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prettylittlebutterflie · 3 years

Text

It All Started With A Break

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31840603

Okay, so I have fallen down the rabbit hole known as MariBat and I just can't stop all the ideas I have because of this and decided that enough is enough and I am doing it.

This is my very first fanfic - or any fic actually - but I hope you guys like it and be WARNED that some of you may find some part of this story that's similar with another and that may've been because I really liked the idea when I read it and wanna have a kinda similar thing here and the same goes with some trope of this fanfic in the future, but I'll do my best to keep it unique. I am also new to the DCU, but I'm doing research and planning to binge watch stuff and if you could please help this poor soul find a way to navigate and somehow get an idea on how that universe work (especially abt the batfam), I'll be forever grateful to thy savior.

This fic is canon until S4 Ep 1&2 (Truth & Lie) of MLU and as for the rest, I'll let you guys know.

So yeah, that's all. Enjoy and hope you guys like it. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

P.S. Sorry I kinda ranted, this is my first time actually posting smth so bear with me people

SYNOPSIS

It’s been four years ever since Hawkmoth, who now goes by the name Shadow Moth, began his reign of terror in Paris. Four years worth of akumas that have brought pain and suffering. Four years of no rest in controlling their emotions, afraid of what may come if they were controlled.

After four long years, the Miraculous Team can finally see a ray of light. Everything they have sacrificed for that one goal they all share is finally going to be repaid… Not.

Locating Hawkmoth was easier said than done, and the frustration is finally getting to them. With that, it was decided that they need a break from their hero lives — ok, maybe not. After all, Shadow Moth is proving himself to be a workaholic (like dude, don’t you have anything better to do than destroy everyone’s schedule?) — but anyways, it was clear. THEY. NEED. A. BREAK. Away from Paris. Away from Hawkmoth. Away from the frickin akumas.

So yeah, that’s how it was decided (more like forced) that they are going to America to relax, let loose, and have some fun. After all, who knows, maybe a break is all they need to get things to start getting better — or worse.

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PROLOGUE

“Alright. So, we are going to take a break—”

“For two months.”

“For two months. And because it’s supposed to be a break, that means—”

“No thinking of anything Moth related.”

“No thinking of anything Moth rela— Moth related?”

“You know, Hawkmoth, Red Moth, Shadow Moth, those Moths.”

“Right. Moths. Aside from Moths, it also means—’

“No thinking of akumas.”

“No thinking of akumas. For this entire break, we’re not going to think about—”

“Anything Miraculous related.”

“Anything Miraculous related. Alya, do you really need to do that every time I’m about to say it?”

“It’s because she knows you. We know you. It’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how you always promise not to worry about something, especially anything Miraculous related, just to break it the moment anything related to it comes up. So, yes. She needs to say it and repeat it as much as possible for it to go through that head of yours.”

“Guys, I swear, I’m really going to follow through with this plan. I did agree that we need to unwind ourselves since we’re getting way too stressed and that won’t help us focus on our job.”

“Only after we bugged you about it. Get it? Bugged. Pfft—”

“Hey! Puns are my thing. And you shouldn’t be saying it like that. You’re making it ape-solutely obvious and that makes it not punny anymore”

“Dude, do you really have to do that? That’s so not paw-some. Pfft—”

“All puns aside, it is true that we had to convince you, Mari-hime, to agree on taking a break. Although I rarely take a break from fencing, my Mother and I are aware of the importance of having one and may I also remind you that you were the one who taught us that.”

“And that’s why I told you guys to go have one.”

“But you plus the kitty are the ones who need it the most. Remember what future-me said? About you two always leading us and how she— or rather I am the last one called upon? That means you guys are always gonna work while the rest of us may or may not be needed in some fights.”

“There is a 97.6% probability of you two showing up in fights.”

“Because we have to. It’s our responsibility as the one leading our team.”

“M’lady’s right. Besides, there were only the two of us in the beginning and with all the akumas, we just got used to it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to rest. The music I’m hearing from both of you is filled with the stress you guys have and it doesn’t sound nice. Maybe you two unwinding will help make it more beautiful and even more powerful than before.”

“Fine. We’re all taking a break—”

“Especially you and Adrien.”

“Especially Adrien and I, for a month. Now, does anyone have any ideas on how we're gonna do that?”

“Ooh! Me, me! I have a competition coming up this summer break so I can’t really go anywhere too far since I have some training to do.”

“I’m sticking with the ape. Gotta keep an eye on him if I don’t want him messing up with the timeline. Plus, it’ll be pretty fun beating him up every time he asks for a challenge.”

“Hey!”

“The same goes for me. Someone has to make sure the correct time is recorded with not a single millisecond of it missed. Kwami knows how many times he messes it up whenever he does the recording himself.”

“Okay. So Kim, Alix, and Max will be staying in Paris. Are you guys sure that you’ll be able to take a break even if you’re in the city?”

“Yeah, we're fine. And I am totally beating you next time, little bunny.”

“Whatever. There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, y’know.”

“Anything else?”

“Oh, I have an internship in America this coming summer. The one at the Daily Planet. I just got the email and I was finally given an invite!”

“Really? Cool! Told you you’ll get it, babe!”

“Yeah! That’s really awesome, Alya! So I’m assuming you'll be accepting that?”

“You got it, girl! I mean, this is the Daily Planet we’re talkin’ about. I’ll learn so much about writing and journalism there, I’ve just got to take it.”

“So Alya’s going to America. Anyone else with plans outside of the country?”

“There will be an upcoming world-class fencing competition this summer and Mother and I have discussed my participation in it. It will be held in the States as well, specifically Gotham, two weeks before the end of the summer break. Maybe you should participate in it as well, Adrien. That way, you’ll have an excuse for your father to leave the country. I’m sure Mother will be happy to convince him as well to let you participate in it. That way, at the very least, I’ll have someone I know who’ll be an actual challenge.”

“Really? That actually sounds great! I’m sure Father would agree if your mother’s the one who suggested it. Thanks Kagami!”

“Okay. Kagami and hopefully Adrien will have a fencing competition in America too.”

“My Dad is having a tour in America right now. He’ll be having the last one at Metropolis during the summer break. He actually wants me to go with him, but I declined. It’ll be great if we all could go there and see it.”

“Dude, that’s so cool! Maybe you’ll even get to perform with your dad on stage. You did make that song with him that reached the record chart’s top. I’ve even made a playlist based on it.”

“Okay then, that makes Alya, Kagami, Adrien, and Luka going to the States. Chloe, do you also have plans to go there this summer? Maman said your mother was thinking of inviting you to be one of the models in an upcoming fashion show there.”

“She did mention something like that, but I wasn’t really paying attention to details once I found out that it’ll be outside of Paris. I’ll discuss it with her again then I can have my much needed vacation in the States.”

“So now that makes five of you going to America. Nino?”

“Well, I don’t really have any plans this summer. Just chill out and relax, y’know, make some playlist, listen to some music.”

“Ooh! How about you come with us, babe? That’ll be so cool and not all of us will be doing something most of the time while we’re there. You can just chill and relax there and maybe you could even study the kind of music they listen to and make a playlist out of it.”

“I would love to go, but I don’t think I really got the money for it. ‘Sides, my parents might not allow me to go out of the country.”

“You’re already 18 and if your parents ever say no, just tell them that you want to really relax, without keeping your emotions in check and have the freedom to let it out. I’m sure they’ll understand and unlike my Father, they actually listen to you.”

“As for the money, I have some savings and if you want I can lend you some-”

“But-”

“Lend. I’m not just giving it to you. You will have to pay me back, alright? And if you try to say no again, I’m going to insist that you don’t pay me anymore.”

“You sure? You're the best! Thanks, Minette.”

“No problem. So now that makes six of them—”

“Seven.”

“What?”

“Seven. We’re including you.”

“Me? But Alya, I already got plans this summer.”

“Plans? What plans?”

“I was planning on working on my commissions this summer an— Guys, can you all stop rolling your eyes on me and no, Chloe. I don’t need you doing it again.”

“Girl! We all agreed that we’re going to take a break this summer. How does doing your commissions sound like a break to you?”

“You all got your own thing to do this summer and mine just happens to be those. Also, the break was for anything Miraculous related. My commissions don't exactly fall under that.”

“Nope. We actually all agreed that for you, commissions should be added to the list of things you get to take a break from.”

“Adrien! I thought you’re supposed to be my partner? So much for the two of us against the world.”

“He is still your partner alright. But also, as someone who truly cares about you, he decided that you really needed a break. And besides girl, this could be your chance!”

“Chance? What chance?”

“Your pen pal! Doesn’t he live in Gotham? You could go and finally meet him. Who knows? Maybe something might happen.”

“Ooh, he’s from there? That’s awesome! You should totally go meet him. Maybe you could even go on a date or two-”

“A date?! Kim, he’s just a frie-”

“You stop right there, Dupain-Cheng! It’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous! All of us already had enough with Adrikins always calling you ‘just a friend’ when it’s pretty obvious how totally untrue that statement was. We don’t need you ending up just like him, thank you very much.”

“But he really is-”

“Yeah right. If he really is just a friend, then why do you guys stay up all night talking to each other? You always immediately check your phone whenever a notif comes up and you smile like a love-sick fool whenever you read his messages for you. And don’t get me started on the way you gush about him non-stop.”

“There is something beautiful in your music whenever you talk or even think about him.”

“Your smiles are much brighter compared to before the two of you got to know each other.”

“Markov and I also have a record of your heartbeat and we have observed your heart beating faster whenever we talk about this certain topic.”

“And it's been more than a year since you two have become pen pals. The two of you are now so close that it’s a wonder why you guys still haven’t video-called each other just because you insist for your first time seeing each other to be in person.”

“I think it’s rather romantic. They’ll look into each other’s eyes for the first time then BAM! They’re finally together. But I still plan on giving him a shovel talk the first chance I get. Can’t have him break my twin’s heart without him knowing I have the god of destruction on my side.”

“What do you mean shovel talk- I mean, what even gives you the idea that he thinks of me that way for you guys to assume that we’ll end up in… in that kind of relationship?”

“He’d be an idiot if he still hasn’t fallen in love with you.”

“Literally almost everyone I know had a crush on you or have you forgotten already that my boyfriend’s one of those people?”

“I know for a fact that that’s true since I’ve already admitted that one of my reasons why I began bullying you back then was because I had a crush on you.”

“I must admit, I think I also had the same feeling towards you at the beginning of our friendship until I really got to know Luka and you helped us get together.”

“Oh! There’s also that. Do you actually know just how many people you’ve helped get together, buginette? Alya’s even written an article about it at the Ladyblog of how you are also known as Paris’s own cupid and how all of the couples you’ve paired ended up living a happy life together.”

“Everyone’s been saying how Ladybug’s the next best person they can go to if they ever want to find love after Andre.”

“And yet every time you try to pair yourself with someone, the magic just doesn’t seem to work.”

“So we all decided that we’ll be Ladybug’s cupid and pair her up with the boy she just can’t seem to get off of her head.”

“Now, you coming or what? I won’t be taking the money you’ll be lending me if you say no. I’m only going with these dudes if you also come or else I’ll just end up getting bored when there’s no one who can go around the city with me.”

“...”

“““...”””

“Fine. You guys win—”

“““YES!”””

“So here’s the final plan for the break. Kim, Alix, and Max will be staying in Paris for Kim’s competition, while the rest of us will be going to America doing our own stuff—”

“With you finally meeting your pen pal.”

“Yes. Alright. I’ll go and meet my pen pal. And during the break, no thinking about anything miraculous related. If ever there’s an akuma, only those who’ll be needed will go. Max will bring us to the akuma’s location and if there is anything going on that we can’t be excused of or if the fight goes longer than expected, Alix will bring us back in time making it look like we just went to the toilets, the usuals. Any questions?”

“““Non.”””

“Good. Operation: Taking a Break is good to go.”

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Yay! Finally got to post it. So comments? What do you guys think and who do you think who is saying what? I know there will be new holders in S4, but I decided I’ll either make them a temp or they still don’t know the other’s identities bc of stuff, so yeah. Still thinking abt it. Adios (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31840603

#first post #maribat #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #maridami #marinette dupen chang #damian wayne #batfam #batfamily #team miraculous #miraculous team #ml x dc #miraculous ladybug

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piracytheorist · 3 years

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Small Signs (1/1)

Fandom: Resident Evil 7

Summary: Ethan wakes up, thinking of his wife, who has been missing for three years. Little does he know today will be the first news of her he'll get since she disappeared.

Word count: 1.4k AO3

Another dull day.

Another day Ethan wakes up and the other side of the bed is cold.

One would think that he would get used to it, after all this time. But no. Some days he still finds himself waking up and instinctively reaching to hold her.

She always responded to his touch, no matter how deep her sleep. She would sigh and move her body closer to him, then nestle there until she actually woke. He would wait for her to wake up, work honestly be damned, he'd think sometimes.

He stretches his arm, laying it where she would've been, hand on the pillow, fingers running softly over the fabric. He would’ve been mad to think that her scent could have stayed on it after three years.

He sighs. Three years of confusion.

Work be damned, he used to think, but it's the only thing that has managed to keep his mind occupied. His co-workers realized quickly that he was dealing with Mia's disappearance on his own way and time, and they left him alone about all the "You should move on" stuff as soon as they started.

Not that he doesn't appreciate their sympathy. But they’re not in the know.

Even their friends feel distanced to him now. They’ve mourned Mia already, and he’s now the odd one out. He still enjoys their company, but despite the remarks on how it isn't too early to start going out again being rare, sometimes it feels like they can’t get it.

He just wishes he had any fucking way to explain to them the very last message he got from Mia.

"Stay away. Forget that you ever knew me. Have a good life."

It still sends shivers down his spine to think of it. He remembers the moment he watched it the first time clear as ever. How he'd stayed frozen, almost shivering from shock, in front of his computer, for who knows how long after the video had ended. The sirens blaring in the background. Mia's distraught, tired, dirty face. Her telling him to forget her. Completely. As if she never existed.

A part of him – a small one, but a part nonetheless – was almost angry at her request. She'd lied to him – and admitted so – and after all those years of being together, she just expected him to forget all about it? Their love? Her admittance? Her guilt?

Her?

He groans in frustration. Despite anything else, he feels guilty for being even that little angry at her. And for the life of him, he can’t believe she didn’t love him. She couldn’t have just left him… there must have been another reason.

Maybe he should do as she said and have a good life. Maybe he should really move on. Maybe he should just do as their friends want to tell him but won't.

But still... If they had known...

The police had instructed him to not tell anyone about Mia's last video. Even if they hadn't, he still had no idea how to even start that conversation.

"Yeah, first she sent me that sweet message, with the promise of coming back soon, and that same night she sent me this one and it scared the shit out of me. And then she disappeared without a trace. Can you see now why I can't really move on?"

If only he knew what happened. Without a body found, he believes he'll spend eternity hoping he'll get news of her. Not that a body is difficult to get lost and destroyed to the point of no recognition, that fucking voice he hasn’t been able to mute even three years later, says again.

If only he could just know what happened. How, or why she disappeared. If she died, at least if it was quick and painless. At this point he's gotten used to the jab inside his chest at the thought of her actually being dead. It still hurts as much as first, but the pain comes less often and more anticipated.

He wants answers. What was with the creepy video, why she lied to him, what she hid from him.

Who is he kidding? Most of all, he wants her.

It isn't like that every day. He gets up with his alarm clock and loses himself in the morning prep routine, focuses on work, goes back home and finds ways to spend the day by either cleaning, tidying up, maybe distracting himself with a beer with friends and then goes to sleep, hoping the next day will provide opportunities for distractions again.

He's given up on the piano. He was pretty mediocre at it already, so it's not like he has any memories of himself playing exquisite sonatas and Mia sitting next to him, being entranced by his fingers dancing across the keys. But he's supposed to be happy for it. He's supposed to give heart to it.

He doesn't feel like he has much of a heart left. Sad thought, he's aware. But it's also true.

The alarm clock on his phone finally rings. He silences it and gets up.

That one small difference, waking up a few minutes before the alarm, stains his entire day. When he opens the cupboard to take the coffee jar, his eyes fall on the sugar jar and he remembers how Mia took her coffee with sugar, and how that jar has barely seen any use in the past three years. When he washes his now empty coffee mug, the lack of a second cup to wash brings a feeling of emptiness in him. When he brushes his teeth, Mia’s old toothbrush is almost taunting him. He didn’t throw it away at first, because, well, she could have returned at any time, right? After the designated three months since she’d first used it passed, he felt as if throwing it away would send out a sign of resignation to the universe, or something. So there it stays and haunts him.

He’s almost managed to forget about that and ignore its existence. But today, being such a day, when he opens the towel cupboard to take out a new one, it catches his eye. An unopened pregnancy test box, probably expired by now.

The last pregnancy test Mia’d had was negative. “When I come back, we’ll try again. It will be positive, then. I know it,” she’d said.

He just had to change the towels today of all days, didn’t he?

He thinks that getting out of the apartment will make him feel better, with some – relatively – clean air in his lungs. Instead, it makes him feel emptier. No goodbye kiss, no see you later, her house keys still and always missing.

Even with work he can't get his mind off. Especially when an old man calls him for help with his computer and starts talking about how it was a gift from his lovely wife.

Is it too much, that he once dreamed – and sometimes, his traitorous mind still dreams – of himself and Mia growing into an adorable old couple like them? Is it because he was so damn happy, that the universe decided a different path for him?

Ethan feels thankful, albeit reluctant, when Jim invites him out for drinks that night.

Had he been asked, he'd never believe that his sullen mood that day would be a sign. A sign that, while Jim would be talking about a particularly demanding and annoying customer, Ethan's phone would ring with a notification. That he'd turn it on and in a shocked state he'd see that he got an email. From Mia.

Dulvey, Louisiana. Baker Farm. Come get me.

It's her account, he knows it. He even knows the password; he had logged in a few times over the past three years in the frail hope it would somehow bring her to him. Last time was one and a half month ago, on their anniversary.

He doesn't even stop to think. Louisiana, fuck, that's nearly across the country.

Well, no time to waste then. He starts picking up his stuff.

"You okay?" Jim asks.

"Yeah. I- I gotta go."

"Something wrong?"

"No, I just- I gotta go."

"Ethan, what the hell?"

What the hell indeed.

He nearly runs to the exit, not looking back at his friend.

Mia is out there, calling out to him, and he's going to get her back.

A/N: Boi has no single clue what nightmare he's getting himself into XD

Anyway, I headcanon that Ethan plays a bit of piano. There are enough appearances of pianos both in RE7 and RE8 (and even a puzzle with one) so I'm going with that. I feel that it's just a hobby to him, so practicing everyday is not his priority, and after Mia disappeared it would just feel wrong to him. Boi's sentimental af.

I looked all over the game's credits, and I couldn't find if the dude Ethan calls at the begining of the game has a name (or even who voices him, lol), so I gave him one myself. I just thought it'd be cool to tie it in that way.

Also, hey, this is the first time I write for this fandom. Yay me! Here's to probably writing more fic!

#piracytheorist writes #Ethan Winters #Mithan #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 7 #re ff #re7 ff #I have no single clue how to tag this lmao #writing for new fandoms be like that #I'm expanding my fandoms list how cool is that

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sweetsubharry · 3 years

Note

hi! do you have any fic recs of like really fluffy one shots

Hiya!! yes I do!! Aren’t they just the best sometimes?? Sorry this took me a few days to do! I had over 260 fics to go through on ao3 just under fluff (I really need to tidy my bookmarks!) 💖 There’s 79 in this list so it’s a long one!! ^-^

please stay safe and read the tags everyone! :)

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Thunder started it by booloveshiscuppycake

Harry's always been scared of thunder storms. But louis' always been there to comfort him. Friendship and comfort turn into love. (Fluffy as shit)

but he cant be what you need (if he's eighteen) by lingerielarries

“I need you to do something for me.” Harry said, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

“It seems like you’re asking me to kill for you, H.” Louis laughed nervously.

“It’s nothing that drastic, I promise. It’s just. I don’t think it’s a secret that I’m not a.. normal eighteen year old.” Louis furrowed his eyebrows at that, narrowing his eyes at the younger boy.

“Are people giving you a hard time?” Louis wondered. Harry shifted in his seat and brushed some of his fringe off his forehead.

“Yeah, that’s. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Harry swallowed nervously. He could feel the sweat pooling at his hairline so he wiped it with the sleeve of his sweater. “I need you to uhm, pretend to be my boyfriend.”

the one where harry is sick of getting bullied and casts louis as the hot punk boyfriend to scare them away. louis needs harry to return the favor.

punk!louis and flowerchild!harry

the love is ours to make (so we should make it) by lingerielarries

“I’m.. Harry. I nanny? For Ernest and Doris?” Harry responded.

“A nanny? How old even are you? You look twelve.” Louis remarked. Something caught Louis’ eye, and a closer look revealed that Harry had a coat of pink nail polish on his fingers.

“Nineteen. I’m nineteen.” Harry replied.

“Right. Nineteen, wears pink, flower crowns and paints his nails. Who the actual fuck did my mum hire?”

the one where louis takes some time off from life to return home, only to be met with a strange boy in pink and a flowercrown as the nanny of his siblings.

All I See is You by ElegantSurrender

Even with the blood gushing from his nose, he couldn’t keep his thoughts on anything but the boy in front of him. He was just so… pretty. He smiled to himself, which only seemed to worry his boyfriend more.

“Why’re you smiling?” Louis asked confusedly, moving Harry’s bloody hand away, and replacing it with his, pinching his nose shut with a tissue. “You’re bleeding, and you’re fucking smiling.”

“Seeing you makes me happy.”

(or the one where Harry has a bloody nose and Louis takes care of him, and Harry really really loves Louis)

Pretty Blue Eyes (I don't care about the nightmares) by justgotowisharder

Harry has nightmares, Louis hates sharing the bed, they end up talking about dreams, they read Freud and they fall in love in the process.

Breathe by dontlietomehoney

Harry has an asthma attack and Louis is scared to death. What follows after though, scares both boys, pulling them apart and bringing them together.

with your love we could breathe underwater by luminescents

Harry’s brow furrows, a look of confusion spreading over his face. “But I am real. I exist, see,” he says, raising a hand out of the water and wiggling his fingers at Louis.

Louis finds himself relaxing a bit. Harry seems harmless really. And he’s quite cute, for something that’s not supposed to exist. If Louis is indeed having a hallucination right now, at least it’s a cute one.

AU where Harry is a mermaid, Louis is a human, and they both discover a lot more than they anticipated.

yes, you make my life worthwhile by orphan_account

Harry whispers to him that this feels like every dream he’s had for the last three years and Louis kisses his temple, behind his ear, across his cheeks and by the edge of his jaw. He runs the back of his finger across Winnie’s sleep-warm cheeks and sighs, the weight of the world finally off his shoulder.

Louis' a pediatrician, Harry's a preschooler teacher, and they're having a baby.

Weigh Us Down (We're In Love) by orphan_account

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at that. “We’re friends?”

Louis nods eagerly, smiling even wider. “Of course we are! You’re like, my first ever friend here. We just moved in, you see. Did I already tell you about that? Anyway! Maybe you can stay for dinner and I can show you my toys?”

Harry smiles. “You’ll let me play with you?”

Louis nods again, excited. “Of course!” He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he’s slipping off the couch and crouching in front of Harry. “Oh, and Mum always kisses my wounds after she fixes them up. It makes me feel loads better all the time, so.” He leans forward and puckers his lips, pressing them over the bandage on Harry’s knee.

(harry and louis first meet when they’re eight and ten. this is their story throughout the years.)

Breathe by Jade_eyed

Can you write a Larry high school AU where Harry's a sophomore and Louis' his senior boyfriend and Harry's being bullied during class and has a panic attack and all he's saying is 'Louis' so someone goes into louis' classroom and gets him and louis' like freaking out when he finds out and just really fluffy and stuff i just need this okay

[ I changed it a bit , I'm sorry babe I tried. :( ]

Cause If You Let Me, Here's What I'll Do by stylesforstiles

Five times where Harry is Louis' baby

Zero Means Nothing When I'm With You by StripedAndBowtied

Louis doesn't know what he's looking for until he finds it.

Harry just knows he may defy his gender norms, with his height and clumsiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want litters of pups running around while he does domestic things all day long.

In other words, boy meets boy and no one can stop pining.

All my senses come to life by erikaeurekajoe

And it was true. Harry's senses were all coming to life, on overdrive in fact because a handsome blue-eyed stranger was holding his hands.

Because of Louis Tomlinson's Arse by AggressiveStress

One in which Harry is a clumsy Uni student that first sees Louis leaning over, picking up his things with his arse very prominent. Harry then falls down the stairs and Louis- wearing a nice little beanie- helps him back to his feet.

In All Its Imperfections by BriaMaria

From: Louis Tomlinson To: Undisclosed Recipients

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

"What happened, mate?" Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?”

Delirious in Love by yourpricelessadvice (orphan_account)

Louis is there for Harry waking up from minor surgery; he wouldn't miss it for the world. For two reasons.

Stars Will Align For Us by 2tiedships2

"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.

Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"

"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."

Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.

Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

(twenty minutes later) wound up in the hospital by callmelover

“Baby, I think a quick trip to A&E might do you some good, hm?” Louis keeps his voice as calm as possible. He doesn't want to startle Harry or make him scared, but he knows that Harry’s fever is too high and he can't risk Harry choking himself into another attack when he's so poorly.

He hears a sharp intake of breath come for Harry and he knows Harry is starting to panic. Louis moves his hand from Harry's hair to his back, rubbing circles into his sweat-soaked shirt.

“No, no. Shh, don't worry, darling. Everything is okay, you’ll be okay. I just know that the doctors will be able to make you feel much better much sooner than I can...Just want you to get healthy as soon as possible, okay?”

or the one where harry has the flu and louis is a protective, nervous-wreck of a boyfriend

You live in my heart by styleztomlinson

As soon as they’re done with their set, Louis only has one thing on his mind and that’s to get out of there as soon as possible.or,Harry is sick during their performance at the iHeartRadio festival. Afterwards, Louis takes cares of his baby, and dotes on his husband.

Take Care by secretlylarry

Louis really does love to take care of Harry when he's sick.

if we got nothing, we got us by tumsa

Harry is Louis' baby and he's sick as well.

Peppermint and Lavender (and Coffee) by 2tiedships2

“He was there again,” Louis announced by way of greeting. “Lottie was right and she can never know.”

"What the fuck are you talking about?” Niall asked as he snapped his laptop closed.

“The omega, Niall. He was there today. Just sitting in the corner looking pretty. Or at least his back is. He hasn’t turned around when I’m available to see. I know he’s beautiful though.”

"Okay?” Niall questioned. “What does that have to do with Lottie?”

Louis let out a huff. "She told me I shouldn’t work at a coffee shop. She was right.”

Or the one where Louis might have met the love of his life in a coffee shop. But that’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

So Long I've Been Waiting by kikikryslee

Niall held up his glass in a toast. “Cheers.” Harry stared at Louis as he brought the glass up to his lips, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like he could refuse the drink, but he certainly didn’t want to have any champagne. Louis monitored everyone else, and as soon as they all had their heads tilted back, drinking their mimosa, he reached out and knocked Harry’s glass right out of his hand, sending it crashing to the floor. “Oh, no!” Louis pretended to be shocked at what had just happened. “Harry, you’re so clumsy. You dropped your glass.” “Yes,” Harry said seriously. “I am very clumsy.” --- Or, the one where Harry and Louis are having their first baby, and keeping it a secret until the end of the first trimester is a lot harder than they thought it would be.

