we had $10K, we would hire a part-time assistant to help us. The funny thing is: when you do something you really love, you only do The Thing Itself a small fraction of the time. We have all of Season 2 of the podcast recorded, but it takes us months to release because we’re doing all the research, editing, writing, and promotional stuff ourselves. I often sit down intending to write, only to end up working on taxes and updating security certificates. All that invisible administrative work is a drag, and it would be awesome to have a little help with it.

A lot of folks in our position have one or more virtual assistants to help them. It’s very affordable, if you hire someone in a low cost of living country. I’m not gonna say we would never do that, because I’m willing to do what it takes to grow our audience and help more people.

But...ugh. It just doesn’t jive with our ethos?

Like. BGR is a sisterhood founded in a shared dream of promoting economic justice and empowerment. We couldn’t add an assistant unless we found someone who was really fired up about our mission and we enough money to show them respect for their time. $10K would be enough to pay someone $20/hour for 10 hours of admin work per week. That would be totally life-changing for BGR.

If we had $100K, we would both make this our full-time job. 2020 is the first year we’ve paid ourselves through BGR. I cannot thank our Patreon donors enough for their support. It is so meaningful, ESPECIALLY now that Piggy has lost her job.

But, real talk: the last time I calculated it out, Piggy and I were paying ourselves about...$3/hour.

The overwhelming majority of our donors give $1/month. Those donations mean the world to us, because we know they’re likely coming from folks who don’t have more to give! But, you know, we write from our hearts, and that takes a lot of spoons. We have to balance against our day job (or hunting for a new day job, in Piggy’s case) and activities that refill the cup: eating, showering, sinking 200 hours into a video game I only sorta liked, etc.

We have considered lots of options for additional monetization, and rejected pretty much all of them, because we just can’t get away from the idea that it’s unethical to charge poor people money for advice on how to stop being poor. We’ve had lots of sponsorship offers; we’ve even had major financial companies inquire about buying Bitches Get Riches. Ego-stroking and wallet-filling as that is, we don’t think it’s in our fans’ best interest.

The donor model feels good to us right now. We hope that the people we’ve helped will remember us and pay it forward by donating. It’s not giving us rent money, but it’s grocery money. And we stan groceries. But seriously, if someone handed BGR a hundred geez, I wouldn’t even send in my letter of resignation---just fling my work computer onto the lawn of my old office and see how long it took for them to stop sending me paychecks. They’re awfully bureaucratic, it could take a while!

Telling you what we would do if we had $1M requires some embarrassing dream-disclosures, but hey, let’s do it! I had to leave home when I was 17. And I did some really risky things to get by on my own. Now, everything worked out well for me in the end! But I got help from a lot of strangers. Many of them were wise older women who never asked questions, just gave me what they could: a spare room, a job, a place at their table on Christmas. BGR is very much my attempt to do what was done for me, on the widest scale I possibly can.

But if I had a milly?

Ho mah gad, this is embarrassing, but...

My won-the-lottery dream has always been to buy land somewhere beautiful, and build a bunch of tiny-home style cabins around a big main house. Half would be rented out to artists working on finishing a project (writing their book, programming their game, whatever). The income from those rentals would subsidize the other half of the cabins, which would be free short-term housing for people who need help getting out of shitty situations.

I would live at the big house and manage the property. I’d cook delicious family dinners, and invite interesting speakers, and create a safe and inspiring environment for my guests. We’d have a bunch of old rescued animals around too, because animals can do so much to put life into perspective and teach you how to be kind to yourself AND ALSO BECAUSE ANIMALS ARE V. CUTE.

Obviously BGR would live on, with this sanctuary as its headquarters. With more opportunities to come together in-person, we could host seminars and retreats and conferences. (A pressing need, since the guy who runs our main industry conference took a hard right turn onto MAGA Alley and got canceled faster than a critically-acclaimed LGBT tv show.)

Sorry, Piggy, in this dream, you and Bear would have to come live with us. I know how much you hate the outdoors, loathe home improvement projects, dread serving huge Italian family-style dinners, despise the thought of teaching city people how to fish, and weep at the idea of playing your guitar out on the lawn while interesting, kind people talked quietly and sipped wine and tapped away on their laptops until the fireflies came out. You said I could answer this question, so you don’t get a say, tough titties.

Thank you for asking this lovely question. The time I wasted on this daydreaming has me fired up for doing all the other things I have to do today! Like editing all these dagum podcast files. I’ll see about getting episode one dropped tomorrow-ish.

What about you guys? What would YOU do?

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 4 years

Text

Found You

Note: Hey! Damn, it's been a while since I posted. School finals and then not having a laptop for weeks will do that to you, apparently. Anyway, this is a oneshot I had lots of fun writing! Early in my werewolf Stan AU, someone on AO3 commented that it would be pretty cool if Stan managed to escape, and... well, you'll see. Thanks to the person who gave me this idea! Hope you all enjoy :)

________________________________________

Stan was beginning to think that it was time to re-evaluate his life.

How many times did a guy have to chew his way out of something before coming to that conclusion? Twice, apparently. At least this time he’d had wolf fangs to back him up; the last time he’d chewed his way out of a sticky situation he hadn’t even had that.

He’d been so desperate for so long to just do what Pa had ordered. Make millions, prove to everyone that he wasn’t just a failure, be welcomed back home. But – it was never gonna be enough, was it? He may as well stop living in a fantasy world.

Fuck getting rich and being accepted back into his family, Stan just wanted to sleep in a bed. He wondered idly if this backwater town was hiring waiters or something. Didn’t need high school credentials or a valid ID to be a waiter, right? Sure the pay was shit and there was no hope of getting rich enough to make Pa happy, but he might be able to afford a cheap motel or something.

Not that Stan looked like prime employee material right now. When he’d first stumbled into this diner the waitress had looked like she was expecting him to either rob the place or drop down dead in front of her. Now it seemed like her suspicion had given way to pity because she placed a slice of pie in front of him alongside the coffee he’d ordered.

“It’s on the house.”

Hey, he’d take what he could get.

Stan dug into his pie, groaning happily at the warmth seeping through his mouth. The pleasure of eating actual food was slightly marred by the ache in his jaw. He winced and poked at his teeth with his tongue, checking out the damage. All things considered? Not bad. It probably wouldn’t take more than a few weeks to heal the worst of the damage. Hey, werewolf perks.

Luckily Stan had only needed to break the lock of Ford’s cage to escape – if he’d tried chewing through the bars he wasn’t sure he would have any teeth left at the end of it. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if there had been heavier security. He’d managed to break himself out before shifting into human form to unlatch the shed door, limping into the woods as quickly as he could while the night still hung heavy and quiet. He’d finally found his car and gunned it until he ended up in this dump, a town a few miles away. Sitting in this booth was the first time he’d rested since getting out of there and he was beginning to realize that everything hurt.

The whole ‘nearly-beaten-to-death’ thing wasn’t new to Stan, but that didn’t make in pleasant. From the pain in his chest he was pretty sure at least one rib was broken. Peering at his reflection in a spoon revealed that he was also covered in a myriad of ugly black, brown and yellow bruises like a patchwork blanket – a patchwork blanket with a mullet. Ugh. He put the spoon back to its original purpose of scooping pie, so he didn’t have to look at his reflection anymore.

Also, he couldn’t remember hurting his neck, but he must have somehow because a spot on the back of it was tender and swollen. When Stan reached up to feel it there was a little lump. Maybe he could get some ice for that to bring the swelling down? Nah, no use when his whole face looked like a discoloured turnip.

He wolfed down (haha, wolfed) the last of his sad little meal and felt around in his pockets for spare change. He could just finish his coffee and run, but that would make a pretty bad first impression and he was still hoping to get hired. On the other hand, this coffee was expensive as shit and Stan could probably buy himself a cheap burger or something with the cash tomorrow. Would it be better to make a good impression, stick around in this town and look for work, or steal now and search for another place?

He gulped down a mouthful of scalding, bitter coffee. It was way better than lapping lukewarm water from a metal bowl. Upgrades, people. Upgrades.

The door gave a stupidly cheerful jingle that Stan resented – partly on principle, and partly because who the fuck goes to a diner at three in the morning? (Except for Stan, because he was pathetic, and of course the waitress. At least she got paid to be there.) Stan took another sip of his drink and glanced across to get a look at the other sad sack who had just come in.

He choked.

Because holy shit that was Ford standing in the doorway, staring right back at him.

Ford’s glasses were askew and his hair mussed, like a man who had recently crawled out of bed. How the hell was he there? Stan had barely left an hour ago! He coughed and thumped at his chest to encourage his stupid lungs to start breathing again.

Ford’s eyes travelled down to some machine doohickey he was holding, and then back up to Stan. A frown flashed across his features.

“…there you are.”

Stan tried to speak but it came out as a wheeze. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Uh – Ford. Didn’t – um – didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

Ford walked over and slid into the booth across from Stan, eyes scanning him. The intense gaze made Stan shrink back into his seat and cough uncomfortably. Well, at least Ford had no reason to believe that Stan was the werewolf he was missing?

“Are you some kind of – werewolf?” Ford demanded.

…shit.

Stan schooled his expression into a grin, trying to ignore the thundering of his heart pounding against his chest. “Werewolf? Psh, Ford, you know those don’t exist.”

Ford rolled his eyes at Stan’s forced nonchalance. “Stanley, please. I tagged you with a tracker, I know it’s you.”

Well, Ford kinda had him there.

“Wait, wait wait wait – you chipped me?” Stan hissed. Ford only nodded to himself with self-satisfaction. Stan cursed and reached up to scratch at that tiny lump in his neck, wincing as his fingers prodded tender flesh. Damn. He should have noticed earlier and clawed it out.

And now Ford was watching him with that calculating stare. Stan stared back defiantly, swallowing down the growl that bubbled up in his chest. He would not be out-stared, dammit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ford’s question broke the frigid silence. Stan blinked.

“You – uh, what?”

Ford pressed on. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were? Who you were? Hell, this entire mess could have been avoided if you’d just-”

“Oh, so it’s my fault, is it?” Stan couldn’t bite down a hint of a growl, and he took pleasure in seeing his brother’s eyes widen at the low rumble.

“…I didn’t say that.”

“May as well have.” Calm down, he had to calm down. He couldn’t afford to lose his cool in front of people. Of course, it would have been easier to control himself if he wasn’t exhausted and aching all over and starving and shivering and afraid and so so angry. The gritting of his teeth was already becoming awkward around sharp canines and the beginnings of a large, lolling tongue. He had to get out of there now.

“-back to my house.” Ford was continuing. How long had he been speaking for? “You could be a danger to yourself and others in this state.”

“I’m fine.” Stan stood up roughly. Thank god the waitress had ducked into the kitchen for something – she wouldn’t be monitoring to make sure he paid. And as an added bonus she also wouldn’t see the inhuman gleam of his irises. He yanked his hood over his head just to be sure and stalked for the door.

“Need I remind you that you attacked a man just yesterday?” Ford followed him relentlessly. Stan shouldered through the door and his dirty boots crunched in the thin layer of snow outside. Fat flakes spiraled down around him and stung his face as he stomped to his car, Ford in fast pursuit.

Ugh, the snow muffled the sounds around him so all he could hear were the sounds of two bodies, magnified and echoing – harsh breathing and the pounding of blood in his ears, crunching of footsteps behind him and the minute scrape of fabric brushing against itself in movement. The sensation of being followed made him shiver, made every muscle in his tired body tense.

It’s just Ford. Not some rando. He won’t hurt you, calm down. Focus on the moment, Ford is talking to you.

“No.” Stan snapped out. “No, I attacked his fucking dog. He’s the one who tried to bash my skull in.”

Footsteps behind him brought to mind a similar sound. Footsteps crunching in snow as the person followed him when he tried to crawl away. He could still see the burly figure looming over him. Red, red hair and red, red blood on his own pelt-

His breaths came quick and fast, gulps of frigid air. Ford was speaking to him loudly but the words all blurred together. A hand reached for him and Stan jerked away.

“No!”

His voice rumbled with a low growl and Stan cursed to himself, claws digging into his own bicep as he tried to force the Shift away. Now was not the time to have a breakdown. He was supposed to be in control, goddammit!

But the urge to Shift sat heavy in his chest, almost an ache. Shifting made him safe, because shifting made him dangerous, and nothing can hurt you if you hurt it first and every cell in his body was screaming for him to run away-

Stan didn’t realize he’d sunk to his knees until he felt the snow soaking through his pant legs. Burning, biting cold. Pain radiated from his arm, too – his claws had slid under the skin of his arm and sent pain stinging through him. But the pain was good, it kept him grounded.

“Stanley-”

“Shut. Up.” Stan growled out. Ford shut up.

Deep breath in, deep breath out, forcing his lungs to expand and contract. Slowly the Shift settled itself, claws shrinking into dirty nails and fangs becoming blunt and fur (when had the fur appeared?) receding into skin.

Stan ran his tongue over his teeth to ensure that they were wholly human once again. The fluctuation between states hadn’t helped their aching – his gums throbbed and he could taste blood.

“Oooookay.” He pulled in another deep breath and let it out slowly. “Alright. I’m good.”

Ugh, the snow was soaking through his pants. Stan pulled himself up and tried dusting the white powder off, but his body heat had already caused it to melt into the fabric. He cursed.

“…are you okay?” Ford finally said.

A glance at Ford’s face showed equal amounts of wariness and concern. Which, hey, Stan didn’t think that his brother would be concerned about him, so that was a nice surprise.

…but there was also the possibility that he was just worried Stan would go apeshit and tear him to pieces. That would make more sense.

“You’re fine, I’m not dangerous or anything unless I wanna be.” Stan waved a hand. “Just my Shifting acting up. Funnily enough, it’s hard to not slip into danger mode when you’ve been locked in a cage for hours on end! Funny how that happens, huh?”

Ford had the grace to look a little guilty. He reached to take Stan’s arm, then hesitated before his fingers made contact. “…look. Can I at least take you home? You shouldn’t be driving in this state.”

Stan had to suppress a laugh. Sure, take the homeless man home. That had to be some kind of paradox, right? He spat a glob of blood into the snow to clear his throat before responding. “No need, I’m fine.”

Ford was staring at him in horror now. Stan blinked.

“…what?”

“Was that blood?”

“Er. Yeah. Why?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were badly injured? You could have internal bleeding!” Ford shrilled, making Stan take a step back and laugh nervously.

“Seriously, I’m fine, I just broke a couple teeth on the-”

“You broke a couple -” Ford spluttered. “I’m taking you to the hospital right now.”

“I don’t need to go to the-”

“We are going to the hospital now!”

“Ford-”

“Hospital. Now.”

…you know what? Stan’s day couldn’t get any weirder. He shrugged.

Ford grabbed him by the arm and started towing him through the car park, Stan trying not to limp as he followed. From Ford’s worried cluck he didn’t do a very good job.

“Aren’t you gonna, like, try to study me or whatever?” Stan managed as he was pushed into a car. Ford dropped into the driver’s seat.

“Of course I am, I’ve never seen a werewolf before, but that will be after I know my brother isn’t dying!”

“…fair enough. Can I pick the music?”

“No.”

#werewolf!Stan #werewolf stan au #my writing #fic #oneshot #au of an au

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i-write-nsfw-sometimes · 4 years

Text

Prinxiety - A Fantasy pt. 2 (dark nsfw)

Roman overhears Remus and Virgil’s plan of escape. Whatever shall he do?

Dark elf!Virgil, human!Roman, human!Remus, dub con, unsympathetic!Roman

Remus finished brushing Virgil's hair, passing them their ribbon. Virgil pulled their hair into a ponytail. Remus kissed Virgil, pulling them close

"You have to go... Roman will get suspicious if I'm in here for too long." Remus nodded

"I know... but I don't know when I'll see you again... and I know I will miss you." Remus kissed Virgil again

"I love you Remus... never forget that... I only love you...." Remus let out a small huff

"And I don't even have to make you say it." Virgil smiled, holding their tears back, kissing Remus one last time

"See you soon dumbass." Remus smiled

"I love you my little arachnid."

"I love you too my filthy octopus." Remus crawled out the window, Virgil closing it behind him. Virgil opened the door, stepping into the bedroom.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long my love." Roman laid on the bed, wearing his night clothes

"Come love, it is time to sleep." Roman pulled back the covers, Virgil climbing in reluctantly, Roman spooned them, pulling up the blankets

"I had a horrible vision my love." Virgil hummed, showing they were listening

"I saw you in my brother's arms, he was defiling your body. I could barely stand it! You are too perfect to be in his arms." Virgil sighed

"'Twas only a vision Roman, I am in your arms right now and not his." Roman kissed Virgil's neck

"True my love... goodnight, sleep well." Virgil nodded, closing their eyes, ignoring Roman's arms wrapping around their waist, pulling them into his body.

The wedding was over relatively quickly... Virgil didn't know if they were happy it was over... or afraid of what came next, Virgil stared at themself in the mirror, not recognizing the dark elf they saw in the mirror. Their hair was in a low bun, silver hairpieces adorned their hair, they wore a white dress, lace covering their collar and arms. They smiled... they'd be with Remus soon, just a little longer. Virgil looked down at the rings on their finger, there was just one more thing they had to do. Roman knocked on the bathroom door

"Love? Are you alright?" Virgil nodded

"I just... I'm nervous..." Roman smiled

"I'll be gentle with you my love, you have been so good to me so it's only fair I return the favor." Roman pulled Virgil to his chest, swaying lightly, kissing their hair

"Let us relocate to the bed shall we?" Virgil gulped, just one more thing, they nodded. Roman scooped them up, carrying them to the bed, setting them down on the floor

"Let's get this dress off you." Roman peeled off the dress, running his fingers over Virgil's skin

"You are so gorgeous love, I can't wait to take my time with you." Roman laid them down, kissing their neck, he stood to take off his cape and shirt, kicking off his pants

"I've waited so long, so many fantasies... so little time." Virgil let out a small huff

"We have more than just tonight Roman... no need to waste all them in one night." Virgil shrugged, Roman nodded, pulling down Virgil's panties. Virgil wanted to vomit, just one more thing,

"You are right my precious angel... if anything you'll have to beg me to stop, I plan on making love to you as often as I am able." Roman kisses Virgil's collarbone, easing two fingers into their cunt,

"R-Roman... please... warning next time." Roman chuckled

"Of course my dear." Roman sucked, leaving a mark on Virgil's neck, Virgil hoped their skin would hide it

"So good for me... I've waited so long to have you underneath me." Roman moaned, grinding down on Virgil's clit.

