I write a bad pick up line on your cup every time I’m your barista’ Or ‘Should I be concerned about how much caffeine you’re taking in’ For Percabeth
“Coffee guy has a crush on you,” Piper says without preamble, flicking a page in her reading.
“Uh huh,” Annabeth mutters, dragging a highlighter over a line in her book. It’s only after she’s finished an irritated scribble in the margin that the words really penetrate. She glances up at her friend, who is leaning across the table looking amused. “What? No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m always ridiculous. And always right. He keeps refilling your coffee.”
Annabeth, who has been lost in a haze of architecture for longer than the hour Piper has been sitting in the cafe with her, has not really been aware of her drink being refilled. She’s reached for her mug when she wanted a drink, and the mug has always had coffee in it. The logical inconsistency between the amount of times she’d reached for the cup and the cup never being empty had not really jumped out at her until now.
“If he’s refilling my coffee and not yours, that just makes him rude.”
“Oh, no. He’s been refilling mine. When you started swearing at your book before, it nearly overflowed, and it wasn’t because he was scandalised.”
Annabeth sighs, refusing to glance over her shoulder at the coffee guy in question. It’s not like she doesn’t already know what he looks like, the guy is six foot tall with a build like an Olympian swimmer and a jawline that could cut glass. She manages to drag her brain to a halt before it starts listing things to compare his eye colour to: Piper is smirking at her reading in a way that suggests she’s learnt how to read minds.
“He was probably impressed with my command of the english language.”
“He was impressed with something, all right.” Piper shuts her folder with a snap. “Right, i’m done here.”
“That reading was fifty-one pages, you’re so full of shit.”
“The fact that you know how long my readings are is terrifying, you know that?”
“Do your homework!”
“Can’t hear you, running away to get a restraining order!” She’s halfway to the door by the time she sing-songs that, leaving Annabeth with her nearly empty coffee mug and a cafe full of people giving her the stink eye.
“If you need an alibi, I can testify that you’ve been here pretty much all day.”
Coffee guy has a nice voice. Warm, smooth, just this side of deep without sounding like the trailer guy. It takes Annabeth an embarrassing amount of time to register that she’s thinking this because he’s standing right next to her, holding a coffee pot. It’s a good thing her self control is world renowned, because she uses all of it to keep from jumping out of her skin.
“What? I - no, she’s joking. We’re friends. Really.”
His grin is distractingly crooked. “I’m convinced.”
“I’m gonna kill her,” Annabeth mutters, hoping against hope that she’s not blushing, or something equally ridiculous.
“That’s probably not going to help in court.”
Her brain is - slowly - retreating out of coffee-and-study survival mode. A joke, she realises belatedly, and the rueful laugh escapes her before she can think to bite it back. And - something in coffee guy’s shoulders relaxes, just a little bit. Nervous, she thinks, and finds herself predisposed to like him. Smart boys know to think very carefully before approaching Annabeth Chase, and that’s the way she likes it.
She tucks an errant curl behind her ear. “I’ll plea insanity. Over-caffeination.” She glances down at her cup. “Actually, would you mind–?”
His face scrunches up with something like concern. “That’ll be your sixth cup.”
“Aren’t you the guy who’s been topping me up?”
“Grover seemed to think you might, I dunno, eat us or something if you ran out. I was protecting the good people of the cafe, but apparently cutting you off means stopping a murder.”
A groan escapes her, something like shame crawling up the back of her throat. Annabeth knows she’s got a serious case of resting bitch face (and she’ll fight anyone who suggests that’s a problem),but she doesn’t want the entire campus to be terrified of her.
“I’m not…actually some hyper-violent lady with a hair-trigger, honestly.”
“Oh hey no, I didn’t mean to–” And he’s groaning? He rubs the back of his neck, which is slowly turning red, and Annabeth starts to feel less off-kilter. “I’m bad at flirting.”
She’s definitely going to murder Piper. This is her fault somehow, Annabeth’s sure.
“Same,” she rushes out, before over-thinking can make this even messier. Her whole body feels energised, jittery, and she doesn’t think it’s the coffee. “Um. Just one more refill? To get me through the last bit of this chapter?”
“Wh - uh, right. Sure!” He squints at her. “You don’t mind?”
Annabeth rocks her mug from side to side, watching the dregs of her drink slosh from side to side. Black, no sugar. It seems like the safer option right now.
She takes a breath.