Nothing's Gonna Stop Me But Divine Intervention by kikikryslee

“So… what’s next on the soul mate search?” Louis asked. “I don’t know,” Harry answered. “Whatever I’m doing isn’t working. I’m not finding him anywhere.” “He’ll get here. I know it." “Yeah. I know he’s out there somewhere; I just have to figure out where.” --- Or, the soul mate AU where Harry overthinks everything having to do with finding the love of his life, and Louis doesn't think there's a Mr. Right for him at all. It takes them a while to realize that their soul mate is the person they want it to be: each other.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

taken by the wind by scrunchyharry

When he decided to move to London with his sister, Harry thought he would finally get to learn how to control his magic. He couldn't possibly have predicted that he would fall for her neighbour.

Or the one where Harry is a clumsy witch and Louis is making everything worse just by existing.

Piece by Piece by SadaVeniren

He rubbed his hand over his lower stomach and closed his eyes. Louis was going to lose his fucking mind.

(aka Harry tells Louis he's pregnant and it goes as expected)

And We Linger On by stylesforstiles

Harry is pouting. Louis takes care of him

There's a Hole In My Soul, Can You Fill It? by stylesforstiles

Sometimes Harry is so tired. Louis always wants to fix it.

one glance and the avalanche drops by Wankerville

It's strange, honestly, having someone so gorgeous in his kitchen, and not only physically gorgeous, but, like, the everything else gorgeous. The type of gorgeous that Louis wants his life to always be covered in. The type of gorgeous he wants lying in sweatpants and an old t-shirt on his couch when he gets home from class. The type of gorgeous he wants to have shoving crisps down the front of his shirt. The type of goddamn gorgeous he wants to kiss, and coddle, and like, love.

Which is ridiculous- he doesn't know him. Pfft.

(or an au wherein louis buys a christmas tree and harry is the boy in leggings who delivers it. they are a christmas classic.)

Do Not Falter (There's a Star Ahead) by LadyLondonderry

It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday?

The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.

Right Here Waiting by lovelarry10

Louis and Harry are expecting a baby. Harry's heavily pregnant and nesting madly, determined to make their home ready for their baby.

Blow Out the Candles, Baby by iwillpaintasongforlou

Louis' been planning Harry's 20th birthday party for weeks, and Harry's too sick to move. Louis might be the kind of sap who tries to nurse him back to health with cuddles and jokes and cupcakes for two.

Never Let You Fall by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry slips on stage and gets a minor concussion, and Louis insists that he spend the night in the hospital just in case. He then turns into a protective baby lion because that is his Harry and he'll be damned if anything happens to him on Louis' watch. Harry rolls his eyes a lot but doesn't really mind.

Asthma and Bad Jokes by Larry_Klaine_Stylinson

When Harry has an asthma attack on stage, Louis has to go and help him. He leaves Niall in charge of keeping the audience entertained.

All I Need is Oxygen (and You) by lululawrence

There are only two ways to navigate Bloomfield High School: become popular or make yourself invisible.

With the help of his best mate Niall, Harry’s introduction to high school hadn’t been half bad. Despite being a “bandie” – the lowest of the low in the ancient hierarchy of high school –Harry had somehow managed to survive freshman year relatively unscathed. So naturally, Harry would have been perfectly happy to resume his position of invisible trombone player number four for the remainder of high school. But one day something drastic happened, something that would change the course of Harry’s entire existence (probably).

It was the last football game of his freshman year, and the band was back in the stands after performing a rousing rendition of Bloomfield’s alma mater during half time. Harry was gracelessly wiping the slobber from the mouthpiece of his trombone when he saw him.

Louis Tomlinson.

Or...a High School AU where Harry is a bandie and Louis is the epitome of cool, so naturally, Harry must find a way to get his attention and win his affections.

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by you_explode

Harry's a sheltered rich kid and Louis's a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry's house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.

put your head on my shoulder by wayfared

Niall gives Harry until the end of marching season to either a) make a move on Louis Tomlinson or b) get the fuck over him. Either is easier said than done. Basically, your High School AU with a drum beat.

we should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team by ellisaco

Harry's not very good at football, but he's aces at cheering Louis on.

Snow by hlftanna

Louis hid something from him. Harry was 100% sure of that. He knew him better than he knew himself. And. He. Hid. Something. From. Him. Harry just hasn't figured out what. Because if Louis wanted to hide something from anyone he usually succeeded because he was Louis Tomlinson.

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

calling out for somebody to hold tonight by heartinsidemine

“Dunno why I can’t sleep,” is the first thing Harry says into the still, quiet night.

“New flat, new noises,” Louis murmurs, finally setting the kettle on the stove and turning properly toward him. “New responsibilities, too, eh? Second year, you’re working your way up in the world.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Nothing’s really new, though, is it? I mean, the location, but… I’ve got the same job I had last year, same basic courses, same workload…” He sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You and me are in the same boat, though,” Louis murmurs to him. He hates seeing Harry like this, even though rationally he knows that he can’t do anything about Harry’s insomnia. “Finding it difficult to sleep myself. Was gonna turn on the telly, maybe the cooking channel until I fall asleep. Care to join me?”

He doesn’t think twice about the offer before making it; it only makes sense. They’re both exhausted and they both sleep better with a cuddle, and anyway Louis would absolutely rather have a conversation partner than only the walls of his room for company.

Running Down To The Riptide by sweaterpawstyles

"I can't give you your present yet, Lou."

Louis furrowed his brows. "And why is that, my love?"

Harry smiled at his lap. "Because your present is under my sweater," he pulled his free hand that wasn't laced with Louis' and gently laid it on his stomach. "I'm pregnant."

It's New Year's Eve and Harry has a surprise under his sweater

Song For The Springtime by sunshiner

“Cherry blossoms,” Harry mumbles. “The solution’s cherry blossoms.”

Uni AU.

the happiest place in our universe by tippytoetomlinstyles

Harry holds Louis’ hand and looks around at all the exciting and beautiful things and Louis looks at him because he finds him the most beautiful and exciting thing there is.

or the one where Louis takes Harry to Disneyland and Harry convinces Louis to wear Mickey Mouse ears to match his Minnie Mouse ears.

Made From Love by lovelarry10

It's almost Christmas, and amongst the preparations, Louis' realised something about his husband Harry.

Harry, however, seems to be oblivious.

Louis' determined to open Harry's eyes and make him realise the real magic that's happening this Christmas...

Another Constellation to Trace by screwstyles

Louis wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m winning that bet.”

“What bet?” comes Niall’s excited voice from behind them, followed by footsteps. “I wanna be in on the bet!” he shouts, prompting Harry to quickly roll down his shirt sleeve and straighten his shirt where it’s still crinkly after Louis’ hands.

Niall takes one look at them and purses his lips in a tight line. “Were you guys making out again? Isn’t the fire meant to die down a bit after eight years?”

“Trust me, the fire is still very much alive,” Louis winks at Harry. “One could even say it’s cooking something.”

Mpreg AU: Louis and Harry bet on who can keep Harry's pregnancy a secret for longer. Neither of them is particularly good at it, and it doesn't help that their soulmate tattoos make it even harder.

another pair of feet by honey_beeing

where Harry is pregnant and Louis is an oblivious idiot.

We Were Made to Love by supernope

“Everything all sorted? Need help with the buckles? I know they’re a bit tricky in this compartment.”

The voice startles Louis out of his daze, and he turns toward the voice to let him know he figured it out. When he catches sight of the owner of the voice, though, his response dies in his throat. Whatever he had imagined the conductor of a children’s train that rides around the shopping centre in Leeds would look like, this is certainly not it.

Leaning through the window, arms folded across the sill, is a green-eyed angel with cherry red lips stretched wide in a smile and dimples flirting in his cheeks. A black conductor’s hat is the only confirmation that this is not some gorgeous stranger who’s come to flirt with Louis through the window of a children’s train, but is just a man doing his job.

[or, Harry drives a kiddie train in the shopping centre for the summer and is obsessed with babies, and Louis never stood a chance.]

here comes the sun by orphan_account

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Louis promises, his pink, chapped lips moving slowly in the cold. It matches the beanie on his head—pink, because they found out this morning that they’re having a girl and that’s just.

Harry’s going to be a dad. To a little girl. Five months from now he’ll be holding her in his arms, and she’ll be so lovely and small.

They’re going to have a spring baby and she’s probably going to have Louis’ eyes. What a blessing that would be. Harry crosses his fingers on the hand inside his pocket, hoping that she does. He’ll love her either way—blue or green or even brown eyes, it doesn’t matter—but he’d really like them to be blue, he thinks.

[Harry is a pediatric specialist, Louis is a neurosurgeon. All they want is a baby.]

So Put Your Hands In (The Holes of My Sweater) by Kat_rawr

“Are you gonna kiss me then?” He asks so quiet he isn’t even sure Louis heard him.

“I think it’s bad luck if I don’t.“ Louis’ breath is hot on Harry’s skin in the cold air. They stand in the dark; Louis’ face only lit up by the yellow-ish light from the street light a few metres away. The light over the door of their building hasn’t worked in years.

“Okay,” Harry says, and of course his cheeks heat up. There are definitely butterflies in stomach and his mouth is definitely dry.

or,

Harry and Louis go on a lot of not-dates

A Little Kind of Magic by Star55

A tiny tale of Louis' Very Important Birthday and Christmas at Hogwarts that Harry loves celebrating with his best friend whom he absolutely is not in love with. No matter what Niall says. (He's a little in love with Louis.)

it tastes like you, only sweeter by EmmyLouWho

Sometimes Harry hates being a second year, like when all his older friends get to go to Hogsmeade and he has to stay behind in the castle. Luckily, Harry has a Louis to make everything better.

For the prompt: “I’m not allowed to go to Hogsmeade but you always tell me stories about it and bring me candy from Honeydukes”

Sun-Dappled by QuickedWeen

Louis and his best friend Harry are in their seventh year at Hogwarts, facing down their future together. Louis has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember, and he begins to feel a sense of urgency as the second semester begins. Finally he hatches a plan to tell Harry about his feelings on Harry's birthday.

Sweet Like Sunshine by orphan_account

When Louis saves him from some seventh years bullying him on his lack of Quidditch skills, Harry takes offense. Louis offers to teach him to make up for it. They fall in love somewhere along the way.

Featuring one exasperated Niall, trips to Hogsmede and many flying sessions.

Follow Me Down This Time by supernope

Harry first noticed Louis in his second term at Hogwarts, and despite three years of inventing ways to stumble across Louis, he's never managed to actually work up the courage to speak to him. Also known as, self-indulgent Hogwarts AU, because every fandom needs Hogwarts AUs.

For Reasons Wretched and Divine by panicmoonwalk

Niall’s head was sitting in the fireplace, wide grin lighting up his features as flames licked the bright tips of his hair. Louis promptly dropped his tray at the sight.

“Bloody hell!” He yelled, half at the sudden appearance of Niall in the fire and half at the scalding cocoa he’d just dropped on his bare foot. “What are you doing?!”

Niall just continued to grin, clearly highly amused by Louis hopping on one foot and desperately trying to search for a weapon he could use to beat his friend’s head out of the fireplace.

“Well,” Niall began. “We’re going on an adventure!”

Or, the one where Louis and Harry’s Christmas holiday at Hogwarts is rudely interrupted when they’re dragged off on a tropical wizard’s vacation, featuring some angry centaurs, a spell gone wrong, and the ‘weirdest birthday anyone’s ever had. Ever’.

Loving with a Little Twist by hrrytomlinson

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know Niall! I just promised my mother I’m bringing my boyfriend - a boyfriend I don’t have - to Thanksgiving dinner. What should I do? I can’t call back and be like, ‘Oh yeah mom, that boyfriend I said that I have, I don’t actually have. Sorry to disappoint you.’ My life is ruined.” Harry returns to suffocating himself with the pillow.

Niall laughs and Harry growls at his best friend’s unwarranted happiness in this life-ending situation. Harry is fucked. Fuck. He needs a boyfriend. Fuck.

(or a thanksgiving themed fake/pretend relationship au)

everywhere (i wanna be with you) by itiswhatitisbutterfly

Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

on a wednesday, in a cafe by wreckedboyfriends

“What can I get for you today?” he asked without looking up, arranging the last of the pastries.

“Have any recommendations? Never been here before, actually.” Harry hit his head on the top of the case in his haste to look at the source of the voice. It was a really beautiful voice, small and high and just lovely, if a voice could be lovely. Harry thought so. “Alright, mate?” the man asked when Harry finally composed himself, rubbing the top of his head as he took his place at the register.

Harry opened his eyes, and fuck. If Harry had thought his voice was lovely, the man himself was on a whole other level. “Alright, mate?” He repeated and shit. Harry had been openly staring for quite awhile, hadn’t he?

“Yeah,” Harry replied, and it came out sounding like a semi trailer running over gravel. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he repeated. “Um, the cherry danish is quite good, I think. ’S my favorite.”

The man smiled. “One cherry danish it is, then.”

OR Harry’s spent the last year with six locks on his door, a pair of too-flamboyant boots buried in the back of his closet, and insecurity issues the size of a mammoth. Louis changes some of that, but Harry changes the most.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

Let It Snow by thebrainisafunnyplace

Bakery owner Harry Styles is always cold, until he hires local university student, Louis Tomlinson to work as a cashier. When the storm of the year hits, the boys find themselves stuck together inside the bakery the night before Christmas Eve. Luckily, they have each other to keep warm.

everything i can arrange, every part of me you change by orphan_account

“Don’t you try that shit with me,” Niall spits the second he reaches Louis, pulling off the hood with force. “What the hell is this?” He plops down next to Louis on the empty bleacher and unceremoniously pushes a sheet of crumpled paper in his face.

Netflix and Chill Buddy Application

It’s like no matter how hard Louis tries, he can’t seem to run away from this stupid fucking flyer. All the girls (and some of the boys) in every one of his classes have been talking about it all week. It’s on every wall of every building on campus. Louis went for a jog last night and he nearly tripped and died over a loose one on the football track.

[Harry needs a big spoon and Louis refuses to let anyone steal his position. Based on this post.]

No words by becharlatan

Harry is a music student who never talks because he's a total introvert. Louis happens to bump into him by accident and as if like the constellations, the two have aligned their paths together despite their differences.

Sun Emoji Moon Emoji by mybeanieandme

For the prompt:

University!au: Harry works at a cafe as the busboy and Louis just really wants to get to know him. (Louis pines for an insecure Harry for a semester)

nonstop earthquake dreams of you by lumineres

And there's heat behind it, blazing, plasmatic, like stars crashing together, like an explosion in space, like a supernova, like a black hole--everything else sucked out of existence. There's no bed and there's no pillow and they're not lying down, just floating somewhere, somehow, and there's no room and there's no X Factor house and there's no Niall snuffling or Liam's deep, even breathing and there's no wind or traffic outside and there's no hum of the heating unit and it's all just Louis. All encompassingly Louis.

or, harry falls hard and finds louis already at the bottom

Kiss From A Rose by lovelarry10

Harry is the quiet one in the office no one ever notices. Until Louis does, that is. When notes start appearing on Harry’s desk, he ponders who is behind the kind words, oblivious to Louis’ attempts to get his attention...

Black Cat by lalune15

Inspired by this tumblr post (not asked or requested): fic where louis works at a haunted house jumping out at people and harry’s friends drag him along even though he doesn’t really like haunted houses. when louis jumps out to scare their group, harry freaks out and accidentally jumps into louis’s arms. louis just squeaks. harry ends up sitting there with louis the rest of his shift and totally doesn’t come back every night after that.

Be Mine, For Always by zams

Louis is happy when Harry is happy. That's what Louis wants, and so when Louis starts feeling weird when Harry cuddles with Liam, Zayn, or Niall instead of him, he keeps quiet. But the burning, uncomfortable feeling Louis gets deep in his stomach when he sees Harry contentedly nuzzling Liam's neck, or Harry's arms and legs tangled around Niall like an octopus, or Harry's face smushed in Zayn's stomach as Zayn plays with his hair only gets worse as the days go by.

Loosen Up My Buttons by softfonds

The beautiful man opened this bakery about a year ago. He remembered the exact day he came: a glum, rainy morning in the middle of February, which instantly turned brighter the minute he saw him. The man had come in with some paint buckets and tools, and Louis doubted he would be able to fix up the drab place all by himself. But as he walked down the stairs at the end of the day and saw the man standing there in the middle of a gorgeous pink and white shop, clearly proud of his work, Louis fell in love at first sight. If only he knew how to talk to him.

Usually, Louis knew how to flirt. He prided himself on it. But every time he looked at the beautiful man, he completely forgot how to form sentences, and there was no way he could go up to him only to make a fool of himself. That was the last thing he needed.

Or, Louis owns a tattoo shop called Pretty in Ink, Harry owns a bakery called Rolling Scones, they haven't been introduced, and Valentine’s Day seems like the perfect opportunity to finally talk to the man Louis has been pinning over for the past year. And they both end up with more love than they bargained for.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

you make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong by orphan_account

“Curly?” Louis says, stepping into Harry’s sight. “You okay?” Harry looks up from where he has two things in his hands, a thick winter coat sized for a newborn, and a sweatshirt fitting a grown man such as himself. He looks up at Louis, stricken, and holds them out for him to see. “They’re the same price,” he says. “They’re both forty dollars! Forty dollars for such little material.”

(or, Harry is pregnant and stops at the mall to buy cheap baby clothes. Louis has extra money from working a long shift, and he can't think of a better way to spend it than on him.)

you were the ocean, i was drawn into you by by orphan_account

where harry takes pictures and worries too much and louis plays guitar.

i'll be your sunflower by scagnetism

“What do you think’s gonna stop us now?” Harry says cheekily, laughter in his voice as he looks up at Louis. “Something’s gotta get in our way like always, doesn’t it?”

“Ha,” Louis grins, kissing his cheek and holding open the door for him as they make their way toward the car. “Nothing’s gonna interrupt us this time. ‘S gonna be perfect, just like Pumpkin.”

Or, a few interruptions aren't going to stop Harry from having a perfect pregnancy and having the family he and Louis have always dreamed of.

Send Me Your Pillow (The One That You Dream On) by flowercrownfemme

Harry is embarrassed to realize he's nesting but can't stop stealing Louis' things for his nest.

Short fluffy o/o gaybo drabble with lots of cuddles and softness and sock stealing <3

As one we are everything/We are everything we need by louloubaby92

Harry finally marries the love of his life. He's got the mating mark, he's got Louis' ring on his finger.

And now, he's on his honeymoon. Louis is but a door away, waiting for him.

Honestly, he doesn't understand why he's nervous.

only guilty of loving you by sweetrevenge

After Harry gets set up with his co-worker's alpha friend Louis, he's expecting some pleasant conversation, free dinner, and maybe a new friend. What he doesn't expect, however, is that Louis' arrival in his life begins a life of crime Harry never knew he had in him.

A You've Got Mail!AU with a twist.

#Larry Stylinson #ask lots #fic rec #Lottie fic rec #fanfiction #fanfic #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry fanfic rec #larry fic rec #larry stylinson fic rec #fluff

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3pirouette · 3 years

Text

Fic: Virtual Insanity: Career Opportunities (1/1)

Title: Virtual Insanity: Career Opportunities By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: It’s career day on Mr. Roger’s Zoom class, and Peggy needs to come up with something, quick. Sequel to Virtual Insanity.

Chapter A/N: I needed to write something fluffy and I’ve been DYING to find a way to get back to this little universe. This satisfies the “Sharon Carter” square for my Steggy Bingo. (We’re not talking about FATWS/CAATWS right now. I can’t. I just can’t.)

~*~

Don’t be mad at me.

The text itself was fairly innocuous, but her brain started to race, anyway. Peggy’s fingers flew over the keyboard, texting back: Is there a reason I should be?

She stared at the phone screen, waiting while the three little dots that meant he was typing appeared and disappeared twice over. Now she was worried.

“Aunt Peggy?” Sharon’s voice carried through her small apartment.

Peggy hummed a question in her closed mouth as the girl took off her headphones and bounded towards her, but the phone vibrated in her hands and pulled her attention back.

The Principal decided to observe me today instead of Thursday. Said he wanted to see a more interactive lesson plan, so I had to switch things up on short notice. I swear I was going to give you a heads up.

Before she could ask him anything else, Sharon sat herself next to Peggy at the tiny kitchen table, her notebook and pencil in hand. “Mr. Rogers gave us an assignment and I have thirty minutes to do it before I have to go back to my class and talk to them about it.”

Peggy smiled tight, the girl missing the tension in her sigh. “Oh? And what is the assignment?”

Sharon smiled. “I need to ask you questions about what you do for work.”

Peggy nodded, her mind racing as she tried to come up with what she was going to tell her niece. Not sure how you’ll do with the principal, she texted Steve, but that promotion to boyfriend you were looking for might be in serious jeopardy.

She waited a second then sent him a winking emoji, just to lighten up the mood. Having gotten to know Steve as well as she had over the last few weeks, she knew he might think her serious.

“Alright,” Peggy turned and faced Sharon, “how can I help?”

Sharon smiled and wiggled herself around in the chair, picking up her pencil before turning seriously to Peggy. “What do you do for a job?”

The honest answer would have been that she was making an obscene amount of money online by bouncing around her house doing chores in lingerie. That was not, however, the answer she could give to Sharon. “Well,” she bit the corner of her thumbnail and turned her phone over, not wanting to read the text that had just popped up from Steve, “I used to work for a company that helped other companies…” Peggy sighed, she wasn’t sure how to explain corporate espionage to Sharon, either.

Sharon looked up. “What did you do there? How did you help other companies?”

Peggy tapped her nails on the counter nervously, trying to come up with a good example. “Well, the company I worked for helped businesses keep secrets. For instance, you know how that chicken you like always says there are eleven secret herbs and spices?”

Sharon nodded. “Kentucky Fried Chicken!”

Peggy laughed a little. “Yes, well, those eleven are a secret for a reason. It’s what makes the chicken taste good to you.” Peggy leaned in dramatically and Sharon’s eyes widened. “But if everyone knew the secret, anyone who wanted to could make their chicken taste like that, and then that man with the silly bowtie—”

“Colonel Sanders,” Sharon interjected as she made some notes.

“Yes, he would have a hard time making money from the recipe he developed because it wasn’t a secret anymore. I helped other companies keep their secrets.” Peggy smiled to herself as the girl wrote furiously, satisfied. She wasn’t sure if she’d managed to make her job understandable to an 8-year-old, but it was close enough for now.

Sharon stared at her seriously. “And did you get to know the secrets or do you just have to stop other people from finding out?”

“Sometimes I got to know them, but most of the time I just had to help hide them, or help the company have enough security.”

Peggy’s stress melted away as Sharon asked her question after question and she was able to answer honestly, if not a little vaguely, for the next fifteen minutes. When she ran out of questions, Peggy cut her up an apple and put that and a spoonful of peanut butter on a plate for her at the table, where she waited for her class to start again with her snack.

Finally, she picked up her phone again.

I am so, so sorry. Really, I am. It was planned for Friday. I was going to tell you on Facetime tomorrow. I’ll have her go last. Billy Ryan can TALK. I’ll just let that kid go and maybe we’ll run out of time. Principal Clark won’t know the difference.

Peggy smiled, letting her fingers fly over the keyboard. Did you not see the ;)? It’s fine, and I’m not upset. Good luck on your evaluation and call me when it’s over. She paused for a second, watching Sharon put on her headphones and knowing her texts wouldn’t get an answer until their next break.

Peggy pulled out her own laptop and reviewed her e-mails. She was, in point of fact, looking for a new job. While the Only Fans was a surprising source of a lot of income, she was missing the excitement of her old field. There still weren’t many jobs to go around, but she found new ones each day and applied. Talking to Sharon, however coded, made her miss the day to day of corporate espionage: finding new ways to secure and protect trade secrets, while simultaneously trying to extract others. It had been challenging and thrilling work, and she missed it. While there was something to be said for the ease of her newest endeavors, it wasn’t the challenge she wanted or needed.

She smiled over the edge of her laptop as Sharon asked a question about dogs. Seemed a parent was a trainer or a vet of some sort. She could just barely see the screen from where she was, the Brady Bunch like squares filled with smiling little faces as they talked and asked questions. Steve was sitting in his own square in the upper right corner, smiling away as he listened intently and there was a fairly neutral man in the bottom left she assumed was Mr. Clark. She’d heard a bit about the administrator, but not enough to have an opinion on the man.

She posted her resume on a job-hunting site and crossed her fingers yet again. Six months of getting dressed up for a camera was enough for her. She wanted more.

More from a job, and more from Steve.

They’d been talking nearly every night, facetiming, too, and had met just once, socially distanced, in the park in the fall for lunch. His mother, who lived in the apartment next to him and that he took care of, was considered high risk. He’d been apologetic, but careful about how and when he went out, and it was something she appreciated about him. She’d asked him, quite seriously, to be her steady significant other, but he’d flat out refused until he could take her out on a proper date. It was a conversation that had both made her fall a little more in love with him and completely frustrated her at the same time.

He was getting his second dose of the vaccine next week, and she was scheduled for a week after that. She already knew exactly which dress she was going to wear when that fourteen-day waiting period was up.

It was red and tight and screamed anything but staying socially distant.

She was daydreaming, one she had often, about pushing him back on that desk of his and straddling him, her dress riding up her thighs as his hands followed, kissing him and laying him down and taking him right there, when Sharon’s voice rang out loudly in the room.

“Ok. So, my Mom and Dad are at work, but I do school with my Aunt Peggy so I asked her the questions.” Peggy looked down at her watch. They had only ten minutes left in the morning session before lunch, but apparently that was enough for one more kid. Stupid Billy Ryan. Peggy closed her email and moved her laptop, listening. “So, my Aunt Peggy lost her job, which is why she can watch me, but before that she had a job she was really good at and she really liked. She worked for a company that I’m not allowed to tell you the name of, but for her job…”

Sharon took a deep breath and leaned into the screen. “For her job, she protects the recipe for KFC chicken.”

Peggy’s head fell in her hands as she heard the gasps of excitement from the kids. She couldn’t believe, after twenty minutes of questions, that was what the girl had understood.

“Sometimes, she protects the chickens. And sometimes, she tries to get the recipes from other places. She didn’t tell me exactly, but I think I guessed it and she just couldn’t say.”

~*~

Peggy laid back against the pillows, wine in hand, waiting for Steve to pick up his facetime. She’d just finished a short online session. Her heart hadn’t been in it, but she’d needed something to do while Steve was finishing his review with the principal after Sharon had been picked up.

His face popped on the screen and he wasted no time, slyly smiling. “So, you protect the KFC recipe?” She just shook her head, but he laughed. “I mean, I gave you a solid five minutes, you couldn’t come up with anything better?”

Peggy laughed loudly at that, leaning back into the pillows. “I swear, I did not tell that child I protected the KFC recipe.”

Steve lifted his phone and moved around his apartment, pulling a beer out of the fridge and sitting heavily on his couch before he set his phone on the table. “So, what did you tell her, exactly?”

“The truth!” Peggy sat up, pulling her robe tight around her. “I mean, how do you describe corporate espionage to an eight-year-old?”

“Corporate espionage?” Steve almost choked on his mouthful of beer. He sat up, eyes still wide with surprise. “You went from corporate espionage to an Only Fans?”

Peggy shrugged. “I wasn’t in IT. When everyone started working from home the demand was in IT because they had to lock down computer systems and access codes.” She sat up and took a long drink of her wine. “Quite frankly it was a move that was coming, anyway. More and more information is just digital.”

“So, uh,” Steve’s fingers played with the label on his bottle, “So you did what, exactly?”

Peggy bit her bottom lip and bent towards the camera. “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” she purred out.

Steve feigned getting hit, grabbing his chest and falling back. “Ouch, Aunt Peggy.”

She hummed at him, humoring his silliness while she played with her glass. She sighed. “I think my favorite part was where she literally told the children I protect the chickens. As if I were a farmer out there with a pitch fork keeping coyotes away!”