"Are you ready? Or do you need me to stretch you more?" Roman pulled off his boxers, grabbing a condom

"I s-should be fine." Just one more thing. Roman smirked, lining up with Virgil's pussy, lacing his fingers with Virgil's

"Breathe for me," Roman began pushing in, Virgil gasped, trying to relax, Just one more thing.

"So fucking tight, oh gods spare me." Roman panted, growling at the velvet heat around him. Virgil squeezed Roman's hands, clenching around Roman tight. Just one more.... Roman began thrusting slowly, Virgil winced, feeling Roman pulling at their walls. This didn't feel like it did with Remus... with Remus... Virgil could say stop, Virgil could ask for him to wait, Virgil could reach up and pull Remus into a kiss and beg that he move... with Roman?... Virgil just had to take it... Just one more... It felt like an eternity, Roman touching Virgil, caressing their skin, fucking them through his orgasm. Virgil knew Roman would go until they came.... they could fake it... they had to... Just one... Virgil clenched around Roman and arched their back, letting out a moan of Roman. They relaxed and pretended to be out of breath. They let out a sigh of relief as Roman pulled out, tossing the condom in the garbage.

"You did so well my love. Rest now, I will let you sleep in tomorrow." Roman snuggled up to Virgil, Virgil winced at the soreness, but pretended to fall asleep. Once they heard snoring, they rolled out from Roman's arm. Their hair was falling out of their bun, their neck had a dark purple bruise that stood out from their skin. Virgil tried not to cry, they did it... now they just needed to get to Remus. Virgil grabbed some of their old clothes, quickly braiding their hair. They grabbed their cloak wrapping it around their shoulders. They crept onto the balcony, jumping to the tree nearby, climbing down skillfully. They snuck to Remus' secret exit, a small hole under a tree that led outside the castle walls. Virgil let out a breath they didn't know they had been holding as they exited the castle walls, putting their hood up... they began walking.

Virgil reached the clearing, sitting under a tree, waiting for Remus

"Virge?" Virgil's gaze shot to see Remus in the field

"Remus!" Virgil ran to Remus, jumping in his arms

"Virgil, do you trust me?" Virgil nodded

"With my life."

"Then run, run as fast as you can, Roman is in these woods, if I come back with you he will kill me and take you back, run back to the castle, yell as loud as you can that you were just playing me or some shit.... please" Virgil saw Roman's crimson cloak in the bushes

"W-We can make it.... if we run.... two against one, we will be fine." Virgil sobbed

"I can't lose you... not again..." Remus sighed, he hated seeing his love cry

"Virgil.... You need to run..." Virgil looked down, noticing the growing patch of red on Remus' side

"R-Remus.." Remus smiled

"Please run Virgil... for me?" Virgil shook their head

"Like hell! You're injured!" Virgil helped Remus onto the ground

"Shhh, Virgil, if he takes you back he might hurt you... please run" Virgil ignored Remus, letting the pulse of magic rush through them, their wings sprouting behind them. Virgil put every last ounce of magic into Remus' wound

"I love you Remus... Roman is going to take me away... but your wound is healed...." Virgil smiled tiredly,

"I want one last kiss... you'll pass out after" Remus nodded tears flooding his eyes. Virgil kissed Remus, relishing in having his love close

"I love you," Remus collapsed, passing out

"I love you too," Virgil stood, turning to walk towards the castle

"You need to stop keeping secrets my love" Virgil turned to face Roman, kneeling and bowing their head, their wings drooping

"You have passed my test beloved.... I am now completely and wholly yours..." Roman let out a deep chuckle

"You always were mine, my love, now lets go get you cleaned up for your punishment." Roman lifted Virgil into his arms, Virgil sighed, watching Remus stand. At least he was safe...

"The bath is ready my love, take your time, once you come out I promise you a proper punishment for testing me without my knowledge." Virgil nodded, they lowered themself into the water, tears streaming down their cheeks, as their sorrowful notes echoed off the water

Virgil sighed, looking at the moon, they hoped Remus saw the moon. They remembered late nights when Remus would take them into the maze, they would try to escape the maze without being caught by Remus, the moonlight lit their way, they never tried to escape. When Remus caught them... well

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oooooo~ seems you weren't fast enough my little arachnid" Virgil placed the back of their hand on their forehead

"Oh no! Whatever should I do? Please have mercy" Virgil snorted.

"I am in no mood for mercy! Your punishment shall be a moonlit walk in the meadow."

"So cruel." The two laughed, Remus kissing Virgil's neck

"Let's go dork." Virgil pulled Remus out of the maze, going for their walk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil chuckled.... nothing made Virgil as happy as their first time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Gods I just UGH." Remus launched on his bed, Virgil grabbing the royals dirty clothes off the floor

"What's wrong?" Virgil smiled, throwing the clothes in a hamper

"Are you a virgin?" Virgil sputtered

"Where is this coming from?!" Remus turned over and sat up

"Just answer the question." Virgil blushed

"Y-Yes I am.... why?" Remus shrugged, seeming embarassed

"I... I wanted to see if you wanted to be my fuck buddy but I wasn't gonna ruin our friendship if you were." Virgil blushed, mumbling under their breath

"W-Who...Who said I wouldn't want you to be my first?" Remus stood, speed-walking to Virgil, taking their face in his hands

"Tell me no right now, otherwise I am going to treat you the way you should've been treated all your life." Virgil let out a shaky breath

"Please Remus, want it to be you." Remus lifted Virgil up, carrying them to the bed

"I've got you, love, hold onto me. Now before I treat you right, I need to tell you, if anything hurts tell me, if you want to stop tell me, if you want more tell me." Virgil nodded, Remus went to remove his pants

"I'll take my clothes off first, that way you don't have to be embarrassed." Virgil nodded

"Words, sweetcheeks, use em" Virgil chuckled

"What do you want me to say?! I'm not exactly experienced... how do you ex-" Remus smiled, kissing Virgil, Virgil moaned obscenely. Remus pulled back, his eyes lit with excitement. Virgil blushed, covering their face

"That was so hot...." Virgil whimpered

"Please Remus, you're taking too long." Virgil cantered their hips up

"Want me to take off your clothes, or do you want to?" Virgil blushed

"C-Can you get them?"

"Of course my little spider, tonight is about you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The water was cold, Virgil refused to leave.... they just wanted to think.... the water kind of reminded them of the old lake

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"C'mon Virgie it'll be fun!" Remus drug them to the small waterhole, ditching his clothes and jumping in the water

"If I get sick you are taking care of me." Virgil smirked taking off their clothes, jumping in the water, moving into Remus' arms

"Virge, can I be serious for a second?" Virgil nodded

"I love you... not in the friend way." Virgil gasped

"Thank Jesus you said it and not me." Virgil laughed, kissing Remus, tugging on his hair.

"Two can play at that game." Remus smiled, pulling Virgil's hair out of their ponytail, tugging on it

"Heyyyyyy no sex in a lake." Remus smiled

"Fine fine"

#dub con #nsfs virgil #nsfs roman #nsfs remus #unsympathetic roman #prinxiety #dukexiety

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oh-theatre · 5 years

Text

Objection!: Chapter 17

Chapter title: Can I?

A/n: Y’all have no idea how long I’ve been planning…that moment. Like Ive had it ready and just kept imagining it, I mean…I love them so much. Honestly I'm sorry this chapter is so weird and low-key bad but I hope you enjoy it…ESPECIALLY THE END…sorry I got excited anyWHOO. Make sure to leave me some comments!

Quick disclaimer!! THIS CHAPTER (towards the end) HAS SOME DARK AND HEAVY STUFF SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION. Its brief but still!!

First | Previous | Next

words: 4381

summary: Virgil and Roman recover from an eventful evening, Patton debates his own control over his life and Logan helps him with the case

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene, murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions

Ao3 Link

“Good morning” Patton mumbles walking up to his sister, Barbara giggles embracing her sleepy brother. Patton smiles pulling away sniffing delightfully at the steamy aura of the room “Coffee?” He hopes, knowing Barbara makes the best coffee

“But of course!” Barbara hands him a warm cup, allowing the heat to travel through his body. He hums softly making his way to the table, settling into the wooden chair. Barbara finishes her own preparations joining him. “How was the gala?” She inquired reading over the newspaper. Patton stares towards the window, allowing the sun peeking through to envelope him

“It was a very nice evening” he decides, Barbara takes a sip of drink nodding. “Some magical things occurred” he marvels recalling the moment he witnessed. His cheeks swelling instantly.

“We too had a magical evening. Marcy and I raced around the house chasing the twins, apparently we were evil sorcerers and princess Valerie and her duke Remus had to defeat us” she recalls, Patton laughs tapping his fingers softly on the wood

“Eventful” He's excited to have his sister return to him but his exhaustion has overtaken. For days he's worked endlessly, all he wanted was a day off to enjoy the company with his children in this blissful world, keeping them away from reality for even a moment. As if the moons were listening, the world came back to life.

“Papa!” Valerie cries running up to her father, Patton wastes no time scooping her up, situating her on his lap. “Did you have fun?” She wonders playing with his glasses, Patton lets her putting down his coffee.

“I did, but I missed you and your brother soooooo…” He stretches the ‘O’ hugging Valerie tight, she squeals laughing away. “Much!” He finishes, smothering her with kisses. A second patter of feet emerges followed by heavy resistance. Patton turns to see a rushed Remus dragging a very dazed Logan behind him.

“Dada! Look who I found!” He claims, Patton smiles an apologetic glance towards Logan. Patton carefully sets Valerie in Barbara's arms, removing Remus from Logan's grasp. “Lolo lives here now?” Remus questions, he puts his arms up. I wish...Patton looks towards a recovering lawyer. He smiles at Patton heading towards the kitchen for some caffeine. Marcy soon joins them, happily relieving Patton of Remus for a brief moment as he meets Logan in the kitchen.

“Good morning” He whispers, Logan turns yawning. He examines Patton for a moment before adjusting his glasses, Patton melts under his warm touch feeling as though he'd been thrown into the past. “Thank you” He watches Logan's eyes, their mysterious color, not deciding what they want to be. The slight shimmer, if you stare long enough, they look like the night sky, a single star glistens.

“Patton?” He might have looked too long, he regains his reality. “What are your plans for the day?” Logan wonders brushing past Patton for a spoon, he recoils and somehow the pair is closer.

“Well, Roman returns to work soon...so we won't be free for…” Logan's intense stare on Patton makes the man falter, it's weird how prominent his lips look. “Awhile...I was thinking we could...work on the case tonight?” Neither are really listening to the world around them, it happens. They feel so safe in their own bubble, so close, hearing the steady pace of their hearts beating in unison.

“I would love too, tonight, in my office?” Logan looks to the twins, they smile up at him waving ecstatically. Patton watches him, pursing his lips.

“Barb and Marcy are taking the twins out for some dinner, we could work here? In my office?” Patton offers, Logan turns back to him taking a sip of his coffee, he nods taking one last look at Patton before returning to the living room. Patton clutches the counter squealing softly, as though he were a teenager, interrupted by his phone ringing. “Patton Hart!” He greets

“I kissed Roman”

“Good morning to you too Virgil” Patton yawns, feeling himself descend from his sleepy state.

“I kissed...Roman. As in, my lips met his” Virgil slows and Patton can see his face. Eyes bulged in red tiredness, picking at the loose strings in his outfit.

“Well, I thought... I mean yeah that's how it works Virge” Patton stirs his drink carefully, listening as he makes some breakfast for the twins.

“I don't know what to do” Virgil admits quietly, Patton sighs, a bittersweet feeling overtakes. “I really like him, which sounds so high school but its true. But I have Damian, and I just… I don't know”

“Virge, take a deep breath” Patton requests, he hears an audible follow through and continues “I understand how hard and confusing this could be” He looks to Logan who has somehow calmed the twins down and now sits comfortably on the couch with them. “Go for it Virge,” He says wistfully, Logan listens intently to the twin's ramble. “Damian loves Roman, I mean he practically considers him a father” Virgil laughs on the other end “And you deserve it, you both do” Patton waves at a smiling Logan “Just promise me you'll give it a shot”

“I will” Virgil disconnects, leaving Patton to hold the phone to his chest.

“Pat? Everything ok?” Barbara asks as she washes up the dishes, Patton nods, keeping his eyes on Logan. “Oh my god...you two..” She shakes her head, Patton turns to her cocking his head. “Nothing, anyway whens mom coming over?” Patton sighs feeling the dreams drain from him.

“Later, she wants lunch, with me and you” He laments, Barbara scoffs. “I can't believe I agreed, you know she forgot the twins names? I mean...ugh I don't wanna talk about this” He waves it off, Barbara squeezes his arm a supportive smile. “I'm going to go get ready, love you” Barbara gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before rejoining the twins and Logan. He moves slowly to his room, picking out his outfit for the day, just as he always would. And probably always will...the same routine.

Was he getting bored?

~~~

“And then I kissed him, and then he wasn't there this morning but I did hear him t- Logan are you listening to me?” Roman rushes following after a less than happy Logan.

“Would you like an honest answer?” Logan wonders moving further into his office, Roman follows him tilting his head. He pouts sitting across from the lawyer, debating whether he should let the conversation continue.

“No” He whispers softly, swallowing his words. Logan smirks opening up some notices on his desk. “But Logan!” he moans, the lawyer looks up sighing “What do I do?” He asks genuinely, Logan shrugs. He is paying attention and he does, to some extent, care about what Roman is saying. On the other hand, he was swamped with work. Roman was coming back to court tomorrow, the case would resume and there was a lot to unpack since the previous time they had a session. Not to mention, Logan has a very important meeting tonight...with Patton.

“I don't know Roman, you like Virgil don't you? Then perhaps you should ask him out, see where it takes you” Logan advises, typing quickly into his laptop. Roman leans back nodding, he taps the desk quickly before jumping up.

“Thanks, nerdverine” He smiles in place, Logan groans. “Get it? Nerd? Wolverine? Nervderine?” He bobs his head, a stupid grin placated upon his face. “I think Virge should be here soon, I'm gonna go do...exactly that!” Roman points triumphantly before gallivanting away from his office.

He strides through the oh so familiar halls, his fingers lining the walls as he walks, an almighty smile blessing his face. He reaches the foyer of courthouse almost instantly spotting the sullen detective.

“Virgil!” He calls, waving ecstatically. Virgil scoffs playfully turning towards the judge, he waves back approaching him. “I kissed you!” He remembers, Virgil shushes him nodding, he takes him into a more secluded hallway.

“Yes you did, it was…” He bites his lower lip, watching Romans amber eyes light aflame “Enjoyable...” He whispers, leaning in carefully. Roman lets a soft laugh escape as he joins Virgil's antics, they meet each other halfway, the touch of their lips sending a shock through them. Roman takes the open slits of Virgil's jacket. He pulls away quickly, Virgil hides his pout.

“No! I mean yes but no...we need to talk about this” Roman continues his hold on Virgil, wondering when he should awaken from this dream. “I wanna take you out, on a date” Roman proposes, Virgil coughs back a smirk but listens. “U-unless you don't want to, I mean tha-” Interrupting Roman with a kiss might be Virgil's new favorite hobby.

“I would love to but...honestly I don't want anything flashy Roman. Spending time at home with Damian and you? Cuddled up with blankets and never-ending snacks? That's the dream” Virgil explains, Roman swears his hearts exploded. Everything he has ever wanted, just handed to him on a silver platter, it had to be a fantasy.

“Pinch me” He mumbles, shutting his eyes as he realizes what had fallen from his mouth. “Sorry, no yeah...that sounds great” Virgil cups his cheek, kissing him once more. Roman takes his hands swooning silently. “I'm getting the sense you really like kissing” Virgil shrugs.

“Nah, not really” Virgil taps his chest lightly before walking back into the foyer. Leaving a very confused Roman to slowly fall against the cold linoleum, gushing internally. Virgil pops back in, landing a quick kiss on Romans cheek “See you at eight Reial” Virgil quips

See you at eight...Virgil

“What happened to ‘I don't know what to do Patton?’” Patton asks as Virgil confidently returns, joining his friend at reception. “From what I just...unfortunately saw...you know exactly what to do” Patton greets Roman from afar with a small wave. Roman, from his dazed confusion, smiles back.

“I took your advice” Virgil says following Patton to his office “I went for it” He admits, a quick chuckle from the pair.

“Was all that kissing necessary though?” Patton inquires, seating himself comfortably into his chair, Virgil sits across from him as he had done so many times.

“No, that was for me” Virgil jokes, Patton laughs sweetly “He's a really good kisser” Virgil recalls coyly, Patton rolls his eyes not wishing to think about that. “God, this isn't real right? I'm going to wake up, super uncomfortable and sweaty, in my bed right?” Virgil leans forward, Patton pauses where he is.

“Virge, this is real, it's happening” Patton assures, Virgil takes a deep breath nodding, Patton takes his hand squeezing it. “I'm really happy for you V, you deserve this” He smiles, Virgil stands making his way around the table, hugging Patton from behind.

“Thanks, Pat,” He says, returning to his seat. Patton begins typing furiously into his computer, Virgil hums lightly examining the room. “What's up with you today?”

“Well, I have lunch with my mother later-” An audible groan of disapproval comes from Virgil, Patton nods in agreement “Then tonight Lo and I are working on our case, it'll be a while before we get another chance since the case resumes tomorrow” Patton informs. Virgil sighs wistfully, nothing against Patton but his recent connection with a certain judge was still ripe in his mind...and on his lips.

“Speaking of Logan” Patton whispers watching his phone alight with the promise of a new message. He takes the phone, murmuring the words aloud. “Come see me, courtyard..” He reads, Virgil gives him a subtle smile. “Shush” he says, hoping the dim lights cover his ever-growing blush. Patton stands gathering a few of his items, he smiles at Virgil leaving him in charge of the room. Grabbing his coat, making sure he has gloves, he sets on his way to the courtyard. He would never describe someone as...perfect looking. But as Logan stood in the center of the courtyard, the winter winds circling him as the remains of the world danced around him, Patton couldn't help but utter those words.

“Hello Patton” Logan greets “You like nice” He compliments

“You look perfect” His eyes soon go wide, but his honesty is unmatched.