“Haven’t decided yet,” she says. “I’ll let you know when i’m done with this chapter.”
She’s not looking at him directly, but his grin is wide enough to be seen from space, let alone the corner of her eye.
“You got it,” he says happily, topping her mug off. He’s on the verge of pulling away when he pauses, like he’s remembered something. “It’s Percy, by the way. So you don’t have to keep calling me coffee guy.”
And then he’s gone, leaving Annabeth to seriously reconsider committing that murder.
The sky is dark, but the bright autumn sun peaks just slightly over the London skyline, lighting Sherlock’s inky and errant curls seemingly from within. The glow is refractive, and makes the detective look tinged soft and otherworldly fire bright.
Drabble prompt: Where one of them has insomnia and can only sleep when they are cuddle up in the other ones arms (please please pretty pleaseeeee)
Awwww i love this prompt, anon!! And I had exactly half an hour to do it- so i apologize if it seems rushed! But this is the cutest prompt <3
Isak: Come over
Even: It’s 1:30am
Isak: …. and yet you are still awake :D :D
Even: sleep is the cousin to death. didn’t i tell you this?
Isak: I’m about to be the cousin to death if I don’t get some sleep
Even: then why are you texting me??
Isak: I can’t fall asleep. That’s why I need you here.
Even: insomnia again?
Isak: it’s a bitch
what does that mean
He really shouldn’t be surprised. Even is kind of fucking extra like this. But still, at the first sign of knocking at the front door, Isak sits up in bed, cocks his head, and curses; making his way down the hall.
And opens the door.
Even stands there half asleep, half leaning against the doorway, before moving to gesture to himself in some kind of a ‘ta da!!’ motion.
“Halla.” Isak says, stupidly gaping at Even (the shirtless fuck. Did he really go outside and walk to Isak’s in nothing but sleep pants?)
Even yawns and leans down to peck Isak’s forehead, “Halla.”
“I was kidding about you coming here.”
Even rolls his eyes and brushes past Isak, heading to his room, “Liar.”
(Okay, yeah, so Isak was 100% serious when he begged him to come over. But like- he didn’t think Even actually would. It’s a school night for fuck’s sake.)
Even collapses on Isak’s bed as he reached it, automatically crawling to his side and sliding under the covers. When Isak stares dumbly from the doorway, he opens his arms, “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”
And this was- this was a lot.
Even got out of bed at in the morning for him. Because Isak couldn’t sleep. Who does that?
“Are you going to stand there all night?”
Isak blinks and shuffles to his side of the bed, climbing in and immediately burrowing into the arms that slid around his waist. Even looks half-gone already, eyes drooping and breaths coming slower but he smiles softly, brushing an errant curl from Isak’s face.
“I thought sleep was the cousin to death?”
Even makes some hybrid noise between a chuckle and a yawn and God Isak loves him. He hasn’t told Even yet, but the feeling is strong in his chest.
“Death seems much more appealing with you in my arms.”
“That’s so fucking morbid.”
Even pinches the sensitive skin of Isak’s hips, “You know what I mean.”
Isak does, because suddenly the warmth of Even is almost over shadowed by- or rather leads to- the feeling of exhaustion creeping in. Isak feels his lids shudder, so he burrows closer into the crook of Even’s arm, kissing his bicep.
“Thank you,” Isak whispers, knowing that Even is already sound asleep.
And he follows so quickly after him that the hours of tossing and turning without Even seem almost comical.
The early morning light was
just beginning to filter into the bedroom, but Ron Weasley had no trouble
seeing his wife clearly. His clear-sightedness, both literal and figurative,
was legendary in the Auror corp. Perspicacious, that’s the word Hermione
taught him; she said she loved the way he could always see the things no one
Now more than ever he was
seeing clearly: his heart full as he watched her sleeping form. He gently moved
an errant curl from her face, careful not to wake her. She needed her rest: a
lopsided grin broke over his face she’s resting for two now.
The news was so fresh that
it still bore the weight of unreality. It was hard to imagine, almost
impossible to wrap your mind around, really. He ghosted his fingers across her
abdomen with awe. Their child was in there, right now. A child
that they had made, together. A child that would have his sense of humor and
her sense of determination. A child that would have her nose and his hair. Poor
kid…the Weasley hair…at least we can always see you in a crowd.
Ron’s thoughts began to run into a future full of firsts: first
smiles, first laughs, first words, first steps. He was wise enough to know that
parenting would not be without challenges. He chuckled at the memory of the
panicked patronus Harry had sent him the first time Ginny left him alone with James.