Steve started laughing far harder than was necessary. “Oh, I am getting the best mental image.”

Peggy rolled her eyes and laid back in the bed. “Oh? Do tell.”

“I’m thinking…” He smiled, took a deep breath and leaned back, his eyes sparkling. Little Daisy Duke short shorts, maybe a tied up plaid shirt, some dirty cowboy boots…” Steve drifted off closing his eyes, his smile growing wider.

Peggy laughed. “Oh really? Should I put my hair in pigtails, too?”

His head popped up, a guilty look crossing his features. “Well, I mean…”

She bit her lip at his stammering. “Your image of me protecting chickens and my image of me protecting chickens are vastly different images.”

Steve could only shrug.

~*~

The link that she texted him wasn’t familiar, but he trusted her by now. He clicked it, ready for anything.

When the video connected his jaw dropped.

Peggy, in her shortest jean shorts and a tied up red gingham shirt he was sure was so small it must have been a handkerchief in a previous life, was standing in front of a green screened video of chickens in a chicken coop.

She smiled widely at him, putting on her best American accent. “Howdy, Partner!”

He laughed so hard he dropped his phone.

#Steggy #Steggy Fic #Modern AU #Steggy Bingo Bash #3P's Fic

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okay-klepto · 4 years

Text

Dressed to Impress - Henry Cavill x Female Reader

So... I have no motivation to write a new fic or even make an original post, so to keep things moving, I’m just gonna a fic I already published. It’s on AO3, so I might as well just put this whole thing here.

Word Count: 4,697

Rating: Explicit

CW: Wall Sex, Possessive Henry

A slow night at a charity dinner means Henry’s attention would rather be all on you - and that dress you chose to wear is making it easy to focus solely on you. All he can do it wait until you two get home to start doing what he fantasized at dinner. And he certainly delivers.

Let’s get reading!

You crossed your legs in your chair, trying to listen attentively to the speaker drone on from a podium on stage. The charity dinner you and Henry had been invited to was fine until people started giving their speeches. At least the food had been good, and you still had some bread to nibble on and a glass of champagne to sip. You just assumed Henry was as bored as you were.

Henry was definitely bored with the speaker, but he had found something else to focus on. Your movement to cross your legs caught his attention, and his eyes went right to your thigh. The slit in the skirt of your dress opened up more when you moved, and your leg looked lovely framed in fabric. Henry shook some thoughts out of his head. He turned his gaze back to the stage and began to clap when everyone else did. Someone else walked on stage and to the podium and began their speech. Henry let out a sigh and adjusted his suit jacket as he realized this evening would be longer than anticipated.

More people were brought on stage to speak, and other people were acknowledged with applause or a toast. Henry’s eyes went to you each time you moved. If you touched your hair, he eyed your neck, which was being tickled by your sparkly earrings. He watched you attentively as you reapplied lipstick periodically, wishing he could lean over and smear it over your lips with his own. You, however, didn’t notice that Henry’s eyes spent more time on you than the presentations. You thought about your jewelry and the floral centerpieces on the tables and that fact that you and Henry were probably the youngest couple in the room. Or maybe not. You looked across the room and you were pretty sure you saw someone you recognized. But the room was dark. You’d have to look when the dinner was over.

Henry tried to listen, but you were so much more entertaining. He tried to remember how you two entered and if there was a back hallway or spare closet that he could pull you into once this was done. He could just kiss you silly. He wanted those tights you were wearing off so he could see your bare legs. He wanted to cover your vulnerable neck in red and purple hickies. At the memory of other men eyeing you when you first entered, Henry gritted his teeth. A few nice marks on your neck would let everyone know you were taken and well taken care of. If only…

You shifted again, this time leaning down to adjust your high heel. You really should have taken some time to break in the new heels before the event, but at least you were sitting down now. Better try them out now than at a red carpet event with lots of standing. Henry’s eyes went to you, and he noticed every single detail. As you leaned forward and down, your dress rode up a little farther and Henry got a glimpse of the wonderfully thick part of the top of your thigh. He so badly wanted to reach over and squeeze it, then slide his hand up your skirt and feel what panties you were wearing. He assumed you were wearing a matching bra and panties set, probably the lacy black one that was one of your favorites, but you could have on the pink set with embroidered flowers you just got. Oh, or that bright blue set that was almost all mesh. That would be amazing. Then Henry’s eyes went to your chest for, as you bent over, your breasts spilled forward and nearly out of the dress. Oh fuck. Henry had to hold in a groan as he shifted to sit more comfortably with a hard-on growing in his pants. The way your breasts fell and your bare back which was exposed by the dress made him know you had no bra on. It was just panties and tights. Of course, people had looked at you - how could they not? Henry could so easily lift you up, set you on the table, and fuck you long and hard. He could reach over and run his fingers over you and play with you, but he never would out in front of everyone. He could pull you into the bathroom once everything was over and have a nice quickie, but getting in and out without being noticed would be nearly impossible. He would have to wait until you both got out to the car. There, he could get you in the back seat for some action. Henry felt himself get warmer under this jacket and in his pants as he imagined you flushed and moaning with your dress pushed up in the back of his car. He wanted that dress off. What if you wore that dress on purpose just to rile him up? Well, it was certainly working. Henry let out a small grunt and shifted in his chair again, trying to ignore you so he wouldn’t be fully erecting during a charity event.

“Henry?” You looked over to him and put your hand on his knee. You had sat up after deciding to just take your shoes off. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” The feeling of your hand on his leg went right to Henry’s pants.

“Are you sure?” You were genuinely worried as to why Henry was acting so strangely all of a sudden.

“I’m just a little warm.”

“There’s still some water. And maybe you should take your jacket off.”

Henry put his hand on yours. “I’m fine, babe.”

You gave Henry a sweet smile before removing your hand and turning your attention back to the stage. Henry subtly adjusted his pants, frustrated that you could be so cute and sexy at the same time without even knowing what you’re putting him through.

The rest of the evening was as dry as the start, and it took Henry even more energy not to just stare at you the entire time. Each time you took a sip of champagne, all he could wish was that your lips were around his cock instead of the rim of the glass. He wanted your legs on his shoulders, your panties dangling off your ankle, your neck and breasts decorated with his marks. Applause snapped Henry out of his daydream once again, and he noticed a few people standing up as they clapped. The lights in the dining room went from dim to bright.

“That speech was well done, but I didn’t understand that part in the middle,” you commented as you took a bite of bread and gathered up your clutch. “Did you get it?”

“No, no I didn’t.” Henry did his best to compose himself. He stood and put his hand out to help you up from your chair just in time to watch you lean over to slip your shoes back on, your breasts once again nearly spilling out of the top of your dress. Henry ripped his eyes away so he wouldn’t go completely hard right away. You saw Henry’s hand being held out to you and took it and stood.

“Thank you.” You smoothed out your dress and looked to Henry. “I think that I saw someone you worked with on The Witcher. We should go over and say hi.”

“That’s fine. We can just go home.”

You put your arm in his as you two began to walk away from the table. “What? You don’t want to chat for a while? I thought you got along with everyone on set?”

“We… we don’t need to spend time just talking. It’s getting late anyway.”

You walked arm in arm with Henry towards the exit of the venue. “Are you sure you’re feeling well? You’re looking a little flushed, too.”

“Once I get some fresh air and some sleep, I’ll be alright.”

You two stood outside for a moment as the valet retrieved Henry’s car. You realized that it wasn’t that late in the evening, though the stars were out. Henry just stared ahead, watching some other people get into their cars and drive off. You looked around at the people waiting near you, a little shiver going through your shoulders as the night air nipped at you. Henry didn’t flinch. You started to regret not bringing even a light jacket to wear over your dress, especially considering how much skin you were showing.

Before long, Henry’s car was brought up, and Henry was given the keys. He led you around to the passenger’s door and opened it for you, holding your hand to help you get inside. He went around to the driver’s side and hopped in. He started to drive out of the driveway without a word. You pulled out your phone and answered a few texts and checked your email. Henry remained silent, eyes focused solely on the road.

“The salmon I had was really good,” you said to break the silence. “How was your pork?”

Henry’s eyes remain trained on the road. “It was fine.”

You nodded. “I wonder if the soup was any good. Italian wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think.”

You watched Henry for a moment. He only moved when he needed to check the road at an intersection. Maybe you had done or said something. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he really didn’t want to attend the dinner but felt obligated because you were excited about getting dressed up and going. You just sat back in your seat and played a game on your phone as you and Henry rode home in silence.

Henry pulled into the garage and parked the car. He hopped out of the car as you gathered up your dress and he helped you out. You both walked into the house and were greeted by a very excited Kal.

“Hi, Puppy!” You reached down and gave Kal lots of scratches behind the ears as he danced at your feet. “Watch the dress, watch the dress.”

“Hey, Kal. Miss us?” Henry gave Kal a big smile and some scratched before the dog went back to chewing on a toy. He seemed to be on the sleepy side.

Both of you went upstairs to the master bedroom, Henry leaving his shoes at the door. You sighed as you entered the room and sat down on the bed to take your shoes off. You reached up the skirt of your dress and pulled off your tights one leg at a time and tossed them to the side. Henry had gone to his dresser and removed his suit jacket, hanging it up in the closet. As he unbuttoned his shirt, Henry looked over to you just in time to see your tights come off, the cut in your dress exposing your bare legs. That was the final straw.

You stood and took a few steps towards Henry and turned around. “Could you unzip my dress?”

Henry took a breath before walking over to you. “Certainly.”

You pushed the little hairs on the nape of your neck out of the way as Henry held the zipper head and began to undo the zip. As the dress started to come loose, you used your other hand to hold the top up. Henry knew you didn’t have a bra on, and he hoped the zipper went down far enough that he would be able to see the panties you were wearing, but the zipper stopped short. You felt your dress go completely slack, so you shook your shoulders and pulled your arms out of the straps, still trying to keep the dress up until you could grab your robe. Fingers of rough hands caressed your now bare sides. Eventually, palms met your skin and full hands held your waist. They began to turn you around, and your eyes met Henry’s as he stepped to the side to meet you, hands still on your waist. One hand went from your waist to just under your chin.

“Henry?”

Soft, gentle lips met yours and you melted into Henry’s kiss. Henry kissed you again, slipping his tongue over your lips and into your mouth. Your hands went to Henry’s shoulders, letting your dress fall to the ground. Both of Henry’s hands were now on your waist, and he pulled you in close, continuing to kiss you. He started getting rough, kissing you harder and holding you tighter. You turned your face to break the kiss just for a moment.

“Henry, are we-”

“Yes.”

In one smooth movement, Henry looped his thumbs under your panties - the bright blue ones - and pulled them off of you, letting them fall to your ankles. You gasped and Henry locked his lips to yours again. He closed any space that was still between your bodies, his muscular torso flush with your soft one. You could feel the hard-on in his pants against your lower belly. You felt yourself starting to melt when Henry broke the kiss.

“Hold on, babe.”

“Huh? Oh!”

Henry bent down, put his hands on the back of your legs, and lifted you up so each of your legs was on his hips. You clung onto Henry’s shoulders as your feet came off the ground. His lips went back to yours as he turned and put you against the closest wall. He got rough again, and your pussy started leaving a wet patch on Henry’s dress pants. You whimpered. That was enough of a cue for Henry to start biting and sucking away at your neck and as close to your collarbone as he could. You moaned when Henry latched on hard and sucked right behind your ear. You were sure you’d be decorated with red and purple marks tomorrow morning, but that was the last thing on your mind. Henry shifted your weight so you rested on one of his hips and the opposite hand. You wrapped your legs around his waist to keep your balance. You felt his hand grip your thigh hard and the other fiddle with his belt. Henry’s pants went slack and his cock pressed against your wet folds. Before you had time to prepare yourself, Henry lowered you down to his hilt. You gasped and dug your nails into Henry’s back as he pressed you harder into the wall, groaning low in his throat. He bounced you up once to get comfortable before starting to thrust into you at a rough rhythm. You squeezed your eyes shut and linked your ankles behind Henry’s back to keep yourself secure. A little squeak or moan escaped your throat each time Henry thrusted into you, whether it was him pushing up or bouncing you with his arms. It was slower than usual, but a whole lot harder and more frustrated.

“Henry! Henry!” you moaned as Henry kept working your neck with his mouth. He stopped more often to take deep, hoarse breaths between thrusts into your pussy. You opened your eyes for a moment and saw the reflection of Henry’s back in the body mirror on the other side of the room. Only a little more than half of him was visible, but you clearly saw his back muscles ripple when he repositioned you. His thighs and buttocks tensed under his dress pants with each thrust. Not a muscle on him went slack for more than a second as he held up and fucked you hard. You let out another moan and let your perfectly manicured nails drag more red stripes across Henry’s broad shoulders. “What’s gotten into you?”

“That… stupid dress...” Henry grumbled against your neck, driving his fingers into your thighs even further.

“My… dress?” you questioned, mind only half in the conversation.

“You… wore that fucking dress…” Henry spat out through gritted teeth, “and expect me not… to fuck you senseless?”

Henry slammed into you hard, pushing you against the wall. You cried out.

“I just thought that you- oh!”

Henry slammed in again. “Everyone stared at you with your legs and tits out.” Henry’s voice got deep and gruff. “You distracted me the whole fucking night.”

His words stung just a little. You picked that dress just for Henry, but now it seemed like he didn’t like you in it. Yeah, it was a little more revealing, but it was still appropriate for the event.

“I’m sorry Henry,” you whimpered. “I won’t wear it again...”

Henry’s thrusting slowed to a stop. His lips released from your neck and his eyes met yours. His face was soft and confused. “What?”

“I… I’m sorry about the dress. I shouldn’t have worn it.”

Henry furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about? (Y/n), you looked great!”

You felt a lump forming in your throat. “You said it was s-stupid and a distraction. Your stylist helped pick it and- and- I thought you’d like it…”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Henry’s face went soft again. “I just got a little caught up in the moment. You looked beautiful. I loved the dress.”

“I wasn’t trying to distract you. I know it was a little low cut but…”

“Baby… I know you weren’t. You’re allowed to wear whatever you want.” Henry tilted his head to one side and smiled. “If I had it my way, baby, you’d be in just those little panties of yours all day. And when my evening consists of choosing between staring at some old guy giving a long-winded speech or the most wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous woman in the whole world wearing something that shows her body off so much, I think you know which I’m going to choose.”

You smiled as Henry closed the distance between your lips. He pressed you a little more into the wall so he could get a nice, deep kiss. After a moment, Henry drew his lips from yours. “You’re going to hold onto that dress because I’m planning on showing you off some more. I’m gonna talk to my stylist to see if we can get a few more like it, too.”

You giggled as Henry started working his magic on your collarbone and going into you at slow, deep thrusts. You let out a deep sigh and ran one hand through Henry’s curls. That wonderful warm and tight feeling started forming in your lower belly and pussy. You curled your toes and you tilted your head back against the wall.

Henry’s breath hitched once and his steady pace faltered. He started going again, but struggled to keep up with his pace. He grunted and groaned and gripped your thighs hard.

“Oh… ah, fuck…” Henry’s lips were slack against your skin as he came inside of you, making sure here was buried completely in your pussy. His hips jerked into you a few times with a few more grunts before Henry’s body eased and he took heavy breaths into your shoulder.

“Henry…” you breathed, and Henry looked up to you. You were disappointed that you didn’t quite get to finish. “That was good.”

Henry’s eyes met yours. “Oh, I’m not done with you.” Henry put his lips to yours, sliding his tongue over your lips and into your mouth. Holding you tight, he stepped away from the wall and took some wobbly steps to the bed. You kept your body pressed against Henry’s as he put one knee onto the bed. He leaned forward and you let yourself ease back onto the pillows as Henry moved to stand up again. Henry’s cock slipped out of you and a dollop of cum came with it, dripping down your thigh and into the sheets of the unmade bed. Henry stood at the side of the bed and shimmied out of his dress pants and let them fall into a heap on the floor. He smiled at you as he crawled back onto the bed, not fully nude. As he made his way to be on top of you and put his lips to yours, Henry’s hand went down to your clit and rubbed it with his middle two fingers.

“Oh Henry!” you gasped, feeling the warmth and tightening return. Henry’s lips went from your lips, to your jawbone, down your neck, and to your breasts. He lefts kisses on one before starting to suck with more purpose. He spent more time on the fullest part of your breast, leaving little remarks as he moved his lips. He continued to rub circles on your clit as more of his cum leaked out of your clenching pussy.

“Yes, Henry! Yes!” You ran your hands through Henry’s hair again. An electric sensation shot through your body from your clit, and your legs began to shake. Your breathing became more desperate and Henry’s circling became faster, and after a few seconds, another shock came from your clit and your pussy squeezed hard as release finally came. Your legs shook for a moment as you yelled out. Henry’s pace tapered out and you could finally breathe. His lips released from your breasts and Henry looked at you.

“Was that good too?” he teased.

You chuckled and Henry gave you one more deep kiss with those lovely lips of his.

“Let me use the bathroom real quick,” you said. Henry rolled off of you, but let his fingers linger on your skin as you stood up from laying on the bed. Your legs quivered, but you managed to walk over to the bathroom and to close the door behind you. You let yourself nearly fall onto the toilet with a sigh. You took a moment to relieve yourself and rest your legs. While sitting, you reached over to the counter to get one of your birth control pills. It was more important now since Henry decided not to use protection tonight - but it wasn’t like you were mad about it. You finished on the toilet and went to wash your hands. You caught a look of yourself in the mirror.

“Oh dear…” You looked like shit; your lipstick was smudged, your eyeliner was starting to run, and one of your strip lashes was half falling off. You clearly saw all of the red marks that were darkening on your neck. At this point, it looked like there was more marred skin than not. Your hair, which was previously in a pinned updo, was now loose and falling to one side. But it wasn’t like Henry hadn’t messed you up on purpose since that was his favorite thing to do to you at the end of an evening. You took your earrings and necklace off and set them aside. You got some makeup remover and started to wipe everything off of your face. A shower was in line, but you weren’t in the mood to wash your hair. It could wait anyway. Getting your body clean was more important, so you opted for just taking your hair down and giving it a good comb through. Once your makeup was gone and your hair was tamed, you turned on the shower and hopped in. Your body wash was the first thing you reached for, and you washed your body down, focusing more on getting all of the drying fluids off of the insides of your thighs. You let out a sigh, letting the warm water take you away. A bubble bath would be amazing right now, but it was too late in the evening for that. Maybe you could convince Henry to have a relaxing evening in the jacuzzi with you tomorrow.

You got out of the shower with a yawn and dried yourself off. You threw your hair into a quick bun to get it out of your face before slipping your robe on. As you reentered the bedroom, you saw that the sheets on the bed had been made. Henry wasn’t in the room; he had probably gone to a guest bedroom to freshen up like you had. Keeping your silk robe on, you put your jewelry in the box on your vanity and made your way over to the bed. You climbed under the covers and got comfy. As you waited for Henry to return, you scrolled through Instagram on your phone, a few yawns escaping your mouth. You didn’t hear Henry sneak through the bedroom door and over to the bed. He crawled in and immediately wrapped his arms around you.

You smiled. “Hey, Hen.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Henry’s bare chest went flush with your back. He put his lips on the nape of your neck and began to trail kisses up to your ear.

“Still excited?” you teased as you put your phone down.

“I just love having you in my arms.”

You turned to face Henry, putting one hand on the side of his face to guide his lips to yours. Henry pulled you in close and turned you on your side so you faced him. A hand guided your leg up to bend over Henry’s hip, and he carefully rubbed the juiciest part of your thigh. You kissed each other slowly, enjoying each other for a moment. You eventually moved your head to rest on Henry’s shoulder. He laid down on his back and you followed him.

“All of that was really great, y’know?” you said as you rubbed circles into Henry’s chest.

“Oh? You liked that?”

“Yeah… It was a little unexpected, but you were amazing.”

Henry put his lips against your head and smiled into a kiss. “How could I have resisted?”

You chuckled. There were a few minutes of silence as you and Henry just let your hands roam over each other’s skin.

“Henry,” you began, “can I ask you a kind of silly question?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Well…” Maybe you shouldn’t have prompted this discussion. “You said that my dress was a distraction during the dinner. What all was… distracting you?”

“It was the way you looked in that wonderful dress.”

“I know that! I thought you looked very nice in your suit, too, but I wasn’t distracted from the presentation. I was just wondering what you were thinking.”

“First of all,” Henry began as he cuddled up closer to you, “there were your lovely legs in those shoes showing through that slit up your skirt.”

You nodded.

“Every time you crossed your legs, I could see up a little farther.”

You’d hadn’t thought about that when you had selected the dress for the evening.

“Your neck was so tempting with your hair pulled up, too. I wanted my lips on it so badly. What else?” Henry puckered his lips to the side in thought. “I was thinking about what bra you could be wearing when you took your shoes off. Your back was bare and your breasts nearly fell out of the front of your dress. No bra, huh?”

Your cheeks warmed up a little when Henry mentioned your potential wardrobe malfunction. Henry worked his way down and started kissing your neck.

“I started fantasizing about just bending you over the dinner table and taking you right there. I tried to remember every private corner we passed coming in so I could pull you over for something quick when we were on our way out.” Henry’s hand started to go under your robe. “If it wasn’t for the valet, I would have just pushed you into the back seat of the car and got under your dress there.”

“Oh really?”

“I was getting desperate, and my pants were getting tight.”

You let Henry turn you towards him, and you gladly let your lips meet his. Henry pulled the ribbon on your robe so it came loose as he climbed back on top of you. Your hands found their way back to Henry’s hair and he found his way between your legs.

“It took every ounce of my will power not to throw you over my shoulder as soon as we got home and toss you in bed so I could do as I pleased.” Henry let his half-hard cock press against the dampening skin of your vagina. “But here we are now, and you are all mine.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #smut #female reader #fic #fanfic #klepto can write

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the-lincyclopedia · 3 years

Photo

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime.

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is.

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute.

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault.

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always.

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other.

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad.

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity.

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap.

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form.

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story.

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

#mine #omgcp #omgcheckplease #check please #fic recs

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innittowinit · 4 years

Text

Can you pick me up? my uni burnt down (Chapt. 2)

Relationships: Sleepy bois inc (all fics i write are platonic)

Summary:

In which Techno goes to England for University, his building catches fire in the night, and he isn't prepared for the difference in climate between England and California. SBI fluff ensues

Chapter summary:

After waking up, Wilbur has the great idea that they should do a sleepy boys stream. Tommy doesn't get told about this id

Words: 1785

Language: English

AO3 Chapt. 1

Listen, waking up on a sofa, with a thin blanket shared with 3 men was never going to be the best morning. His back hurt and his legs were numb from Wilbur having sprawled out over the three of them as he slept.

Stretching his arms back, he recounted the events of last night. God, it really was only a few hours ago, he was so tired. Had this been last year, he would have been able to stay up for days on end and then just crash for an entire weekend. It wasn’t last year though and Techno had gotten himself into a fairly healthy routine, he couldn’t exactly be sleeping through his uni classes anyway.

“Alright you two” Hearing Philza’s voice, he propped his head up, “Get up, you can’t lay around all day”

A groan came from the mass of blankets and cushions that happened to be Wilbur, who was curled up in the centre of it,

“Phil it's so early and we went to bed so late. It’s fine to sleep in”

“Okay” he chuckled, humouring his tired friend “It’s midday Wil, im taking the blankets away now”

Techno thought it was much too early too, as he tugged the sleeves of Wilbur’s hoodie down a little further so they could act like gloves.

“Do you mind if I use your PC to try and find out what’s going on with my classes at some point? They'll probably send me an email or something” He grumbled, standing up so he could stretch his back out properly, following Phil slowly to the kitchen.

“That’s fine, it's up in my room, do what you need”

Breakfast was nice, it had been a while since Techno had had time for it honestly, and even longer since he had been able to eat with people he cared about. He had a couple slices of buttered toast and a bowl of some british cereal which he didn’t really like but he didn’t want to be rude so he ate it anyway.

“You wanna stream together later?” Wil asked through a mouth full of food, earning a snort from Phil. This was nice.

“Yeah maybe, you use face cam though, I’m not like against showing them my face but y'know, it is what it is” he shrugged, spooning another mouthful of his breakfast into his mouth, he had to admit it was very bland, he much preferred the sweeter ones that were more popular in America.

“Well think about it, if you decide you don't want them to see you, you can always just sit off to the side and I'll turn my monitor so you can still see it. My office is big enough for it anyway, it’ll be like where Niki was during that one MCC remember?”

Techno nodded and carried on eating, they really were 3 very sleepy boys right now. Maybe he’d take a nap once he found out what was going on with his classes.

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

Streaming without any gameplay to comment about and with facecam on? Techno wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. That just didn’t really sound like something he was going to enjoy.

It was nerve wracking and he always seemed to glance at the camera too much when it was pointed at him. He knew the fans would be disappointed if he didn’t do it though, When Wilbur tweeted out saying that he and Phil would join him in a ‘you laugh you lose’ he watched as the replies freaked out.

You could say he was just a bit camera shy, he wasn’t incredibly insecure, sure there were things he didn’t like that much but everyone had things like that, it just made him nervous to know that people were looking at him.

He’d be okay with his friend’s though, he trusted that they’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation. He knew if he got overwhelmed he could sit outside the frame.

It would be okay.

“Hey hey chat” Wilbur mumbled into the mic, making it loud enough so that everyone could hear but it still sounded like he was whispering.

“We’ve got the blade here, bet you weren’t expecting that huh chat? Or maybe you were, maybe you read the title of the stream, bet there’s someone watching who didn't think he’d be here though” he finally turned the music off and switched from his ‘starting soon’ screen to his regular camera.

Wil went through the rules, it was the normal stuff, he added in some jokes here and there, prodding Techno and Phil to talk at times. They’d already agreed that this wouldn’t be for youtube, since that seemed to add a bit too much pressure for Techno, but hey, he still had to welcome his chat.

“Okay!! First media share! Lets go”

After a series of videos, some funnier than others, Techno had started to loosen up a bit. He was getting more comfortable with the camera and while he’d probably cringe while looking back at the footage, at least he was having fun right now.

He had a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t usually there when he was streaming alone, sure it was usually fun but nothing was better than being with his friends while doing it, there was really only one person who was missing.

As if on queue, chat started spamming Tommy’s name, for a moment Techno thought he had been mumbling his thoughts out loud, before he looked between Phil and Wilbur, who both seemed equally confused. Moving Wilbur’s mouse over the chat to pause it, Techno tried to read some of the messages.

“Oh he tweeted something” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket without a care. Maybe some irl streamers would have used the computer but knowing Wilbur’s history, he doubted it could run Chrome and streamlabs at the same time.

Looking at the tweet he felt a little pang of guilt. It was lighthearted and jokey but he knew there’d be a little truth to it. He nudged the other two and read it aloud to them.

‘Damn guess I’m not a sleepy boy after all’

The air felt a little thick after that, they hadn’t meant to exclude Tommy; all of the excitement of Techno coming to stay had just made it a little hard to arrange to have Tommy here after all.

Still, they probably should have still told him though. They were supposed to be each other's family.

“Hey chat I think we’re gonna have to end stream early.” Wilbur finally piped up, deciding it wouldn't be right to carry on when they had hurt their friend, not that chat needed to know that though, he didn’t want to embarrass Tommy.

“I feel kinda sick and I don't think you all wanna watch me vomit right? Yeah so it’s best we end it now”

Techno sniggered to himself at that, in games Wilbur always seemed to be very cunning but he supposed he wasn’t very good at lying when it was about something he actually cared about. Said something being Tommy.

After raiding Fundy, the trio hopped straight onto discord.

Tommy didn't answer the first time he was called.