~~~

“Mom please” Patton begs feeling his sister dig her nails into his palm, it was common that the pair would perform this routine. It was a surprise should they not come home with scars marking their hands. How he dearly wished Marcy and Logan were present.

“I'm just saying...Barbara honey, you could do so much better” Gloria laments spinning her fifth drink. Barbara closes her eyes, picturing Marcy laughing at dinner, waddling through the house sleepy “I mean have you seen Marcy?” Nope didn't work.

“That's what you say to a high school girl!” Barbara cries, Patton sits her down, rubbing her back supportively “Marcy and I have been married for six years mother, I love her” She takes a deep breath, releasing the pressure from her brother's hand. “Doesn't matter, does not matter” She mumbles to herself, shaking her head. Patton continues his support, Barbara shoots him a grateful glance.

“Well at least you have a partner” Gloria side-eyes, Patton, he gives his brightest smile, pursing his saddened lips. “Oh! Just in time!” Gloria pipes up, waving at someone behind the siblings. Patton turns his face dropping a thousand colors, whiter than snow that falls fresh. “Liam! Over here, darling!”

“You absolute wench” Barbara scoffs, quickly turning to her brother “Pat, we can go, let's go,” She says taking his hand, he shakes his head sitting down. “I cannot believe you right now” Barbara's mouth falls with absolute disgust for her mother.

“Now children, don't get emotional” She snipes allowing Liam to take a seat next to her, Patton avoids their eyes, suddenly finding his salad very interesting. “Good afternoon dear, how are you?” She greets Liam smiles. It's a smile Patton knows, the way his lips curve, his eyes grow slightly as they stare intently. It's a facade, a trick, designed to make you fall in love, a charm.

“Oh just fine, better now that I'm here with my family,” He says, taking Gloria's hand, was that a blush? She swoons, fanning her face delighted.

“And delusional I see” Barbara quips, her glare never changing as it burns through Liam. “Mom what even is this? You haven't seen Pat and me for almost five years, can't we just have one nice lunch?” Barbara begs, Gloria waves her off continuing her fixed gaze upon Liam. “Mom, we have lives and kids and partners to get back to, so if you're just going to spend lunch gazing into Liam's eyes, I think we’ll take the check” She decides, Gloria sighs turning back to them.

“As far as I know, you don't have children and Patton doesn't have a partner” She smirks, Barbara cowers now, both know where this is going. “In fact, you made it perfectly clear you had no interest in children” She folds her hands. Patton snaps now, he slams his hands softly upon the table, glaring at this woman who dare claim she raised them.

“Mother that's enough” Patton knows this is what she wants, but he can't, he won't let her do this again. “Either we have a nice, civil lunch-” He shoots a glance towards Liam, his face dripping in evil satisfaction “Or Babs and I find somewhere else to eat” He offers, a finality to his words.

“Of course darling, how are the twins?” She tries, even the words are too hard for him. As if showing even a hint of care or concern would melt her innards, leaving her a puddle of emptiness. “Um..Veronica and...Re..re-” Patton finds it sad how she actively seems like she's trying to remember as if the two people who mean the world to Patton are just...forgettable.

“Valerie and Remus” He corrects, his voice remains even, steady. He takes a short breath, closing his eyes for a moment, remembering Logans earlier words.

You are the strongest person I know, I know this is random...

A light sprinkle of pink flash upon his face, how he wishes he could return to that moment. The nervous chuckle the fell from Logans beautiful mouth, shaking as he composed himself. Standing huddled in the middle of the courtyard, the wind circling them, entrapping them in this wishful bubble. The look of starry adoration that puddled in Logan's eyes as he attempted so hard to conjure the words.

I...Patton...I want to-

Poetic really, the small ping shattering their world. Patton would have ignored it, let Barbara amuse their mother for just awhile longer, but that's not who he was. He took the call, answered the beckon and left incredibly apologetic.

Tonight ok?

He assured Logan, a careful squeeze to Logan's arms as he listened to his sister's worried ramblings. As he stepped out from their safety, he felt the world collide into him, knocking him down a few. A confirmation, a hint of excitement was uttered.

Tonight

And then he was gone, returning into the courthouse to collect his things for lunch. He should've looked back, just one last time, he would've seen Logan watching him. A smile upon the lawyers face as the promise of a hidden meeting in the darkest hour of the starry night raced his thoughts.

“Patton!” He jumps, clutching the seat below him. “Ground yourself, dear, it's not good to get caught up with a dream” Gloria chides, Patton nods feeling himself shrink to that scared little boy so desperate to impress his mother, for her praise. He tries but the searching was harder. Where was the man who stood at his doorstep and kicked his parents out after they mocked him endlessly, where was the man who removed his children from the situation and walked away? How can she do this? How dare she? How dare she break and tear apart everything Patton had so meticulously built up and worked for, everything he accomplished. How dare she, in the blink of an eye, destroy him? One word, one sentence and she had total control.

What right does she have?

Why did I let her?

A dream?