He was sure the Daily Prophet would have paid handsomely for pictures of
the wizarding world’s toughest Aurors scrambling under the demands of a colicky
The first time Jamie caught her in a lie he questioned his own hearing. He’d never expected it but, of course he should have. All children lie, he knew from personal experience. Faith told him she’d finished her chores and, per their agreement, he turned on her favorite show.
On his way to the kitchen, Jamie was attacked by the cat, wailing and carrying on, clearly unfed. Deciding the wee kitten shouldn’t suffer for Faith’s error, he’d dispatched relief as soon as he might and then decided to check her room. Her clothes sat neatly in the basket, not put away.
Jamie quietly crossed to the living room and shut the TV off. It didn’t stay quiet for long.
Summary: The one where Kadena get caught in the office.
To All Staff,
I understand that most of you are young and fresh and very much millennials who love to live in the moment and live life to its fullest, while that is a large part of the reason you make Scarlett so special, it does nothing for professionalism.
Please refrain from acting on these young hip ideas of voyeurism in the office building.
Sex is wonderful and I’m so glad you all can experience such lust that you can’t even hold your desires but please remember that I, nor any of your coworkers, wish to see this. This has been a PSA.
P.S. The friday staff meeting will be moved to Monday morning, so you can all go home early and satisfy these urges and bring me fresh ideas after the weekend.
After spending so long with Death surging under her flesh, coursing its way through her very being, she knew there was a different presence. A life forming.
A life that would make itself up from pieces of her…and pieces of him.
She stood in their bedroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror, unsure of what to feel.
A heavy yoke of responsibility and uncertainty weighed on her- uncertainty about how she would be… Throughout pregnancy, childbirth, then raising and teaching everything she knew to someone who would depend on her. She loved children, but never knew what mothers were supposed to be like. Proper, loving, non-withholding mothers, that is.
Not for a moment did she doubt Cassian, the most loving and honorable man she would ever meet. Her mate. The love of her life and the next. He would radiate with uncontainable joy. “Cassian…” she thought as she ran the blade of her index finger across her abdomen. There could be no better partner for her to share all the experiences that life had to offer.
The thought of Cassian as a father- the father of their child- replaced her anxiety with a feeling of absolute pride.
Hard-working, loyal, kind, generous…the traits she hoped would be passed on to their child.
As she was trying to invision their child, with his dark hair and hazel eyes, a loud crash ripped her back to reality.
Standing in the doorway, hair soaked from sweat or rain, was Cassian.
His nostrils flaring, those unreadable eyes, and his stance…like he was ready to walk in front of a thousand firey arrows for her…Nesta could tell what that meant.
Perhaps in the moment that she realized, and accepted it, her scent of Death was replaced by that of the life growing inside her.
Tears running down his cheeks profusely, he closed the space between them. With his mud-caked hands, he delicately dragged his fingertips across her abdomen.
“Tell me…” His voice was guttural and filled with such emotion, his breathing uneven and heavy. “Tell me it’s true.”
Nesta looked into his eyes and cradled his unshaven cheeks with her small hands. In a clear voice, she announced: “It is.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he wrapped his arms around her, and began to sob. His entire body shook. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” he repeated as he kissed the top of her head.
“I love you too,” she responded and buried her face in his chest.
For what could’ve been hours, they stood like this. Barely saying any indecipherable words, holding each other. All their armor was torn off.
“Are you…happy?” Cassian whispered into her hair. He knew the answer, could feel it in his bones. He needed to hear the words aloud.
“I am,” she began. “I am happy. I’m happy that my children will grow up taken care of, knowing that they’re loved and have worth.” Cassian’s arms tightened their embrace and he began to rub her back in small circles with his thumb.
“But?” He pressed, knowing she left her thought unfinished.
“But I’m worried,” she admitted.
“About what, exactly?”
“What if I screw this up? I don’t want to make the same mistakes that-” She paused. That her parents made.
“Nesta, love,” he began. “Mistakes are as unavoidable as life itself.” He released her from his embrace so that he could look her in the eyes before continuing.
Moving errant curls from her face, twirling one between his fingers, he continued, “There’s a life growing inside of you at this very moment. That, we know, wasn’t a mistake. It was created by two people who are dedicated to each other, who love each other. How many people can say that they were wanted from the very beginning?” Not him. Not her.