Or the second.

Finally, after three calls, Tommy decided he’d talk to them.

“You are all a bunch of dick heads, you know that? What the hell! Why wasn’t I invited to the sleepy boy’s stream! Wilbur you bitch!” Through all the vulgar language and the constant yelling, it was clear that Tommy was genuinely upset.

He had every right to be, as far as Techno was concerned. From his point of view his friend’s had just gone off and hung out without him. He just hoped he’d calm down once they explained everything.

“You know I thought we were friends! I thought we were brothers! But if you don’t wanna hang out with a ‘kid’ you can just tell me and i’ll- i'll go!” He was still yelling, as usual, it was clear he was trying to make this into a joke where he could overreact but Techno noticed the small sniffles and the quiver in his voice.

By the looks on Phil’s and Wilbur’s faces, they recognised it too.

“Listen, Tommy”

Wil was the first to talk, it made sense, it seemed that Tommy trusted him the most at times. Sometimes Techno could be a bit too cold and sometimes Phil could get a bit too overbearing.

Techno understood this, he didn’t take it personally, he knew it was only natural that you have people you trust with your emotions more than others. It didn’t mean Tommy didn’t love them just as much, just that they weren’t his ‘go-to’ when he felt down.

Techno felt the same way sometimes. Feeling’s got complicated and personally he thought Phil was the best to talk to about that, the fact that he was older and had his life sorted out gave him a sense of comfort, like he could trust him because he knew what he was talking about.

“We didn’t plan a meetup, it just sorta happened. Phil was at my place, helping me record, and then Techno’s Uni had a fire and he needed a place to stay while they’re making it safe again” Wilbur sighed as he heard Tommy moving on the other side of his mic. Techno wondered what he was doing.

“We would have invited you, had we known that we’d all be in the same place Toms”

Phil took over, giving Wilbur a little sympathetic smile. The brunette so obviously felt guilty about the situation.

“But when we got the call from Tech’ it was past 3 in the morning and it was tipping it down with snow, as soon as we got home we all slept. We decided to do a stream this morning but never once did we intend to try and make you feel like you aren’t welcome with us”

Finally it was Techno’s turn to talk...Fuck.

He wasn’t exactly the most sentimental guy, he struggled to show his emotions and he just assumed everyone he cared for just knew that he cared for them. He rarely had to say it out loud. God okay. He just had to swallow his pride and go for it.

“Tommy you are a sleepy boy and you are our brother. We did kind of a dick move today and if I was you I’d probably be upset too. I know I didn't like seeing you guys playing without me during MCC and that wasn’t even any of our decisions. We should have called you or something. I know I kinda tease you a lot but that’s just how I show I like people. Listen Tommy if I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to make those kinds of jokes with you. It’s not funny if it’s hurting you though..”

Techno bit his lip, this wasn’t as hard as he had anticipated but it was coming out like word vomit.

“You’re young Tommy but you’re so talented. We love you”

There was some more rustling, it sounded like Tommy was wiping his eyes. Maybe the boy had expected a yelling match, only for it to turn out to be very emotional.

“I love you guys too.. If you ever exclude me ever again though I’m getting my vlog knife out”

#hurt/ comfort #sbi #sleepy boys inc #wilbur soot #tommy innit #tommyinnit #technoblade #philza #fanfic

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet

[ao3]

SO i participated in a fic event with a bunch of other very talented writers where we all took a prompt and had to include a phrase in the fic. my prompt was lashton - bad boy so...here is what i managed to come up with

the masterlist of all the fics for this event can be found here

this fic would be absolutely nowhere without @calumsclifford and @5sosnsfw i owe them an eternal debt of gratitude for their help with coming up with ideas and listening to me scream about it for days on end because i just could not write it and also to jex for betaing for me i owe you my soul at this point i think

also i literally said when i started this i was going to struggle to keep it under 10k but honestly what do you expect from me? brevity? absolutely not. on the topic i want it to be known that i finished this fic at exactly 4:58pm and it is due at 5pm will i ever change? no. keep your expectations of me low and we will all do just fine

Luke hates a good ninety-five percent of his job.

A solid thirty percent of that comes from the fact that he works as a receptionist at a hotel, which he thinks is possibly the most thankless job humanity could possibly have created. A further ten comes from the fact that his desk is right next to the kitchen, meaning mouth-watering smells are constantly wafting under his nose, and Luke’s not allowed to eat on shift.

Fifty-five percent of it, though, is Ashton.

Ashton doesn’t work at the hotel, but Luke’s pretty sure he’s there more regularly than half of the staff who do. He’s Calum’s friend, or they live together, or they’re in a gang together, or something, because Calum is how Luke knows Ashton’s name. Ashton will always slouch against Luke’s desk, cigarette tucked behind his ear, and then Calum will come out of the kitchen and Ashton will push himself off the desk and walk out with him. Luke’s never spoken to Calum, but he knows Calum’s boyfriend Michael works as a concierge on night shift, and that Michael doesn’t like Luke’s organising system. Luke doesn’t like Michael’s, and especially doesn’t like that he has to rearrange his entire desk every day when Michael’s shift ends at nine a.m. Neither of them is willing to be the first to give in, although privately Luke thinks that if Michael ever said a word to him about it he’d fold and let Michael have his shitty system and probably, like, Luke’s house, or something. Luke’s not very good at confrontation or standing his ground.

Here’s the thing, though. Luke kind of likes Ashton. He likes the way Ashton’s black curls fall into his face and he doesn’t seem to care, likes the way his hazel eyes light up when he smiles, likes the way he gesticulates a lot when he talks. Ashton’s hot, and Luke’s lonely, and lusting over hot guys from afar is pretty much how he’s lived his entire life.

However, Luke doesn’t like people leaning against his desk, which is one thing Ashton does. He also doesn’t like strangers speaking to him outside of a professional capacity, which is another thing Ashton does. He especially doesn’t like when he’s trying to deal with a difficult guest and Ashton takes it upon himself to tell them to go fuck themselves, because then Luke’s job is made ten times harder.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” he says, hurriedly, as Ashton leans back against the desk, leather jacket rubbing noisily against the wood.

“Excuse me?” the guest says to Ashton, halfway between incredulous and infuriated. Ashton shrugs.

“You heard me,” he says coolly. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Sir, I sincerely apologise,” Luke says, almost begging. “Of course I can refund you for breakfast. Which room number should I process the refund for?”

“Who are you?” the guest says, and Ashton pushes himself off the desk, drawing himself up to his full height.

“You wanna know who I am?” he says. His tone might be lazy, his face might be carefully slack, but his hazel eyes are hard, an edge of a threat in the way he cocks his head.

“I want your name,” the guest blusters. “I want to file a complaint for your behaviour.” Ashton’s lips quirk up in an amused smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’d be happy to introduce you to my boss,” he says, taking another step closer to the guest. The guest takes a small step back, stumbling as he does, and Ashton edges closer, baring his teeth in a grin. “But I can’t promise you’d come back in one piece.”

“Your room number?” Luke says, trying to diffuse the situation, and it only comes out as half-squeaky, which is pretty good going for him.

“Uh, actually, it’s okay,” the guest says, words tripping over themselves in their hurry to leave his lips. “Um. Thanks.” With that, he turns on his heel and speedwalks out of the lobby.

Well. Fuck.

Ashton watches him leave, then grins, pleased with himself, and turns back to Luke. Luke swallows, feeling himself flush under the heat of Ashton’s gaze.

“You’re welcome, pretty boy,” Ashton says, when Luke says nothing. Pretty boy. Luke hates when Ashton makes fun of him like that.

“Thanks,” Luke mumbles, even though he absolutely doesn’t mean it. Guests like that never just leave it; his manager will be getting a strongly worded email later, and Luke’s going to get fucking reamed for it.

“You’re fucking cute when you blush,” Ashton comments casually, sauntering back over to Luke’s desk. Luke doesn’t know what to say to that, never does, so he says nothing, pretending to be completely preoccupied with making a note for James, the guy on evening shift, to process the refund for the guest anyway. He’s not sure why the guy waited until five p.m. to ask for a refund for breakfast, but whatever. James’s problem now, not Luke’s.

With two minutes left to go on his shift and Ashton’s eyes burning into the back of his head, Luke busies himself with gathering his things together so he won’t have to look at Ashton. He can feel Ashton’s eyes follow him as he gets up and shrugs his coat on, and wishes Calum’s shift would hurry the fuck up and end already. Luke always has to wait an extra couple of minutes for James, who’s always late, and Calum’s usually out of the door at five on the dot.

Sure enough, as Luke watches the clock on his computer tick over to five, the door to the kitchen bangs open and Calum strides out, face splitting into a grin when he sees Ashton.

“How’d you get here?” he asks, and Ashton pushes himself off Luke’s desk again to fall into step with Calum.

“Took Michael’s bike,” he hears Ashton say as they walk out. “Mine’s still in the fucking shop.”

“He’s going to be pissed if you get him another tick-,” Calum says, cut off when they walk out of the lobby. James passes through the door they’d pushed open as it swings shut, and Luke lets out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Would it kill you to get an earlier train?” he asks James as he pulls his bag off the chair, even though this is early for James.

“Maybe,” James says. “Haven’t tried it, just in case.” Luke rolls his eyes, shouldering his bag.

“See you tomorrow,” he says. “I’ve left a couple of notes for you.” James nods, sitting down in the chair and pulling the keyboard towards him.

“See you,” he says. Luke nods, starting to walk away, when James shouts- “Hey, Luke!”

“Huh?” Luke spins around to see James holding out a scrap of paper. “What?”

“You left this,” James says, waving the paper. Luke frowns.

“No I didn’t,” he says.

“Well, it says Luke on the front,” James says, arm still outstretched. Luke hesitates for a moment, because he really hasn’t left anything behind - he’d checked meticulously when he’d been packing, anything to avoid Ashton’s gaze - before crossing the room back over to James and taking the paper from his hand.

“Thanks,” he says. James makes a ‘don’t mention it’ hand movement, eyes already on the computer screen.

Luke’s eyes flick down to the piece of paper in his hand - it does indeed say ‘Luke’, which kind of surprises him, although he’s not sure what James would have had to gain from lying about that.

“You’re going to miss your train,” James says, not looking up from the screen, and shit, he is. Luke pockets the note and heads towards the doors of the lobby.

“Wouldn’t miss it if you would fucking get here on time,” he says, pushing the doors open.

“Fuck you!” James sing-songs after him, and Luke grins as the cool May air hits his face.

-------

Luke forgets about the note in his pocket until he shoves his hands in his pockets to protect them from the biting wind on his way from the station to his house. He curls his fingers around the paper so he doesn’t forget about it, not wanting to lose it to the wind that’s howling in his ears, only letting go even when he has to unlock the front door.

As soon as he’s safely inside and has kicked his shoes off and chucked his bag down next to the sofa, he pulls the note out of his pocket and unfolds it.

Golden boy,

Golden curls, golden smile, golden heart. You burn me with how bright you shine, drown me out with your smile.

What I wouldn’t give for you to see me.

- AFI

Luke stares at it.

What the fuck?

This has to be some kind of a joke. AFI? Like the fucking band? Luke doesn’t even listen to them. Or, actually, maybe there’s another Luke this is intended for. Luke does work as a receptionist, after all. Maybe someone dropped it off, wanting him to pass it on to a guest called Luke. It’s a pretty common name, so that’s not out of the bounds of possibility.

Yeah, Luke thinks, folding the note back up carefully and putting it back in his pocket. He’ll check the list tomorrow morning, and see if there are any Lukes staying at the moment.

-------

Michael’s always gone by the time Luke gets to the desk, even though Luke gets there ten minutes early every day. Luke often wonders how long Michael’s actually at work, whether he just fucks off at eight when things start getting slow after the early morning checkouts have gone.

The start to the day is usually slow, which is good since Luke always has to reorganise the entire desk from the way Michael’s trashed it (seriously, who puts the returned room keys in alphabetical rather than numerical order?). It takes him until half-past to sort that out, cross-referring the guest database to the keys and hoping some deity takes pity on him and curses Michael to the ninth circle of Hell. By then, a steady stream of people are going in for breakfast, and Luke starts getting his first red-eye check-ins.

The note completely slips his mind (again) until a lull at half-past three makes him decide to check his phone, which is in his jacket pocket. His fingers brush the paper as he reaches in, and he suddenly jolts, remembering he’d been meaning to look up all the Lukes currently staying at the hotel.

Phone forgotten, he pulls the database up again, and does a quick search for Luke. Four names flash back at him, and Luke sits back, sort of satisfied, sort of disappointed. Some part of him had kind of hoped there weren’t any Lukes staying, and the note had been intended for him. The last time anyone had said anything nice to Luke was probably, like, a good three years ago. And it was probably his mum.

He sets a note next to all four Lukes for himself, James and Michael to ask whether they’d been expecting a message when they check out, and then pushes the note from his mind and gets back to work.

He barely even notices the time pass, so focused on answering emails, until there’s a tapping at his desk. He looks up, a customer-service smile already plastered on his face, only for it to slide off when he sees Ashton.

“No need to look so happy to see me, pretty boy,” Ashton says, flicking a lighter on and off idly, but his eyes are twinkling. Luke swallows, and turns back to his screen.

“Good afternoon,” he says politely, typing out a reply to a booking request and steadfastly not looking at Ashton. Ashton leans against Luke’s desk, leather jacket rubbing loudly against the wood, and Luke wishes he had the balls to tell him to stop.

“I’m not a guest,” Ashton says. “You don’t have to be polite to me.” Yeah, but I’m kind of terrified of you, Luke thinks sourly, as he nods primly.

“I’m on shift,” he says. “I’m polite to everyone.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ashton’s lips quirk up in a grin.

“I bet you are,” he says, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and putting it between his lips.

“Um- you can’t do that in here,” Luke says, as Ashton flicks the lighter on again and lights the cigarette. Ashton looks up, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh?” he says, around the cigarette. “Are you going to stop me, pretty boy?” Luke opens his mouth, and then closes it again, because who the fuck is he kidding? He’s not going to say shit. The fire alarm will speak for him, anyway.

Ashton smokes in silence for a few minutes, and Luke thanks God that five isn’t a popular checkout time, so he doesn’t have to deal with guests throwing Ashton (and Luke) dirty looks. Five more minutes until Calum comes out, he tells himself. He can make it through five more minutes.

“Do you smoke?” Ashton asks after four and a half minutes have passed, out of the blue. Luke blinks at him for a moment, realising Ashton’s talking to him.

“Uh, no,” he says. Ashton cocks his head.

“Shame,” he says. “Bet your lips would look good around a cigarette.”

Luke has absolutely no idea how to respond, because he never knows what to say when Ashton mocks him like that, but he’s saved from answering by the door to the kitchen slamming open and Calum walking out, already grinning before he even sees Ashton.

“Mate, I got a pay rise,” he says, as he and Ashton set off without a backwards glance.

“Who’d you fuck for that?” Ashton asks, laughing as he dodges a punch to the arm from Calum. Luke just stares at them as they walk away, still bickering about Calum’s pay rise, wondering why Ashton gets such a kick out of making fun of Luke. His thoughts are cut short, however, when the fire alarm suddenly starts blaring.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, scrambling to his feet and sprinting to the box to press the reset button before guests start piling down the stairs.

Grace sticks her head out of the kitchen door, frowning.

“Wasn’t us, I swear,” she says, seeing Luke pressing the reset button like his life depends on it.

“I know,” Luke says.

“Why does it smell like smoke in here?”

“Uh, does it?” Grace’s frown deepens, and then there’s a shout from the kitchen and her head disappears again. The fire alarm finally stops, just as James walks through the door, giving Luke a confused look as he ambles over.

“They burn toast again?” he asks, because none of them are ever going to let the kitchen live that one down. Luke shakes his head, and James wrinkles his nose. “Hey, why’s it smell like smoke out here?”

“Don’t know,” Luke says as he shrugs his coat on, hoping there’s no ash on the carpet, or anything. ��I’ve got to go, I’m going to miss my train. See you tomorrow.”

“Hey,” James says, holding out another piece of paper. “Stop leaving shit behind.”

“That’s not mine,” Luke says. James frowns at it, and then at Luke.

“Says your name on it.

“Yeah, I think it’s for a guest,” Luke says. “I made a note in the system. There’s four Lukes here right now.” James’s brow remains furrowed.

“No, I think it’s for you,” he says.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” Luke says.

“Take it.”

“I have to go.”

“Well, take it with you.” Luke rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t have time to argue with James anymore because he really is going to miss his train, so he just snatches the note out of James’s hand and makes a mental note to bring it back tomorrow.

“Don’t miss your train,” James calls, as Luke speedwalks towards the door. Luke just flips him off over his shoulder, hunching into himself as the cold May wind wraps itself around him.

-------

This time, Luke reads the note on the train.

Golden boy,

I try not to look at you, as if you were the sun, but I see you, like the sun, even without looking.

Let me bask in your sunlight.

- AFI.

Luke frowns.

He knows those words. That’s Anna Karenina, with the pronouns changed. Someone’s quoting Tolstoy to whoever this mystery Luke is that these notes are intended for, and Luke’s kind of a little bit envious. He wants someone to write him romantic, literary love notes.

Whatever, he thinks, shoving the note back into his pocket with a little more force than strictly necessary. He hopes whichever Luke gets these notes appreciates them, and the effort Luke’s putting into getting them to him.

-------

There’s a note in the system when Luke gets to work the next day.

not luke evans - michael

Okay, Luke thinks, clicking on the three remaining Lukes still checked into the hotel. Their checkout dates are all in the next couple of days, so Luke still has time to get the notes to whichever one it is. He’s put both scraps of paper in a corner of the desk, folded carefully so the name is clearly visible, lest James or Michael forget about them.

He clicks off the Luke Evans note, and another note pops up.

stop fucking with the room keys - michael

Luke’s kind of outraged at that. There’s literally nothing that makes any less sense than organising the room keys alphabetically rather than numerically. It takes more time to do anyway, because it means cross-referencing the key number to the guest database. He’s not sure whether Michael’s joking or just a masochist, but either way, Luke’s not having it.

Stop putting them in fucking alphabetical order then. - Luke

He presses enter before he has the time to second-guess it, because this is a topic that’s close to his heart, and if Michael actually fucking listens it’ll save Luke half an hour every day. He quashes the instant flare of fear that forces its way up his throat the minute he’s made the note, because he’s a little bit terrified of Michael, and clicks onto his emails, ready to make a dent in his already-full inbox.

It’s a Friday, which is one of the busiest days at the hotel, so Luke’s checking people in and out for most of the day. His cheeks hurt from politely smiling by the time it starts to slow around four-thirty, and he has to stop himself from sighing when a shadow appears over him twenty-five minutes later. He’d hoped that was it for guests for today.

When he looks up, though, he’s confronted with Ashton, leaning against his desk with a grin on his face. He’s not sure whether that’s better or worse than another guest.

“Afternoon, pretty boy,” Ashton says. He’s got his usual leather jacket on, and his hair is all fucking windswept, and Luke doesn’t think he should be this attracted to someone he doesn’t know and is a little afraid of, but whatever.

“Afternoon,” Luke says politely, averting his gaze and hoping Ashton doesn’t see the slight blush creeping up his cheeks. Ashton’s gaze flicks over to the pile of room keys Luke’s still got to wipe.

“Busy day, huh?” he says, indicating to the room keys with a tilt of his head. Luke just nods, and keeps typing. “Y’know, I sometimes wonder if I should quit the day job and become a receptionist.”

“Oh,” Luke says, because what the fuck else can he say?

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Probably wouldn’t be nearly as much fun, though.” Luke purses his lips. He’s not sure whether Ashton’s trying to shit on Luke’s job, big up his own job, or get Luke to employ him. Luke’s not in charge of hiring, anyway, and if Ashton’s hoping he’ll put in a good word, he’s got another fucking thing coming.

“Right,” he says eventually, when it becomes clear Ashton’s waiting for some kind of response. He kind of wants to know what Ashton does for a living, given that he seems to have the time to hang around waiting for his friends during normal working hours, but he’s far too shy to ask. Plus, what if the answer’s, like, assassin, or something?

He doesn’t end up needing to ask, though, because Ashton supplies the answer for him.

“I work at a bar,” he says, flashing Luke a grin. “Barback.”

“Not bartender?” Luke asks in surprise, before he can stop himself, because Ashton doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be content to not be the centre of attention. Ashton laughs, and Luke’s stomach flips at the sound. He’s not really sure why it makes something warm fizz through his veins, why it makes him want to make Ashton laugh again.

“Not trained,” he says. “I’m just working off a debt.” And, okay. Luke’s not really sure he wants to know what said debt is. No debt that needs to be paid off by barbacking sounds like one Luke needs to hear about.

“Right,” he says again, hoping he doesn’t sound as flustered as he feels.

“You should come by sometime, pretty boy,” Ashton says casually. “Bar’s on King Street.”

“Oh,” Luke says. “Thanks. Yeah. Maybe.” Jesus Christ. His job is talking to people - why the fuck is he suddenly so bad at it when it’s a hot (and mildly terrifying) guy?

“You can drink on the house,” Ashton says, eyes twinkling, “as long as you give me your number afterwards.” Luke feels his mouth drop open slightly, stuttering as his mind tries to both process what Ashton’s said and string together some syllables in response, but then the door to the kitchen slams open and Calum stalks out, looking furious. Luke jumps at the sound and shrinks into himself a little at the irate look on Calum’s face, but Ashton just looks over his shoulder lazily.

“Afternoon,” he says idly, falling into step with Calum, who doesn’t even pause.

“You come on Michael’s bike again?” Calum says, and Ashton nods. “Good. Fucking crash it on the way ba-” The door swings shut behind them, cutting him off, and Luke stares at where they’d been standing two seconds ago in surprise. What the fuck could Michael have done that was so bad Calum wanted Ashton to crash his bike?

Luke shakes himself out of it and starts shoving his things haphazardly in his bag, because he’d been too distracted by Ashton to remember to pack, and as he’s wrapping his scarf around his neck, James ambles through the door.

“Fucking cold out,” is how he greets Luke, from underneath his scarf. Luke indicates to his own.

“It’s May, mate,” he says. James rolls his eyes, pink-cheeked from the wind, and tugs his scarf off as he walks behind the desk.

“See you tomorrow,” Luke says, heading for the door.

“Stop leaving your fucking notes behind,” James says, before Luke’s even got halfway there, and Luke rolls his eyes before spinning on his heel to face James.

“They’re not for me,” he says.

“They are,” James says, holding the note out. “Why else would whoever’s leaving them leave them here?”

“Because they don’t know the room number of the Luke they want?” Luke suggests. James rolls his eyes.

“They could ask.”

“Maybe they want to remain anonymous.”

“They’d be anonymous to this hypothetical Luke, anyway, because they’re dropping it off at the reception,” James points out.

“Well, I-”

“Take the fucking note, Luke.” Luke scowls, but James isn’t going to let this go, and Luke doesn’t have the time to argue or he’s going to miss his train, so he just rolls his eyes and snatches the note from James’s outstretched hand.

“Hope you make it,” James calls behind him as he starts to jog towards the door, and Luke just flips him off without looking back.

-------

Golden boy,

Your lips are on my mind day and night, night and day. I wonder just how many other hearts they’ve sent racing.

You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.

- AFI.

Luke frowns at it. Huh. Gone With The Wind. Whoever this AFI person is knows their literature, and Luke’s trying his best not to be impressed by it.

Whatever, he thinks, shoving the note back into his pocket and trying not to be too sullen about the fact that some Luke out there is getting romantic, literary notes written for him. He’ll put it with the others on the desk on Monday.

-------

Luke’s weekend is spent watching movies and eating junk food, with a little feeling sorry for himself sprinkled into the mix, so he’s feeling pretty well-rested by the time he gets into work on Monday morning. He steps through the door at ten to nine, shakes out his umbrella before slotting it neatly into the umbrella stand, and heads over to the desk that Michael has already vacated, as usual.

There are two notes in the system for him when he fires it up.

not luke johnson - michael

alphabetical order makes it so much easier to sort through fuck you - michael

Luke scowls at the screen, tapping out a reply before he can think better of it.

How does it make it easier to sort through?! You have to cross-refer everything to the database!! - Luke

He clicks off the notes, mentally crossing out a second of the four Lukes, which reminds him to set the third note on top of the other two in the corner of the desk for James and Michael to see.

Besides Fridays, Mondays are the busiest days for check-ins and checkouts, so Luke’s face is already aching from the polite smile plastered on his face by ten past two. He’s idly rubbing at his cheeks when the door to the lobby swings open, and Ashton comes striding in, looking somewhere between furious and concerned. Luke starts in surprise, checking the time to be sure he’s not, like, missed two hours of the day somehow - nope, definitely ten past two - but Ashton doesn’t even stop at Luke’s desk, doesn’t even spare him a glance as he heads for the door to the kitchen.

“Um- you can’t go in the-” Luke starts, but he’s cut off by the door to the kitchen banging shut behind Ashton. Luke stares at it, and then sighs. Whatever, he tried.

He turns back to his screen, expecting to hear Calum and Ashton striding out of the door any minute, laughing and joking and nudging each other, but the door stays shut. Instead, after Luke’s read the email in front of him at least three times, mind elsewhere, he hears raised voices shouting in the kitchen, although he can’t make out what they’re saying.

He clears his throat, and reads the email again. This isn’t any of his business, he tells himself, trying to focus on just what week Ms Barnet wants to book seven rooms. Ashton’s perfectly capable of looking after himself.

(He vaguely registers that maybe he shouldn’t be more worried about a stranger than about his colleagues, but whatever.)

The voices get louder and louder, still muffled by the kitchen door, and Luke strains his ears to try and hear what’s being said (he’s pretty sure he can make out a bunch of fucks). After a good two minutes, the door slams open again, making Luke jump, and Ashton walks out, Calum leaning into him, an arm slung over Ashton’s shoulders.

“...can fucking look after myself,” Calum’s saying irately, as Ashton strides towards the door, Calum limping at his side. Ashton’s got his arm around Calum’s waist, clearly supporting his entire body, and Luke tries his best not to think about how strong Ashton must be to do that.

“Look after yourself? You fucking fainted, Calum, and they let you keep working!” Ashton says furiously.

“I’m fine, Ashton, I told you, I’m fucking fine,” Calum spits, and Ashton growls, like, literally growls. Luke swallows, hard.

“Oh, sorry, Doctor Hood, want to show me the medical degree you’ve got to back up that opinion?” Ashton says sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Ashton, seriousl-” the door swings shut behind them and cuts off their conversation, leaving Luke staring at where they’d been standing half in surprise, half in arousal.

Okay, so he might have just discovered he has a bit of a thing for protective men. Or, maybe he’s just discovered he’s got a bit of a thing for Ashton. Which, frankly, isn’t much of a discovery, more of a confirmation.

He shakes his head, trying to erase all the images this has conjured in his mind, and resolves to look into getting laid as soon as possible.

-------

Luke scours his desk before he leaves on Monday, but there’s no note. He finds himself a little disappointed for a moment, because it’s kind of nice to be able to kid himself that the notes are for him for a minute or two, before James finally arrives and he’s able to push it out of his mind in favour of shouting at James for being a whole ten minutes late.

On Tuesday, Luke finds himself tensing up around ten to five, but Ashton never comes and Calum never leaves. There’s no note on Tuesday either, and Luke wonders whether maybe the fact that the mystery note-leaver isn’t getting any responses from the mystery Luke has disheartened them, and immediately feels guilty that he hasn’t tried hard enough to get the notes to the right Luke. The thought is forced out of his mind, however, when James arrives (half an hour late) announcing that the trains are all cancelled because of some signal failures and he’d had to carpool to work, so Luke needs to, like, call an Uber, or something.