No...a nightmare

~~~

“Sorry, I'm late!” Patton huffs shaking himself off as he steps into his home, Logan helps him with his coat, dusting it before hanging it up neatly. “My mother ambushed me with Liam and then a dreadful walk through a park” He groans, Logan listens a supportive look.

“Please, don't fret about this” Logan assures, Patton grabs his files and rushes towards the office, Logan takes this cue to follow him. He watches as the lawyer scatters his things, skimming through files, he had never seen him look so disheveled “Patton? Is everything alright?” Logan inquires moving towards him

“I just…” He takes a breath, clutching the edges of his mahogany desk, the old wood fierce below his fingers. “I just want to put him away, forever, I want him out of my life...and theirs” He adjusts his glasses, pulling up a seat for Logan. They sit next to one another, a silence falls as the inevitable wafts through the air.

Logan peruses the files carefully helping Patton organize them, they work silently, a well-oiled machine. Logan goes through the information building a structured case, Patton checks the information making sure everything is correct. Hours pass, the lights fade as the only thing keeping the room bright is a few dim candles, promising to guide the pair through the night. Patton begins typing notes and possible witnesses and testimonies. It's nice, the ease of the keyboard as the man works diligently. The soft flick of the paper as Logan checks yet another thing off, it works well, everything works smoothly. Or at least it did. Logan had forced himself, before they began working, to make sure he could separate Patton and mister Hart. Church and state, to be able to view this with no bias, to be able to get through this. It's the one thing he made sure he did. It was vital if he wanted this to work, to win. But he was only human, and he cared about this client more than anything in the world.

The file was huge, he had thought it was just one incident, why he decided to investigate further was beyond him but he's so grateful he did. Well...that might not be the right word. It was pages on pages, lined with reports after reports, each more horrifying than the other. Logan jerks his head towards Patton, just now realizing the typing had stopped. Patton's soft eyes watch him sadly, the brims threatening him with tears as they stare silently. Logan thought he knew everything, he thought he knew to what extent Liams abuse had gone...he thought.

“Patton this is…” He can feel his tongue, the words don't work, his mind can't compute. “I thought...I mean..how?”

“They just lined up...I...” Patton stops, shutting his eyes begging them not to cry.

“How did he get away with this? There's so much, I mean...the police have a lot on him” Logan looks through each one, trying to ignore how close they all are. Each one redacted and marked.

“And he has a lot of money” Patton squeaks softly, Logan restrains from slamming the desk. “Virgil tried, but...I mean most of them were corrupt at the time. Liam had them all wrapped around his finger, you know how much he owned” Patton says waving everything off

“Patton this is awful! This is so much worse than anything I…” Logan was trying so hard to come to terms with everything, stupidly he can't control himself. Stupidly he allows it to get out of hand, and he places the blame…. “How could I not know this?”

“I'm sorry” Patton whispers. No. Absolutely not, that was the last thing that should have left Patton's mouth. Logan's jaw slacks, he hopes he doesn't look as baffled as he felt.

“Sorry? You...you shouldn't be sorry. The last thing you should be is sorry, please understand that” Logan checks, Patton nods afraid to look away but fearful of what's to come. Logans not convinced, he watches Patton fidget carefully on the desk, his nails scraping the wood.

“Right..ok” He sighs, his breath unbelievably shaky. Logan lays his hand over Patton, squeezing it softly. Patton thankful for the familiar flutter of his heart looks to him, and there it is. He truly could get lost in Logan's eyes for hours, the safety they promise, the love they emanate.

“Patton, you should not be sorry. Please, I need you to know that” He begs, his voice is so quiet, the gentle tone carried through. “I need to know that you understand, that you truly believe that you should not be sorry” He pleads, is his voice becoming hoarse? Patton had never seen Logan so...vulnerable. There was no plan, no composure, he just was.

“I understand,” He says, an unbelievable pressure releases from his shoulders. For the first time in months, years, he believes it. Never had he felt someone care so much, the desire to help pulsing through someone's veins. Yes, he believed it but partly he couldn't bear the broken expression on Logan's face. “We can't do this can we?” For once he lets go of his hopes, he wants the deep-rooted honesty, the barren truth.

“Patton” Logan adjusts Patton's chin, facing the man towards him, his touch remains gentle. “I'm going to put him away, I'm going to fight tooth and nail, my blood, sweat, and tears are going into this. I'm going to watch Virgil drag that...monster...” He seethes “...Into jail. Where he will rot, just as he deserves” Why? Patton has to wonder. “Because...because I care about you, because you mean...more than I can put into words” He pauses, Patton bites his lower lip, he has to stop himself, he knows this is one-sided and he has to push his feelings away. “We can do this, you can do this” Logan finishes, Patton remains silent, wondering whether he would regret his next words. He looks to his hands, where Logan still holds him.

“Can I kiss you?” He knew one thing, he had wanted to ask that for a while. It seemed the wrong time but it wasn't. Because he knew, some inkling of him knew that perhaps...Logan felt the same. That maybe, all those years of yearning, stolen glances, dusted blushes...that he wasn't the only victim.

“Yes”

And so he did. Patton leans forward meeting Logan's lips almost instantly, the connection just feels right. A long-awaited puzzle finally complete as the last piece is placed. Logan takes Patton's cheek hearing his heartbeat loud in his ears. The careful clink as their glasses hit one another, the feathery tickle upon their face, the utter joy that neither can comprehend. How can you describe a moment so perfect? A moment that had been desperately desired for so long? The room surrounding them keeping their moment private, a memory to burn the dark wood for ages, a story to tell. The despair seeping away as they only deepen it. Yet somehow it remains as light as a feather, precaution is used as they intertwine. An almost fun game of who might need air is at hand, but neither wants to pull away. Neither wants to awaken from this wondrous fairytale. Alas as they part, soft gasps for air, their foreheads meet allowing their eyes to remain closed. Just for a little bit, to continue the dream they soar upon together. It's funny, Logan had never imagined their night going this way. He expected his confession to leave a mark of rejection...not that he ever reached his planned words. This was better, another time, he promised himself. Patton knows not to trust the media about depictions of these events, but he also knows that the world works in mysterious ways.

And it can absolutely be...that magical.

A kiss

Their kiss

Finally

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headoverhiddles · 5 years

Text

Mephistopheles of Los Angeles - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut] (Part II)

Synopsis: After the kiss, it’s impossible to avoid the press. But behind closed doors, there’s no reason to deny that you two have a connection. AKA Marilyn invites you and Johnny over to his place for a night of fun.

Notes: Third and final part coming soon! Also, I love comments :)

PART I

PART III

You sit up by your window, watching the pool glisten. You can't come out and say anything-- he was probably drunk. But, you two did have that magnificent conversation before the drinks came around... there was definitely a connection there.

As if you two shared a mind, just as you're about to pick up the phone to call Johnny, his ID shows up on your screen.

"Hey," you say.

"Morning, sunshine," he says, his voice cracking from an obvious hangover, "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

You groan, sliding the curtains shut and blocking out the sun. He laughs.

"Hey, what if--" Just then, someone else starts to call through. It's an unknown number. You really shouldn't answer, you being who you are... but there's a glimmer of misplaced hope inside you, leftover from last night maybe.

"I'll call you back, kay?" you mumble, and swipe on the call. "Yeah?"

"Hey." It's him, deep, gravelly voice and all.

"Hey." You pull your feet up to your chest. "What's going on?"

"I was hoping-- I got your number from Depp by the way, so I'm not a stalker-- that you guys'd come over to my place, like, tomorrow night. Night before your premiere. We could celebrate properly."

"Sounds great," you smile. "How are you not hungover?"

"I am, I'm just a good faker." He pauses. "It felt good to unwind with you last night. I... appreciate company like yours. I also appreciate that that was the sexiest kiss I've had in like, ten years." That's all he says, then he hangs up. Sober, he's a very somber person... but his drunk side shines through every now and then it seems. Smirking, you stand, and start to think about a shower. Johnny will probably be getting a call next.

The next night, the three of you are situated in Marilyn's living room, the thermostat set to cool air and a low soundtrack of David Bowie floating in the background.

"Cherry. Blood red. So we can pretend we're vampires." A pyramid of jello boxes sit on his counter top, three bottles of Absinthe that would be used instead of water.

"We basically are," Johnny comments idly, watching a fly crawl along the counter.

"Or, or we can pretend we're eating flesh," Marilyn continues, shaking one packet out into the bowl, "Absinthe and flesh. Or we can pretend (y/n) is menstruating, and--"

Both you and Johnny groan loud enough to drown out the rock star's ravings, and finally he concedes, adding the absinthe (mostly) silently. Ultimately however, Johnny is unable to restrain himself from pitching in. "Who would want to eat a woman out on her period though?"

"You'd be surprised," you answer that one, swinging your legs over Marilyn's velvet couch.

"I wouldn't mind it," Marilyn offered, licking the cherry goop off his tattooed fingers, "If I was like, an actual vampire."

This sets Johnny off again, and as he's laughing, you saunter up to Marilyn, wrapping your arms around him from behind.

"And what if you weren't a vampire?"

"You mean if I didn't need to stick my tongue in a reservoir of ovum littered blood?"

"Yes."

"Well, I know girls get aroused on their period, because their hormones are raging. So if my girl was horny as fuck for me on her period and wanted me to eat her pussy, I mean, I wouldn't say no."

You pat his cheek. "A true gentleman."

"I've always wondered this-- when you fuck a girl on her period and she cums, is it like a dam of blood breaking?"

"What, like the parting of the red sea?" Johnny frowns. Marilyn considers this.

"More like... Titanic, but... the Titanic is your dick."

"Completely false," you say, and both guys look over to you, legitimately interested. "It's the opposite. At least for me. The blood stops for a bit, then... comes back with a vengeance once all your wetness has returned from whence it came."

"Very interesting, love," Johnny says, getting up and pouring himself another drink.

"I love being educated in the vaginal arts," Marilyn says, making obscene slurping noises as he licks the rest of his fingers clean.

As the night wears on the three of you (plus Lily) put down bottle after bottle, smoke a couple of joints, and finish the red coagulated creation. Once two AM hits, the conversation deepens, and the guitar breaks out.

"It's gonna be hell for you answering questions about those pictures this weekend, (y/n)," Johnny says, strumming the acoustic instrument.

"I know. The questions I get are so dumb, I've already had a billion asking about you and me and if we're dating. Just because two people play love interests--"

"And have fabulous onscreen chemistry," Johnny adds.

"Yes, doesn't mean we should get... shipped!" Angrily, you exhale a cloud of smoke, the joint hanging lazily between your fingers.

"It's because the media's bullshit consists of asking why male artists do what they do, and asking female artists why they fuck who they fuck," Marilyn mutters candidly, stealing the joint.

"Load of crap," Johnny nods, playing a riff of The Beautiful People.

"I like you... though," Marilyn mumbles, glancing your way.

"I like you too," you blink.

"I would've fucked you y'know... if the paparazzi weren't such cockblocking motherfuckers..."

"I know. When it comes to the press though, we've gotta make it look like an accident if they did get pictures."

"Which they did," Johnny nodded, "I already saw one this morning titled "Chateau Marmont's Wild Nightlife: Johnny Depp blazes one while rising co-star and shock-rocker best friend get 'cheeky' in the bushes." Now we've got not only rumours about you and me to deal with but you and this fuck." This makes Marilyn laugh.

"I'm just known as the best friend now? Wow." He touches his wow tattoo, holding it up.

"You're faded, man."

"Faded, faithful, and fuckin' fatal."

"They make me look like a fucking stoner now, so I'm not much better."

"You are a fucking stoner."

"I'm Jack Sparrow, mate."

"You're a fucking stoner."

You just roll your eyes as they bicker. You remember what your agent told you-- if it's not purposefully publicized, it's messy, and messy doesn't sell. Guess that's what it's like in the Hollywood dating pool.

"Nah, but of course we've gotta deny all of it," Marilyn sighs. "It would blow up your career in a not-good way cause they'd say this young, impressionable starlet is dating a satanist, or whatever they call me, and I don't really feel like answering a billion stupid questions about you either at this point, not when I'm trying to promote my record. They're going crazy over this cause you're so popular right now, (y/n). It'll be all over People and the internet and shit."

"Covering personal shit is the worst part of this job," Johnny mutters. "Unless it's a story about smuggling cocaine into the Pirates premiere."

"Wasn't that at Disneyland?" you frown.

Marilyn and Johnny both nod noncommittally.

"Worth it," Johnny says, holding his guitar with one hand and flicking a piece of the blood red Jell-O onto the ceiling with a spoon.

"Clean that up," Marilyn grins.

"Lick it off, mate," Johnny laughs. It suddenly falls, and with a jiggle, lands between your breasts. You yelp as it splatters into your cleavage, and the two men fall to the floor laughing.

"Mmmmhmmhmm," Marilyn smiles, crawling over to you on his hands and knees with tipsy half-lidded eyes, "I think I will lick it off." He straddles you on the armchair, one leg on either side, and puts his face into your tits, his tongue sweeping deep licks between, up, down, ugh...

"Fuck, you're making me horny," you whisper. Johnny giggles, standing and snatching a small bag and heading up to Marilyn's pool patio with his guitar.

"See you two in the morning."

"Don't drown," you call up.

"I don't want to have to clean up your chlorine bloated corpse in the morning," Marilyn adds.

"I will leave you the sexiest corpse you could possibly imagine, brother," Johnny calls back down, stumbling up the stairs. You and Marilyn turn your attention back to one another.

"Your tits taste good," he comments, eyes flickering lazily back down to them.

"My pussy tastes even better," you grin, taking his hand and sliding it down between your legs. He rubs it against you, and comes up with slick fingers.

"Bedroom."

His bed is covered in black silk sheets, a satin cover blanketed overtop of them. Messy piles of books and records litter the floor, and creepy artefacts you wouldn't want to see with a light on surround everything on bookshelves.

"You have blacklights?" you ask, looking around the dark, mysterious room.

"To admire the cum shots on the ceiling," he clarifies.

"Oh, is that all?"

"--But I don't like to call it cum, I like to call it... making wet in you," he giggles.

"Mmm, make wet in me?"

"I would love to make wet in you."

Before you can say anything else, he grabs you by the hips, shoving you forward onto the bed. You land on your stomach, and he stands behind you as you turn your head.

"Take your panties off," he says in a low, level voice, as if he had sobered up in seconds. You feel your bratty side coming out.

"What if I don't?"

He lifts his chin up, looking like a king. "Get on your hands and knees... arch your back and present your ass for me. It's a really pretty ass, I just wanna look at it. Promise."

You do so, and wait in the darkness. After a second, you feel his tongue dart out, licking a stripe up your panties from behind. Then he smacks your ass hard. "Ohgod," you whisper, and he smiles.

"You look so good like this." You flip over, and crawl up to the headboard, hanging on. "Why don't you spread your legs for daddy?"

"Why don't you spread them for me, daddy? I'm a little bit tired."

"Lazy little bitch," he mumbles, sliding his hand between your legs. It rests on your knee, then you feel the pressure of him parting your thighs. He rolls over on top of you, and for a moment, you think he's going to instigate a kiss. You part your lips, waiting for him. Instead, he slides down like a snake between those parted thighs and hooks his fingers into your panties.

"Just lick around them," you smirk, biting your lip.

"Uh, uh. I want to enjoy my meal," he drawls, and pulls them off down to your ankle.

"Eat my pussy good, baby."

"Oh, I plan to."

"Gonna fuck me after that?"

"You know I am, kitten."

He delves between your folds again, making low noises. His hands reach up to grope and grab at whatever they can; your hips, your breasts, your inner thighs. After a moment, you gasp as he slips two fingers into you, then three, fucking you rough with them.

"That's--" You gasp, grinding into his face, "That's so good..."

He hums, the vibration of his lips against your clit driving you wild.

"How fuckin' close are you?" he hisses.

"So fucking close," you whine.

"Cum for me. Make wet... in my face."

"God, you're gonna ruin my ladyboner by saying shit like that!"

A few more masterful circles of his tongue however, and you do cum, gripping the boards for dear life.

"Grab my--" he murmurs, "Grab my hair, love it when it's-- oh, tugged--"

Your hands fly to his hair, and you tug the short black locks as he fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm. Giving you a moment to breathe, he flashes his dark glare up between your legs, eyes shining almost demonically in the dark.

"Fuck me, Brian," you breathe. He crawls up on top of you, holding you by your shoulders as he guides his dick between your legs. When he finally pushes in, he gives a grunt as you moan, wrapping your legs around his ass.

"So fucking good," he groans, and you bite into his shoulder.

"Ohhh yeah, oh yeah," you moan, and he suddenly pulls out.

"Back on your hands and knees, kitten." You obey this time, fucked out but wanting more. He smacks your ass again, and you moan, wiggling back. He spanks you again, and again, and you bite your fist. "Nah, nah," he whispers, "I wanna hear you. Get fuckin' loud, scream it out."

You very nearly scream as he spanks you again, and presses soft kisses up your back, turning into hickies by the top between your shoulder blades.

"Wanna ride you," you breathe. Wordlessly, he lays down, and you roll over top of him, getting into reverse cowgirl position. With another gasp, you sink down over his big cock, and roll your hips.

"That's good," he groans, "Fuckkkk yeah, that's good."

"Daddy, daddy--" you gasp.

"Daddy's gonna make you cum," he whispers, reaching up and around to squeeze your breast. He sits up, so that his chest is pressed to your back, and the angle makes you moan even louder. "I gotchu," he whispers in your ear, "I gotchu, I gotchu, gonna take real good care of you... cause you're takin real good care of me..."

You nearly sob as you reach back and grab his hair, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder as you had done with him. You feel a bit of blood drip, and cum hard. Marilyn increases his pace as he feels you gush around his cock, pounding you harder than ever. Skin slaps against skin as he fucks you on his lap, and your orgasm keeps burning through you as he mumbles growled-out words of praise.

When you finally come back down to earth, he's pressing kisses to the bite mark, which felt good in the moment, but stings like hell now.

"Guess you're a real fucking vampire, Manson," you giggle. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, laughing.

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somethinginthethunder · 5 years

Text

Almost There (Paul McCartney x Reader) Part I

Summary: Miss Y/n L/n of New Orleans has been working day and night as a waitress to get her dream restaurant. Of course, being a ‘”little” woman of such a poor background, it’s been hard on her. People left and right telling her what she can and can’t do, but she’s still kept going year after year, believing that the harder she worked, the more her dreams would come true. But that may change once a charming young man comes to visit her warm little town.

AU: Princess and the Frog (Disney)

Word Count: 1323

Notes: UGH I LOVE PRINCESS AND THE FROG YOU GUYS DON’T EVEN KNOW-- But the reader is, obviously, Tiana, and Paul is Naveen. I didn’t explicitly mention that the reader was African American specifically, because I want everyone to see themselves in the reader’s shoes. I’d love to hear feedback/comments/reblogs/whatever, and I hope you enjoy, everyone! Please message me if you have any issues! I also did take an idea of making Y/n a cat. If the owner of the idea would like to message me about it so I could give you credit, that’d be great! Or if you’d like me to change it to them just being frogs, that’d be okay, too!

Part I: “Wishin’ Upon A Star”

The grand home was quiet all throughout, except for the excited squeals of Lucy as Mrs. L/n continued the story as she sewed on a piece of fabric to the sweet little girl’s dress. Lucy’s best friend, Y/n, sat beside her, her nose scrunched up as her mother told the story of the princess and her beloved frog prince.

“The beautiful, gorgeous princess leaned in...” the older woman said dramatically, pausing to fill in suspense.

“Oh, N/n, here comes my favorite part!” Lucy said quietly, leaning in as she waited for the last few words of the story’s sentence.

“...and kissed the slimy green frog!” Mrs. L/n finished, a grin on her face as she watched the two girls react in their own ways.

Lucy was ecstatic (even if she had heard the story a million times), clapping as she squealed in happiness.

On the other hand, Y/n gagged, sticking her tongue out as her mother chuckled, looking away from the worn-out book. She put her hands on her hips and said matter-of-factly, “There ain’t no way I’d kiss a frog! It’s got germs and slime and eugh!”

Lucy giggled, “I’d kiss a frog! I’d kiss thousands and thousands of frogs if it would mean I’d become a princess! Look at him on the cover, N/n, doesn’t he look handsome?”