“If this child is anything like me, they’ll see you for the tenacious and fiercely loving force of nature you are,” he assured her. “We have 8 months, give or take, to prepare ourselves to welcome this child- our child- to the world. Everything will be okay, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead endearingly.
“Promise me…” “I will never, ever leave you. Either of you”
Nesta looked into Cassian’s burning hazel eyes, then grabbed his hand and repeated, “I will never, ever leave you. Either of you.”
“Forever.” Not a question, but a statement.
“Forever,” she agreed. Knowing what their promises meant, she prepared herself for the consequences.
A tingling sensation above their ribs, and they both knew that their promises were now to be worn on their skin as a reminder. Forever.
Today was the beginning of the best chapter in their entwined eternities. Soon, their two would become three.
Just a wee ficlit to get us us through this weekend
“I miss my husband.” She whispered, crawling into Jamie’s lap.
The joy of finding each other again, reconnecting after years apart, had faded as the weight of their separate lives threatened to crush them both.
Claire had stormed out of the house after their huge blow up. She’d gone off for hours while Jamie paced and worried and tried as best he could to give her the space she’d so obviously needed.
He’d just finished washing up when she found him. Wordlessly, she shed her cloak and outer garments until she stood in front of him in nothing but her shift. Jamie was still tense, punch-drunk tired and emotionally he felt he’d been wrung limp just like the washcloth he’d hung up on the peg moments before.
She closed the distance between them, fitting herself just under his chin, her cheek warm from her exertions and the rest of her cold as ice from her walk. Gooseflesh rippled all along her body at first contact.
She whimpered feeling the heat of him as his arms came around hers. He rubbed up and down, warning her as best he could. As he snaked his fingers down her arm, to her right wrist and then her palm he found her ring….his ring….their ring and firmly circled it with his own thumb and middle finger, moving it up and down slightly. She wasn’t wearing the other one.
“I never took it off.” It was important that he know.
He tilted her head up to his and kissed her hard, his hand clenched her fingers hard enough to make her shudder. She gave a soft cry of frustration then pushed him down. He landed on the cushion below.
“I miss my husband.” She whispered, crawling up into Jamie’s lap.
“Sassenach—” he whispered tucking a errant curl that had slipped free from her chignon back behind her ear.
“Shhh. I don’t want to talk about Mary.” She said kissing him as her arms wrapped around his bare shoulders. “or Geneva…or Frank. Only you. Only me. Jamie and Claire.”
Jamie’s finger slowly stretched out toward Claire, toward his wife. He slowly, oh so slowly moved the delicate straps of her shift off one shoulder, then the other. The fabric slipped down a bit as he shifted her body closer. Her skin had warmed now but his hands were still hot as blazes where he touched her.
The delicate bones of her clavicle, the graceful lines of her neck slowly revealed themselves to him. Just as he remembered.
His lips placed a soft kiss just above her breast then made their way down the slope of her cleavage, fluttering over her heart.
Claire made a soft sound of need and he stared up into that face. She had tears in her eyes watching as his lips relearned her secrets.
“You came to me so often in my dreams.” He told her. “I have seen you just like this. Mo nighean donn, with your hair coming down and your breast like ivory.”
“Kiss me again.” She begged.
Then she sighed. “I had forgotten.” she admitted.
“What?” He whispered.
“What did you miss most?” He asked.
“Everything.” She repeated causing him to chuckle. “The feel of your arms, The beat of your heart. The strength of your body. I thought I might go mad for the wanting.” Claire’s body began to slowly move against him. He moaned. “What did you miss most?”
“This.” He choked out kissing her with new urgency. “The joy of knowing how to touch you, to be free in all that I say and do.”
He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and gripping her backside firmly between his hands.
His breath fluttered against her neck as she ran her tongue along his shoulder. His roughed scraped against her forehead. She shivered at the sound of his voice in her ear. She kissed his neck, his cheek, whirled her tongue near his earlobe, delicately clamping her teeth down. Her hands compulsively moved all along his back, his shoulders, her fingers running the bones of his spine.
“Oh, you feel so good!”
How many times had she imagined the feel of his hands tangled in her hair, gripping her hard, making her ache just like this?
He growled and pushed her slightly back.
“Take this off, Sassenach.” He told her as he helped her pull her shift up, baring her completely.
Then silence. Claire’s eyes flew to his face but he wore an expression she’d never seen before. Deeply uncomfortable, she moved her hands to cover herself.