“Fuck’s sake,” Luke says, because he really can’t afford an Uber all the way home.

“I know,” James tells him, sitting down in the chair heavily. “At least you’re not the one who’s going to be dealing with pissed off guests.” Luke has to concede there.

Luke goes to the station anyway, in the vain hope that the Sydney Trains will actually fulfil their single function as a transport service, and is informed by an overwhelmed-looking station guard that it’ll probably be another three hours before they’ve sorted out the problem and got all the trains moving again.

Great, Luke thinks, as he walks out of the station and into the cold mid-May air. Where the fuck is he supposed to spend the next three hours?

He wanders around aimlessly for a while, sits down on a bench in Hyde Park for about ten minutes before the wind starts threatening to take his nose from him, wanders around some more, and then, because the universe wants Luke to lose the will to live entirely, it starts to rain.

Great.

Luke ducks into the nearest building - a bar, he can make that work - and shakes the water out of his hair, chancing a glance at the bar itself. Seven isn’t too early to order himself a shot, right?

He stops short, however, when he sees who’s behind the bar.

Ashton.

He’s about to turn on his heel and walk out - he’s dripping wet, in a terrible mood, and Ashton’s terrifying on the best of days - but it’s too late. Ashton’s already spotted him, face splitting into a grin, beckoning him over to the bar. Fucking hell.

Luke edges over hesitantly, trying to surreptitiously arrange the curls around his face - fucking rain, honestly - giving Ashton a hesitant smile as he gets to the bar.

“Didn’t think you’d come, pretty boy,” Ashton says, still smiling, as Luke reluctantly sits down on the bar stool opposite him.

“Um,” Luke says, glad that the bar is poorly lit so Ashton won’t see the blush creeping up his cheeks. “It’s raining.” That doesn’t dim Ashton’s brilliant smile at all, though.

“I remember saying you could drink on the house,” he says, eyes twinkling.

“Conditionally,” Luke says, without thinking. Ashton looks at him for a moment, and then laughs. Luke’s stomach flips, heat pooling low in his abdomen - Jesus, someone as hot as Ashton shouldn’t be allowed such a cute laugh.

“Is giving me your number such a burden?” he says, grinning. Luke flushes, and looks away. He doesn’t get why Ashton gets such a kick out of making fun of Luke like this. He’d thought he’d left the days of people pretending to be into him for fun behind in high school.

Ashton seems to sense Luke’s trepidation, and leans back from the bar.

“Relax, pretty boy,” he says. “I don’t bite.” Luke can’t help the sceptical look he sends Ashton’s way, and it’s met with a dimpled grin. “Okay, I do, but you’ve gotta pay for the privilege.”

“I don’t have any money,” Luke says, because it’s true. That’s the whole reason he’s here in the first place; he can’t afford the fifty dollars it’d cost him to Uber home.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m in a generous mood,” Ashton says, leaning against the cupboard behind him. “What’ll it be?” Luke hesitates. On the one hand, he really doesn’t have any money, and if Ashton reneges on his offer, Luke’s kind of fucked. On the other hand, he’s had a shitty day, he’s still got an hour until the signal failure might be fixed, and he wants a fucking shot.

“Tequila chilled, please,” he says eventually. “But I thought you weren’t a bartender.” Ashton’s lips quirk up in a grin, as he reaches for the tequila and a glass.

“I’m not,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “But what are you going to do, tell on me?” His tone is both amused and challenging, and Luke swallows. They both know Luke’s not going to do shit.

“That’s not chilled,” is all he says weakly, when Ashton pours the tequila straight into the glass. Ashton laughs, and pushes the glass towards Luke.

“Try it,” he says. Luke stares at it, wrinkling his nose, and Ashton grins. “C’mon, I’m not trying to poison you. You’re far too pretty for that.” Luke bites his lip, but picks up the glass and glances at the clear liquid in it warily. He doesn’t even know Ashton, he thinks. This might be, like, straight hydrochloric acid, and Luke would be none the wiser until his oesophagus disintegrated.

Despite his better judgement, though, and largely due to the heat of Ashton’s gaze, Luke raises the glass to his lips and tips the tequila down his throat, wincing as it burns down his throat. It’s warm, and it really does burn, but it burns in a good way, kind of peppery in his mouth, and Luke finds he doesn’t actually mind the aftertaste.

“Huh,” he says, as he sets the glass back down, staring at it in surprise.

“Told you,” Ashton says smugly. “Want another one?” Luke hesitates, and Ashton rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “On the house, pretty boy. You look like you could do with one.” Luke nods, and Ashton pulls the glass back towards him and pours him another shot. Luke watches him pour, trying not to think about the way his fingers are curled around the neck of the tequila bottle. He blames it on the alcohol making its way through his veins, ignoring the fact that it’s far too soon for it to have had an impact.

Ashton pushes the glass towards Luke, who takes it and downs it without a second thought. Ashton laughs again when he sets the glass back down on the bar, eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Rough day, huh?” he says. Luke, fingertips tingling, cheeks a little warm, nods.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Guess that’s what happens when I don’t show up for a day,” Ashton says, eyes glittering, and there’s something behind the humour on the surface that Luke can’t quite put his finger on.

“Is Calum okay?” Luke asks, without thinking. Ashton looks at him for a moment, surprised, and then nods.

“Took him to hospital,” he says. “Doctor said he should rest for a few days, but he’d be fine. He’s kind of pissed about it.” Luke can’t help the snort that escapes him, and Ashton’s lips curl up in a smile.

“He sounded pretty pissed at you,” Luke says, as Ashton pulls the glass back towards him and pours Luke another shot. Jesus. Luke’s not even going to make it on the train at this rate.

“He was,” Ashton says nonchalantly. “But Michael would have been more pissed if I hadn’t picked Cal up from work, and I’d take Calum’s wrath over Michael’s any day.” Luke wrinkles his nose.

“Michael has a terrible organising system,” he says, swirling the tequila around in the glass.

“He says the same about you,” Ashton says, which makes Luke start in surprise.

“He knows who I am?” Ashton gives him a funny look.

“Of course he knows who you are,” he says. “You’re day shift.”

“Oh,” Luke says. “Day shift. Yeah. That’s me.”

They lapse into silence for a while, Ashton gazing at Luke like he’s trying to work something out, Luke staring through the bottom of the glass and wondering whether he really should take this shot or not.

“Are you afraid of me?” Ashton asks, eventually. His tone is even, and his face is calm, but Luke sees the tension in his posture, the hardness in his eyes.

(Luke takes the shot.)

“Uh,” he says, when he sets the glass back down on the bar. “I’m afraid of everyone.” It’s not technically a lie, and Ashton considers it for a moment before shrugging.

“I’m not trying to trick you, pretty boy,” he says, and he’s aiming for casual but Luke hears the seriousness beneath it.

“I didn’t say you were,” Luke says, now definitely a little buzzed. Ashton cocks his head and narrows his eyes, gazing at Luke.

“You don’t trust me,” he says after a moment. Luke shrugs uncomfortably.

“I don’t know you,” he says. Ashton scrutinises him for another moment, and Luke desperately wishes he had something that wasn’t Ashton or his hands to stare at, before Ashton grins.

“Let’s change that,” he says.

“Huh?”

“Ask me anything you want to know,” Ashton says, putting his elbows on the bar and leaning forward. His hazel eyes glint in the dim light of the bar, and Luke parts his lips to respond, but finds himself too caught in the brown-gold-green.

“Uh,” he says intelligently, shaking himself out of it when he remembers that hello, staring at hot and intimidating guys is kind of a bad idea. “What?”

“C’mon,” Ashton says, eyes sparkling with amusement. “There’s got to be things you want to know about me.”

“What’s the catch?” Ashton laughs, tipping his head back, and God, Luke wants to mark up that throat. Jesus. He makes a mental note for the future that tequila at seven p.m. is a no-go.

“You really don’t trust me, huh?” Ashton says, grinning. “Well, I was just going to let you ask, but...how about I get to ask questions in return? Quid pro quo.” Luke swallows.

“Okay,” he says, because what’s he got to lose?

“But you have to be honest,” Ashton says seriously, and Luke nods. He’s a shitty liar, anyway. “Alright. You first.” Luke’s eyes widen, and Ashton looks at him expectantly.

“Uh. What- what’s your favourite colour?” he asks stupidly.

“Seriously?” Luke shrugs, averting his gaze to the glass still sat between the two of them. “Okay. Green. Why don’t you ever speak to me when I’m at the hotel?”

“I’m on shift,” Luke says automatically. “What’s your favourite food?”

“Carbonara. Do I bother you?” Luke hesitates. He’s tipsy enough that he can’t lie, but still sober enough that he doesn’t want to potentially aggravate Ashton by being too honest.

“Yes and no,” he says after a moment’s consideration. “When’s your birthday?”

“Sixteenth of July,” Ashton says. “What do you mean, yes and no?”

“Yes, because I’m trying to work and you’re really fucking distracting, no, because you’re-” Luke coughs, feeling himself flush. “Uh. Do you have any siblings?”

“A brother and sister,” Ashton says. “Because I’m what?” Luke swallows.

“Give me another shot,” he says, and Ashton laughs.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he says, grinning. “You still need to get home in one piece, pretty boy.” Which, shit, what time is it? Luke pulls his phone out of his pocket - fuck, ten to eight, the trains might be back up and running by now - and pushes himself off the bar stool.

“I’ve got to go,” he says, steadying himself against the bar as his vision spins from standing up too fast. “Uh. Thank you? For the drinks.”

“Hang on,” Ashton says, catching Luke’s arm as he turns away. Luke’s skin burns red hot under Ashton’s warm, calloused fingers, and he tries not to let it make him even giddier. “You owe me a number.”

“I don’t know my number,” Luke says, and Ashton frowns.

“Hey,” he says, sounding a little concerned. “You can say no.”

“I’m not saying no,” Luke says. “I’m saying I don’t know my number.” Ashton blinks at him for a moment, and then drops his arm.

“You’d say no if you meant no?” he says, like he’s not quite sure he believes Luke. Luke nods.

“That’s why I’m not saying no,” he tells Ashton, and then his stomach lurches, because fuck, that might have been a bit too forward for Luke, even in his mildly inebrieted state. “Uh. I really do have to go. Thanks.” Ashton nods, leaning back against the cupboard behind him and folding his arms. Luke closes his eyes so he won’t have to stare at Ashton’s biceps.

“See you around, pretty boy,” Ashton calls, as Luke turns on his heel and heads for the door as fast as he can without looking suspicious.

The cool May wind crashes over him when he stumbles outside, and Luke gulps in the crisp air like a drowning man.

Jesus Christ, he thinks, tipping his head back and letting his eyes flutter shut. Hopefully Calum has to stay home for a long enough time that Luke can legally change his name and move to Perth, or something.

-------

On Wednesday, Luke checks a tired-looking Luke Newham out.

“Thank you very much, sir,” he says politely, when Luke Newham hands his room key over. “Oh, by the way - we had a number of notes arrive for a Luke in the hotel. Were you expecting anything?” Luke Newham looks surprised.

“No,” he says. “Definitely not for me.” Luke frowns, and nods, and mentally strikes Luke Newham off the list.

Well. It’s got to be Luke Byrne then.

On Thursday, Luke arrives to find a note in the system from James on Luke Byrne’s guest data.

Told you they were for you. - James

Luke frowns, and reaches for the three notes folded carefully in the corner of the desk.

Golden boy. Surely that’s not Luke? Okay, he thinks, looking at the first note - golden curls, yeah, he’s got blonde hair, but besides that? Golden smile, golden heart? If whoever is leaving these notes thinks Luke’s customer-service smile is golden, he’s going to have to recommend a lobotomy. And, he thinks, shuffling to the second and third notes, nobody could think he shone like the sun, nor have their hearts sent racing by his lips. Luke just isn’t that person for anyone, never has been.

He spends the whole day puzzling about it, so consumed in trying to make sense of the situation that he doesn’t even realise how fast the time is going until the door swings open at ten to five, Ashton already grinning as he walks over to Luke’s desk.

Oh, fuck.

Luke hasn’t seen Ashton since the night at the bar, and he’s been trying his best to keep Ashton out of his mind, too. He’d nigh-on had a panic attack when he’d thought back to their conversation in the shower the next morning, so he’s counting the repression as being for health and safety reasons, which is definitely permissible.

However, he can’t avoid Ashton at work.

“You look happy to see me, pretty boy,” Ashton remarks, leaning against Luke’s desk, that one fucking curl falling in his eyes, and Luke forces the trepidation off his face.

“Long day,” Luke says.

“Need another pick-me-up?” Ashton asks, lips quirking up in a grin. Luke wills his blood to remain where it is and not rush to his cheeks, and averts his gaze back to his screen.

“No,” he says, and then thinks it might have come out a bit curt, and adds, “thank you.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind,” Ashton says. Luke nods tightly, and taps out a response to an email.

“Michael says someone’s been receiving mystery notes,” Ashton says after a moment, far too casually. Luke’s eyes snap to him, and narrow.

“What?” he says. Ashton shrugs.

“Says someone’s been leaving notes for a Luke, and you’re trying to find who it is,” he says. Luke hesitates, then nods.

“Well, they’re for a Luke, but I’ve checked with every Luke that was staying here when they came,” he says. “So. I’m going to check whether there are any Lukes due to arrive soon.”

“You ever stop to consider it might be you?” Ashton asks, amused.

“Well,” Luke says. “I mean. No? Like, I’ve thought about it, but- I’m not, y’know. That kind of person. I mean. Nobody, like.” He shrugs uncomfortably, wishing he’d never opened his mouth in the first place.

“Nobody what?” Luke sighs.

“Nobody would do that for me,” he says, all in a rush. Ashton raises an eyebrow.

“Oh?” he says. “Says who, pretty boy?” Luke opens his mouth - to say what, he’s not quite sure - but they’re interrupted by the kitchen door banging open, Calum striding out, beaming.

“I’m going to do it,” he says to Ashton.

“Good,” Ashton says, pushing himself off Luke’s desk. “Only taken you a decade.”

“Are you fucking mad, as if he would have said yes when we were sixte-”

“See you tomorrow, pretty boy,” Ashton calls, and Luke starts in surprise. Ashton never says goodbye, forgets all about him as soon as Calum comes out.

“Uh,” Luke stammers, “bye?” Ashton throws him another amused glance over his shoulder, and falls in step with Calum, who’s saying something about how he had to wait for the right time, okay, sixteen is way too young, even if he already knew back then.

Luke stares after them for so long after the door has closed that his eyes start to water.

Ashton doesn’t say goodbye to Luke. It’s one of the universal laws of, like, life, or something. The sky is blue, the Earth is round, and Ashton doesn’t say goodbye to Luke. Luke’s honestly not sure what to make of it - does Ashton think they’re, like, friends now, or something? Is he just trying to unnerve him? Yeah, it’s probably that, he thinks. Ashton clearly gets a kick out of making Luke flustered, and throwing him a curveball like that is a surefire way to do it.

When Luke finally tears his gaze away from the door and back at the desk, he notices another scrap of paper to the left of his computer screen. He reaches for it, frowning at the Luke on the front, and opens it.

Golden boy,

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

- AFI.

Hamlet. AFI is quoting Hamlet. Not just that - he’s quoting a lesser-known part of Hamlet, which means he’s either googling ‘romantic quotes to put in anonymous love notes’ or he’s well-read. Luke decides to choose it’s the latter, because the idea of that makes his heart skip several beats.

Although, to be fair, that might just be him jumping in shock when James slams his bag down on the desk.

“Got your daily note?” James asks, seeing the piece of paper in Luke’s hand. Luke flushes, and folds it back up.

“It’s not mine,” he protests weakly, getting to his feet, and James rolls his eyes.

“We checked every Luke in the system,” he says. “Who the fuck else is it going to be?”

“Maybe it’s for a Lucas,” Luke suggests. “Maybe Luke is a nickname.” James pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You’re fucking impossible,” he says, holding his hand out. “Let’s see it.” Luke hesitates, and then drops it in James’s hand and busies himself with getting his things together so he won’t have to see the look on James’s face as he reads.

“Put it on top of the pile,” Luke says, his back to James as he shrugs his coat on.

“Luke,” James says, like Luke’s the stupidest person alive. Luke resents that. “This is about you. This is about you doubting the notes are for you.”

“It’s not,” Luke says.

“You’re doubting a note written about how you shouldn’t doubt the notes?” James says, eyebrows raised. Luke scowls into his bag.

“Fine,” he says, turning around to face James. “And what if they’re for me?”

“Then we find out who’s leaving them,” James says, swinging himself into the chair and spinning around.

“How?” James shrugs.

“You’re going to miss your train,” is all he says. Luke scowls, and flips him off.

“Get an earlier fucking train,” he calls, as he jogs towards the door, because shit, he really is going to miss his train.

“No can do,” James shouts after him, and Luke flips him off again, almost shutting his finger in the door as it closes behind him.

-------

Luke can’t sleep.

He’s been lying in bed for two hours, tossing and turning, but he can’t get the notes out of his mind.

What if they are for him? Luke’s barely even stopped to consider the idea - no, he’s actively stopped himself from considering the idea, because there was no way they were for him, and it would have been stupid for him to build up that kind of hope only for it to come crashing down.

But now that they’ve checked every Luke in the system, he has to toy with the idea that maybe, just maybe they are for him. Sure, they could be for a Lucas, or for a Luke that’s still to arrive, but the rational part of his mind tells him that the likelihood of that is incredibly low. Logically, he knows he’s looking for other explanations because the idea that they could be for him just doesn’t compute. Luke’s not someone who gets romantic notes. Luke’s not someone who gets romance full stop - the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for him is pay for his cab home from their place.

(He still thinks about Nick fondly.)

And if they are for him, that opens up a whole new can of worms. Luke’s barely even given any thought to who AFI might be, because he’s been telling himself the notes aren’t for him. But now that he’s starting to entertain that notion, that question is crowding into every corner of his mind.

Is it a reference to the band? Is it some kind of cryptic musical reference that Luke’s somehow supposed to understand? Or maybe it’s someone’s initials? AFI are pretty unusual initials, he thinks. He doesn’t think he knows anyone with a name starting with F, or a surname starting with I. Maybe it’s double-barrelled?

He sighs, and rolls over onto his side, trying to put all thoughts of the mysterious author of the notes out of his mind. There’s nothing he can do about it now, and running in circles in his head clearly isn’t helping. He’ll just have to pay better attention tomorrow, see who’s dropping pieces of paper on his desk.

You know, a little voice in his mind tells him as he’s on the verge of falling asleep. Ashton starts with an A.

Luke pushes the thought away and allows sleep to envelop him.

-------

On Friday morning, Luke pushes the door to the lobby open, yawning from his lack of sleep, and stops short.

Michael’s there.

He’s standing by the desk, hands on his hips, looking distinctly irritated.

“Oh,” Luke says, completely bewildered. Michael’s never there.

“I’m specifically supposed to give you this,” Michael says, thrusting a hand out. As Luke edges closer, he sees a piece of paper in it, the same scratchy handwriting spelling out his name on the front.

“From who?” he asks.

“Can’t tell you,” Michael says shortly, dropping the note in Luke’s hands and hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “I’ve left the keys in alphabetical order, and if you fucking mess them up again, I’m going to have Calum commit a fairly serious crime against you.” Luke clenches his teeth, watching Michael as he saunters out of the room without waiting for a response from Luke (not that he would have got one anyway), only dropping his gaze to the note in his hand when the door closes behind Michael.

Okay, he thinks, unfolding the note, and trying to ignore the way his heart is racing and his fingers are fumbling with the paper. So the notes are for him.

Golden boy,

Maybe I’ve been too subtle with these. Maybe you needed the pomp and blare, and not the old friend through quiet ways, the seeming prose.

- AFI.

Luke frowns at it, sitting down in his chair and pulling up a browser on the computer. He’s not really sure whether these are AFI’s own words, or whether it’s a quote from something he hasn’t read before. However, a quick Google informs him it’s a (very butchered) line from Anne of Avonlea, which immediately makes Luke’s heart jump a little, because who outside of bookworms reads any further than Anne of Green Gables? Jesus, Luke’s already a little in love with AFI, and for all he knows it could be James playing a prank on him.

And, like, okay. The notes are for him, and it makes Luke’s palms sweat a little just to think about. AFI thinks he’s a golden boy. AFI thinks he’s worth sending romantic literary notes to, and wants him to know they’re for him.

And, more importantly, Michael knows who AFI is.

Luke stews on that all day, thoughts stumbling over each other in their haste to get to the forefront of his mind. Why wouldn’t Michael tell Luke who it is? Why is AFI so keen to remain anonymous? Are they embarrassed to like Luke? Actually, that would explain a lot, and Luke can’t really fault them for it. He’s not exactly anyone to show off to friends and family.

He’s so preoccupied that by four-fifty he’s only about two-thirds through the emails he should have answered, but as soon as he feels the familiar presence of Ashton looming over his desk, he knows he’s not going to get anything more done. He sighs, leaning back, and looks up at Ashton, who’s grinning at him.

“Afternoon, pretty boy,” he says, looking particularly pleased with himself for some reason. Luke decides not to ask.

“Hi,” he says.

“You look pensive,” Ashton remarks. Luke shrugs, a little uncomfortably. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? Yeah, you wouldn’t happen to know who dropped a note off for Michael to give to me this morning, would you? Cheers, mate. By the way, I’ve wanted to fuck you for, like, six months, and your presence is getting a bit unbearable, so would you do me a favour and not show up again until I’m out of this dry spell?

“Uh,” he settles for. Close enough.

“Heard you met Michael this morning,” Ashton comments, examining his fingernails.

“Yeah,” Luke says, even though he’s met Michael before. “He’s, uh.” Bitchy? Luke’s not sure insulting Ashton’s friends is the best idea he’s ever had, so he says nothing. Ashton seems to get it, though, and just laughs.

“Yeah, he’s like that,” he says. “But he’s lovely when you get to know him.”

“Right,” Luke says doubtfully. Ashton just grins, and reaches for the cigarette behind his ear.

“Uh,” Luke says. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“Oh?” Ashton says, raising an eyebrow, cigarette already halfway to his lips. “What are you going to do about it?” Luke opens his mouth, and closes it again. Then, suddenly-

“I’ll give you my number if you don’t,” he blurts, and then immediately feels himself turn an impressive shade of red. Ashton’s hand stills for a moment, and then he grins, and tucks the cigarette back behind his ear.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me your number anyway, pretty boy,” he says, but he’s still smiling.

“You almost gave me a hangover,” Luke says, but he’s reaching for the phone in his coat pocket anyway, if only to spare himself from having to look at Ashton. Jesus Christ. What the fuck came over him?

“Not my fault you’re a lightweight,” he hears Ashton say, and he scowls, unlocking his phone and pulling up his own contact. He spins back around to his desk and pulls a piece of paper towards him, scribbling the numbers down at the top. He hesitates, and then writes Luke at the top, even though Ashton clearly knows his name. He’s not sure how many numbers someone as attractive as Ashton must be receiving on a daily basis, so it can’t hurt, right?

He pushes the piece of paper towards Ashton, who takes it with a grin, reading the numbers at least three times.

“You know, I know your name,” he remarks.

“I know.” Ashton glances back at the numbers again, and looks like he’s going to say something else, when the door to the kitchen opens.

“You come on your bike?” Calum asks Ashton, who nods. “Good. I’ve picked out a few places I think might have good ones.”

“In your budget?”

“Fuck you,” Calum says, as they start off towards the door. “I got a raise, remember?”

“And you still think Michael’s going to say yes when he hears how you got it?” Ashton says, sounding amused.

“He already knows,” Calum says dismissively, pushing the door open. “And it’s not like he’s above threats of violence himself.”

“I’ll text you, pretty boy,” Ashton calls over his shoulder, just before the door shuts behind him.

Luke’s glad the door’s between them, or he might do something stupid like shout yes, please do, and please fuck me while you’re at it after Ashton.

Jesus, he thinks, putting his head in his hands. Ashton’s got his number. He’s given Ashton his number. He, Luke Hemmings, had the gall to give the hottest guy in the entirety of Australia his number.

Whatever, he tells himself, packing his things together. Ashton’ll probably forget to text him, anyway. Luke’s not exactly high up on anyone’s to-do list.

-------

Much to his surprise, Luke’s first text from Ashton comes on Saturday evening.

0491570156 Evening, pretty boy.

Luke looks over at his phone lazily when it chimes, not intending to answer his mum when Mike Ross is about to get found out as a fraud by Jessica, and jerks upright when he sees the nickname.

Hi.

Hey.

Hi :)

Hi!

Luke types and erases each one. Too serious, too enthusiastic, too childlike, not cool enough. By the time he’s decided to just bite the bullet and go for Hey, Ashton’s typing again, and Luke erases it all and waits with bated breath.

0491570156 You typing an essay or something?

Shit, Luke forgot Ashton could see when he was typing. God, he’s going to have to start typing on Notes, or something.

Me Sorry. Hi

It’s terrible, but so is Luke, so it’s fitting. He clicks off the chat so he won’t have to see Ashton typing, and saves him as a new contact, by which time Ashton’s sent another message.

Ashton You sound pleased to hear from me

Luke swallows. He’s not sure whether it’s just because it’s over text, but Ashton sounds kind of pissed.

Me I am!

He erases that immediately.

Me I am, I’m just surprised

He bites his lip, and then thinks fuck it, takes another gulp of his wine, and adds a line.

I’m also pretty bad at talking to people.

Ashton’s reply is instantaneous.

Ashton You’re cute when you’re flustered

Ashton Although honestly, you’re cute all the time

Me I’m flustered all the time

Luke stares at the screen, willing Ashton to respond, heart beating wildly. He’s not exactly known for his flirting prowess.

Ashton Damn...thought I was special

Luke inhales deeply, and types without letting himself think about it.

Me Never said you weren’t the reason I’m flustered all the time

This time, Ashton replies immediately.

Ashton Good :) I was starting to think this was all one-sided

Luke lets out a shaky exhale. What’s that supposed to mean?

He’s halfway through typing out a message along those lines when another text comes through.

Ashton Sorry, my shift is actually about to start. Wasn’t expecting you to reply so quickly

And then another:

Ashton See you around, pretty boy

Luke stares at it, and then puts his phone down, slightly dazed.

He’s not going to think about this until he absolutely has to.

-------

‘Until he absolutely has to’ turns out to be about ten p.m. on Sunday night.

Ashton Hey, pretty boy

Ashton I’m on my break

Luke jumps when his phone chimes, and grabs for it with fumbling fingers.

Me How’s work?

Ashton Oh, you know

Ashton Only had to kick out one guy so far

Ashton So pretty good

Luke huffs out a laugh.

Me Pretty sure that’s a bouncer’s job, not a barback’s

Ashton I’m a good multitasker

Okay, Luke doesn’t have, like, a thing for bouncers, but the idea of Ashton squaring up to some drunk guy and throwing him out is kind of doing something to him. He blames it on the fact it’s late, he’s tired, he’s desperate, and Ashton’s far too attractive for his own good.

Me Clearly, since you bartend too

Ashton Hey, you said you wouldn’t tell

Me Telling you doesn’t count as telling

Ashton You don’t know who might be watching over my shoulder

Luke grins.

Me Who’s watching over your shoulder?

Ashton No one, but it’s the principle of it

Luke doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he’s saved from having to come up with anything by another text from Ashton.

Ashton You should come by the bar again soon

Me Bars aren’t really my scene

Ashton The way you knocked back those tequila shots says otherwise

Me I said bars, not alcohol

Ashton Come after closing, then

Luke hesitates.

Me I have work during the week. I can’t be out at three

Ashton Then come on Friday

Luke exhales heavily.