Y/n looked at the cover of the book. There was a picture of the kind-hearted princess and the handsome prince. Still, his good looks did not seem to sway her, as she still stubbornly said, “Still never gon’ kiss a frog!”

When the girl turned her head she saw Lucy put a green frog mask on her poor little kitten, holding him out to her.

“Oh, c’mon, N/n! Kiss him! Kiss him!” she laughed, chasing her friend around the room with the scared cat.

“Girls! Put him down, you might as well be giving him a heart attack!” Mrs. L/n scolded, taking the frog mask off of the scaredy cat.

At that moment, the door creaked open, revealing the tall figure of Mr. Edwards, a small smile on his features as he saw the two girls playing around.

“Good evening, M/n,” he greeted politely, great warmth and kindness radiating off of him.

“Evening, Lance.”

Lucy immediately dropped the dolls she was playing with and ran to her father, the man scooping her up in his arms as she cheered, “Daddy! Daddy! Oh- wait, Daddy, can I have a dress like that? Look at that dress!”

The blonde-haired girl pointed to the gorgeous pink dress the princess was wearing on the last page, her arm looped around the prince’s.

Mr. Edwards clicked his tongue, setting his daughter down. “Now, Lucy, we’ve been over this. Missus L/n and Y/n are done with their hours for today, and you’ve already got a dress-”

Lucy, the spoiled but sweet little girl, frowned when she heard her father’s words. Her brows furrowed in disappointment as she gave her infamous puppy eyes.

“Oh, Daddy, please? Please?” she begged sadly, Mrs. L/n watching, amused as she gathered her things and helped her daughter put her coat on.

Mr. Edwards was silent for a moment before sighing, giving in. He put his hands into his pockets and looked to Mrs. L/n. “M/n, it wouldn’t be too much to ask for, would it?” he asked almost sheepishly.

“Oh, not at all. Especially to my most best customer,” M/n grinned, her head tilting to the collection of gorgeous dressed all in the back of the room, their glitter and sequins shining in the house’s light. “But it’ll have to be started tomorrow. Y/n and I have to get going now. Goodnight, everyone.”

“Of course, of course. Goodnight, M/n. And goodnight to you, too, Y/n,” he nodded, leaning down to shake hands with the young lady.

“Bye,” she said in response, grasping her mother’s arm with the one that was not already occupied.

As she left, she could hear the useless scolding of Mr. Edwards, and soon the barking of a puppy and the squeal of joy coming from her close friend. Inside of her, it felt as if a stone was placed inside her heart.

***

Y/n stirred the pot of gumbo, her eyes barely looking at the contents inside since she was so short (even with the aid of the stool below her). She felt the heavy footsteps of her father coming in, standing beside her.

“Mm, mm, mmm! Smells good! What’re you making, sweetheart?” he grinned, savoring the smell of the food from where he stood.

“Gumbo, Papa!” Y/n answered. “It’s all finished now. You can taste it!”

Her papa took the spoon she handed to him, letting some of the gumbo fall into it. He was about to eat it, but looked at her, playfully skeptical.

“You sure this is finished?” he grinned, an eyebrow raised.

“Yep!” she answered, her hands on her hips proudly.

“Alright... weeeelllll, I’m about to taste... this... sou-”

“Wait!” the bright young girl said suddenly, getting down from the stool.

She looked through the contents of the shelf before pulling out the familiar bottle of red hot sauce. She added a few drops of it into her pot before placing it back on the counter, mixing it up again before saying, “Alright! Now you can taste it!”

Her father chuckled before tasting her creating, his face not reacting one bit. He was silent for a moment, his eyes on the pot. This made little Y/n nervous, her smile fading.

“Do you... do you not like it?” she asked anxiously.

“Darling, this is,” he began shaking his head before a smile broke out on his face. “the most amazing gumbo I’ve ever had! What a talented little girl I’ve got here, yeah?”

“You just noticed?” M/n snorted as she read the paper, a grin on her face as well as she looked up to see her daughter and husband in a tight embrace.

“Well, she can’t just keep her gift in the kitchen, now can she? We gotta tell the whole neighborhood!” F/n cheered, getting oven mitts to help take out the pot, M/n getting up from her spot to get her bowls and spoons.

Minutes later, the neighborhood was gathered around the L/n house, everyone chatting as someone played an upbeat tune from their harmonica. Everything was perfect.

***

“That was some good gumbo, wasn’t it?” F/n said, his voice low as he tucked his little girl into bed.

“Top of the class,” M/n agreed, kissing Y/n on the forehead.

“When I’m done with work, Y/n, you and I are gonna open a restaurant, yeah? Serve everyone everyday, making all the people happy with your special gumbo. How does that sound?” he hums, brushing her h/c hair out of her face.

“Like a good idea. You promise, though?” she said.

“Promise what?”

“That it’ll be our restaurant...”

“Oh, of course,” F/n chuckled.

The little girl suddenly sat up, her eyes catching on a new star in the sky.

“Look, Papa, Mama! A wishing star! Lucy said that, if you wish on a star, that your dream will come true,” she whispered.

F/n could only smile at her wonder. “You can wish on that star, N/n, but remember that it can only take you half the way there. You gotta remember to never lose sight of what’s important, and remember to work for what you want, too, yeah?” he murmured.

“Yes, Papa,” she nodded.

With that, her parents gave her one last goodnight and exited the room. Secretly, though, she wished upon that star, her eyes closed, hopeful and true. She wished her Mama and Papa would have eternal happiness, and that someday, just maybe, they’d get their restaurant.

Wow! First chapter! Hope you liked it so far. This is more of a filler, and the next parts will be better and more... exciting, I suppose.

Tag List:

@casafrass

#paul mccartney x reader #paul x reader #beatles x reader #mccartney x reader #paul mccartney imagine #paul mccartney fic #beatles fanfic #beatles reader insert #PATF au

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samsexualdeancurious · 5 years

Text

Thanks For Listening | Chapter Five (Finale)

Square: Free Space

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Words: 1,480

Warnings: hurt!Reader, pining, eventual smut, dirty talk, voice!kink, unprotected sex.

Summary: Sam hosts two podcasts - a secret one for hunters called the War Room and a public one with fellow hunter Y/N called Criminal History. Y/N and Sam have never seen each other, let alone met, but that doesn’t stop Sam from worrying when Y/N suddenly goes missing.

Betaed by @manawhaat

Written for @spnkinkbingo

Header by me and Mana

Masterlist - AO3

You're woken by Sam's mouth leaving a trail of kisses across your shoulder. His body is spooned up behind your own, strong arms looped around your waist.

"Mmm, good morning, Chief," you sigh, turning to catch his lips in a soft kiss. You brush his hair back. "Didja sleep okay?"

"Always do when you're here," he says.

His mouth starts a journey along your jaw and down your throat, sending jolts of arousal through your core as it goes. You catch a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand, though, and reluctantly push Sam away. He pouts.

"We slept late," you explain. "If we want to get all the recording that we need to done, we gotta get going."

Sam groans but acquiesces. You both dress quickly before heading down to the bunker kitchen. You're glad Sam didn't go on his usual morning run and is here to guide you through the maze that is his home. Even after a month of staying in the bunker, you still get lost sometimes. Part of you feels like the bunker is a giant, ancient creature who just likes to mess with you, moving hallways around like the staircases in Hogwarts. Part of you thinks that's crazy. Then again, how crazy would it really be?

Sam's hand linking up with yours breaks your train of thought. He finds the kitchen with ease. Dean is already sitting at the table, armed with a mug of steaming coffee. He gives you both a little salute as you enter, clearly not quite awake yet.

Sam pours two mugs coffee while you start getting together the ingredients you both like in scrambled eggs.

"Sam, can you get the medium skillet down?" you ask, digging through a drawer in search of a few forks and a spatula.

"Anything for you," he replies, easily retrieving the pan in question from its hook above the center island. "Do you need butter to grease it?"

"Knew I was forgetting something. I think it's behind the leftover pizza."

Sam makes a face as he pulls the pizza in question from the fridge. "Dean, this is disgusting."

"Hey!" Dean protests as Sam tosses the pizza in the trash. "That was a perfectly good pizza!"

"Dean, that wasn't pizza. That was Darwinism."

You roll your eyes at their bickering, letting the obvious love between them warm your own heart. They may not have the healthiest relationship on the planet but it's clear to even you, a newcomer to their little bunker family, that there's nothing they wouldn't do for each other.

"Here ya go," Sam says, pulling you from your thoughts.

You take the stick of butter he's holding out, cutting off a chunk to grease the pan with. Dean got new pans recently - the old ones were, well, old - and he's extremely picky about what goes into them. Cooking spray specifically has been banned from the kitchen.

Sam returns the butter to the fridge and gets a small bowl from the top shelf of the cupboard without being asked.

"Mind reader," you tease, taking the bowl.

"Maybe I just know you really well." Sam presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Ugh. Someone shoot me," Dean grumbles, though you know he doesn't mean any harm by it.

"Why?"

You glance over to see Jack standing on the top step, rubbing at his eyes in a way that makes him look just like the two-year-old he is. His golden locks are a tousled mess.

"Good morning, Jack," you say, beckoning him over. He comes willingly and you straighten his hair out with a few brushes of your fingers.

"Morning, Y/N." Jack eyes the eggs and such you have laid out. "Scrambled eggs?"

"Yep. Do you want some?"

He nods. "Yes, please. You make them the best."

"Excuse you." Dean clutches his chest dramatically.

"You make the best burgers," Jack says with the brutal honesty of a child. "But you always overcook eggs."

Dean sputters indignantly but doesn't form an actual reply.

"Get a few more eggs out," you tell Jack as you crack the first egg into the bowl.

While Jack gets his eggs, Sam sidles up behind you to curl his arms around your waist. He tucks his face down against the side of your neck with a happy sound.

"Hello," you laugh, reaching up with one hand to pat the side of his head. "You gonna be helpful and start cutting things up? Or are you just gonna hang all over me?"

Sam hums softly and presses a kiss over one of the many hickeys he left the night before. "I like it right here."

"I like it too," you reply, turning your head to catch his lips in a kiss. "But the sooner we eat, the sooner we start recording, the sooner we can get to… other things."

Sam's eyes darken with lust and his grip on you tightens a little. Pink tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"What other things?" Jack asks innocently, setting three more eggs next to the ones already on the counter.

Sam blushes, cute little splotches of red on the apples of his cheeks. "Um, we uh - we wanted to watch some TV."

"Oh!" Jack, of course, is totally oblivious. Thank God. "What're you gonna watch? Can I join you?"

You exchange a glance with Sam before answering, cracking more eggs into the bowl as you do. "Not tonight, Jack. We kinda want to just have a little night to ourselves. How about we watch a movie tomorrow night, though? We can even get some snacks and stuff."

Jack dimmed a little at your refusal but he brightens again once more when you suggest a movie night. "Okay! That sounds like fun."

You add milk and start mixing up the eggs, adding the other ingredients as you go. "Maybe Dean and you can go to town today for some movie treats."

"Can we?" Jack practically begs, whirling to face Dean where he still sits at the table.

"I suppose," Dean grumbles into his mug. "We're running low on toilet paper too so I was already planning on making a run. Should just do a full grocery run."

Jack does a little happy dance.

The eggs cook up quick and soon you're dividing them up onto three plates. Jack snatches his plate up, mumbling a "thank you" around a mouthful of food as he heads to the table.

"He's been spending too much time around Dean," Sam says for your ears only, his soft smile telling you that he really doesn't mind.

After breakfast, you and Sam fill your water bottles and head down to the office. This is quite possibly your favorite room in the whole bunker after Sam's room. You love the cozy lighting, Sam's dark wood desk, the "Quiet Please. Recording in Progress" sign above the door.

Sam has added a second desk so you have somewhere to do your own work from the podcast but you've decided to just share a microphone when you're together like this and you happily wheel your super comfy desk chair over to sit beside Sam.

"Got your notes ready?" Sam asks out of pure habit - he knows you always have them.

"Do you?" is your teasing response as you flip open your laptop and find the tab with your notes file.

Sam just chuckles, reaching over the arms of both chairs to weave your fingers together at the same time he flips on the sign outside the door. "Ready when you are."

"Start the recording, big guy."

He does just that and you see the waveform on the recording software begin. Both of you stay silent a moment and then Sam gives you a nod.

You lean in a little closer to the microphone, Sam mirroring you on the other side as you say, "I'm Y/N-"

"And I'm Chief-"

Your eyes meet his over the mic and he gives your hand a squeeze before you continue with, "And this is Criminal History."

Sam glances over at his notes. "Today we will be discussing the case of the Servant Woman Annihilator, a serial killer from early Austin, Texas that history has, for the most part, forgotten. Y/N, you travel a lot. Have you ever been to Austin?"

"I haven't," you answer honestly. "But I've heard great things and I really want to visit."

Sam's smile softens a little and he brings your hand to his lips. "Maybe we could visit together?"

Warmth fills you, starting in your chest and making its way out to the end of every finger and toe until it feels like your whole body is glowing. You have a feeling the two of you are going to be doing a lot of things together for a very long time and you can't wait.

"I would like that, Chief."

Like this fic? Support me longterm on Patreon HERE or make a one-time donation of Ko-Fi HERE

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @imsuperawkward

Team Sam: @saxxxology

Team TFL: @wonderfulworldofwinchester @kickingitwithkirk @muchamusedaboutnothing @ellen-reincarnated1967 @linki-locks11 @sydneytea

#spnkinkbingo #sam x reader #my writing #thanks for listening #supernatural

39 notes · View notes

thefandomlesbian · 5 years

Note

Prompt: “Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.” For WintersDay, please and thank you 😊

Someone knows WintersDay is my weakness! Please read on AO3 to read with appropriate formatting, since Tumblr eats it.

Read on AO3 here!

“For by my side you put on

many wreaths of roses

and garlands of flowers

around your soft neck.

And with precious and royal perfume

you anointed yourself.

On soft beds you satisfied your passion.

And there was no dance,

no holy place

from which we were absent.” -Sappho

Bostonian spring was cold and came far too late for Misty, whose cabin fever had driven her to the point of insanity. She hated Boston. She had hated it before, when she had arrived with Lana in the early autumn, but at least then, there had been some hope of hiking and camping and escaping the grotesque city and its disgusting smells and the soot and ash flowing through the air freely. Winter had made Boston even more repugnant to Misty.

If she didn’t love Lana so much, she would have hitchhiked herself back to New Orleans in less than six months. But she did love Lana so much, so she suffered in silence, her magic building and twitching inside of her from lack of use, her irritability burbling up to the surface in the middle of the night when the noise pollution refused to let her sleep. Misty kept telling herself she would be happy here, eventually, as long as she was with Lana… That was what she had told herself when Lana asked her to get into her car and ride more than fifteen hundred miles up the east coast, ripping up her entire life for a love she had never known before. As long as she was with Lana, she could be satisfied. She just had to get used to it.

She wasn’t used to it, though. She loathed it. She loathed the cars and the exhaust and the asphalt. She loathed the barren, cultured grass, nothing but an environmental waste, and she loathed the fake decor and poor landscaping. But more than anything, she loathed the people.

In fact, Misty was quite convinced that Lana Winters was the only good, honest, decent, loving person in the entire city of Boston.

Lana knew none of this. Misty kept her misery to herself, though she did share it with her three-legged squirrel, Big Red, who rode about on her shoulders day after miserable day indoors. And when the springtime sunlight finally breached the forlorn gray clouds over the city, Misty perked up in spite of the chill. “Hey,” she greeted Lana the same day that the sun came out, “do you think I can plant a garden?”

Lana looked at her. “Well--yeah, sure. Do whatever you want in the yard. Less to mow.” Ugh. Mowing. Misty couldn’t believe people just threw away perfectly good grass also while pitching pollutants out into the atmosphere at an unprecedented rate. “But, um, I don’t know how much work you want to spend on the whole reviving thing. There’s still a chance we can get more snow this year. I don’t want you to be disappointed if a frost kills off everything you planted.”

Snow? It’s mid-April! “I’ll take my chances.” Misty knew she could bring everything back. The months of unuse for her powers had not caused them to atrophy, but rather had built them up stronger than ever before. Armed with a hoe, a shovel, a water pail, and some seeds and saplings, Misty headed outside before the crack of dawn the next day. Maybe she couldn’t be happy in Boston, but perhaps she could bring enough of the swamp to the city so she could have a smidgen of peace.

Still under the cover of darkness, Misty worked with her magic when she trusted no one could see. She could dig and hoe at the same time with her telekinesis. The ugly, metropolitan shrubs she pulled up. “Compost these.” She stripped all the ugly, pebble landscaping from around Lana’s house. Nothing healthy could ever possibly grow in such harsh, unforgiving conditions. Once the rocks were stripped, Misty dug along the side of the house first… and then she gradually worked her way out into the rest of the yard. Let me plant some things I can eat. Misty hated eating out of a can. She needed to grow her own vegetables. But she would make it beautiful, too, for Lana to enjoy. Maybe in a few months, when these saplings are large enough, I can build a treehouse for us to climb in. Everything smaller she could bring to fruition in a few short hours, but the trees would take longer. Even with all of her strength, she did not think she could grow the vast oaks to the size she wanted them to accommodate a treehouse in a day.

Misty slaved over her craft. Big Red chittered, resting on the gutter as he watched her work. She lined the house with her own bushes--blackberry, boysenberry, blueberry, strawberry, cranberry. Further out, she had all of her vegetables--the squash, the tomato, the pepper, the carrots, the potatoes, several stalks of corn. She planted oak saplings for Big Red when they grew large enough to produce acorns, and she lined every path with sweet-smelling, natural growing flowers. Lana doesn’t want to mow--she’ll never have to mow again! Anything Misty pulled up that she could not make use of went into the compost pile. I’ll get us some worms and really get that compost going. The earth was barren of worms, as well, but she could fix that soon enough.

As the day wore on, her blossoms opened. The space from garden to garden was just wide enough for them to walk through. The grass won’t grow here if I throw down some mulch and keep it tramped down. No need for the mower anymore. Misty despised the sound and smell of a lawnmower. If she could keep Lana from mowing, they would both be extremely happy.

She crawled into bed that night, long after dark, freshly showered and clean. Lana rolled over. “Hey, bear.” Her hands curled into Misty’s hair, still wet from the shower. “I missed you… You were outside all day. Must be a nice garden.” She kissed Misty on the lips. Misty spooned up behind her like a happy cat. “You can show me tomorrow. How long til we have some tomatoes?”

“Not long,” Misty promised. She kissed Lana’s neck and tickled her tummy, forcing her to squirm and giggle with delight. “I’ve got you.”

Lana hummed happily. “I’m so glad you’re feeling like yourself again.” She peeked back at Misty. “I was starting to worry the winter was wearing you down.”

Misty sighed. Maybe I wasn’t as discreet as I wanted to be. “It was. But I’m feeling a lot better now.”

Lana snuggled up against her and bid her goodnight. Misty’s exhausted body held her warm and near, and for the first time since she had come to Boston, she slept all the way through the night without the sounds of the trains or the vehicles outside disturbing her slumber.

The next morning, Misty rolled out of bed with Big Red tangled up in her hair and found Lana on the couch sipping her coffee in front of the television. “Morning, cityslicker,” Misty teased as she came up the hall. She sank onto the couch beside Lana. “What are your plans for the day?” She ran her hand down one of Lana’s legs, and at the summoning, Lana turned her body and placed both of her feet in Misty’s lap.

Misty began to rub her feet. “Well,” Lana said, “I gotta run some errands. The weather says we’re officially out of snow for the season, so I better stop by the gas station and pick up a gallon for the mower. It’ll just be a week or two before they’re making me mow it.”

Shaking her head, Misty said, “Uh-uh,” as she rubbed Lana’s feet with her thumbs.

Lana’s brows quirked. “What do you mean, uh-uh?”

Innocent blue eyes flicked up to Lana. “You told me you didn’t like to mow, so I fixed the yard so we won’t have to mow anymore. No more wasted space. I’m just gonna throw some mulch down on the trails--”

“Trails?” Lana questioned. “Misty, my yard is less than two acres! What exactly did you do to it?”

She sounds angry. “You said you didn’t want to mow anymore and I should do whatever I wanted with the yard. So I ripped out all the landscaping--”

“You did what?”

Misty’s defenses rose. “It was ugly! Nothing could grow in those pebbles. I laid natural bushes instead--ones that are good for the environment and will benefit the wildlife!”