“Jesus.” He whispered. His fingers came forward and he stroked her cheek so tenderly it made her heart squeeze tight.
“My God, how?” He asked.
“How is it that you are even more beautiful now than the first time I ever saw you?”
Claire pressed her body to his, rising up into position. That strong, fearless face whose fine details had been forgotten in the mists of time once more brought into sharp focus.
Tears welled in her eyes, too as a feeling of love came over her strong enough to steal her breath. He felt it, too.
“I need you.” A ferocious, buring want causing Jamie’s voice to sound hoarse.
“I want you inside me, Jamie, please.”
He made a panting sound as she moved and shifted. They both watched as he disappeared inside her and moaned at the sense of fulfillment that stole over them at their joining.
The heat and clutch, he’d forgotten altogether. She ground herself against his erection, and the pulse and the power of it long absent in her life.
Ah, but the the memory of how to move together came back to them at once as she rocked herself against him and his hands gripped her firmly, moving with her and her with him.
Everything they had been through led them to this moment. Neither one of them had been prepared for the utter devastation of being torn apart. Neither one of them had been prepared for the incandescent joy of coming together again.
Warnings: Rough-ish semi public sex, alcohol, drunken confessions, praise kink, light choking, some angst.
It usually wasn’t like this.
Usually, it started with a few mugs and Gaston’s drunken confessions of love or lust for chaser women around town. After a couple years, it became Belle whom he continuously confessed his love for, and their nights in the tavern became even more painful for Lefou. But he just gave his advice, got himself drunk too, and pretended later that Gaston had taken him home, not Marie, in place of Belle, from down the road.
Tonight, it was different. Something felt out of sorts, as if Gaston’s laughs were a little weaker, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. Sometimes, he had nights like this, Lefou noticed- sobriety within the many glasses of alcohol pounded back. These were the nights Gaston thought of the war, and the nights where Lefou found it most appropriate to retell stories of his military chivalry to all the villagers who knew the stories well, yet enjoyed them more each time.
But tonight, Lefou’s praise wasn’t affecting his friend the way it usually did… it could be because Gaston had faced another scathing rejection that day, or it could be because he was loosening up more than he normally let himself.
“Lefou,” Gaston proclaimed, slapping his friend on the shoulder, “You’re the best.” Lefou’s spirits skyrocketed- they always did when Gaston actually complimented him back- rare occurrence. “How is it that no girl has snatched you up yet?”
Lefou paused, watching his best friend’s eyes… how his long eyelashes would flutter on eyelids that periodically drooped. He watched his pink lips curling around the mug as he took another swig, and wondered how one man could be so stupidly handsome. Lefou’s eyes fell to the stubble around his mouth, up his jaw, up to his perfectly coiffed hair that never seemed out of place. Then, he allowed himself to gaze down over Gaston’s heaving chest, as Gaston was probably too drunk by now to notice. His shirt was open tonight in the heat, and Lefou noticed the small scar over the top of his right pectoral- he remembered that scar from war.
“Hm?” the tall, brawny man reminded Lefou of his question, and Lefou sat forward a little. Was this the right time to tell him?
Would it ever be?
“I don’t know, they say I’m clingy, but I don’t get it,” Lefou went with, biting his lip.
“Clingy?” Gaston repeated, a slight slur in his voice, “Mmm… I suppose I can see that.”
Lefou frowned a little, but Gaston let out a laugh, row of white teeth on display.
“In a good way.”
“Good… good to know,” Lefou tried to smile, chuckling awkwardly. Gaston had his hand on Lefou’s shoulder still, and his hand was rubbing deep ministrations into the tense muscle there.
“Lefou…” Gaston started again, almost hesitant this time, but eventually chose to polish off his beer instead of finishing.
Lefou continued to watch him closely, then started to rise. “Well, it’s getting late-“
“I love you so much, you know.”
Lefou just about spit his drink, falling back into his seat.
“Are you all… alright, Lefou?” Gaston asked, barely able to coherently comfort his friend in his state.
“I’m,” Lefou mumbled, suppressing his noises of utter disbelief and joy as Gaston rested his head on Lefou’s shoulder, nuzzling in closer. Lefou almost felt dirty for enjoying this, as if he was taking advantage of his friend’s drunken stupor to fulfill his own fantasy… but then again, he wasn’t exactly forcing Gaston to play with his hair like a lovesick boy. If that physical contact wasn’t enough, the tall hunter began to stroke his fingers across Lefou’s cheek, and took to playing with another errant curl falling there.