Me Maybe

Ashton You can say no

Me I’m not saying no

Ashton :)

Ashton Break’s over. I’ll see you soon, pretty boy x

Luke throws his phone down on his bedside table, pretending for the sake of his sanity that he hasn’t seen the fucking kiss at the end of that message, rolls over, and goes to sleep.

(And if his dreams are filled with dimly lit bars and hot guys in leather jackets, that’s a total coincidence.)

-------

It comes to a head on Tuesday.

On Monday, Luke’s note had read:

Golden boy,

Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others. I think we are the latter.

- AFI.

Luke hadn’t had to look that one up - it’s Sense and Sensibility, anyone would know that. It might have made his heart race a little, seeing those words in the rushed, scratchy writing he’s come to associate with AFI, and knowing that they’re for him. Someone out there thinks that despite the fact they’ve only been leaving him notes for a little over a week, that’s enough.

Ashton doesn’t show up until a minute before Calum’s shift ends on Tuesday, which is unusual for him. He’s got bruised knuckles and a black eye when he does turn up, and he can only throw Luke a slightly half-hearted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and doesn’t even call him pretty boy.

“Hi,” he says, sounding tired.

“What happened?” Luke says, frowning. Ashton shrugs.

“I owed someone a favour,” he says simply, and there’s a tone of finality to his voice that tells Luke not to pry. Luke swallows, and nods.

“You should put ice on that,” he says instead, nodding at Ashton’s eye, and Ashton huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, I-” he starts, and then the door to the kitchen bangs open, and Calum’s striding out, looking stricken when he spots Ashton.

“What the fuck?” he demands, coming up to Ashton and cupping his face in his hands. “Jesus, was this Leon?”

“Ben,” Ashton corrects, and Calum drops his hand.

“Ben?” he says, an edge of fury to his voice. “Which Ben?”

“You know which Ben,” Ashton says uncomfortably, turning away from Luke and heading off towards the door. Calum jogs after him, making a noise of anger.

“Ashton Fletcher Irwin, what the fuck did I tell you about going after Ben?” he says dangerously.

“I know, but Sam said-” Ashton says, cut off by the door swinging shut behind them, and Luke never gets to find out what Sam said.

It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s gaping at the spot Ashton and Calum had just been standing in.

Ashton Fletcher Irwin, Calum had said. Ashton Fletcher Irwin.

AFI.

Luke barely even notices he’s on his feet until he’s at the door, tearing it open and looking around wildly. The cold May air heads straight for his nose and ears, but he can’t even bring himself to care, rushing down the steps when he spots Calum and Ashton arguing by two motorbikes.

“...owed him, Cal, you and I both knew he was going to call the favour in at some point,” Ashton’s saying.

“Ashton,” Luke says, and both Ashton and Calum turn to him in surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Ashton Fletcher Irwin.” Realisation dawns on Ashton’s face, and he swallows.

“Yeah,” he says, a little quieter this time.

“You?” Ashton squirms a little, and nods.

“Holy shit,” Luke says, because he doesn’t get it, can’t wrap his head around it. “Fucking- you’re AFI.”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Look, I’m sorry, I just-”

“You read Anna Karenina?” Ashton glances at him in surprise.

“What? Yeah, it’s one of my favourite books.”

“And Hamlet?”

“Who hasn’t read Hamlet?”

“Gone With The Wind?”

“I- yeah? I just-” Luke takes a deep breath.

“You’re AFI,” he says, again. Calum’s watching this entire exchange with something between bewilderment and amusement, leant back against his bike.

“I just said that,” Ashton says.

“You wrote me romantic notes.”

“I- uh, yeah. I did.” Luke blinks at him, and takes a deep breath.

“You- did you mean them?”

“Of course I meant them,” Ashton says, sounding surprised. “How could I not? Jesus, Luke, look at you. You’re a fucking fantasy come to life. I’ve wanted nothing more than to kiss you since the day I first saw you. You think I was coming to pick Calum up from the hotel to be a good friend?” Luke stares at him. That’s the first time Ashton’s said his name, and Luke wants to hear it for the rest of his life.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you,” he says, without thinking. Ashton chokes on his next breath, and Calum sniggers behind his hand.

“I’m going to go ahead,” he says, still smirking, throwing a leg over his bike. “Be safe, boys.” Ashton flips him off as Calum kicks his bike into gear and rides off, leaving Luke and Ashton alone in the deafening silence that follows Calum’s roaring exhaust.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Ashton says, after a minute. Luke bites his lip.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, “but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.” Ashton laughs at that, amused and fond, before his face falls again, like he’s just remembered something.

“Luke,” he says carefully. “I- look. I like you, but I’m- I’m not a good guy.”

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?” Ashton sighs.

“No,” he says. “I- look. I’m trying to be better, okay? But I don’t want you to get caught up in all this. I’m trying to end it.” Luke hesitates, and then nods. He’d kind of known Ashton was mixed up in something, and he finds that it doesn’t really bother him.

“Okay,” he says easily.

“No, Luke, you don’t get it,” Ashton says, sounding a little frustrated, and Luke takes a bold step forward, because what the fuck does he have to lose now, and places a hand on Ashton’s forearm.

“Hey,” he says, summoning all his courage. “You owe favours, you’re repaying debts. You don’t have to tell me what they are. I’m okay with that.” Ashton frowns at him.

“I’m ending it,” he says again, like he doesn’t think Luke believes him. “These are the last few jobs. I’ll be out of the bar in a few weeks.” Luke nods again.

“Okay,” he says. “I can wait a few weeks, if you want me to.” Ashton tilts his head, and stares at Luke.

“You’d do that?”

“Well, I’ve waited six months, haven’t I?” A slow grin spreads across Ashton’s face.

“You don’t have to wait,” he says. “It’s not- like, I’m not in the fucking mafia, or anything. I just don’t want you to get caught up in my business.” Luke shrugs.

“I’m good at lowkey,” he says, and Ashton huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, I can believe that,” he says. “So. How about mine on Friday, instead of the bar?” Luke blinks at him.

“Don’t you have to work?”

“Not if I call in sick,” Ashton says. Luke hesitates, and then a small smile spreads across his lips.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Ashton grins back at him, swinging a leg over his bike and pulling his helmet on.

“I’ll text you,” he says.

“Yeah,” Luke says, a little dazed. “Text me.” Ashton kicks his bike into gear, and Luke sees his eyes crinkle, which means he’s smiling.

“See you around,” Ashton says, “golden boy.”

#lashton #5sos slash #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #malum #i'm telling you i haven't struggled this much to write a fic since like 2015 #JESUS CHRIST I HAVE 2 MINUTES AND I AHVENT WRITETN AN AUTHORS NOTE FUCK ME #OH SHIT I SAVED IT AS A DRAFT INSTEAD OF POSTING IT SORRY IM 5 MINS LATE

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drshojo · 4 years

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The World, My Childhood And My Hero Academia: Vigilantes

Hello friends!

Its Dr. Shojo coming at you with a post that will be divided into three parts!

Part One: The world as we know it!

The world has changed a lot since we last connected. For starters, TOILET BOUND HANAKO KUN HAS NOT ONLY A PHYSICAL RELEASE BUT A GORGEOUS ANIME! And not only that, but MY NEXT LIFE AS A VILLAINESS: ALL ROUTES LEAD TO DOOM! IS GETTING AN ANIME AS WELL! The last time I wrote about Katerina there wasn’t even an official English translation of that long-ass light-novel-title. And now?

A WHOLE ANIME. A BISEXUAL HAREM AWAITS! I am JAZZED!

Do you think it’s my fault? No matter, I’ll take all the credit. All the manga I talk about are getting anime adaptations. I’LL DO MY DUTY AND TALK ABOUT SOME MORE!

But first. Let us address the Covid-19 shaped elephant in the room

I deeply regret that it took a whole-ass pandemic to get me back to writing. In my defense, I bought an iPad and started drawing like 900 kokichi oumas. I was really busy with that. And then I started reading fanfiction. Then that got me thinking about how fanfiction such an interesting look into how people interpret fandom, use it for wish fulfillment and escapism, and good god is everyone OK cause that bulimia fan fic was super detailed....and I am officially on a tangent. Off track. Ahem.

We are all staying inside a whole lot more which means y’all probably need some reading material and Dr. Shojo has your back! Go read “Horimiya”! It’s amazing! Ahhhh, my work here is done! I'm serious, if you’re here for a Shojo rec, that’s it! There's also like 8 million more Otome Isekais to check out now. It’s like they’re multiplying like rabbits..............

As a Doctor, I must advise you to stay inside and read some manga and practice social distancing. Embrace your inner hikikomori.

Allright? All good? Okay now one final disclaimer:

This post is going to be talking about something a little different than usual and I want to start by giving you some context about who Dr. Shojo is in real life.

Part Two: Dr. Shojo Exposed

You see, when I was little I was obsessed with Japanese media. This doesn't surprise you at all I can tell. Probably because I walk around calling myself Dr. Shojo and shout about manga that you should read.

Anyways, the reason why I was obsessed wasn’t because of the big eyes or the spikey hair or the interesting new culture. It was because it tended to have more character development and overarching plotlines than the media I was used to in Canada. Dexter’s Lab, Magic School Bus, pretty much everything I saw on TV was episodic in nature, so imagine how much my mind was blown when I saw Naruto and Card Captor Sakura, heck, even Pokémon had the Indigo Plateau! Here were kids that were learning more and more each day and got to see enemies become friends and vice versa. They lived and grew older just like me. Except they were cooler than me. And had more interesting lives than me. I gotta tell you, I was so sad when I was 12 and Kero didn’t tell me I had latent magical powers. But there was magic in my life and it was the magic of a complex narrative story. And not only that, it had a sense of movement and had cool costumes. I was hooked immediately.

Also, fun fact, at that age I happened to be a complete and utter tomboy! I loved pretending to fight my friends in the playground and was really worried that puberty would ruin my life because being a girl sounded so CUMBERSOME.

Which leads me up to my confession. Before I became Dr. Shojo, I was in fact......Dr. Shonen.

Bleach? Naruto? One Piece? I've read every single chapter there is.

Hundreds of hours of watching fight sequences. Another fun fact, I only got into shojo because my aunt bought me volume 7 and 8 of Fruits Basket thinking “all mangas like the same right? Kids love comics?” It’s a tribute to how episodic western media was back then that she thought buying volume SEVEN and EIGHT was a REASONABLE PLACE TO START READING.

Now you might also say, Hey! Dr Shojo! Cardcaptors was a shojo! And you are right! but back then the anime was marketed to boys over here in the west and they actualy like, edited out episodes that they thought wouldn't interest boys?! Second fun fact, Once when I was in Grade 3 I was told I was not allowed to join a club under the stairs cause I was a girl and it was BOYS ONLY. The point of the club? To talk about how great Cardcaptors was! I Kid you not!

So anyways, your pall Dr. Shojo loves Shonen manga to this day!

The only reason I made this Dr. Shojo blog specifically about shojo is because, being a tomboy with no female friends, reading shojo manga was the first time I really thought about what it meant to be a girl and fall in love. And y i k e s. Shojo manga, like most media, fails miserably most of the time in displaying real world relationships. Or at least, it doesn't prepare you for how disappointing everything can be. When I had my first kiss, I was thinking about how it didn’t feel at all like how I felt reading Zen and Shirayukis kiss in Akagame No Shirayuki Hime. Those were formative years, and shojo was one of the only places I saw romance being talked about for younger audiences. I liked reading romances where no one had any sexual experiences and were figuring out what love meant to them. But let’s shelve this topic for now.

The point is that gender roles are dumb and if you have an open mind there's a world of stories out there for you. Take this time inside to read something you wouldn’t normally. Critically think about the ways that the worlds you see in stories and how you experience the world differ. What are the messages a story is trying to tell you? And why do you like the stories you do? Reflect on how the stories you tell yourself color your view of the world. Even mindless entertainment leaves an impression on us. Anyways.

Whilst you're doing that, I'm going to absolutely lose my hecking mind over the Shonen Jump series MY HERO ACADEMIA: Vigilantes!

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Part Three: I downloaded the one month free trial of the Shonen Jump app and made you read all that, so I can tell you that today Dr. Shojo is going to rant about a spin-off of a shonen manga

THAT’S RIGHT, OF COURSE I READ HERO ACA AND YES I DID PICK UP THE SPIN OFF SERIES. SHONEN JUMP LETS YOU READ ALL THE NEW CHAPTERS FOR FREE ON THEIR APP. KIDS, IF YOU LIKE SHONEN AND YOU’RE PIRATING ON A SCANLATION SITE STILL GET OUT BECAUSE YOU DON’T NEED TO SEE THOSE WEIRD PLASTIC SURGERY AND DENTISTRY ADDS ANY MORE.

SHONEN IS HERE AND ITS LEGAL AND ITS FREE FOR YOU. GET OFF MANGA FOX OR MANGA ROCK OR WHATEVER THE KIDS ARE USING THESE DAYS.

OK, so by this point in the article you have learned two very important things about me: 1) I love Shonen manga and 2) I read a lot of fanfiction.

Specifically, I read an absolutely biblical amount of My Hero Academia fan fiction and let me tell you, A solid chunk of it is vigilante/ Deadpool / criminal with a heart of gold themed.

So when I saw Hero Aca had a spin off, and it was about vigilantes, I was NOT SURPRISED IN THE SLIGHTEST. Ao3 sure is powerful.

Now, if you will permit me a tangent in a post full of tangents—HOLY CRAP, THERE ARE TOO MANY VIGILANTE AUS. I CAN'T KEEP TRACK OF EM. IT’S THE ISEKAI PROBLEM ALL OVER AGAIN. I GET AN EMAIL A FIC HAS UPDATED AND I’M LIKE IS THIS THE FIC WHERE DEKU HAS AN ABUSIVE MOM OR THE ONE WHERE HE HAS SPLIT PERSONALITY DISORDER OR THE ONE WHERE HE’S VIGILANTES WITH HITOSHI. OH WAIT, nvm, it’s the one where deku has a healing quirk.

OH WAIT WHICH OF THE 6 DEKU WITH HEALING QUIRK VIGILATE AU FICS IS THIS ONE?! ARGH WHY DIDN’T I WRITE A DESCRIPTION IN THE BOOKMARK FOR THIS!

My gripes aside, there's a reason why there's such an abundance of vigilante story telling—

Deadpool made like an absolute buttload of money and people love sass and memes.

People have a desire for a story in which they see themselves. Or, how they think of themselves.They like a story about someone who maybe came from nothing. Someone who has less money, maybe someone who is unlucky and had some bad breaks. Someone who never learned they had magic, never got their Hogwarts letter, never saw Kero, someone who never got that God-level quirk from All Might. And if your on Ao3 They want someone who also has seen a lot of memes and kind of wants taco bell and is also questioning their sexuality a bit?

Enter our new hero VIGILANTE DEKU.

But the cannon can't do this, cause hey, Deku is the chosen one. Albeit, chosen by All Might, He’s got his own thing to do. But how can we still cash in on a vigilante story?

And thus enter our New-New hero KOICHI HAIMAWARI—code name Nice Guy and then later The Crawler. True to his relatable roots. He’s just a dude in an hoodie who can go about as fast as a bike.

First off, I love Koichi. He wants to be a hero and fight crime, but most of the time he has to run away because at the end of the day he's just a dude.

He’s cute but not wildly good-looking, A bit of a nerd but not like an extreme okaku. He’s got a part time job and hates violence.

And this is where Koichi really shines—in every day stuff. He helps out wherever he can. Often, that just means listening to people complain and maybe helping his friends out with whatever they’re going through. He’s the kind of guy who smiles, not because he's especially brave, but because he just takes things one at a time and doesn't sweat the past. I think it’s really telling that he missed getting into hero high-school because he skipped the entrance exam to help someone. He’s the kind of person who lets us experience the superpower of human decency and empathy. And you know what? That’s something the world need desperately.

This theme of human decency is really the driving force of Vigilantes—it’s a manga about how the laws are there for a reason but sometimes they unfairly impact the poor and vulnerable. It's about how a lot of criminals are just people who fell into bad social circles or on bad times. People have the capacity for cruelty and violence but that’s never all they are.

Now, speaking of crime, the entirety of Hero Aca falls into some murky water when it comes to its evil doers. Much of the fandom has a huuuuuge problem with how much the franchise is willing to sweep under the rug in the name of redeeming their baddies. RE: people getting mad about forgiving Endeavor’s child abuse, or Bakugo’s suicide baiting. Or Mineta’s blatant sexual harassment.

But this theme is in Vigilantes even more than it ever was in the main series. To start off with, there’s this guy who tries to rape Pop Step early on, and the later he later winds up befriending everybody. It becomes a running gag that each new villain winds up befriending the other villain guys and then they all open a cat café together.

Using jobs as a way to lift people out of lives of crime is great and all but in the story there is no nuance or consequences for past wrong and well.....it feels very weird. It's like Vigilantes plays at having an opinion about moral ambiguity and the complexity of human existence and then just.......lets everyone get along because who has time to get into all that. Make of that what you will but it sits weird for me personally.

Anyway, let's move on and talk about POP STEP our main girl!

I love pop stars and I love vigilantes and a guerrilla performer is defiantly a character I could get behind. And I think they do a good job with Pop. She is actually kind of shy, but has this secret edgy persona she puts on when she performs. She is every girl on tumbler in the early 2000s. I also looooove that they make her not that great a singer. SHE’S GOT PASSION AND CHARISMA and maybe not born talent but like why should that stop you! Talent can be earned through practice and this is a great lesson to show people.

Unfortunately, Pop is also a great example of everything wrong with romance in Shonen.

It’s established early on that Pop loves Koichi because she is the girl he rescued all those years ago and yada yada yikes we’ve heard this one before. Many times before.

Sure, it's fine that they’ve met before, but gosh am I sick of damsels in distress. It's like she can't love him just because she respects what a great guy he is in her life and in the community at large, no no, she just needs to be rescued on top of that. And LOLOLOL isn't it funny he never noticed she was a girl because she was a child with short hair?! Once he realizes she has boobs now they will for sure fall in love! That’s how love works!

She's just with him all the time—nothing romantic ever happens she just gets a little tsundere.

I am never ever going to believe Koichi likes Pop because he spends like sooooo much time with her and they never have like, a moment. The first time he considers her is when Makoto is like, ‘hey I would love to get together with you, but have you thought about if you are crushing on Pop’. (Also this entire plot point is suspect—she's arbitrarily falling for Koichi cause he.......is the protagonist?)

Say what you will about shojo, they give you the emotional conversations, the moments where you think.....ahhh I can see why she is falling for him. They give you context! Shonen likes to just say HERE’S A GIRL YOUR AGE. YOU CAN DATE LATER WHEN THE ADVENTURE IS DONE.

Just when they might get together, Pop suddenly turns evilllllll. The evilllll beeeees made her eeeevilllll (and more sexy).

*Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

Because why on earth would they get together if Koichi didn’t get to rescue Pop one more time?

I’m tired. These troupes are tired. I’m sure you are too. HOWEVER! If your still with me, Let’s move into why I'm really writing this post. Let’s get to the part that got me screaming to my friends, who by the way, don’t even care bout Hero Aca….but listened anyways. May you all find nakama like these my friends.

Anyways,

HOLY FUCK ERASERHEAD’S ENTIRE BACK STORY IS IN THIS AROUND CHAPTER 60 AND IT IS WONDERFUL AND ABSOLUTLY HEARTBREAKING AND IS ONE OF THE BEST CHARACTER BACKSTORIES I HAVE EVER SEEN AND IS THE REASON WHY THIS SERIES IS A MUST-READ FOR MAIN SERIES FANS.

AND BY ALMIGHT.

WHY. IS. IT HERE.

I present to you my late night text messages to my friends

ALSO, AIZAWAS TEACHER IS PRINCE?!?!?!

AHEM, so as you can see, I kinda lost my shit.

And now, I would like to formally defend my claim that DESPITE HOW AMAZING IT WAS, ERASERHEAD’S BACKSTORY HAD NO BUISSNESS BEING IN THE VIGILANTES SPIN-OFF MANGA.

Eraserhead, aka Aizawa Shouta, is a side character who is working with the police on some crime stuff. He is not a main cast member in this spin off. He’s a guest character that fans of the main series will be like OH COOL. GRUMPY CAT MAN LIKES CATS ON HIS OFF HOURS TOO. LOVE THAT FOR HIM.

So, my imagine my absolute surprise when Aizawa runs into Koichi and the following happens:

It starts to rain, so, like in any good manga, this means some great FORCED BONDING TIME

Except no. It doesn't because rather than start talking, Aizawa JUST STARTS REMEMBERING—ABSOLUTLY SILENTLY TO HIS OWN PRIVETE SELF—HIS ENTIRE TRAGIC BACKSTORY.

AND THIS GOES ON FOR CHAPTERS.

THIS GOES ON LONGER THEN ARC ONE IT FEELS LIKE.

I LOVE IT, BUT KOICHI IS ABOUT TO JOIN ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA IN THE DUBIOUS CATEGORY OF “PROTAGONISTS THE SERIES FORGOT ABOUT IN LIEU OF COOLER SIDE CHARACTERS”.

AND LO IT HAS NO BEARING ON THE REST OF THE PLOT, CHARACTERS, OR STORY

What the ever-loving-just WHY?

WHY?

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

SURE, IT’S A COOL TIE-IN.

YES, OF COURSE I LOVED IT. I SHIP ERASER MIC, I DREW THIS FOR HECK’S SAKE:

AND YET I AM ANGRY.

I AM ANGRY BECAUSE MY FRIDAY WAS RUINED BECAUSE VIGILATES SUCKER PUNCHED ME WITH AN AMAZING STORY THAT REALLY WASN’T PLOT RELEVANT AND PROBABLY SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THERE.

IS THIS WHY THEY TOOK LIKE NEXT-TO-NO CARE WITH POPS ARC?!?

I mean its ongoing, so it’s too early to say but—

In conclusion—

Excuse me one more,

AIZAWA WAS TAUGHT BY PRINCE!?!??!?!?!?!? PURPLE RAIN PRINCE!?!??!?!?!? WHAT!??!?!?!

It’s so ABSURD that I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I HAD TO WRITE PARAGRAPHS TO JUSTIFY YELLING ABOUT THIS ONE THING. WHAT THE ABSOLUTE—

Ahem,

Anyways, I hope you liked this weird rant/personal-story/random-diatribe in three parts.

If you’re reading this, thank you, stay safe, and I’ll be back with more shojo manga next time.

Ciao!

Dr. Shojo

(aka Dr. Shonen)

#my hero academia vigilantes #koichi haimawari #pop step #my hero academia #erasermic #Cardcaptors #Shojo manga #Shonen Manga #Dr Shojo #read Horimiya

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botan-shirabuki · 4 years

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Summer of Smut Writing Challenge: Sweet and Sticky

Pairing: SLBP Totoyomi Hideyoshi x MC (OC)

Theme: Day 1 - Popsicle licking

Summary: A Modern AU where a lon

Rating: NC-17/Explicit (for semi-public graphic oral sex)

Word Count: Approx. 4.4k

Notes: Well since I’m back writing again, I decided it was time to participate in my first writing challenge brought to you by @voltage-vixen ! This was so much fun to come up with, and I’m excited to share what else I came up with!

Since this was my first fic, it was a bit longer than I initially intended, but I am proud of what I wrote. I recently started to love Hideyoshi, so I had to contribute to his tag on Ao3 LOL.

Also, I wrote this with my MC Nomi as the female protag. I was told to have fun with this and I’ve always wanted to share a fanfic starring my ocs so I’m starting with this!

Ao3: here

"I don't think I've been this exhausted since high school."

"Ah, then maybe I should take you out here more often."

Nomi toweled off the sweat on the back of her neck as she smiled at her boyfriend. She and Hideyoshi had just finished a bike ride following the shoreline for the past hour. Admittedly, she wasn't much of an athlete, but Hideyoshi was eager to show her the view of the beach and surrounding area from the top of the hill at the end of their trail, so she agreed. Now, her thighs burned like crazy as she walked her bike back to the rental station.

Despite his casual tone, Hideyoshi was clearly worried about her. He had asked her multiple times along the way if she wanted to turn back before they got to the end of the trail, but each time she insisted she'd be fine. He mentally scolded himself for not turning back anyway as she spent half an hour sprawled out on a bench when they got to the top. As retribution, he helped her reapply all of the sunscreen she sweated off before they headed back.

Now, as they chatted away, Nomi felt no hard feelings at all. She knew she would regret it the next morning, but any time spent away from school and with her sunshine boyfriend was time well spent in her book. The two were by the beach near the bike station when an unfamiliar voice called out to them.

"Excuse me? Miss?"

Nomi turned around to see an unassuming young man approaching her with a camera. He had a polite smile on his face as he waved at her. "Hi, I work for a local travel agency and we're trying to get some updated photos for our website. Would it be alright if I took some of you?"

Suddenly, very self-conscious, Nomi felt her cheeks heat up. "Oh, me? I don't know, I feel like I probably look pretty gross right now..."

"Oh don't worry about it! I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you looked the part," he looked towards Hideyoshi, "Would it make you feel better if he was in it with you?"

Nomi turned to Hideyoshi, her eyes full of uncertainty as she waited for his word. She couldn't read his expression behind his smile. "I think that would be great!" His tone was totally cheery, easing away any apprehension she initially had.

"Okay then I'll do it!" Nomi gave the photographer a smile and a nod. "Is there anything in particular you want?"

The photographer nodded and circled them around to their other side. "I was thinking you two smiling and pushing your bikes with the beach in the background."

They proceeded to cooperate with him and arranged themselves so they could get the ideal shot. After a few pictures of them smiling at the camera and holding their bikes up, the photographer suggested changing things up.

"Why don't you two uhh, look at each other. Really sell that you're in love!"

"Sell that we're in....ahahaha...." Nomi hadn't meant to laugh, but the concept of making it known that she loved Hideyoshi through a photo baffled her. What did that even mean? All she could do was laugh, something she often found herself doing when she was uncomfortable. When she looked up at Hideyoshi, he was smiling at her. This time, his affection for her shined through his amber eyes. Anytime he looked at her like that made her bashful, but remembering that they were in front of a camera made her almost double over in coy giggles. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this."

"Oh, no, I got some great shots, thank you two so much!" The photographer didn't seem upset at all. In fact, he too had a smile on his face, as if their energy had affected him through the lens of this camera. "If you don't mind, could I have your information so I can send you release forms and the final photos?"

As they exchanged emails and business cards, Hideyoshi remained quite personable and friendly. But Nomi could sense that he wasn't all the way there. His eyes didn't have that gleam to them, but she couldn't think of a reason why he would be that way. She nodded and followed along with their conversation until the photographer gestured to her again.

"I'm honestly so glad you two agreed to do this. My client told me that cute girls tend to catch the most attention, so I'm sorry if I came on too strong."

"Cute? You're too kind," Nomi could feel her awkward side jumping back out again. She never knew how to take such compliments.

Hideyoshi merely shrugged, "I can't blame you at all, she's as cute as they come." He nodded to the photographer one last time, "We'll stay in touch then, yeah?"

The photographer smiled, "Of course! Enjoy the rest of your day," before he left, he turned back to them, "Oh, and by the way, on the other side of the bike station is a brand new artisanal popsicle stand. It's been a big hit since it opened and I highly recommend it!"

"Ooh, artisanal! Let's try them!" Nomi couldn't help but perk up at the mention of food. "That would be perfect, thank you so much!"

After parting ways with the photographer and paying for their bikes, the two got in an unexpectedly long line for popsicles. They had waited 15 minutes before Nomi's aesthetic decision to not wear a hat began to bite her in the ass....or.....on the forehead.

"Ahhh, I'm burning up. Will you watch my stuff while I go cool off really quickly?"

Hideyoshi maintained a neutral, yet positive face. "Sure thing. You wanted the blueberry peach jasmine, right?"