“What wildlife? This is the middle of the city! Any wildlife that comes into our yard is going to get flattened!” Lana rolled off the couch and ran to the front door. “Holy shit!” she gasped as she stared out of the front of the house. The morning sun shed light on all of the dewy flowers and leaves and bushes. “We have to take it all down.”

“We what?” Misty snapped. “No way! I worked all day on making it beautiful! I’m not killing everything I just brought to life!” Lana stepped out of the house. Her bare feet touched the beautiful, freshly stirred earth, leaving slight footprints in their wake, and the low bushes and flowers brushed her ankles and left water trickling down them. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You told me to do whatever I wanted with the yard, so I did!”

“I thought you were going to plant a handful of tomatoes and some squash and maybe some pretty flowers, not recreate the Okefenokee swamp! The city is going to send us notices for looking overgrown and unkempt!”

Heat burned Misty’s face. “Overgrown and unkempt, my ass! It’s beautiful!” she snapped. “All I did was try to make it beautiful for you! I planted tomatoes because you always say you hate the ones out of a can! I planted potatoes because you hate buying them by the bag, I planted wild blackberries because you like that they have seeds the ones in the store don’t! I planted blanketflowers because they remind me of your eyes, bluebells and merry bells because you have that portrait in our room that you like, dayflowers and blue morning glories because that’s your favorite color to wear because you think it makes you look thinner even though I know you’re beautiful in any color! I planted a dogwood tree because you said it’s your favorite tree and you told me the old fable that Jesus’s cross was made from the dogwood tree! And I planted some sunflowers to grow so I can braid them in your hair on the days you’re so miserable and I’m not able to cheer you up!”

“Bullshit, you did it for you! You’ve spent all winter moping and whining and now you’re trying to get a little piece of the wilderness in the city!”

“Yes!” Misty’s whole body grew hot. Big Red jumped off her shoulders as her skin became too hot to touch, driven by her rage. The squirrel ran to Lana and scampered up her leg. “Yes! You’re right! I fucking hate it here, Lana! I can’t sleep at night! It’s too loud! It smells like chemical warfare! Your neighbors all have sour, angry faces, and the grass is sterile, and the soil doesn’t have any earthworms! This place sucks! And I am trying to be happy here, because this is where you are, and you’re all I ever wanted! But the water that comes out of the tap tastes like metal, and every day that I spend here in this hellscape, I feel myself hating it more and more! So god forbid I should plant some flowers in the yard where I live, so maybe I can walk outside without wondering if I made a mistake by coming here at all!”

A black car parked in front of Lana’s house. A man rolled down the window and stuck his camera out it, beginning to snap pictures. Lana turned on her heel, attention suddenly stripped from Misty, but as she approached the car to reprimand the photographer, Misty stormed right past her. She strode powerfully, her hands balled into tight fists and the magic crackling around her--only Lana could see, but she knew it was dangerous enough. “Misty,” Lana cautioned. Oh, god, Misty, don’t! She trotted after her. “Misty!”

Misty slammed both hands against the door of the car. The driver flinched back away from her. He reached to roll up the window, but with a flick of Misty’s eyes, the handle snapped off. Lana jogged up beside her, watching as Misty glowered directly into the man’s eyes. “You do not know who we are. You did not take any pictures of us. You will not come back here again. And so help me god, if you do, you can compost my goddamn flowerbeds.” The man had a blank stare… She’s controlling him, Lana realized with some horror. She had forgotten Misty could do that. He blinked a few times, as if shaking himself, and then pulled back onto the road and drove away.

But the speed with which Misty whirled upon her indicated the fight was not over. “What?” she snarled. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know--” It was him I was worried about. “I was afraid you would blow up the car.” She measured her words as she spoke them, patient and slow, trying to remain calm. I had no idea she was so miserable here. Lana licked her lips. “I didn’t want you to do anything rash.”

Misty’s eyes flashed, glossed over with tears which did not shed. “Of course. You think I’m too goddamn stupid to have any decision-making skills. You think I would put you in danger because I can’t think for two seconds to realize that blowing up a car in the middle of your residential suburban America hell is a bad idea.”

“That is not what I said--Misty, come back!” Misty was already walking away from her. Lana steadied Big Red on her shoulder, grabbing Misty by the hand. “Ow!” She jerked her hand away. Misty’s skin was hot to the touch, like a pan on the stove. “What the hell?”

“Don’t touch me! We’re fighting!” Misty’s voice had gone from furious to shrill. She thundered into the house, and as Lana fought to keep up with her, she walked faster, entering the bathroom and slamming the door shut firmly behind her.

The sound of the lock clicking into place finalized it for Lana, though she still tried to turn the knob a couple of times. “Misty!” She pressed her ear to the door. She could hear nothing but Misty’s uneven breathing. She’s crying. Lana only seen Misty cry once since they met. The knowledge that she had hurt Misty so deeply wounded her soul. “Misty… I’m sorry I upset you. I’ll apply for a permit to certify the yard as a wildlife habitat, so we won’t have to take it down.” It will be nice not to have to mow. Big Red teetered on her shoulder, clasping her hair with his front paws. “I’m so sorry you’re unhappy. I didn’t know… I thought it was just some cabin fever.” She leaned against the door with one hand pressed flat against it. “I’ll start looking for somewhere else for us to live. Somewhere outside the city, where we can have some room and some quiet.” The days Lana had spent in the swamp with Misty had been among the most miserable in her life--and she included Briarcliff and Thredson in that mix, the swamp had been that bad. But they had to find a middle ground. She couldn’t lose Misty… Not after Wendy. She couldn’t endure that heartache again, knowing she had lost the one she loved and it was her fault.

Lana sighed, leaning against the door, losing hope that Misty was going to let her in. “We can take time this summer to go back… if you want. I know that’s not the safest place in the world for you, but if you’d like to go, we can go. I trust you can protect us.” She chewed her lower lip. “Once it’s a little warmer, we can go camping…” She wasn’t hitting any of Misty’s buttons well enough to get her to open back up. She’s pissed at me. She had every right to be. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry if I ever act like that. I know--I know you aren’t well-educated, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. I only thought you were going to blow up the car because that’s what I would’ve wanted to do, if I were you. I know you would never do anything to put us in danger.” She cleared her throat. “I know all of this is new to you. And I know you’re trying. I’m trying, too. I need you to talk to me… That’s the only way I can make things better.”

A long, silent moment passed before the lock clicked again, and the bathroom door inched open. Behind it, Misty stood, stony-faced, her blue eyes rimmed in red. Lana’s eyes fluttered wide eagerly, opening her arms, but she hesitated before hugging her; she didn’t want to be burned again. Misty opened her arms in return, and Lana sank into her hug. She flung her arms tightly around Misty’s neck and buried her face into the crook. Misty squeezed her, her arms folding protectively around Lana’s back. “I’m sorry I burned you,” Misty mumbled in her thick voice, still a little teary. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, bear, I know,” Lana whispered. “I know you would never hurt me on purpose.” She tucked a lock of hair behind Misty’s head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you… I was overreacting.” She swallowed hard. “You know change is hard for me, without Wendy.” Some part of her still wanted to leave everything the way it was when Wendy had died. Slowly but surely, Misty was teaching her to move on… But sometimes, it all came back, the fear that once she had lost Wendy, she would never get her back. “But that doesn’t give me any right to take it out on you. Especially when I told you to do whatever you wanted… I didn’t realize we had two very different ideas of what a garden is.”

Misty ducked her head, snorting in spite of herself. “I should have clarified,” she mumbled. “You complained about mowing… and I hate lawnmowers.” She shuddered as she said the word. Pity leapt through Lana’s heart. “I thought I would make it easier for us by making something beautiful. Make it a little less awful here.”

Lana caressed Misty’s cheek. “There is nothing you can do to this place, or to me, to make me love you less.”

Misty leaned into her embrace, kissing the inside of her wrist. “I would live the rest of my life in this hell hole if it meant I got to be with you.”

A tender smile touched Lana’s face. “It was very thoughtful of you to plant that garden… I didn’t realize you could do so much in just a day.” She planted everything thinking of me. Oh, that stung Lana’s insides now, how she had hurled it back in Misty’s face in a fit of rage. “I’d like to walk out and look at it now, if you’ll show me.”

A calloused hand touched the small of Lana’s back. “Of course,” she whispered. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to Lana’s lips, and Lana closed her eyes as the magic surrounded her.

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tabithacarlisle · 6 years

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*OFF THE RECORD Pairing: Maxwell x Tabitha (TRR MC) | (Liam x Tabitha & Drake x Liam are mentioned)

Word Count: 4392 (pour yourself a drink and settle in ;)

Warnings: 18+ NS*W, 🍋, marital angst, smut, extramarital affairs, pregnancy, swearing

bonus warning: this is my first fic in a long, long time! It’s probably super messy, but this story has been bouncing around in my head ever since I first read TRR Book 3’s Vegas Fling with Maxwell & it blew my mind!! ;) Glad to finally put it out there in print.

*OFF THE RECORD PREQUEL <<< click here!*

*Author’s Note: any time you see text underlined, it’s a link to screenshots from Pixelberry’s Choices TRR scenes, or other chapters referenced from *OTR- click them!! :) Notes: Pixelberry Studios owns these characters, not me! I just have fun playing with them :) Also a short snippet of dialogue quoted from Choices TRR 3 Chapter 16 “What Happens in Vegas...” is used as a flashback. This chapter takes place about 4 months after the Royal Wedding in TRR Book 3 Off The Record (OTR)by Jo (“@tabithacarlisle” :) Maxwell got the Caller ID notification on his iWatch:

‘Tabitha 👑🌸’.

He answered it right away on his cell,“Hey, ‘Your Majesty!’ Glad you called! I was just thinking about calling you, actually, I—“

(Crying, she cut him off) “Oh Maxwell...”::sob:: “Hey-heyhey hey, shhhhh, it’s ok. It’s ok! What’s going on- what happened?”

“I had to reschedule my sonogram appointment that was supposed to be for tomorrow. Bastien called. He said Liam’s one-on-one meetings at the Davos Summit are running late, and he’ll need to stay out there for another week. But, Liam wants us to find out the baby’s sex together, so I’ll just... have to keep waiting! Again! Oh my fucking gawd, Max! He’s always in ‘meetings!’ He’s always gone! I was just looking forward to us sharing that moment together to see our new baby, so much. How could Liam put off such an important milestone for his first child? It’s not fair. No— I shouldn’t say that. I mean,I know —He warned me what I was getting into when I married him, how he’d have to split his loyalties between me and his duties as King. But, Maxwell, I don’t think I’m cut out to be the sole parent while he galavants around the globe all the time! Our first sonogram! Is nothing sacred? For fuck’s-sake?!” Another loud sob escaped her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m hormonal hot-mess right now and more upset by this than I probably should be, but... I could really use a friend to distract me right now. I —“ “Say no more! I’m only a quick jet-ride away. I’ll be there a-sap.” She sniffed on the other end. “Omigod, I don’t know what I did to deserve a best friend like you, Max. Thank you.” Her statement caught Maxwell off guard. He felt his breath catch in his throat & his heart take a small leap in his chest. After that beat, he spoke, “Stop it. You deserve everything good, Tabitha. And, I feel the same about you, too.” ...

Tabitha had cared for Maxwell more than anyone in his had ever cared for him in his whole life, besides his late mother, and the thought of her being sad tugged at his heartstrings like no other. He’d do anything to make her smile and take her pain away

...... Maxwell fast-walked to keep up with Mara as she led him down the long, gilded hallway to the master bedroom doors. Even with his lanky, athletic legs and naturally speedy gait, his hurried strides still kept him about half a pace behind hers. Mara spoke to him over her shoulder, “Between the two of us, OTR? I’m thankful you came, Lord Maxwell. Her Majesty has been holed up in her room all day.” He gave a solemn nod and waited at the door as Mara rapped her knuckles on the frame “Lord Maxwell to see you, your Majesty.”

The sound of urgent steps grew louder before the door opened . Tabitha covered her sob with the back of her hand. “Oh Maxwell!”

They hugged, clinging to each other as if their bodies were buoys in the middle of a vast ocean. Maxwell placed a chaste kiss on her head as she burrowed it into his chest. After a few moments Tabitha pulled away from him long enough to address her bodyguard,

“Thank you, Mara. We’ll be fine.”

Mara gave a curt bow and left the room closing the door behind her. Maxwell gripped her hands to space their bodies apart as to get a better look at her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and Tabitha shuddered as she felt his barely calloused thumb pad wipe them away.

“It has been way too long, Tabz! I’m sorry I’ve gotten so wrapped up in my book tour. And I haven’t seen you since you and Liam announced the news. Look at you!” His eyes shone with emotion as he looked her up and down, seeing the small growing bump underneath her shift dress. “You’re going to be a mom!”

Tabitha’s sobs resumed with a heave in her chest, her hands still holding on to his. She looked down and sighed. “But Liam’s not here.” She let go to dab the corner of her eye with the back of her thumb. “This was supposed to be a big milestone. It was so important to me. It should have been important for him, too! This whole pregnancy, becoming a parent in the next few months, it doesn’t even feel real yet, y’know? I just want to see this baby so badly to prove that to myself, to hear its heartbeat again. And, I wanted this for Liam, too! He needs that affirmation just as much as I do. I want him to feel that this is real. For us. For the family we’re about to create.”

“Psssh. Of course it’s real, Tabitha! Look at me, look. This? Right here? This was always the ‘end game’ for us. Getting Liam to fall in love with you, getting the two of you married and secure your place on throne for Cordonia with an heir, it’s all real! You have no idea how proud of you I am.”

“Really?”

“You know it.” Maxwell clicked his tongue mischievously as he squatted down low, hovering his cupped palms over her belly. He looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes. “May I?”Tabitha smiled softly and nodded, touched by his reverence for her condition.Having permission, he placed both hands down over her stomach and turned his head as he spoke animatedly to it “Hello in there, Little One! Guess what? Gender reveal parties are so basic! Definitely too passé for a future celebrity trend-setter like you!”Tabitha giggled.He looked up to give her a subtle wink, then continued talking to her belly in a more of a whisper, but loud enough for Tabitha to hear him, “You are destined for so. much. more! And your favorite Uncle Maxwell is going to spoil you rotten, no matter what.”

Tabitha put her hands over his as she looked at him with happy tears beginning to well in her eyes, “I can’t wait for that to happen.”Maxwell beamed up at Tabitha and gave her belly an adoring quick kiss before he sprung up from his crouching position to a stand. He began to tear up too, seeing so much emotion stirring in her. There was so much he wanted to say, but now that she was the Queen he felt as if it was no longer his place quite like before, to be so free with his words with her. So instead, he stared intensely into her eyes and beamed at her, wishing to convey all he felt in his heart at that moment through his smile.

“Maxwell,” she began with a tentative shake to her voice “there’s somethi—“ “No, no.” he interrupted, “You asked me to be your distraction from all of this, and I promised I’d come through for you.” “When Maxwell Percival Beaumont makes a promise, he delivers!” Maxwell pulled a small thumb drive out of his pocket. “Ahem. OK, check . this . out. My buddy, Spencer, just gave me some bootleg pre-theatrical releases of ‘John Wick 3,’ ‘Avengers Endgame,’ and ‘The Curse of La Llorna’. Siiiiiick, right?! I’m so stoked! I’ll call the kitchen downstairs for popcorn and drinks, and we’re in business!“ “Ugh, no,” she groaned, turning away and shutting him down, “no action or horror movies tonight. You know how they put me to sleep.” He scoffed in mock disappointments at her, chuckling.”I still don’t get it. How the hell does anyone fall asleep during action movies?! What‘s wrong with you?” Tabitha shrugged, “I told you, without character development or drama to pull me in, it all just becomes too much overstimulation and I just, tune it out. The loud sound effects just start to sound like a white noise machine.” Yawning through her words, she continued, “But, now that you mention it, maybe that’s just what I need to cure my insomnia?” “No, nononono. I did not come all the way from Ramsford to have my bestie fall asleep on me tonight, Tabz!” Rubbing and patting her shoulders and crouching slightly to look directly into her eyes he said, “Here’s what we’re gonna do: I’m going order up sundaes to the room and we’re going to stay up hate-watching trashy reality shows. Whatever it takes for you to have the fun night that you deserve, ok?” She smirked in agreement, “Ice cream & trashy tv? Now you’re speaking my language.” Maxwell triumphantly gave his fist aquick air pump “Yes! I’ll call the kitchen up right now.” ...........

Within moments they were sitting sprawled on the oversized chaise loungers in the adjoining theater room, watching “Real Housewives of Cordonia” on the drop down projection screen and spooning mouthfuls of mutiflavored ice cream sundaes into their mouths. Maxwell had consumed enough wine for the both of them which warmed him plenty afterwards but Tabitha had to abstain. Brrrr!” She shivered “Omigod I’m freezing now!” Maxwell chuckled & shook his head, bouncing up right away to fetch a large plush throw blanket to drape over her with a dramatic flourish. He knew the drill. “Your wish, is my command.” “Thank you!” she gushed, her teeth were still chattering, “You’re so good to me, Maxwell.” “Mind if I stretch out here? I need to put my feet up.” Maxwell found her adorable when she was cold and pouty. “Of course!” He winked and motioned for her to cuddle up against him, “C’mere,” and as she placed her head on his lap he ruffled her hair playfully. In this moment, they were just Tabitha & Maxwell, ‘best friends.’ She was his first real best friend. Isn’t this what all best friends do? “She’s like the sister I never had” he’d tell his other guy friends when they had teased him about her. They didn’t believe him. Was that it though? They were about the same age but he felt an impulse to comfort and guard her from any one or anything that could make her sad. Like an older brother? No, it was much more complex than that. Maxwell draped his arm over Tabitha protectively and she snuggled up against him, her eyes closed for a brief moment, full of contentment. As the night wore on, several episodes later, Maxwell found himself laughing at a commercial and looked down at Tabitha to see why she wasn’t laughing too. She was sound asleep. “Geez, I should have known,” he whispered, “you always fall asleep when you lie down to watch tv,”

Maxwell felt a surge of warm appreciation for how much she still trusted him, after all this time, even after marrying Liam, to let down her guard enough to fall asleep on him. He found her breathtaking when she slept, watching her long lashes flutter softly over her cheeks. Pregnancy suited Tabitha; she was even more radiant than usual, and her hair was long and lush, spread out and falling over both her shoulders and his knees. Her lips were swollen and parted, and as he watched the rise and fall of her body, he fell in a sort of trance watching sleepy breaths escaping softly from her mouth every few seconds. Maxwell felt the urge to touch her. He gently combed his fingers through her hair, tracing over the braided bags that always crowned her forehead, and in doing this he began to recall the bachelorette party, the after party, “a free pass”

....... ~(flashback to Tabitha and Maxwell lying naked together in The Vegas hotel penthouse suite bed, Maxwell playing with her hair)~

“I’m going to wake up tomorrow and wonder if any of this was real...”

“What happens in Vegas...”

“Can happen anywhere else in the world?”

“Maxwell.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

~...

He remembered that night, the way she made him feel like the luckiest guy on earth. Why me? The future queen of Cordonia could have had any one that night for her ‘last premarital fling,’ sanctioned & blessed by none other than the her future husband, the King of Cordonia himself. And she picked Maxwell Beaumont? He remembered how out of character it was for her to seem nervous talking to him when she had brought it up at the hotel bar at the end of the night. The way she blushed and seemed just slightly and uncharacteristically nervous, she had never smiled at him like that before. He remembered she shivered when he kissed her neck, her collar bone, the swell of her breast, He remembered how she smelled, how she tasted, the soft, beautiful and otherworldly sounds she made as he went down on her on the window seat overlooking the Vegas Strip, how effortlessly he had fit into her, and how easy it had been for them to find their shared rhythm as they came together...

Coming to and snapping out of his flashback, Maxwell audibly whelped as he realized how close Tabitha’s face was to his crotch and his growing erection aching against the fly of his pants. The noise that escaped from the back of his throat caused her to stir, and he cursed himself under his breath for waking Tabitha up. “Err, sorry Sleeping Beauty but I... gotta—‘xcuse me!” he started to get up