“I really think we should…” Lefou breathed, looking at the door, but he didn’t quite know how he wanted to end that sentence.
“So do I,” Gaston nodded, and stood up, grabbing Lefou by the hand. Lefou stammered something, and almost tripped over his feet as he followed Gaston to the door. They weren’t even ten feet out before Gaston grabbed Lefou by the wrists and slammed him up against the wall of the tavern.
“H-here?” Lefou murmured, looking around. It was dark, but not dark enough to protect Gaston’s reputation, in his opinion.
“Can’t wait,” Gaston simply replied by way of breathless heave, and tucked Lefou’s hair back to mouth along his neck.
“Okay, wow,” Lefou said softly. It appeared that he hadn’t been the only one harbouring frustration, or so he could tell by the intimidating bulge in Gaston’s breeches.
“Turn around,” Gaston whispered, and Lefou quickly did as he asked, shoving down the slight twinge of disappointment. What, you expected him to want you facing each other? he taunted himself, staring into each other’s eyes like Romeo and Juliet? Lefou then sighed in bliss as he felt his friend’s hardness rub against his hip from behind.
“Gaston-” Lefou began to murmur, but Gaston silenced him with fingers wrapping around his neck.
Lefou swallowed, anticipation eating him up, and when he did finally get his breeches down, he was as hard as Gaston, even more desperate.
“So lovely,” Gaston mused, voice low and rough with arousal as he dragged a finger along Lefou’s skin, “Can’t believe I haven’t had you at least once before.”
I’ve been right here in front of you this whole time, yours for the taking, Lefou wanted to scream, but this simply came out as an effeminately gasped, “Take me, Gaston.”
Lefou was again silenced by the strong grip around his neck. He could hear the sounds of Gaston taking himself out of his pants and spitting in his hand, and craved to turn and look at what he imagined having nearly every night. But, he remained pressed against the wall, Gaston’s fingers slowly teasing him and-
“Ohhhh,” the smaller man managed, and Gaston smirked behind him, stretching his friend’s hole. He was tight, but not as tight as some of the virgins he had fucked… Gaston got the impression that Lefou must understand himself enough to know what he needed to do for pleasure.
The ex-captain let out a low hum, lining himself up as best he could with somewhat double vision. He then ripped open Lefou’s waistcoat hungrily and pulled down his shirt to reveal his bare shoulder, and sank his teeth into the soft flesh there. A couple of villagers came stumbling out of the tavern, so Gaston reached around to hold his hand over Lefou’s mouth. When they were gone, he let go, and Lefou arched his back as Gaston probed him further open.
“How am I doing?” Gaston slurred, and Lefou almost laughed. Even in the heat of the moment, the man needed praise and validation.
“So good,” he panted, and, confidence sufficiently bolstered, Gaston finally smirked and pushed in. Lefou shrieked a little, then remembered to keep his voice down.
“Is this what I’ve been missing?” Gaston murmured, moaning softly as his head rolled back, and Lefou squeezed his eyes shut, wanting so badly to believe this wasn’t the alcohol talking. Soon, the two had a rhythm going- Gaston pounded in full force, Lefou loving every minute of it. This was all he ever wanted…
This, possibly, and something a little more; something Lefou doubted Gaston could give, but after tonight’s miracle, he’d be willing to believe enchanted teapots really did exist.
“How about now?” Gaston asked, as Lefou was once again shoved against the stone wall with a thrust.
“Mmm, but what would you do if I did stop?” Gaston asked hazily, quirking a sexy brow, “If I left you like this, hard and begging for me?”
“I…” Lefou moaned, “Please don’t…“
"What would you do?”
“I'd… hit you.”
“You’d hit me?” Gaston asked, amused.
“Yes,” Lefou growled, pushing back into Gaston’s next thrust defiantly, and the tall man groaned at the flash of disobedience. “Please may I come now, sir?” Lefou asked, and Gaston’s jaw clenched in arousal at the title. After a minute, he spoke.
“Lefou, we’re dearest of friends,” Gaston smiled wickedly, “We confide in one another, have lived through hell together. Address me as you would. Say my name. I know you want to.”
“Oh, Gaston,” Lefou said desperately, gasping as he felt himself approach.
“Yes, that’s it,” Gaston coaxed, his brow furrowing as he felt himself begin to throb as well. Lefou felt Gaston’s cock pulsing inside of him, so he decided to finish the job with a bang.