As she shimmied out of her shorts and shoes and took her hair out of its scrunchie, she kissed him on the cheek. "Yup, you know me so well! I'll be back soon, I need to go before I turn into a hash brown!" With that, she scurried off across the hot sand. Hideyoshi watched her go, and as an unfortunate result, watched the eyes of several other men -in the line and nearby- follow her too.

Without much else on her mind, Nomi made her way out to where the water was waist-deep and dipped her head beneath the surface. The water was cool enough to instantly soothe her sizzling scalp, yet not cool to the point that it would make her shiver if she stayed in for too long. Realizing this, she slicked her wet hair out of her face and waded in the water for a bit, riding along the gentle waves as the sun kissed her face. The warm breeze that had her sweating buckets earlier now provided a gently relaxing breeze.

Nomi found herself staying out there for a little longer than originally intended. The salty residue in her hair felt gritty to the touch as it dried; she submerged herself one last time for good measure and made her way back out of the surf.

Her thighs felt like they were tied to weights as she trudged out of the water. Her neck felt heavy as water trickled down the back of her thighs. When she set foot on the wet sand, she considered plopping down right where she stood, she was so tired. Maybe she really had underestimated how out of shape she was. Her head was facing the water when she heard it:

"Oh no, look out!"

Wha--? Bonk.

Something bounced off the back of her head. Her exhaustion caused her to stumble forward, so much so that she felt herself toppling forward when somebody caught her by her shoulders. When she caught her balance, she turned around to see a generically handsome stranger.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm sorry for..." Nomi trailed off when she realized she had nothing to be sorry for. "I was...in the way, I guess?"

He smiled, "Nah, you're good, you're good." His eyes raked over her, quickly, but not fast enough so that she didn't notice. "Hey, actually have I seen you around here before?"

Great, now Nomi wasn't just uncomfortable, she also had no idea how to answer that. "...I...was just by the popsicle stand a few minutes ago....?"

"No, it must have been from somewhere else," he pondered, though his eyes wouldn't leave her.

Nomi's eyes darted around, nervous and confused, "I...don't know what to--"

"Nomi!"

She turned her head to see Hideyoshi standing with their popsicles in one hand and her shoes, shorts, and bag in the other. His lips were pressed into a firm line. "You ready to go?"

"Oh! Of course," The fact that he would let his irritation show so plainly on his face would normally make her want to solve whatever issue there was, but at that moment, she honestly just wanted to leave. She nodded at the guy as she started to walk towards Hideyoshi, "Uh, see you, then," she barely mumbled out.

His once charming enough smile had faded into a neutral expression and he waved once. "Likewise."

---

The two of them made their way off the beach and to the parking lot where their car was. There was a small storage shed at the top of a short set of stairs facing away from the shore and, more importantly, the sun. They sat, leisurely enjoying their chilled treats and talking about whatever. Nomi was glad things were normal between them, but she couldn't forget the look on his face back on the beach. Of course, he wasn't thrilled to see some stranger attempt to talk to her, but she sensed there was a little bit more to it than just that.

"So...how was the line?" she started, trying to figure out how to pry.

"It wasn't too bad. It sped up when I got to the front." He didn't give her much to work with.

"Oh, good..." she began, staring at the sand still clinging to her feet. "The water was really nice, we should have gone out there earlier."

Hideyoshi shrugged. "We could always come back tomorrow."

Nomi nodded, but carefully continued on, "And that guy--"

"Pear and ginger." Hideyoshi cut her off, but the way he did so made it seem like it wasn't totally on purpose. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to see him staring at what was left of his popsicle. "I would have never thought to mix those two flavors, let alone sell them as a popsicle."

Nomi let out a little laugh. "Yeah, they really know what they're doing with these flavors." Her eyes returned back to her feet. Well if he wasn't going to bring it up, then maybe it wasn't that big of a deal after all. She sighed and relaxed her shoulders before she set her focus back on the brilliant berry color of her own. "The bar was probably pretty low to begin with, but this is the best popsicle I've ever had." With that, she closed her lips around it, drinking down the juice that had melted while she was talking. It was thoroughly sweet, yet still so very fresh tasting. Nomi found herself making a small noise of satisfaction bubbling up from the back of her throat as she swallowed.

"You don't even notice it, don't you?"

"Hm?"

She turned back to him, surprised by his statement. He was looking right at her, his previous facade of content replaced with a rather wistful look in his eyes. What was going on in his mind?

"What do you mean?"

Hideyoshi smiled a little, "People really love you. There's something about you that draws them in, whether they know you or not," his smile deepened as he recounted a feature he loved about her. "And of course I understand why: it's because they can tell what a great person you are from the start."

Nomi felt her cheeks tingle from hearing such a compliment. "Hideyoshi, I..."

"But of course," he seemed to take a mildly self-deprecating tone, "when I see other people drawn to you, a totally irrational part of me wants you all to myself, even though I was drawn to you in the same way. But it's unfair to you to try and keep you like that." He ended it with a sigh, like he was letting out a breath he'd been holding, and put his popsicle back in his mouth.

There was a moment where they didn't speak, the sound of crashing waves and distant chatter filling the silence, before Nomi finally got her words together. "I don't think you should worry about that because you have me." After she got that out, she felt more confident in what she was saying. "You do have me all to yourself! Of course, I can't just never talk to anybody else ever again, but hey," she placed a reassuring hand on his knee, "I'm here with you. I'm having a great time with you. There's nobody else I'd rather spend a day like this with."

For a moment, he seemed surprised by her confession. When he smiled again, his eyes had that gleam to them that she loved. "Nomi..." He moved in closer to her on the step, their eyes locked. "Thank you for saying that." He reached out and placed his hand on her forearm, right above her elbow.

Nomi didn't think much of it as she continued on, "I mean it, I don't think there's a thing I wouldn't enjoy doing with you!"

Hideyoshi froze, but then he had a sly glint in his eyes. "Oh, anything?" he asked, lifting her forearm and leaning in towards her. "Well in that case..." Without waiting for any reaction from her, he stuck his tongue out and licked a trail up her arm all the way up past her wrist and into the center of her palm.

"H-Hey!" Nomi said, suddenly flustered to high heaven.

Hideyoshi didn't back away. His face was so close to hers that she could faintly feel his cool breath fan across her chin and neck when he spoke. "You let your popsicle melt in your hand that whole time." There was a chuckle in his voice as he winked at her.

"I--oh!" Nomi stammered when she looked at her hand. Sure enough, what was left of her popsicle was a smaller shape than she last recalled; the violet ice had a completely shiny exterior and a matching trail of liquid trailing down her fingers to pool at the point of her palm where Hideyoshi had just finished licking. "Darn it, I really liked this too," she stuck the remaining lump of ice between her lips to slurp off the excess melting, unable to stop the little satisfied moan she made at its impeccable marriage of flavors.

"Don't worry too much about it. We can always go get another of we have to," He seemed somewhat casual about her getting another one, but he was still right up near her face and his eyes were now focused towards her stained lips. "You know, I saw that guy on the beach throw that ball at you."

Her eyes widened, but his closeness kept her from having any more of a reaction. "He did? What for?"

His thumb was rubbing a small, soothing circle on her wrist, though it only made her heartbeat pick up. "Probably so he'd have an excuse to talk to you."

Nomi's eyes darted side to side, "What would he have possibly wanted with me?"

Hideyoshi's smile was unmistakably amorous by then. "I think I have an idea."

Slowly and gently, he lifted his hand holding his popsicle to her mouth. Her lips were already parted enough for the tip of the wooden stick poking out to slip between them. She let out a surprised "Hmm?" when she felt the cold wetness of the ice part them further so it could slide across her tongue. Her eyes locked with his again. She let out another instinctive moan as the sweetness of pear and tang of ginger enveloped her tongue. Encouraged by her reaction, he Slowly dragged it out of her mouth before pushing it back in. He watched her wide, deep blue eyes stare back at him, flustered, but nevertheless wanting and curious. He ran the popsicle across her tongue like that, completely enchanted by the visual, until a small trail of its juice dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin. Without hesitation, he took the popsicle out of her mouth and licked up the trail just as he did on her arm until he reached her lips, which he claimed in a passionate and skillful kiss.

Nomi made yet another surprised noise, but she accepted the kiss with her open mouth. Their cold lips came together fervently, as if in an attempt to warm each other back up. Hideyoshi had her back up against the railing, so she turned her whole body towards him for a more comfortable position. From there, she returned his kiss in full force, grasping at the back of his tank.

"Is this what he wanted?" she breathed when they parted for air. She took the rest of her popsicle and sucked down the slushy remainder before tossing the stick aside.

"Hells yes," he said, his voice already husky. His lips traveled down to his neck while his hands on her hips travelled upward until his thumbs and index fingers hooked under the strings of her bikini. Her head fell back against the wooden poles behind her, giving him better access to the column of her neck. She had been so abruptly aroused that she didn't even consider that they were out by a public beach during the middle of the day; they had been alone by the parking lot for so long it didn't seem like an issue. She didn't even feel particularly exposed when he pulled the triangles of her top aside to gently graze one of her breasts with his teeth.

"Hideyoshi!" she gasped, tugging on his shirt in a bid to get his attention.

He looked up at her from where he was nibbling at her tan lines. "Nomi?"

She found herself choking on her words. She was never really any good at voicing her desires. "There's...something I want to do, actually."

His eyes were burning with desire, and now intrigue, "Oh? And what is that?"

"Um..." she glanced aside to the top of the stairs where the last bit of his popsicle was now melting into a puddle on a wooden plank. "I...the popsicle..."

He was rolling one of her nipples beneath his thumb, "What about the popsicle?"

"Mmn--! I..." Her head was spinning with need, but she took a breath and finally got it out. "I...want to do that again. With you."

His hands toying with her paused. His eyes were equally lustful and serious. "Is that what you really want?"

Nomi nodded, "Yes, I really want to do it," she placed a hand over his, "I want you to know that I'm all yours."

He couldn't help but smile at her sentiment. "You're so cute, you don't even know," he said, getting up off of her and sitting upright on the stairs with his legs spread. "Come here."

On clumsy legs, Nomi got up, not even adjusting her top as she positioned herself on her knees on a lower step. She was a little unsure of what exactly he wanted her to do, so she sat awkwardly, waiting for further instruction.

Hideyoshi took her scrunchie off of her wrist so he could carefully tie her hair back out of her face. The way he lovingly combed through her hair -though it was still damp from earlier- eased her anxious excitement and only made her want it more. He took her hands and slid them up his thighs until they reached the waistband of his pants. "Do you want to do it?

Nomi nodded. She appreciated him asking her. They had done this a few times before but she always felt clueless when it came to starting anything. The fact that she even initiated this, in public or not, must have been baffling to both of them.

She hooked her fingers beneath his shorts and the two of them cooperated to shimmy them down just enough to release himself. He was already half hard, she felt like a novice for not having noticed any earlier. Encouraged by his gentle hand in her hair, she started giving him little licks along the shaft until she finally got the gumption to put him in her mouth. Very carefully, she wrapped her lips around the tip, gently sucking and lapping at it with her tongue until she heard him sigh.

After releasing him from her mouth with a wet smacking sound, she started to work her tongue along the sides of his shaft, getting it wet as her mouth continued to water. His hands were back to pushing her hair behind her back, keeping her long ponytail from tumbling down over her shoulders so he had a perfect view of her. She realized her hands were tightly grasping his shorts when he took one of them and placed it around the base.

"Keep going," his voice was low and heady, just quiet enough so she could hear him while the waves crashing in the background protected them from any potential listeners.

Nomi was more than eager to do so. She took him into her mouth again, this time, relaxing her tongue and bobbing her head back and forth on him until she could fit most of him in her mouth. It was exhilarating feeling him get harder and harder with each stroke of her tongue. She was salivating more than she would have liked to admit, so she pulled back and sneakily leaned to the side of his knee to let the excess pour out. She wouldn't have felt good ruining his shorts like this.

"Haha...you're so cute, Nomi," he was laughing, but his voice was so breathy it made her ache. "You don't have to do that."

Nomi glanced up, then hid her face in her palm. "Ah, I'm sorry!" she said meekly, "I'm so bad at this..."

"Oh no, you're doing great," Hideyoshi assured her. "Here," he lowered his shorts so they were at his ankles, "so you don't have to worry about that."

"Alright then...here I go..." she wanted to kick herself for that last part. To avoid any further embarrassment, she licked a bold stripe up the top of his shaft before sucking it back into her mouth and keeping her jaw loose.

"Mmm...Nomi," he groaned under his breath as she worked. He moved her hand to cup his balls so he could hold himself in her mouth. She let out a cute little moan, similar to the one she made when she was enjoying her popsicle, once she finally got him all the way to the back of her throat. She kept him there for as long as she could until she pulled back to take a breath. He held her head at the back so she wouldn't pull too far away and as a result, her excess drool slipped out over his head, making him even slicker.

He was now fully erect in her mouth. She could taste his precum against her tongue, which made her sigh around him. As she was getting more and more into it, she found herself hooking her finger in flyaway hair that kept getting in her mouth. "I've got you," Hideyoshi whispered, pushing her hair back yet again. This time, his hands stayed at the back of her head underneath her ponytail. "Is it alright if I start moving?"

"Ah-huh," was all she could say with his dick in her mouth, but it was all the confirmation he needed. He started to gently thrust himself in and out, revelling in the feeling of her warm, wet tongue on him. She looked up at him and he thought that sight might have stopped his heart. She accepted him so openly, yet there was a certain innocence to the look in her eyes. If she felt this good now, he could only imagine the hell she could raise once she got more experience.

He kept moving until her eyebrows pinched together and she sputtered and around him. He let go of her head and pulled himself from her, stroking at the base. "Sorry, was that too much?"

Nomi wiped her wet chin with the back of her hand as she shook her head. "No, I'm okay."

He swept his fingers underneath her chin, "Then is it alright if I touch you too?"

Nomi smiled provocatively, "I would love that, please do." When she went back down on him, she felt the solid warmth of his torso on the back of her head. She undid the button of her shorts so he could slide inside her bikini bottoms from the back. His skillful digits made quick work of her. She was already so turned on, that he had her thighs shaking as he fucked her with two fingers. She moaned and moaned around him, to the point where she forgot she was supposed to be pleasing him.

"Actually, can you stop? It's too distracting!" she giggled when she came up for air. By then, she was fully stroking him with her hand, getting the full range of motion out of her wrist.

"Ah...of course," he sounded positively wrecked then, but he did as asked. But before Nomi could get fully into it, she was being pulled into a wet, fierce kiss.

"Hideyoshi?!" she asked, her voice throaty and shocked.

"How about we finish this in the car, yeah?" he whispered. He had his normal flirty smile on, but he looked positively wrecked. "I'd prefer there to be no sand where I lie you on your back."

She must have looked the same, though, "That would be perfect."

And so, they haphazardly made themselves decent so they could run back to their car. After they finished fucking, they went back to the same popsicle stand for seconds, as there were other flavors Nomi wished to try. They sat in the same spot, got turned on by the memory of what happened earlier, and went back to their car for another round. They continued this loop until they were the only two people on the beach and he really did have her all himself.

#slbp fanfic #summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge #slbp hideyoshi #my writing #my art #MC: Nomi

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 4 years

Note

Hey, Could you make a masterpost of all the a-simple-rainbow fics/pdfs you have? I’ve read excited about things, playing with fire, is it weird, lonely in pink, the chase and am about to read a summer of cliches. I’ve loved everything I’ve read and I want to see if there’s any I’m missing (in PDF form).

One of my all time favorite authors. You can read ‘em all and you’ll be in love, too. Lovely fics and great variety. ~Lynne

A SIMPLE RAINBOW FICS (PDF files)

HERE is the link to their AO3 author page. PDF links below.

Is It Weird (Main story plus 5 follow ups)

Blaine sends his Topics in Contemporary Music mid-term essay to the wrong e-mail address, writing an extra m where it was supposed to read Humel. Kurt, spending a semester abroad in Paris, is having a challenging night of essay writing and procrastination, and goes a little bit beyond letting Blaine know he got the wrong person, sparking what will soon be described as a "weird pen-palish thing we got going on" that takes them both by surprise and leaves them hopeful and giddy.

#2 - Kurt Hummel and the Year with All The Emails

#3 - Of Home and Family

#4 - The Wedding Blog

#5 - Please Notice

#6 - The Interview We Never Expected

~~~~~

A Summer of Cliches

The Hudmels decided to go to one of Europe’s sunniest countries on vacation… Kurt was sure it wouldn’t be worth it. He was so getting skin cancer. And it would be their fault. Nothing, nothing, would be worth two weeks of cancerous Sun. Or…? AU

~~~~~

The Bluebirds Flight

Kurt's on a train to New York. He's depressed, listless, alone in the world and one sad song away from a pathetic video clip moment. But things could apparently get worse: when the train becomes mysteriously empty, stops and leaves him stranded in an unfamiliar middle of nowhere. Kurt finds himself in a world with wizards and healers, and all sorts of bizarre things, but most of all where people tell him he's the Crown Prince everyone's been waiting for - prophesied to end the horrors of tyranny they've been living for the last 18 years. The only thing he wants is to go back home, but no one has a clue how to do that, and it doesn't get any easier when he finds himself wanting to help, and a little bit in love.

~~~~~

The Chase

Kurt is a college freshman showing up to campus on a sweet ass ride. He doesn’t care what others think (hasn’t since he was a sophomore and discovered the wonders of steel tip boots and detachment), but if he did, he knows they’d think he looks equal parts intimidating and cool. Badass with class.And that, right up there on the sidewalk walking towards campus, is a great ass he has class with.And since Kurt has a class with that guy, it’s not considered catcalling or sleazy to slow down and take off his helmet (for better view) and say something, is it?

~~~~~

Pride Prejudice and Superheroes

Blaine, the reluctant superhero amateur with the lamest backstory ever. Kurt, the apparent snob with an impatient attitude and an aversion to expressing gratitude. They hate one another, but the universe has other plans if the way they keep running into each other is anything to go by. College & Superhero AU

~~~~~

The Bow Tie Collection

Prompt:“I fell asleep on your couch after a party but you didn’t complain and made breakfast for the both of us” AU with the specifications of: I’d like it to be Kurt falling asleep at a Tike+Blaine houseparty (Kurt only knowing Tina and Mike, obviously) and Santana and Rachel just leaving him there because he was flirting with Blaine all evening anyway but both were too shy to actually make a move so the girls thought that some more alone time couldn’t hurt.

~~~~~

Lonely In Pink

Blaine is 27, a doctor with a three year old girl. Kurt is 18, fresh out of high school, with pink hair and combat boots. Equally drowning, they could both use a hand.

~~~~~

Of BFFs and Shoes

I decided to mesh together a fuckload of tropes/prompts. From the text to the wrong number, to meeting in an elevator. Mostly it’s funny and stupid. Apologies to anyone who likes high heeled converse all stars.

~~~~~

Rachel’s Cute Autograph

Rachel is late, and Kurt is trapped waiting for her in a street suddenly filled with people with yellow t-shirts and clipboards that are so very clearly collecting money for some cause Kurt isn't enough of a bad person to say no.

“Hi!” the boy greets with a bright smile, “Could I maybe take a minute of your time?”You can take all the minutes of my time, Kurt thinks.The boy’s eyes widen and there’s a sound of some kind of suppressed cough, the bright grin shifting slightly as his eyebrows knot together.“I said that out loud?”

~~~~~

What They Say About The Third Time

Klaine AU Meeting. Blaine is a cinematography student who agrees to help some classmates out with their end of semester project. Kurt is a fashion student who agrees to help his high school friend, Artie Abrams, when he suddenly needs an actor for the student film he’s directing. Amidst the chaos of a film studio, Kurt and Blaine.

~~~~~

About Fate

Based on a prompt from one of those AU meet cute (or in this case, meet ugly) scenarios: I hit you with my car and I was the only one visiting you at the hospital.

~~~~~

Crazy

What Klaine's part of "A Wedding" would've been like if I could have written the episode.

~~~~~

If That’s What You Want

Kurt’s jaw drops in horror (or maybe it drops because at least his body knows he should be horrified at the mere suggestion of it) “You’re suggesting I…”“Seduce him. Make him fall in love with you. Break his heart on the eve of the game. Render him useless…?” Sebastian shrugs casually, “If that’s what you think it’ll take.”

Kurt Hummel has a shot at being Captain for the Slytherin Quidditch team if only he agrees to take Hufflepuff's star Keeper out of the picture before the first big game. Of course, what he doesn't know - and would if he'd only watch a film (*any* romantic film, really) - is that it's probably the worst idea anyone has ever had for way too many reasons.And as luck would have it, Blaine Anderson has overcome many obstacles in his life, only to come out on top, but one he has never managed to get past...? His completely hopeless crush on Kurt Hummel. (Hogwarts Klaine AU)