Tabitha started to sit up herself, drowsily, with her eyes squinting against the glow of the projection screen in the semi dark room. Her line of vision came into focus onto Maxwell’s lap as he hastily tried to move from under her, and just as suddenly, she became aware of what must have been the source of his need to get away. “Maxwell! Omigod I’m so sorry- what happened?” Was that - was I touching you in my sleep? Liam says I—“ Hearing Liam’s name made his flight response kick into overdrive. This was wrong, this was so, so wrong and he had really fucked up, again. Maxwell blurted out “No! No no, it’s not— I just... had to—“ “Oh gawd” she realized he was leaving to go ‘rub one out’ in the bathroom, and the thought of him doing that had made her surprisingly horny, “Wait, Maxwell...” her hungry eyes begged him, looking him over up and down and resting at his girth. Then she sat up and did that thing Maxwell loved so when she bit the corner of her bottom lip, “You don’t need to take care of that alone. I can help you.” Oh shit. He couldn’t. She was married now. To Liam. King Liam. Maxwell began to really sweat now. fuck, is this really happening? I can’t let her do this I can’t— “No!” He pleaded, unconvincingly “I can just go—mmmphf!” His words of objection were silenced when her lips crashed into his and she them with the tip of her tongue. He lost himself, momentarily suspended in disbelief and letting go, groans escaping into her mouth as his hand moved to cup her jaw. But just as suddenly as the kiss had happened he remembered where they were, who was missing, and he let her go. “No, Tabitha,... what about Liam. You can’t. We can’t” “He’s not here.” she protested, wiping off her mouth. “He won’t be back for days. Bastien said this summit goes on for—” “But” he looked down at her baby-bump, asking his head. “I can’t, I don’t want to hurt the baby” Tabitha laughed “omigod, Maxwell! do you realize how often pregnant women have sex? It’s completely safe, nothing bad will happen to the baby” “...Really?” “Doctor approved. My hormones are raging, I’ve got no more morning sickness so now I’m horny all the time! Which is unfortunate because Liam has been.. distant, and busy.. And you know about, him and Drake, right? The real reason why Drake is always coming along on these international business trips with him?” “I mean yeah, I know... I know what used to go on” he nods, “but, I thought they would have stopped that by now, now that you’re married, I mean?“ “I had thought the same thing, but Mara & Bastien & Liam have placed so many restrictions on my travel. I feel like a princess stuck in a tower! I mean I get why they’re being overprotective, I’m carrying the future heir to the throne. But now that means I can’t be there for Liam when he gets he needs to be fulfilled. Drake is there, I’m not, so... I get it, I do. We’ve talked about it and we have an understanding. But, I get so emotional and lonely now, I just wish.... Liam has needs but, so do I...” she looked up through her lashes at him pleadingly and then back down her thin fingers ghosting over his belt. He gulped. “Yeah, ::pant:: ‘needs’, I know about those...” he could feel his dick stiffening again, aching for her. She kissed her way up Maxwell’s jawline and nipped at his ear, tenderly moaning into it.“Mmhmm.” Maxwell shivered. Tabitha’s hands went straight for his belt buckle. Like Houdini breaking out of a straightjacket she expertly freed his erection. When she pulled down the elastic from his boxer briefs his cock sprung out and bobbed up against his shirt. Tabitha grabbed his shaft and took him into her mouth in one swift motion. Maxwell’s hips instinctively thrust forward and he closed his eyes, grunting “jesusFUCK that’s good. ahhh!-“ he could now feel her canines lightly grazing his skin, her pointed tongue scribbling lines on him, and though his eyes were closed he could feel her smiling with satisfaction at how easy he was to please with each moan of pleasure he made. Maxwell’s hands grabbed her hair to pull her closer as her checks once again hollowed out to take all of him in. It was hard, really hard, for Maxwell to remember to have inhibitions and to mind the Royal protocol with his dick deep in her mouth. He knew he should stop, but then again, if he should stop, why would it feel so natural and so fucking good to be like this with her? “Tabitha...” She let the tip of his shaft roll out of her mouth and rest on her pursed lips while taking the length in one hand and his balls in the other, cupping him while circling the underside of the velvety head with the tip of her tongue. Licking him down and up, she traced the sinewy underside of the shaft, her fingers massaged tight circles on the sensitive spot just underneath his sac. “Nghhnn!” Maxwell saw how the lust in her eyes made her pupils flood them with black, darkening with desire. That look from her made his cock convulse and beads of precum began leaking at the tip. Tabitha moaned with him inside her mouth causing tantalizing vibrations on his member... but Maxwell’s trance was interrupted by a sudden and inconvenient thought invaded his mind. “Wait!”He pulled away from her. Tabitha looked up at him, confused “What?” she pouted. “I can’t cum in your mouth!” he almost whispered motioning to her stomach: “The b—.” Tabitha covered her mouth in horror “shit, you’re right” She blushed furiously.

Tabitha started to get up but her eyes darted to the side as a solution presented itself to her. She looked back at him with a Cheshire Cat grin and raked her fingers up his abdomen to his chest. “Well then, Lord Beaumont,” she purred “it looks like you’re just going to have to cum inside me.” Maxwell opened his mouth to protest, but soon forgot his objections when she came back down to meet his lips again. He smiled against her mouth and deepened the kiss as they raced and fumbled to finish undressing each other. Maxwell’s teeth playfully nipped and sucked at the exposed hollow of her neck and she gasped at the sensation. “Oh god, Tabitha. I want you so bad” he murmured in his soft, husky voice at her ear before he bit at the cartilage. “I need you now, Max.” she gasped. Maxwell’s hands palmed her breasts once he had sprung them from their confines and the heat of arousal blooming from her core at his touch was almost enough to send her over the edge. He lowered his head to take them in his mouth and stopped, his lips agape and his eyes widened, at how she had changed since the last time he had seen her naked. “They’re...so...big now!” A rakish smile crept on his face from ear to ear. He bent his neck again, meaning to tease her by biting her nipple, but it had the opposite effect and Tabitha whimpered. “ahhhAahh! More sensitive now, too!” Maxwell looked up apologetically at her “Sorry! I’ll be gentle.” Taking precious care now to avoid being so rough he swirled slow circles around her nipples with his tongue before taking her breast into his mouth to suck it. She moaned in the way that let him know he was doing it just right now and she could feel him smiling on her again.Tracing the faint raised lines of his hippo tattoo on his chest with deep longing she implored, him “I need you Max, right now.”

“Yes m’am!” He scooped her up into his arms and she squealed with surprised delight as he carried her over to the bed. Maxwell set her down dotingly on the pillows and kissed her again as he maneuvered himself on his knees between her legs. He allowed his shaft to slide against her folds, slick with arousal, rubbing back and forth on her clit. Tabitha grabbed the sheets and arched her back mewling with pleasure. “Now, Maxwell!” He guided himself into her and they connected at last. Tabitha’s ankles wrapped around his hips and he audibly groaned at how good it felt to be inside her again. His hips rolled into her rhythmically and she rose her pelvis up to meet them at his speed. She closed her eyes and reached down to rub her clit, but had made the mistake of forgetting how much Maxwell had liked to be the one in charge. He smirked and playfully slapped her hand away, replacing it with his own. “Nuh-unh, your Majesty, that’s my job.” This dominance in the bedroom was completely different than the dynamic she had with Liam and it was such a turn on. She whelped at the new waves of pleasure that coursed through her now, completely at the mercy of his touch. Grabbing one hand onto his bicep and the other at the nape of his neck, she anchored herself to him. Maxwell lowered himself to crush his lips against hers again, groaning and all the while never losing the tempo of his thrust. Tabitha pulled back to take a sharp breath and he pushed her wrists down to hold them against the bed and as he planked himself above her. Maxwell’s biceps flexed to hover over her just so as to not crush her with his weight. They stared deep into each others eyes, both a deep sapphire blue mirroring each-other’s intensity with pupils ever growing and darkening their depths, “Max- I’m gonna... nnhhh”

Her words came as he felt her walls begin to throb around him, and it set every nerve in his body alight. With ever quickening pace his breaths and hip gyrations intensified. He could sense that familiar feeling of his sac tightening, and from her shallow breathing he knew they were both almost there. Maxwell closed his eyelids as he gave over to the delicious pressure boiling over in him, and they climaxed together, groaning into each other’s necks to muffle their sounds of wanton euphoria

......

He turned over and collapsed sweaty and spent onto the pillow top mattress. There was a smattering of lazy breathless kisses and pets shared between them, but no words of consequence spoken. Staring at the ceiling, Maxwell took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. His mind was wrestling with the two warring impulses. One: get out of bed right away, get dressed and leave. She was not his & he was not hers, that was the standard procedure for all of his other one night stands. The second one was to wrap his arms around her and stay that way till morning in that beautiful postcoital bliss that he had only ever felt with her. Maxwell was relieved when Tabitha made the decision for him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder and tenderly draping her arms around him. He combed her hair with his fingers, staring at the ceiling until his heavy eyelids began to give way to sleep. They stayed that way for many moments, silent and breathing slowly with their chests rising and falling in alternation. “I love you” he whispered under his breath, meaning only for himself to hear it, just before drifting off. But then, he heard her, murmuring in her sleep, “The... baby... might be yours” Was he dreaming already? She couldn’t have really said that. Tabitha said she was on the pill during the unity tour, surely there was... no way that— but he couldn’t finish the thought before falling into a deep & dreamless sleep

...................

To Be Continued......? <<< click for *OTR Part 2

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @silversparrow02

also tagging some of my favorite bloggers who’ve tagged me before on their fanfics ;) : @tmarie82 @boneandfur @ritachacha @breaumonts @fullbeaumonty@scgdoeswhat @ludextruction @littlecrookedheart @jovialyouthmusic @queen-among-writers @choiceslife

#maxwell beaumont #maxwell x mc #trr fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #off the record #maxwell x tabitha #thirsty thursday #ns*fw #maxwell's vegas fling #lemon #tabithacarlisle #otr part 1 #liam x mc #drake x liam #playchoices fanfic

66 notes · View notes

veridium · 5 years

Text

the dark side of your room

hey, it’s an All Time Low song for the College AU Update!! Woo!

Time for some more queer fluff and anxiety, what I do best!

masterpost // last chapter

Olivia: Hey, still down for me to come over in an hour?

Cassandra: Yeah, I’m just running errands. I will be back but I might hop in the shower. I’ll leave a key under the mat.

Olivia: Ohhh, a key...we’re getting heavy.

Cassandra: Don’t get cocky.

This must be like what people who are ‘Superb Owl’ fans experience the week leading up to the big sports game they all watch. Day after day, since the one when she asked her to come to the party it gets harder to breathe. It might also be from the surmounting happiness that she is in no way used to, that is nevertheless overwhelming. She can’t do what she usually does and hideout in Ellinor’s company, because she is just as nervous as she is -- if not more. Poor Ellinor. Their conversation by the soccer field is still fresh in her mind even two days after. Now, it’s Friday, making it 24 hours until it all goes down.

Whatever ‘it all’ is, remains to be seen.

Speak of the devil. She catches a familiar, similarly petite figure walking past her open doorway while she’s finishing up getting ready for the night.

“Hey!” she peers out the doorway to see Ellinor fumbling with keys sluggishly, backpack on her shoulder. “Everything okay?”

Ellinor glances briefly. “Yep! All good.”

“You sure?”

“...Are you?”

Olivia strolls out into the hall and to her, all the while Ellinor finds her key and slides it into the lock. She stops short of twisting it, mouth tight with bated breath behind it, so it seems. In return, Liv grins in order to provide some form of comfort.

“At least our costumes look hot.”

“They do. They really do.”

“...Ugh, I’m so worried Dorian is going to make Cassandra want to punch him or something--”

“And if the lesbians scare the shit out of Cullen, I’m gonna--”

“Oh God, Cullen and gays...Cullen and the leftist kombucha hipsters?! Do we even know--”

“We don’t! That’s what I’m saying! And isn’t this Cassandra’s first real thing, going out with a girl?”

Olivia bites her lip. Fuck. She’s right. “Oh no. I’m taking her to the lion’s den right off the bat. Oh my God, why didn’t I think of this. I should have called for brunch like normal queer people do. The fuck is wrong with me?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know the gay agenda protocol for this, you never gave me a copy!”

“You aren’t supposed to have one, Ellinor, it’s not a Reader’s Digest.”

“Pfft,” Ellinor leans unto her hip and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Figure out the heirosapphics all on your own, then.”

Olivia pouts. “You stole that joke from me,” she grumbles, before brushing hair out of her eyes. “I have to get going, I’m supposed to be at Cassandra’s in like...whatever amount of minutes is left. I don’t know.” She pulls out her phone to check the time. Fifteen minutes, to be exact.

“Well then go on, get out of here,” Ellinor shoos, “I got plans too, anyway.”

“With C--”

“Yes, with him! Who else, the Pope?”

Olivia shrugs and dances off back on her toes towards her door. “Touchy Ducky!”

“I hate when you call me th--” the rest of Ellinor’s avarice is cut off by the door shutting. Yeah, yeah, she hates being called a touchy ducky. Which means, naturally, Olivia will have to tell it to Cullen and say she loves it, because pranks are healthy for any sustainable friendship. She giggle-snorts all by herself and searches around for her pair of sneakers she tossed somewhere earlier in the week, the perfect casual cap-off to her black leggings and tank top. Whatever tomorrow night turns out to be, at least she has tonight.

Only five minutes late, Olivia makes use of the key hiding for her when knocking doesn’t work. When she enters, the holiest of smells -- Italian spices that promise carbs -- greets her first. The kitchen is lit up, and on the stove is a big pasta pot that seems to sing to her. She follows the aroma over to it and finds steaming spaghetti, sauce, meat balls, large forked serving spoon and all. Beside it are two small bowls, and only two. Was Cullen not around? Eh, figures, if Ellinor said they had plans.

That means Cassandra made this. Cassandra made this for her. God, it’s been too long since she had any close associates who knew their way around a kitchen. Ellinor is a walking bio-hazard, Theia knows every order-in number in the city, and Josephine...well, she probably cooks, but she just doesn’t brag about it.

A whine gets caught in her throat -- the kind of “aw” one she makes at puppies in the mall and kids in the park. This is so sweet.

She drops her shoulder bag on the small dining table and lets herself wander. One slow loop around the coffee table, absentmindedly observing all the furniture. Sounds of a shower echo from the other side of the suite, and the mystery is solved just as to where Cassandra is. She must have gotten right into cooking and forgotten to shower when she got home.

Olivia comes to a halt at the mouth of the dark hallway and peeks with growing curiosity...

She’s been down to Cullen’s side, during the infamous occasion she went a bit Rutherferal, but that’s long in the past. Okay, a week, but the past is the past. Cassandra’s, on the other hand, is like some mystical Narnia closet. No one’s been in, and no one’s gotten out as far as she knows. The first time she slept over it was implicitly clear the living room was where she was invited and nowhere else.

What’s so mysterious about a dorm suite bedroom, anyway? What, is she hiding two twin beds down there put together to make a queen? The more she speculates, the more her feet inch closer and closer to the mostly-shut door. The light from the other side almost adds to the temptation. Liv, don’t, this is so weird. Yet, she keeps going, all the way until she reaches the door. She looks back down the other end, silent as sin: the shower is still going. So, against all logic in her head saying ‘stay in your lane,’ she pushes the door open. Expecting the worst, like in that Fifty Shades bullshit film.

The first thing to hit, again, is the smell -- it’s not spaghetti. Lavender? Lavender. In the corner on a desk a diffuser is on, spouting steam into the air. It invites her in like a shiny thing would to a squirrel, and in the process, the rest of the space becomes unfolds: A made bed with navy blue comforter and pillow cases, a stuffed bear against the throw pillow -- wait a minute, she has a stuffed bear? Yes, a stuffed bear with a button nose and all. Is that what she doesn’t want anyone seeing? Just a stuffed animal? I have five under my bed alone...

On the wall facing the door the curtains are pulled but the window is shut, and the floor is completely clean. The laundry basket by the door is almost empty, holding nothing but a t-shirt and a few socks. Up on the wall lining her bed there are origami stars and shapes taped all over, some making what look like constellations. They’re beautifully meticulous, just like Cassandra.

Nothing surprises her more than what she finds in and around her corner desk on the right, diagonal to her bed. Standard dorm honey-colored wood and red upholstery on the chair. Her laptop squarely centered, with a cup of pens and pencils off to the side. Books stacked neatly all around. On the attached shelf above it all are pictures with black frames, all shorter than the gold, silver, and blue trophy for some sport or another.

The pictures, though: that is what draws her in even more. From left to right there are four, total: the first shows two adults smiling with two kids: a boy, standing in front of the man holding onto his arm across his chest, and the other, a girl, held on the woman’s hip. She’s wearing a pale pink babydoll dress, she can’t be any other than six by the look of her baby face and twisted pair of buns in her long, dark hair.

Is that her? Wait, shit, then this must be her family.

The next picture provides more answers: the same adult couple, only the kids are older. The teenage boy is holding a soccer ball against his hip, and he has his hand on his Mother’s shoulder. They’re at the park, or somewhere green, and Cassandra is sitting on the blanket hugging her knees in a similar fashion as she did when she and Olivia lounged on the field. No baby pink anything in sight, though, just grey basketball shorts and a shirt, both a little big on her. The third is one of her and the boy again, her on his back riding piggyback and smiling such a joyous smile, it looks as if she was about to burst. Cheesy, and Cassandra is never cheesy. It’s heartwarming, the way the boy is looking at her from his periphery, chest puffed with pride.

The fourth and final one, though, is just him. He’s much older, and the picture is weathered even with the glass shielding it. As if it spend years just by itself, stashed or crammed somewhere, before finally being framed. The shot is off-center, tilted at an angle that cuts off the top of his head, making the shot look clumsy. He’s leaning against a car front, arms crossed and strong. The washed out lighting, like it was taken by a disposable camera, makes everything seem too bright: except for him, his smile, and his car.

He looks so nice. Why does she never talk ab--

“What are you doing?”

Olivia flinches like a cat struck by lightning, whirling around with her hands linking up behind her. She had been leaning over, soaking up every last inch of detail, but to the outside eye she simply looked nosy.

“I! Ah!” she struggles, “I’m...I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Cassandra shows no sign of intended placation. “You didn’t mean to, but you did.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I fucked up. “I did, b-but, I’m sorry. I just wanted...I think I was just…”

She tosses her clothes several feet into the hamper. “Just what? Going into someone’s room without asking or telling them?”

Olivia blushes and looks away, suddenly aware that she’s standing there with nothing but a blue towel on her and skin still damp from the shower. If there was a God, he would smite her this instant from her foolishness.

“Cassandra, I’m sorry,” she can’t say it enough, “I just--”

“Can you at least let me get clothes on?” Her tone is straight-and-narrow, and Olivia can’t quite discern whether she is deeply pissed or deeply understanding. She knows what she sounds like when she’s losing her cool, and it’s not anything like this. It’s unnerving, to say the least. Though, the guilt leads her to vacate the room without so much as a word, shoulders hunched and arms crossed as she skims past her.

The door shuts, leaving her to think about what she did. And boy, does she: making a slow death-march to the couch where she sits smack-dab in the middle. Every half-second feels like an hour, her knee anxiously bobbing. Her arms haven’t left her chest, and her lungs feel like kiddy pools for air.

Then, at last, Cassandra re-emerges. She’s wearing shorts, a black, slim hoodie, and a frown. Rather than join her on the couch she leans against the corner of the hallway wall and folds her own arms, phone in her hand. Olivia gets the courage to meet her eyes, and when she does, she’s reminded of how fatal ‘disappointment’ can feel.

“Well, I’m waiting,” Cassandra says flatly.

“Waiting for...for what?”

“For an explanation as to why you were nosing around my bedroom.”

“I was...um, the thing is, I couldn��t find forks in the--”

“Olivia Sinclair.”

Liv swallows and curls her legs up against her, hands hooking under her thighs. Humor won’t save her this time. “I don’t know! I just...the door was open, and for some reason, I just kept going and going until I was hip-deep and I just...didn’t think...well, fuck, okay, I didn’t think. That’s what happened. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, just please, don’t…” she’s spiraling into nervousness and it makes her words start to blur into one another. The sound of pleading, the kind that comes from someone who’s grown up being corrected too harshly for her age. “Please, I didn’t mean to...t-to...ugh, shit.”