“You are the greatest lover I’ve ever taken, Gaston. You’re huge, you’re fast, like a predator and I love it, I love you claiming me like I’m nothing but game.” His fists tightened as he slammed them into the wall. “And everyone knows who comes out on top when you accept a challenge.” Gaston’s thrusts were beginning to speed up, and Lefou grinned, knowing what it did to the man. “I’m so lucky to feel your big cock inside of me, filling me up like this. Anyone would be so lucky.”
Gaston let out a feral growl, and tugged Lefou’s hair back. Lefou let out his own shaky moan, and came against the wall in spurts. Gaston felt Lefou’s orgasm, how his friend shuddered under his touch like just another brothel maid but different, and that pushed him over the edge as well.
After they had come down, Gaston softened and pulled out. Lefou righted himself, wiping off the wall and pulling his ripped waistcoat back up over his shoulder to cover the bite marks and hickeys- he didn’t even want to think of the stitching nightmare this would be. Gaston buttoned up his breeches, taking a deep, satisfied breath, and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to have sobered up much more now, and Lefou gazed into his eyes hopefully, offering a small smile. Gaston took his hands, and Lefou waited expectantly for the confession. They stared at each other, Gaston almost, almost leaning down to brush their lips together… then his grip tightened, a cold scowl developing on his lips.
“Let me get one thing straight,” he said quietly, “Belle is the woman I’m going to marry.”
With that, he looked around, and set off home. Left alone in the moonlight with Gaston’s markings all over his body and the evidence of their intimacy dripping out of him, Lefou watched him leave, and straightened his back.
“Belle is the woman he’s going to marry,” he told himself, “But I’m the man he’s going to fuck.”
Going his own way home, Lefou slicked his own hair back just as Gaston had, smiled assuredly, and convinced himself that’s truly all he wanted.
“I don’t understand what I could’ve possibly done to deserve this.” Nesta said as Cassian handed her the dress she picked weeks ago especially for the celebration. “Whose bright idea was it to have a baby shower during the week of the summer solstice-” She broke off her sentence with a small shriek.
Cassian was immediately at her side. “What is it?” He placed his hands on her belly and scanned for any injury.
“The damn dress ripped.” She gestured to the torn seams.
“Then I’ll find you another one.” He headed to her armoire.
“No you won’t.” She looked down and couldn’t see her feet. She tried to calm herself by rubbing her belly and tracing the pattern of her newest tattoo, but found it didn’t help. “That was the only dress that was going to fit.” Most days, she didn’t bother getting dressed. And if she did, she’d just wear one of Cassian’s; pregnant as she was, she was usually swimming in the material.
Walking to her, he tilted her chin up so as to look into her eyes. “What are you planning to wear?”
She pouted. “Nothing.”
Cassian flashed a wicked smile. “Nothing? We shall cause a sensation then. I’ll dress to match.”
Nesta crossed her arms. “I mean I’m not going.”
“Because of a wardrobe malfunction? I’m sure we can find something.”
“Not just that, Cass.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t walk, I waddle. I have to pee every twenty seconds, you hold my dress and never complain or make me feel disgusting but I still do and it’s horrible. My brain isn’t working. My emotions are everywhere…And now it looks like I’ll be appearing in front of our friends to celebrate our upcoming child in one of your shirts.” She paused to take a deep breath. “There’s two months left and I don’t know if I can do this!”
“Oh, Nes…” Cassian pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “It’s all going to be okay. You’re going through a lot. If you really want, we can cancel. I’ll just say that you-”
He was interrupted by a distinctive crack sound.
“Hell-” Rhys cried out with great panache, and then caught sight of a very naked and quite pregnant Nesta. “Oh.” Cassian tried his best to shield Nesta from view, and further humiliation. “My sincerest apologies. Were we interrupting something?” He gestured to Feyre, whose jaw was on the floor.
“Absolutely not.” Nesta yelled from the wings which cocooned her. “I was wishing I would say goodbye to my last shred of dignity today.” She stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Cassian and Rhys both looked at the ground, uncertain of what to do or say.
“Should I?” Feyre pointed in the direction her eldest sister had stormed off.
Cassian rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “Probably.” He blew out a breath and held out his hand as though saying, “Be my guest.”
“Feyre darling,” Rhys stopped her and handed her a large golden box. “Something tells me that she’ll be wanting and needing this present now.”