If That’s What You Want drabble

~~~~~

Thank God For Broken Copiers

Based on the prompt: you suck at dancing but you’re doing it in a middle of a bookstore and I think it’s pretty darn cute au. (with the alterations: doesn't suck at dancing, is hot)

#klaine #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #a-simple-rainbow #PDF #reaction fic #6X08 #superhero!Klaine #doctor!Blaine #HP!Klaine #gorgxoxus

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dust2dust34 · 4 years

Text

Four Walls (Of Law Firms and Honey) - Olicity AU, Explicit

Summary: Oliver is Felicity’s boss at Queen & Queen, a prestigious international law firm. She’s the tech genius, he’s the top dog’s son, and they viciously disagree on nearly everything. Despite that, they work together, neither outright acknowledging the ever-present simmering attraction that has slowly been growing hotter and hotter…

Until a chance meeting at a grocery store one night has them crossing a line, a tiny little line that was never meant to be crossed.

A collection of ficlets in the same ‘verse: Of Law Firms and Honey.

Rated: Explicit

Full fic: AO3 | Tumblr | Timeline

Reminder: This is not a story about love. This is a story that ends in love, but it definitely does not start that way.

Please read the story tags and notes at the beginning of each chapter.

This fic is being told out of order. Please see the timeline to read them in order. Please see the previous installments for additional author notes and story information.

Check out the Four Walls playlist, and if you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them!

Additional A/N: This was originally intended for Olicity Clue, but I’m super late on that now. My prompts were Felicity’s glasses, Queen Consolidated, and Isabel Rochev. This is partially written for a Fic For Food Drive I’m taking part in (please check out the details here, and consider donating!), and I say partially because I intend on writing something else in this series for a generous donor.

(read on AO3)

10:06 p.m. Queen & Queen

“There you are. Of course you’re in the last box I check.”

Felicity fished out the honey, destroying her beautiful packing job in the process. Her stapler fell over and the Doctor Who mug she used for her pens and pencils tipped precariously against the tray filled with projects she wanted to finish. Projects you should probably delegate since you, you know, have people to delegate to now. Felicity made a face. Yes, fine, it was a logical idea, but they were hers, damn it. It was her blood and sweat that had made them, and she wanted to finish them the way only she knew how.

Not very boss-like of you.

“Learning curve,” she grumbled. She pulled the bottle out with a triumphant, “Ha!”

Silver caught her eye and she inched her door open to see the letters fully.

Felicity M. Smoak Director of Information Technologies

With a smile, Felicity brushed her fingers over her new title like she had, oh, twenty thousand times over the last two weeks. Her name, on her door, on her corner office - her huge corner office with glass walls that turn opaque when you click a switch, and a bathroom, and a couch… Everything was looking up. She was settling into her promotion, she was getting dinner with Caitlin and Barry this weekend, she had been given leeway to hire more techs to go along with being given the reigns for setting up the system at the new Queen Consolidated…

Everything was good.

Her computer dinged.

The smile evaporated as she spun to her desk.

“No.” Felicity hurried over to her computer. The thick area rug she’d bought first thing muffled the smack of her bare feet until she hit the marble floor again. “You’re not supposed to find anything, what are you finding?”

She landed in her chair with a plop so hard it sent her chair - an ergonomic monstrosity that still reeked of plastic from being packed away - rolling. She grabbed her desk to stop from crashing into the credenza behind her. The honey bottle got in the way and she tossed it away, sending it rolling into her still-steaming mug. Tea sloshed over the sides, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were too busy bouncing between the three screens before her, looking for what had made that very specific noise that had all the hair on the back of her neck rising.

Foreign code was in the system.

In her system.

“Frak,” Felicity breathed, attacking her keyboard. “Frak.”

A few keystrokes later, the alien code popped up on the middle screen, and she was ready to launch into a full-on attack…

Felicity frowned.

It was her code.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

It had her framework, her technique, but it was nothing like what she used here, at all. And nothing she had used, considering it was missing her signature. Which meant someone else had used her code on her servers. And simplistic as it was, it was still hers and very capable of doing damage. Which it had, she discovered with a curse, as she dug deeper, tripping over holes where files had once been. Not that it was hard - everything this person had touched was a flashing red hot mess that she would have eventually found anyway because they hadn’t even tried to cover their tracks.

So it was stolen and sloppy.

“Oh. Hell. No. You steal from me, and then you use it on my servers, and you don’t even try to pretend you didn’t? Do you even know who you’re messing with? Ooh no, no, no…”

It took all of twenty-three seconds to follow the trail.

She expected it to be from outside the building, to lead back to some whippersnapper who didn’t know who she was, and who was about to learn that when you mess with her company, you’re messing with her…

But it didn’t.

It led to a terminal right here in the building: QQ112.

Her chest hollowed, buzzing filling her ears, scorching heat numbing her fingers.

It was impossible to remember who was assigned to every computer at Queen & Queen. A handful stuck in her mind from her technician days. The attorneys who barely knew how to open their email. The users who lacked any common sense when it came to downloading any old thing they found on the internet. Those who thought they hid their browsing history on the extremely not-safe-for-work side of Reddit, and those who didn’t even bother. The ones who insisted on fixing problems themselves and always wound up making it worse.

And Oliver Queen’s computer.

She fought to breathe as she stared at the letter and number sequence. She waited for it to change, to become something else, attached to someone else, to not be this. But nothing happened.

Except something had happened, hadn’t it?

Ice scored her insides.

She had shown him that code months ago, before anything had happened between them, back when she thought he might have been a friend. She had shown it to him as a courtesy, to teach, to spread the knowledge and maybe make Queen & Queen better by association. Not to use it against his own firm’s servers. Not to use her code on Q&Q’s servers. If someone who knew half of anything happened to be in there, they would be able to spot it.

They would be able to trace it back to her.

“Son of a bitch.”

Rage tore into her gut.

“What did you do?” Felicity growled. She went after the code with a fervor that had her keyboard scooting over the desk with every furious keystroke. Her eyes darted across her screens as she used everything she could think of to find out exactly what he had been doing. Angry tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away rapidly with a harsh curse. No. He didn’t deserve her tears. He didn’t deserve anything. She forced herself to breathe through a growing pressure in her chest, but all she could manage were short, sporadic breaths as she murmured, “You bastard. You stupid, stupid bastard…”

He had used the code two times. Both in January.

Felicity’s fingers faltered.

She hadn’t found out about her promotion until February.

The word sabotage seared her mind.

Is that what this was? They were co-directors now, more or less. They shared the department instead of her answering to him. She had taken his old position as Director of IT and a new one had been created for him - Director of Production. She had no idea what happened behind closed doors, but she’d wondered if everything she had done here - all that Oliver had taken credit for - had finally seen the light of day.

Or was this something else? Was it about Isabel, about the holiday party, about the horrible night that had followed here before she started separating herself from him and the debauched things they had done the last few months?

Fire ripped through her and more goddamn tears burned the back of her throat.

Isabel was gone and things hadn’t gone back to the way they were before.

Did he think they would?

Felicity fought to keep her hands from shaking - with anger, she told herself.

Things would never go back to the way they were. Because she didn’t want them to. Because she didn’t want him. She didn’t like waking up looking for him, missing his touch, or that there was an emptiness she couldn’t explain inside her. She hated that she felt anything at all. She hated what they had done. She hated who she was with him. She didn’t want whatever had been between them. And things were good now, she was happy, she was-

There.

He had deleted…

Emails?

Felicity leaned closer to the middle screen, as if she could make sense of the data fragments, but they were too broken still.

The only good thing about him using her code was she was able to deconstruct it quickly. Her code was effective, but it was simple, and it had nothing against the algos she threw at it to put them back together. If it had been someone else’s, it might have taken longer. But it was hers and she had a backup on top of her backups, and it was just a matter of time before she would see what he had destroyed…

All too soon bits and pieces of correspondence appeared. Broken email chains without senders or recipients, or dates or times, the words appearing in splintered sentences that had just enough for her to try and make sense of them.

It’s being split. I brought this up last month anyway,

It’s hers

Call me when you’re out

What do you want

Are you positive?

It can go out next week if you want

CONFIDENTIAL

We had an agreement. This is what you’ve been working towards. Are you sure?

Do you have any idea what you’re doing?

I found them

Let me know and we will get this in motion

I don’t think that’s a good idea

We have a deal

Call me.

yes

It’s best for everyone to get Felicity out

“Get Felicity out of what?” she demanded.

She tried to beef up the program to make it work faster, but there was too much information to cull through to find what was missing from the servers. Felicity huffed, even though she knew it was going as fast as it could within its limits. But waiting for every piece to appear, in the right order? She cursed under her breath. Her leg bounced in time with the speed of her thoughts, nearly matching the agitated beat of her heart. Pinpricks of heat danced over her cheeks, burning. It wasn’t until a lance of pain sliced through her jaw that she realized she had been chewing on the edge of her lip enough to tear a piece of skin.

“Ow,” she hissed, grimacing when her tongue touched the tiny wound. The taste of copper flooded her mouth.

Email addresses.

“Oh,” she blurted.

She could narrow the search to see who was involved. She hammered at the keyboard, changing the directives, switching priority to email addresses, and to order them by the amount of emails they appeared in.

A list immediately began populating.

[email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

The floor fell out from under her.

Felicity stared at the last one, waiting for it to pop up and explain itself, but it didn’t. Instead a boulder crushed her chest and the back of her neck burned as ice showered her insides.

“I thought I’d find you up here, Oliver.”

“I see old habits die hard.”

“I like your shoes.”

“Isabel knows.”

The list continued.

[email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

“What?” she breathed at the last one, but before she could even begin to put any of it together, the program started bringing up the corresponding emails. Her email address was attached to only one, and the subject simply read:

Please see the attached.

It wasn’t done loading, but she didn’t wait, opening it anyway. There was nothing in the body of the email. It was just the attachment, addressed to her…

And Oliver.

The attachment was a video.

From Isabel.

“Oh god,” she choked out, her stomach twisting. Her hands shook so hard the keyboard rattled and she snatched them back, digging her nails into her palms. She stared at the email, dread coating her insides like tar.

She told herself it was because it was still loading that she didn’t immediately hit play, but even when it finished - even when the other emails finished coming together - she didn’t touch it.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she sat there until she finally opened the video.

All she saw were black and white flickers and pixelated snippets. The cursor along the bottom told her it was playing, but nothing showed up, and for a blissful second she let herself believe it was nothing.

Then an image appeared.

An agonized moan fell from deep in her chest.

It was her and Oliver, in an elevator. He had her pinned to one of the walls, his face buried in her neck, one hand in her hair, making a mess of it, the other migrating down her neck, then her chest. She didn’t have to watch to remember the feel of his fingers slipping inside the band of her skirt and yanking her blouse out where it was tucked, so hard it tore one of her buttons. She had one of her legs up as much as her skirt would allow and wrapped around his, so damn eager that she hadn’t cared in the slightest where they were.

Isabel had this.

Her stomach pitched until she thought she was going to be sick.

In a twisted haze, Felicity watched her own hands claw down his back, raking over Oliver’s suit jacket where it strained against the width of his shoulders. She dug her nail into his neck. Her eyes half-closed, her mouth slack in pleasure, so obviously flushed despite the grey wash of the video. She remembered waking up with hickeys and bite marks all over her neck and chest. She had been so mad, she numbly recalled. But not while it was happening. Never while it was happening.

The Plaza, she remembered. They had used the suite the firm kept there for high-end clients.

“They never check the records, Smoak. They don’t want to know.”

The video abruptly switched, and it showed her walking backwards with Oliver following her down the hallway, towards the Premier Suite.

It occurred to Felicity in that second that it wasn’t showing his face.

There was no way there wasn’t video somewhere of him - entering the elevator, at the very least, because someone else had been on there when they’d first gotten on. Oliver had been standing next to her, only attacking her when the person got off a floor later. But the way the video played, if someone didn’t know, it looked like Felicity was taking some random person up to the suite.

His back was still to the camera as they reached the door. She had the key card, having taken it from him earlier, and she slipped it into the lock. She twisted the handle before turning to enter the room backwards. The soft lights overhead reflected on her glasses as she grabbed Oiver’s tie and yanked him in with her.

A blip of static overtook the screen and then it showed her slipping out of the room some time later, head bowed, her hair up in a chaotic ponytail, her clothes askew, her heels in-hand as she hurried to the elevator.

Alone.

It was all her.

The numbness cracked, just enough to take a breath, to frown, to think.

Felicity switched back to the email from Isabel. Short. Simple. To the point. To both her and Oliver.

So why…?

But if someone knew it was Oliver with her, that they were using the suite under his name, under the firm’s name, then there wouldn’t be much reproach, would there? Because regardless of his status within the firm, he was still a Queen. A hand-slapping, perhaps, and she would surely get reprimanded in some way.

Just her, though? Seemingly taking advantage of the firm like this?

But then why had she gotten the promotion she’d been angling for since long before Oliver swooped in and stole it out from under her last year?

She shook her head. None of it made sense.

Heart fluttering so fast it hurt, Felicity flipped through the other emails. There were so many of them, a couple dozen easily, most of them formalities, simple back and forths, nothing substantive. The ones between Oliver and his father were the most confusing, both of them talking in shorthand about a plan, something Oliver had been working towards, their conversations talking around something they both obviously knew and didn’t need to explain.

She stopped when she saw an email from [email protected] to [email protected].

No subject, no body, not even a signature.

Just an attachment.

A draft announcement naming Isabel Rochev as CEO of the newly formed Queen Consolidated.

Release date: March 1.

Felicity stared at the mockup uncomprehendingly. She read the words over and over until they blurred. She noted the empty spot where Isabel’s picture would go. She stared at the question mark after the date in parentheses. She tried to think, to understand what she was seeing, what she had seen. What had happened. How it had happened… and all without her ever knowing. It was blackmail, plain as day. Isabel had the perfect leverage in her possession.

And she had used it to get what she wanted.

“Oh my god,” Felicity blurted. “What did you do? What did you do?”

She grabbed her phone with trembling hands, swiping it open, going straight to her phone app. Muscle memory dialed the number she could never forget, but when his name appeared because her phone recognized it, her heart spasmed and she almost hit the END button.

A soft trill echoed from down the hallway.

Felicity’s head jerked up, her breath catching.

Another trill, so faint she barely heard it.

But she did.

Her phone hit her desk with a thud, but she didn’t hear it, already up and out the door. Her bare feet barely made a sound as she followed the ringing past darkened offices, a copy room, the shadowed kitchen, to the opposite corner of the floor.

To his office.

The trill abruptly stopped followed by a harsh, “What?”

She heard it from the open door that came into view when she turned the corner.

A nervous wash of adrenaline crashed through her veins, especially when a softer, “Felicity?” followed. The closer she got, the more her limbs felt like they were going to shatter, each step shakier than the last. “Felicity?”

She heard him so clearly her mouth went dry.

Felicity stopped when she reached his door.

Oliver stood by his sitting area, just like the one she had, his office a mirror version of hers. He had a sheaf of paper in one hand, his phone in the other, a dark glower on his face as he glared at the little coffee table before him.

Her chest squeezed tight.

It had been so long since she’d been in here - so long since she’d seen him, period. He seemed bigger, yet somehow he took up less space. His muscles were bulkier, but his waist was leaner. His face had a gauntness that hadn’t been there before, his jaw sharp and angular. His tie was off, the first buttons of his shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up in messy bunches, his hair askew from running his hands through it. Dark circles underlined his eyes and in place of his signature scruff was the beginning of an unkempt beard.

She had deliberately not sought him out. She didn’t look for him. She barely offered him a glance when they had to interact outside of telephone calls or emails.

He looked like hell.

She stepped inside.

“Are you…?” he started before he saw her.

Oliver’s words died off, surprise widening his eyes. Then he frowned, and the closer she got, the deeper the furrow between his brow went.

“Felicity?” he said, his voice low, rough. “What’s wrong-”

She grabbed his face with both hands as she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him.

He froze. She barely noticed under the press of his lips to hers again. They were dry, chapped, but still so soft, just like she remembered.

Felicity whimpered and grasped him tighter, pressing closer, kissing him harder. The little wound she’d given herself a few minutes ago burned under the pressure, but the pain only edged the heady sensation of his mouth against hers again. God, she had missed it, she had missed him, more than she wanted to admit. But it was impossible to deny right now, when it had been months, when the last time she had kissed him had been in anger, her only intent to hurt and maim, to inflict the pain she’d felt. There was none of that now. This was different.

He stood stock still. He didn’t even breathe, stiff and unrelenting, implacable.

Until he wasn’t.

Oliver melted into her.

She gasped at the abrupt surrender, the sound morphing into a strung out cry as he kissed her back. He dropped the papers and his phone, both landing with a thud, the papers hitting her naked toes, but she barely felt it. He wound his arms around her and yanked her off her feet.

It had been so long.

Too long.

Felicity opened her mouth at the same time he did, their tongues meeting halfway. She groaned at the first taste, eclipsing his breathy whine. He clutched her hard as he bowed forward, chasing the kiss with vigor, his tongue spearing into her mouth. Her knees buckled, her feet hitting the ground in an uncoordinated mess, and it was only because of his hold that she didn’t fall. But then she pushed off the floor, shoving back against him, kissing him with equal ardor. Teeth collided, lips yanking, pulling, sucking, tongues exploring and tasting and tangling. Despite how they chased each other, he still eclipsed her, surrounding her, swallowing her up. She whimpered at the overwhelming sensation and he drank it all in as his hands roamed all over her, before falling to her ass. He gripped her so hard she broke away with a cry.

He didn’t let her get far, though, and she didn’t want him to.

Not anymore.

Oliver captured her mouth again, sucking on her bottom lip, groaning when she nipped at him.

The back of her legs collided with something hard before she even realized they were moving. The coffee table. The heavy, low-sitting furniture scooted across the floor, but they just followed it. Oliver urged her down with hard hands. Felicity clawed into his shoulders, unwilling to release his lips, forcing him to follow her as she laid back on the table. It was awkward and uneven, but neither of them cared, or bothered to fix it, because it meant stopping, and that couldn’t happen. Oliver loomed over her, gripping the edges of the table, his muscles rippling to keep from crushing her as he ravaged her mouth with a thoroughness that left her head spinning.

But then all too soon, he was wrenching away.

With a ragged gasp of air and fogged glasses, Felicity arched up to follow him - don’t go, don’t stop, don’t - but he just fell to his knees before her. She tried to spread her legs to wrap around him, needing to feel him pressed against her as much as possible, but her skirt was too tight. She frantically yanked it up as his hands flew to his belt and pants.

Heavy breathing and the rustle of clothes were the only sounds for a moment.

Pants half-hanging open, Oliver grappled for his wallet. He ripped it out of his pocket and dug out a square package. He tossed the leather away as Felicity pushed her panties down, pulling her legs up enough to yank them down one leg, leaving them hanging off her foot as she spread for him.

Oliver’s eyes dropped to her sex. Mouth swollen, cheeks flushed, lids heavy, he stared at her as he rolled the condom down his length, his pupils eclipsing the stormy blue as he drank her in.

A shiver shot down her spine.

She missed this, missed how he looked at her, half-drunk with need that matched her own.

“Please,” she begged, grasping the edges of the table and scooting closer to him. “Oliver.”

He grabbed her hips, yanking her until her ass hung off the edge. The swollen head of his cock rubbed up her cleft, and then back down, nudging her entrance.

“Yes-”

Oliver thrust in, hard and fast.

Felicity shouted at the intrusion. Her back bowed, her eyes squeezing shut as he filled her to the brim. The pressure was incredible, his girth stretching her nearly to the point of pain. She felt him in every inch of her body and it stole the air right out of her lungs.

“Shit,” Oliver gasped, his hands grabbing her waist as he pulled back out. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” Felicity pleaded. “Don’t-”

She found his hips and yanked him inside her once more. She hissed when he stretched her so wide it was all she could to keep breathing. But she did, and she angled her hips to take him in even deeper. She hadn’t realized how much she had shut down, shut him out, not even entertaining the option, to the point she wasn’t ready for him like she would have been before. But she would be, again. She knew if they kept moving, her body would catch up. It would.

Her name fell off his lips in a choked moan as his fingers dug into her ribs.

To stop her. To pull out. To leave her.

Felicity shook her head wildly.

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she babbled breathlessly, but her voice breaking betrayed her. She arched up to keep him inside her. “It’s just… been a while, I’m… I’m okay, I’m not… I can’t… Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop-”

She was begging him.

The anguish in her voice sliced her heart to ribbons. She felt ready to burst into a thousand pieces, for a thousand different reasons, and absolutely none of them made sense. She had prided herself on keeping her distance, on being stronger than whatever was between them, on being able to walk away.

But now all of that was gone in the blink of an eye, just gone, as if it had never been there.

The realization tore through her and Felicity fell back against the table with a broken cry.

All of it had been a lie. She was a lie. Everything she told herself she felt was a lie.

Another sob threatened to escape, but she bit it back. Because the only thing that mattered in this moment was staying here. With him. She needed to be here - with him - and she couldn’t think about it, about what it meant. She could only feel.

She only wanted to feel.

“Please,” Felicity breathed, arching up again, her legs winding around him, her nails scrabbling under his shirt. “Don’t stop. Please-”

“I’m not,” Oliver whispered in a rush, falling over her. It changed the angle of his hardness inside her and she whimpered as he cupped her face on a ragged, “I’m not stopping. Ever,” before his lips found hers in a burning kiss.

It matched her desperation so perfectly that tears burned her eyes. It shouldn’t soothe her, and she knew that. But it did, and it felt so good, so right, to be here, to be back with him. But it was more than that. It grounded her, in a way she couldn’t do herself. She mewled, opening for him, winding her arms around his shoulders. He kissed her until they were both gasping for air, and then he kissed her even more, deeper, harder.

He invaded her in every way possible.

More.

Felicity twisted his shirt, twisting it, yanking. She slid one hand under the collar, and then his undershirt. His skin was blisteringly hot against her palm, and she moaned, kissing him harder as she dug her nails into his muscles. His hips jerked into hers, and this time they both moaned when he slid in a little easier, sending tiny bolts of pleasure through her.

“Off,” she mumbled, tugging at his shirt. “Off.”

He didn’t bother with the buttons, ripping his dress shirt off along with his undershirt. Buttons went scattering, but Felicity barely heard them pinging, or felt the ones that hit her as she yanked her own shirt off.

Her breath caught at the sight he made. His abs stood out in stark relief, too stark, the lines of his body harsh and rigid, a wall of pure muscle. He had always been well-defined, but this was extreme. Felicity flattened her hands to his stomach and smoothed them. She was transfixed by the feel of his hot, silky skin over such hardness, her fingers ghosting over his taut nipples, his rock-hard pecs…

“C’mere,” Oliver grunted, hooking his fingers in the front of her bra and yanking her up.

The lace tore across her skin and she yelped as she crashed into his chest. The pain only fueled her need as the new angle had him shifting inside her again, gasoline on a fire, turning a simmer into an inferno.

Felicity’s teeth found his collarbone.

He cried out, grabbing the back of her neck. He crowded her closer as she worked her way up his neck, savoring his salty taste, sucking and nipping, leaving little marks that would be there for days.

“Fuck… Felicity…”

She’d never heard her name so many times from him like this. She was always Smoak. But not right now, and the knowledge that he was just as undone as she was had her licking and sucking harder, wanting to hear more of it. He gave it to her, a raspy plea as he turned his face into her hair, his breathing hot and damp, his fingers digging into her neck as she marked him, up his throat, his jaw…

On a groan, Oliver captured her lips with his as he inched his hips forward.

He filled her up, so much more smoothly, so good, so perfectly. Burning need arched through her, the pressure changing, her slickening inner walls clamping down on him. Oliver swallowed down her cries, matching them with his own as he pulled out a bit to thrust back in. He rubbed against her with each thrust, his pubic bone hitting her clit, sending little bursts of pleasure sparking through her. She keened, clinging to him, and he did it again, and again, slow and steady, making sure she was ready for him.

“Yes,” she whimpered, grabbing his face, kissing them both breathless. “Yes.”

His fingers found the clasp of her bra. He undid it quickly and pushed her back down to the table.

The cold tabletop was a shock, but then Oliver was pulling her bra off, tossing it away…

And then all she felt was the burn of his gaze, and then his hands as he grasped her waist.

His hips slowed as he stared at her with unfathomable eyes, so dark, so intense. It was almost like he couldn’t get enough of what he saw. Captivated. Transfixed. His gaze danced all over her, up her chest, her neck, her mouth, then back down to her breasts, her abdomen.

“Felicity…”

He dragged her name out, tasting every single syllable. Did he know what he was saying? He couldn’t, she thought, not with how he looked at her, or how he touched her. There was a reverence that hadn’t been there before.

Felicity’s heart skipped, her mouth going dry, her stomach fluttering.

She had missed him, so much, and not just his body. But that was the confusing part. They didn’t have a relationship. They didn’t have anything.

And yet… the way he looked at her… how he made her feel…

“Felicity…”

She shivered, and fought to breathe, but then he was touching her. Oliver smoothed his hands up her waist, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts before slipping back down, one hand cupping her ribs, the other spanning the width of her stomach…

So soft.

So gentle.

Felicity shuddered, goosebumps erupting over her skin. They sent another shiver ripping down her spine, and another. The goosebumps spread everywhere, her chest, her stomach, her breasts, peaking her nipples into hard little beads that ached.

It was nothing compared to the way he stared at her.

It was too much.

“Oliver,” Felicity choked.

His dark gaze flew to hers and her heart clenched at the look in them.

Too much.

She grabbed his hands and slid them up to her breasts, cupping herself with his fingers. Lust slackened his face and he took over, squeezing them before raking his thumbs over her nipples. Pleasure spiked through her and she moaned, loudly, and he did it again.

“Yes,” she breathed, nodding, closing her eyes as she arched her back, rocking her hips. “Please. I need you-”

On a harsh growl, Oliver squeezed her breasts, so hard and fast it took her breath away. Using his grasp on her to keep her still, he thrust into her, burying himself as deep as he could. Her hands scrambled up his arms for something to hold onto as he gripped her breasts, relentless and unforgiving, and thrust into her again. Again. Again.

“Oh… god!” she cried. “Oh… oh god…!”

Oliver fell on top of her, pinning her to the table, spreading her legs impossibly wide.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth finding hers in a messy kiss.

She struggled to respond, but his demanding lips stole her ability to do anything. He ripped away only to shove his hands up into her hair. He destroyed her ponytail, pulling on the long strands until enough was free so he could make tight fists. Oliver braced himself over her and used his new leverage to pull out nearly all the way before thrusting home, so hard the table shook. Felicity shouted, grabbing his sides for something to hold onto. She was completely at his mercy and it had a rush of arousal sweeping through her, her juices flooding her sex, a desperate ache for him to fuck her sensenless razing her from the inside out. Blood rushed in her ears, her heart pounded, heat swamped her veins, a mind-numbing pressure deep in her core coiling tighter as Oliver thrust into her so hard the table slid across the floor.

“Say it.”

“I need you,” Felicity gasped. He groaned at the words. “I need you. I need you. I need you.”

They moved together, finding a rhythm to his pleading, “Again,” and her breathless, “I need you,” echoed by the sounds of their harsh pants for air and her wet sex taking in every inch of him over and over until they both dissolved into mindless cries.

The orgasm hit her in a tidal wave, bowling her over, eclipsing everything. White sheeted over her eyes, a series of short, startled cries flying from her as she fell to pieces.

Oliver’s grip on her tightened so much she whimpered as he started thrusting with abandon. Hard, harder, each collision sending her higher, dragging her pleasure out until she didn’t know where he began and she ended. His forehead landed on hers, skin slick, his breaths hot and ragged against her mouth. Felicity grabbed hold of him, cradling him, nonsensical words falling from her as he plowed into her, erratic and frantic, chasing his pleasure.

He jerked, his back bowing, his pistoning hips stuttering.

With a strangled, “Felicity,” on his lips, he came.

Oliver collapsed on top of her, burying his face into her throat, her skin muffling his desperate noises. He didn’t stop, his hips rocking into her as he rode out his orgasm, her inner walls milking every last bit out of him, his cock twitching deep inside her with each burst.

It was a long moment before he finally slowed, and then fell still.

Buzzing filled her head.

Pleasure. Satisfaction. Shock. Confusion.

She wanted him to move. But she didn’t. She wanted to want to. She wanted to get off this uncomfortable table, to get his bulk off her where he crushed her, but at the same time, she didn’t. She didn’t want to move. Ever.

Oliver made the decision for her.

He slowly pushed up. He slipped out of her, trying to quiet his groan when he left her wet heat. Felicity bit her lip so hard it nearly tore the skin as her sex clenched at the sudden emptiness. And then he was off of her, pushing to his feet. He grabbed his pants, yanking them back up as he turned away from her.

He didn’t look at her once.

Felicity sat up, grimacing at the throb blossoming between her thighs. She stood up gingerly, her hands shaking as she pushed her skirt back down. The silence was deafening. He moved to his desk, peeling the condom off as he went before tying it off and tossing it. The cool office air stung her sweaty skin and she crossed her arms over her breasts, looking around for her blouse.

She spotted it in a crumpled heap next to his tangled shirts.

It smelled like him when she slipped it over her head.

“Were you supposed to be the CEO of Queen Consolidated?”

Silence.

Felicity looked at him where he stood by his desk, his hands frozen where he’d been re-buttoning his pants. The slacks were tight across his backside, stretched over his thighs in a way that they hadn’t been before. His back was covered in red marks where she’d raked her nails over him, making the well-defined muscles in his back stand out in harsher relief when he finished fastening the buttons. His belt was next.

That was it.

“You were, weren’t you?” she asked. The full weight of that hit her and Felicity’s ribs closed in around her, making her gasp. “You were leaving Q&Q. But now you’re not. Because of Isabel. Because of…”

Us.

He turned his head slightly, but that was it.

“How did she know?” she asked. She caught the edge of his forehead creasing in a frown. “About the Plaza. That we were there that one night…” He finally turned, his brow creased in muted surprise, and she huffed. “C’mon, Oliver, give me a little more credit than that. This is my system, remember? I know when something’s wrong. Or… missing. I saw the video. And the emails. And the announcement about her, that you sent. Like it was… gift-wrapped. Because she had something that she couldn’t have possibly known about, didn’t she? But the odds of her picking that one night…”

He didn’t answer her. He just turned to his desk.

“Oliver-”

He opened one of the bottom drawers and pulled out…

“My glasses?” Felicity frowned when she recognized the frames. She absently reached up to touch the replacement pair she currently wore. “I thought I lost those.”

“A couple weeks ago…” Oliver said in a low voice, not making a move to hand them to her. He tilted them back and forth in his fingers, the move so easy and familiar, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He stared at them as he spoke. “Isabel walked into my office and handed these to me. I told her they could be anybody’s, but then she showed me the security tape.”

Felicity’s heart sank. “Oh god…”

“I told her to go to hell,” he continued, still watching the glasses. He huffed. “She must not have liked that very much because then she sent the video to both of us. Except this time it was focused on you. She said she wanted you gone, and that if we didn’t do anything about it, she would take the video to the Board, since you not only work here, but are slated to be so involved with getting Queen Consolidated set up.”

Felicity closed her eyes.

This was her fault. It wasn’t them, together, specifically. It was her. She remembered wanting to escape that room the next morning more than anything, before Oliver woke up, before she had to face what they had done. Again.

“It was a game to her,” he said and she opened her eyes to see his locked on her. “She wanted to see what we would do when she pushed us into a corner. If it was just me, or if it was both of us, I could have at least… But it was you, and I knew I couldn’t do anything without risking her releasing that tape, so I gave her something she couldn’t resist.”

“Queen Consolidated.”

“Queen Consolidated,” he echoed. The broken way his lips lifted in a half-smile, an attempt to hide the depth of what he had given up, cracked her open. “It didn’t matter, though. Whatever we had, it had nothing to do with your job. You’re the best asset this firm has and I wasn’t going to let you pay the price for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Felicity could only stand there, staring at him, too overwhelmed to comprehend any of it.

So she focused on the one thing she could fix.

“She still has the video.”

Oliver pursed his lips on a slow nod. “Yeah.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing they tapped me to set up Queen Consolidated, isn’t it?” She gave him a tight smile before lifting her hands to wiggle her fingers at him. “I’ll get it. Somehow. Once I’m in, I’m kind of hard to escape.”

Something flickered over his face, but it was so tiny, nearly indiscernible, that she wondered if she saw it. Then she remembered how he’d looked at her a moment ago and her heart faltered.

He dropped his eyes back to the glasses.

“Here.” Oliver cleared his throat as he stepped towards her and held them out to her.

Felicity slowly took them. “Thank you.”

All he had was a tight nod and a bland attempt at a smile before he turned away.

She grabbed his arm. “Oliver, wait-”

He looked back, his brow twisted in what she could only read as concern, but she barely gave herself time to discern it.

The second he faced her, she pushed up onto her toes again and kissed him.

It was soft, chaste, her lips capturing his with an ease that settled something deep inside her.

“Come home with me,” she whispered against his lips.

He hesitated and her chest caved in.

“Please.”

An eternity passed, their breaths mingling, noses brushing, but that was it.

She pressed her lips together before biting her bottom lip, the urge to ask him again - to beg - overwhelming her, nearly taking over.

Please.

Oliver pulled back and she barely bit back a whimper. He was going to say no. She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to see the look he gave her, to face what she was asking him, after she had slammed the door in his face. Felicity bit her lip harder, fighting to keep more words from falling out…

He cupped her jaw.

Felicity’s eyes flew open as his thumb tugged her lip away from her teeth with a whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The word was out before she could think, and the second it was, his mouth was on hers. With a sigh, she fell into him as Oliver wound his arms around her, pulling her into him. They opened for each other, and she whimpered when he took a deeper taste, re-sealing the unspoken bond between them.

“Yes.”

Thank you so much for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!

On a final note, I want to thank everyone who has engaged with me about this story. I appreciate every single comment and tweet and DM and ask. I know the way I'm writing them in this 'verse is very challenging, and demanding, and it's not an easy read. But it shouldn't be, because I don't want it to be. I don't want my readers comfortable during certain parts of this story, because I'm not comfortable. I'm pushing a lot of boundaries with this story. This is my most difficult undertaking to date, and I question myself at every turn in this process. All the more reason I truly appreciate those who continue to read, who reach out, who share their thoughts with me. I'm learning a lot about myself as I go on, and I thank you for being on this journey with me!

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #oliver queen #felicity smoak #arrow #fanfiction #olicity au #of law firms and honey #four walls #my fics #my fics: au

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