Cassandra’s stoic, but just as Olivia is about to break from the tension it causes, she sighs through her nose and rolls her eyes, chin lifting towards the ceiling as she does so. “At least you’re bad at lying.”

“I know I c--h-hey! I’m not...I…” as she grumbles, she only vindicates Cassandra’s opinion, and elects to shut her mouth rather than dig the hole any deeper.

“Mhm,” Cassandra hums, moving away from the wall. The way her hips sway, like she has the upper hand and most of the battlefield already won, is both attractive and disconcerting. She comes to the side of the coffee table closest to the couch, sitting down on it directly in front of her. It’s so close, she has to keep a knee on either side of Olivia’s legs, but she makes do.

“I don’t like people invading my space,” she says as she settles in, very matter-of-fact.

Olivia is stiller than a grave casket, and stays that way. “Mhm...”

Cassandra smirks drily. “If you know, then why did you do it?”

“Because I didn’t think...”

“You weren’t thinking? You sure about that?” Her stare focuses, as if she has the power to break glass with it alone; only, Olivia is the one to crack.

“I...guess I just wanted to know about you. Maybe I thought your room would...satiate my curiosity.”

Cassandra raises a brow. “Ah, so there’s the answer.”

Olivia wants to leap out the window for a cold breeze. Or escape...kill two birds with one stone, as it were. No one likes their space to be invaded. Why did I do it? That’s such a no-go. God dammit.

“I guess I just wondered.”

“Wondered?”

“About your background. Your...childhood...and your interests…”

“Snooping is a great tactic...if it’s a matter of national security.”

Olivia huffs through her nose. “Oh, yeah, okay, technically that is correct. But...but…”

“But what, Liv? Are you suddenly scared of me?”

No. No, no, no. “No, it’s just!” She stops herself before she is definitely in yelling territory for no good reason. “I’m just nervous about everything, all the time, and sometimes it’s weird. I overthink even when I do impulsive things like go in someone’s room and look at their family pictures and gawk at their teddy bear and their fancy oil diffuser and yes, okay, I gawked. I admit it. It was all gawk….just...gawk-able...fuck, is that even a word? Fuck…” she whispers the last expletive as she leans forward onto her lap, putting her face in her hands. The solace she finds from Cassandra’s discerning capabilities only goes so far, though.

Then, in the self-induced darkness, she hears Cassandra chuckle, low and warm despite the conflict. It’s almost unbelievable, until it’s followed up by the sensation of hands holding onto her forearms and lips pressing to the top of her head. That makes it definitely unbelievable. A lingering kiss, before her hands move up to Olivia’s shoulders and start to rub nice and slow.

“I was only looking for an apology, not to put you to the guillotine.”

“I apologized like five times in one breath, though,” Olivia replies as she lifts her eyes out from her palms.

“Yeah, but you panicked.”

“I did.”

“I was looking for more of a calm, collected, sophisticated apology. Maybe even slightly poetic. Rhyme optional.”

Olivia’s mortification is olympic swimming pool levels, but even then, she finds she cannot escape the desire to giggle at her humor when it shows. It’s both kind-hearted and measured. Her hands go to her lap and she sits up more, chin still tucked from bashfulness.

“I can’t rhyme for shit, but...I can do sophisticated.”

Cassandra grins. “I’ll take it.”

Olivia takes a deep breath, mostly for herself and her still racing heartbeat. “I’m sorry I went into your space uninvited. I should have asked, and communicated, and respected your boundaries. I will take care to do that from now on.” The few seconds of ‘deliberation’ are more than enough on what remains of her nerves.

Luckily, Cassandra ends the anguish with a soft smile. “Very impressive. I don’t forgive you, but it’s impre--”

“What!?”

Cassandra bursts into a laugh, leaning back as she puts her fingers to her mouth. “I’m sor-rry, I couldn’t h...help--”

“You could help it, Pentaghast,” Olivia smiles, and takes it upon herself to push Cassandra the rest of the way down by her shoulders until she’s laying flat and expectant. Rather than do as she did in the field and make it interesting, she jumps off the couch and jogs to the kitchen.

“Kiss my ass, I’m getting pasta!”

“Hey!” Cass jumps up, “do I not get any appreciation as the cook?”

“No! Psh, you must be new here.” Olivia grabs a bowl and takes hold of the serving spoon.

“Oh am I?”

“Yep! Fresh mea-yAGH!” She shrieks as Cassandra’s hands rush around Olivia’s sides so quick they tickle her, cutting her off in her triumph. She giggles and curls against her hold, dropping the thankfully hardy bowl onto the stove while the spoon remains in a death grip. It’s not enough calamity to distract her from the silly awe she’s in, being like this. And Cassandra just rests her chin on her shoulder and chuckles along. Her strength nearly picks Olivia clean up off the kitchen tile.

“Stoopp! Let me!--” Olivia gets out in between laughs, “let me eat, woman!”

“Woman!? Is that all I am to you?!”

Olivia tries to wiggle free, but it’s a lost cause. “Yes! Ugh!” she huffs as Cassandra inches them both away from the stovetop, “A heartless, tormenting, merciless woman!” She finally pivots around to face her, arms bracing against her shoulders. Cassandra is smiling so big and bright...just like the way she did in the picture. Her arms stretch up straight until they wrap around her neck loosely, and Cassandra only glows more. Their laughs simmer down into tired, but wonderful giggling, and Olivia feels nothing but the urge to keep her this way.

“But...you’re my woman.”

“Yeah?” Cassandra mutters back as their faces draw nearer, her hands travel low down Olivia’s back.

Olivia makes a ‘tsk’ sound with her tongue. “Yeah, but...only part time.”

Gullible if only for a moment, she catches on. “...Ugh. Ok, I deserve that.” They move together as she pushes Olivia back against the edge of the counter.

Olivia gasps and giggles more. “Is this the way you’re gonna try to dance with me tomorrow night? All nice and close, then bumper cars?” Olivia teases, tongue sticking out for added effect.

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, tomorrow night. The party..?”

Cassandra pauses and grins, but loses exuberance. She rubs Olivia’s arm lovingly before breaking from her. Her side-step brings her to the stove, where she picks back up the bowl Olivia dropped, and the spoon she surrendered; the pot needs stirring, apparently.

“Cass?” Olivia asks, feeling a bit left to hang, her hands going behind her and resting on the counter.

“Hm?”

“Is...everything alright?”

Cassandra nods, eyes still on her very important stirring. “I’m just hungry. Running you down must have reinspired my appetite.”

Olivia lowers a brow. “Uh-huh.” Her skepticism is either undetected or ignored, though, as Cassandra spoons the first generous spoonful into the bowl and hands it to her. Once it’s taken off her hands she goes to the second, and is equally as unceremonious with her own serving. Olivia stares down at the amazing looking meal in her hands but can’t seem to just enjoy it. Is she trying to ditch out? Is this a ditch-out attitude? Ugh, she does hate it. She’s just going for--

Cassandra hands her a fork. “I was thinking we could all ride together. I know how to drive Cullen’s car, anyways.”

“I mean, sure, but that means you’d have to…” it’s a wonder it takes her so long to figure it out, but when she does, the sentence doesn’t need finishing.

“Yeah, but that’s fine. I wasn’t planning on it, anyway,” Cassandra seems to read her thoughts anyways, and begins twirling the first bite of noodles around her fork.

“Okay. I just...I dunno, I thought you might want to since you did at Rylen’s…”

Cassandra shrugs, and leans her hip against the stove. Her forkful suspended in the air. “Yeah, but, that’s Rylen’s.”

Olivia scoffs, and begins forking around for a meatball to take a bit out of. “That place isn’t exactly child safety approved. What’s the difference?”

Cassandra swallows and tucks an ankle behind the other. “The difference is I don’t want to be drinking when I meet all your friends at once.”

“Oh, come on, it won’t be that bad. I mean, I went whiskey-hunting up in the cupboards the first...time…” crap, this isn’t a shining example. “You know, nevermind.” She shoves her first bite into her mouth to help ignore the sound of Cassandra’s smug chuckling. At first, she’s pressed, but then she looks down again in amazement.

“What the fuck? Cassandra, this is so good,” she mumbles with a full mouth, preparing another forkful, “oh my God.”

“Have you never had spaghetti before?”

“Ugh! Yes, I have! That’s not…” she forks it into her mouth some more, reckless abandon and starvation taking over. “Holy shit.”

Cassandra smiles and keeps modestly twisting and preparing her mature, normal person serving. “Here I was worrying I wouldn’t compare to your standards.”

“What, am I Rachael Ray all of a sudden?”

“By the way Ellinor looks at you in reverent fear while you explain how you get your onions diced so fine, I’d say it’s a strong possibility.”

“It’s just the way you hold the kn--you know what, I’m gonna just…” Olivia shakes her head, wiping her dirty mouth on her wrist. “Did you just know how to do this?”

“No way, I learned a long time ago. It’s one of the few things I can cook off memory.”

Olivia eyes her as she takes another bite. She wants to ask where, or who, did. Someone, at some point, had to have taught her -- and maybe there’s a story. A funny story, or a cheesy one. It doesn’t matter what kind, as long as it is one that could help her discover more about what makes her tick. Olivia’s never wanted to know every crumb of a person like this before like she does now, for her.

“Hm. Good to know, but I think I wanna know if you got the better bowl.”

Cassandra peers up, nonplussed. “What? But, it’s the same dish…”

Olivia draws herself in, step by devious step. “You sure? ‘Cause I think I gotta do a quality check.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. This is a democracy, right?”

Cassandra snorts, twisting another forkful just as Olivia is about to collide with her. She holds it out carefully, bowl underneath for insurance. “You are ridiculous.”

“Mhm,” Olivia repeats, before she takes the bite with glee.

“And this is a democratic-republic, woman.”

“...Woman?” she asks, but with her mouth full, it sounds more like ‘wuhmin.’

They link eyes, and Cassandra shakes her head slow. “You heard me.”

Olivia swallows, wiping the corners of her mouth and proper, before she sets down her bowl off to the side. She does the same with Cassandra’s, so that it can rest beside hers.

“Say that to my face,” she dares, pitting her torso against hers.

In return, Cassandra tilts her head, hand wrapping around her. “I just did. That was kind of the point.”

“You really don’t know how to play along with things without critique, do you?”

“I just don’t like double-standards.”

Their mouths veer in close as Olivia’s hands slide up her Cassandra’s arms. “You don’t like a lot of things.”

“No, but I like you.”

Olivia’s eyes widen. “Oh? Prove it.”

That’s the kind of thing you say right before you get kissed so well the world could end around your feet and you wouldn’t care: which is exactly why she said it. And the competitive look in Cassandra’s eye doesn’t disprove it. But just as she’s about to make her move, a ruckus erupts on the door. Out of nowhere Cassandra’s hold turns from casual to protective, and she whirls around to face the corner where the door is shaking from what sounds like hooves rather than fists. It isn’t long until the perpetrators are identified.

“Cass! I really gotta pee, help a guy out!”

“Yeah, Cass!! wake up, grandma!”

“Answer the group chat!!”

Three voices, all somewhat slurred, and definitely gregarious. Cassandra’s shoulders release and she moans in disgust, letting go of Olivia and marching towards the door to save it before the hinges break. She opens the door wide and fast, and two of the three stumble in while she stands by.

The boys make various ‘woah’ sounds as they collect themselves. Olivia recognizes one of them, the guy who opened the door at Rylen’s party. Which means he must be Rylen, of course. The other has a fresh undercut and is wearing a white v-neck and jeans, too well-dressed for a jock she’d think. The cloud of Axe-smelling odor overtakes the room and makes Olivia’s nose itch.

“What have I told you all about coming over on the weekends?” Cassandra asks, indignant.

They all straighten up. The third of them, a woman with brown hair tied back and wearing jean shorts and a sports bra underneath a flannel, walks in with keys in-hand. “You said...uh...call?”

“Yes. That is exactly what I said.”

“We’re just stopping by! We cut through campus on the way home. A break was in order.” She glides on through between the two others, immediately spotting Olivia standing with a thoughtless bitch face on. Or, she must be, because she stops dead in her tracks, and even backs up.

“Woah, dude, I’m sorry,” she puts his hands up, “I didn’t know--”

“Hey! You’re Ellinor’s friend!” Rylen manages to collect himself. He shoots a look at Cassandra and smiles big, “wait...what are you two doing wi--”

“You said you had to use the bathroom,” Cass is quick to usurp, still glaring.

Rylen’s happy-go-lucky act subsides, and he keeps his head down as he walks off out towards the hall. He gives a “Yes, Ma’am,” before disappearing completely.

“Sorry, Cass,” the one in jeans says as he pulls out a chair and sits sideways. “We haven’t been...uh...well, we’ve had a few.” He whisper yells it like he’s trying to tell a secret across a room. Oh boy.

“I couldn’t tell,” she replied, shutting the door and going to the cabinet. “You need water?”

“Nah!”

“Uh huh, okay,” she takes a couple plastic cups out and goes to the sink.

While she is busy filling them with tap water, Olivia is still there like a Greek statue, unsure of what to do. Jocks in close proximity like this feels...odd. Like they’re just as apt to sniff her hair as shake her hand; or maybe that’s just her snobbery. She takes hold of her elbow and slides herself up on top the counter to the right of the stove, reminiscent of her climbing escapade at Rylen’s house, only now she’s just trying to keep out of the way rather than day drink.

The seated guy’s gaze flickers over to her, as if he just now realizes she’s there, watching. “Hey, I’m Krem. I don’t think we’ve ever met,” he waves.

She nods once, and manages a grin. “Hello.”

“So your name is Hello? Is it a f-family name?” he gurgles out the last half, unable to keep himself from chuckling while the other stands wide and joins in. Oh great, they’re both laughing at her, and she’s only said one word. Can she phone a friend? Surely Ellinor knows what to do.

“Krem, cut it out,” Cassandra hands them both their cups. “This is Olivia. Olivia, these are some of my teammates, Krem and Lysette. You already know the brute using too much of our soap in the bathroom.” She returns to Olivia’s side and places her hand on the stove handle where a clean towel hangs.

Olivia side-eyes her, before the staring from both of them provokes a response. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Cass, is this the girl you--”

“Not a word, Lys.”

“...Right,” Lysette answers, rolling her lips shut and looking off to the side. “Well, good to meet you finally. We see you on the field with Ellinor all the time!”

“Yeah, we...we do that,” Olivia shrugs, but it comes off a little mechanical in her attempt to be approachable.

Krem finishes a gulp of water. “I think we had a class together. Was it anthropology…?”

“Oh, hah, no it couldn’t have, I haven’t taken any anthro classes here.”

“...Oh! Gotcha. Hm. I wonder who that blonde was then…”

“There are quite a few of us around. We have a local chapter established. We call ourselves “The Bleach Bunnies.””

They both laugh, a bit uncoordinated, but they laugh. Cass shoots her a grin, but in her Captain persona, she can’t shake her vigilance for her inebriated peers. A door opens from out in the hall, and heavy feet track on the carpet towards where they are all congregated.

“So, Liv,” Rylen dusts his hopefully freshly washed hands off, “you have eyes for our Master and Commander, here?”

Cassandra growls. “Rylen.”

“No, no, Cass! This is tradition--”

“Since when is it ‘tradition’?”

“Since uh, 2003! Approxim-manly!” He waves a hand dismissively, and Cassandra rolls her eyes and snorts with frustration. “Now, look. You’ve let Cullen get all the action from us even though you’ve been having a little escapowerade all on your own.”

“Esca...power..?” Olivia tilts her head and looks to Cass for answers, but she’s above trying to figure out the linguistics of the situations. The scene from Finding Nemo where Marlin yells ‘it’s like he’s trying to speak to me, I know it!’ comes to mind.

“You know, a randall-view--”

“Okay, okay,” Krem saves his friend from further butchering the English and now French language, “I think she gets it, dude.”

“Alright, fine! But she has to do the thing!”

“What thing?” Lysette asks, folding her arms against her leather bomber jacket.

“She has to do a shot!”

Do jocks just test each other for every little rite of passage with shots? Is that all there is to their courage? Jesus Christ. Olivia waits for him to say something, anything, to clue in that he’s joking. Or that he’s wrong. But he just stands there, t-shirt, khakis, crocs and all, hands sliding into his pockets and chest puffed out like he’s the big ol’ man of the house.

“Rylen, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Olivia says calmly.

“Oh? You think yourself above the rules?”

“No, I think myself already indebted to you in the amount of half a bottle of whiskey, the one I nabbed out your cupboard about…two? Three? Weekends ago. I prepaid my hazing process.”

They all go quiet, eyes and mouths agape at varying degrees. Even Cassandra has teeny bit of a wince on her lips.

Rylen, now rebuffed, blinks like that white guy gif. “Uh...oh. Indeb-ted.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh...that would...yeah that would do it. Wait, but, I thought Elli--”

“She had the rest of it, but she shared that with Cullen. I alone took down the first half.”

“But...but you’re tiny.”

Cassandra scowls while the others try not to giggle. Olivia only shrugs a second time, and picks up her bowl of spaghetti and brings it to her lap.

“What can I say: the shorter the woman, the closer to hell, Rylen.” A bit more comfortable, she lifts the fork of noodles to her lips. For some reason the other two start to making low noises of ‘oohs!’ and ‘uhh!” which seems to mean they approve? Or are at least entertained. It occurs to her that this must mean she bested him.

“Good one, Olive,” Krem remarks, so cheerful that she doesn’t have the heart to correct him on her name.

“I think that is answer enough,” Cassandra agrees, shifting her weight onto her feet. “I think you all should get going, it looks like the night’s just begun for you.”

“Ah, yeah, shit,” Rylen shakes his shoulders and saunters with that wide machismo walk, sizing Olivia up some more in his inebriated state, before he ushers them all with him. It all happens as quickly and rumbly as it began, and they stampede back from whence they came with much less fuss. A symphony of “Later, Cass!” and “Sorry, Cass!” with one “See ya, Olive!” as the cherry on top of a socially-awkward sundae. At last the door shuts, swiftly locks, and the quiet is welcomed back into the room. The nice, sober quiet.

Cassandra comes back, palms pressed to her thighs before she uses them to rub her face with a little exasperation. “Ugh. That won’t be the end of it.”

“Do they come around often?”

“More during the season, but...now it’s playoffs, so I don’t know. Rylen’s place tends to be headquarters, but sometimes...they just...ugh.” She elects to stand in the middle of the tile floor and fold her arms. She still looks a bit anxious, trying to decompress from the rush of events. Olivia can’t help but fixate on it while slicing a meatball that’s too big for one bite. Did that actually scare her?

“Hey,” she holds up the forked half and offers it, and takes on her best ‘Rylen’ voice, “I think you need more meat, bro.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes and grins with dread. “Don’t even start.”

“Bro, come on, get that protein. How else are you supposed to get--”

“No one ever says ‘get that protein,’” she chuckles and walks to her, and Olivia spreads her knees to invite her in; something she happily plays along with. All trapped in her hold, Olivia feeds her the sacred bite, and tries not to burst into giggles again.

“Do you still need your proof of my affection for you?” Cassandra inquires, wiping the corner of her mouth and then resting her hands on Olivia’s thighs.

There’s the penchant to continue the jest and say no: put up a fight and see where it gets her. Olivia is always ready for more playful fighting. But what can you say to a woman who was ready to deploy herself as a human shield against the unknown forces on the other side of a burgeoning door?

“I think I’m good.” She sets down her meal in favor of the rim of Cass’s hood and brings her in even closer.

“Are you sure? Because I did have a plan of action.”

“A plan?” she says hushed, “and what is this plan, exactly?”

“Uh...debating over whether to watch Titanic or Love, Actually. Then debating over the acting abilities of either cast. Then...more debate about the historical accuracies and politics that you will inevitably bring up when a male character is awful or another character is racist--”

“Or classist. You forgot classist. I hate that shit.”

“Yes. Classist.”

“Yeah.” Her smile widens, and she knocks noses with her playfully. “I suppose that all could be evidence to further support your claim. I can oblige. We should get started though, it’s already kinda late and I might have forgotten my ID to get into my dorm after 10...again...because I’m a dumbass.”

“Or you could just not go home.”

Olivia’s stomach erupts into butterflies drenched in pasta sauce and garlic seasoning, so much so her back arches like she’s being secretly zapped up with electricity. “I...could also do that.”

“What, you don’t want to?”

“No, I do, I guess I’m just...nevermind. I’m down!”

She smiles again. “Okay, good.”

“On one condition.”

Cassandra blinks and stops just as they are about to kiss. “Hm?”

“Only...if we do the thing I wanted to do the first night I stayed over.”

“You...you still want to make a pillow fort?”

Her shoulders bunch up in pre-eminent glee. “Yeeaaah.”

Cassandra sighs, but it doesn’t sound completely out of patience. “Alright, fine, you drive a hard bargain.”

More butterflies. More spaghetti butterflies. I can’t wait to brag about this to Ellinor, she’s gonna be so jealous. Yeah Cullen can eat two burgers in five minutes flat but can he say that he made a pillow fort?! Can anyone? This is some next-level shit. They kiss to seal the deal, and to her delight, she tastes like marinara.

#college au update #adventures of ellinor and olivia #day & age #friendship fic!#modern thedas au #WOOOOOO I LOVE ME SOME FUNNY FLUFF

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