Without knocking, Feyre opened the door to find her eldest sister sitting on the counter and picking at her nails. Her back faced the mirror, and Feyre caught sight of the burns that would never disappear. Unsure of what to say, she started with, “I like your new tattoo. It’s really quite lovely. Compliments the others nicely.”
Nesta grimaced a smile and as Feyre leaned against the counter as well.
Feyre handed her the box, which she didn’t take. “You’re both mostly ready, anyway-”
“Mostly ready?” Nesta barked out a laugh and looked down at her naked body. She tried tucking an errant curl behind her ear, but gave up quickly as it was too short.
Feyre picked up a pin and began working on Nesta’s hair. “Yes, mostly ready. I think the both of you look really nice. Cassian actually shaved his face and braided his hair-”
Nesta snorted. “I did that.”
Combing her sister’s waves, Feyre continued, “And you cut your hair-”
Nesta smirked triumphantly to herself and admitted, “He did that.” It took weeks of convincing and manipulation, but Cassian finally caved due to the fact that every morning he woke up to a face full of sweaty golden hair. The day she got caught, he finally conceded. Her ponytail came off in one hack. But he took care with evening it out. Cassian kept a lock for himself, to have a physical piece of her with him whenever they would have to be separated for any period of time.
“He didn’t fuck it up, either. That was good of him.” Feyre grinned at her sister in the mirror who still avoided eye contact.
“Thank you.” Nesta said with sincerity, eternally grateful that Feyre was an excellent caretaker.
Putting the comb down as she finished, Feyre crossed her arms and gave a dramatic sigh. “I really wish you would stop sulking long enough to realize that I handed you a gift.“
Nesta eyed the gold package suspiciously, her eyes narrowing. “I’m surprised it’s not black and blue with purple glitter.“ She cocked her head. “Perhaps with a rainbow and a hidden bargain as well. However did you manage to hold Rhysand back?”
Feyre rolled her eyes but did not attempt to argue that Rhys didn’t purposefully wrap Nesta’s presents in such gratuitous opulence to annoy her. “It’s not from Rhys.” She shoved the box into Nesta’s lap. “You’ll know who it’s from.”
Nesta gasped as she beheld the dress. It wasn’t extravagant by any means, but it was exactly what she wanted and needed.
Stark white eyelet cotton. Sleeves that would be off her shoulders… The sort of unappreciated beauty and comfort that she hadn’t worn in so long.
Picking up the card, she read aloud, “My dearest friend, please accept this gift as an apology for not visiting you sooner. White always was your color. I so look forward to seeing-”
Nesta’s eyes bulged as she paused to look up at Feyre, who was biting her cheek.
A bit too fast for a woman- fae or no- who was seven months pregnant, Nesta shot up and slipped on the dress with lightning speed. She smoothed the fabric which didn’t conceal any curve of her body. “Feyre,“ she chided. “If you had told me that he-”
“He planned it all.” Feyre admitted. Calling out as Nesta exited the bathroom, “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Nesta linked her arm with Cassian’s, who was blinking in shock at her sudden and bright mood change.
“You look radiant, sister.” Rhys drawled, but Nesta couldn’t be bothered to retort.
Cassian squinted his eyes at Feyre, who wore a sheepish expression as she reentered the room. “She knows, doesn’t she?”
Nesta attempted to drag Cassian out the front door, but he didn’t budge in the slightest. “Let’s go. Come on!”
“You know don’t you?” Cassian rolled his eyes as Nesta nodded excitedly. “Should I feel jealous or pleased that he can get you dressed and out the door?”
Nesta kissed Cassian’s shoulder and smiled warmly. “There’s nothing to be jealous of, sweetheart.“
Rhys cleared his throat as Cassian let out a groan. “Let’s get going, shall we? I know you’ve grown accustomed to keeping the High Lord and Lady of Night waiting.” Feyre and Rhys grabbed Cassian and Nesta’s hands and began to winnow as Rhys finished his thought, “He is beyond excited to see his favorite Emissary.”
One where Clarke makes it to the rocket on time and Bellarke has 0-G space smuty plleaaase
a minute more
“Bellamy, we have to go.”
“She’ll be here.”
“If we don’t launch now we’ll miss our window.”
“One more minute, Raven.”
Clarke gasps into his ear as he rolls his hips against hers. Her arms are tight around his shoulders, hands threaded into the curls at the nape of his neck. She whimpers when he nips at the skin of her throat and sucks a bruise onto her pulse point.