#I keep trying to tell myself to give it a few days and maybe I’ll get used to it and like them better

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. you should call into work if that ain’t too much to ask, i could pour you up a drink and we could burn somethin’.

03, CHAPTER THREE. COME THROUGH.

ju speaks. late chapter again lol and this election fucked me uuup but thank God for writing as a distraction. you can expect another part between now and monday mayyybe… i have some free time. pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. same old + sexual innuendos (we’re very familiar with my edging game).

present day, may 2025.

paige: yo 6:23pm

wyd?

nailea text me back bro 6:29pm

nailea: hmmm

busy

paige: busy my ass

nailea disliked a message

nailea: i’ve been at work all day. some of us don’t get to just play basketball, madison 😓

paige: ohhh is that right?

i’ll have you know i work hard af ma

nailea: hard enough for a reward?

paige loved a message

paige: bring that ass over here nai

nailea: i’ve got emails to finish

paige: they’ll be there tomorrow

i’m here right now. waitin on you actually

nailea: maybe i have been thinking ab it 6:32pm

paige: mhm?

well you ain’t gotta think no more let’s just do

nailea laughed at a message

nailea: you’re really ridiculous

paige: come over and tell me that to my face

nailea: depends on what you got there

a girl needs incentives

read 6:35pm

paige: i got plenty

few drinks, maybe roll up too. thought that might get you

nailea: it’s a start

send the address, i’ll come through when i’m done

paige loved a message

i sink back into the couch, letting my head rest against the arm, my feet comfortably draped across paige’s lap. the last few days, i tried to keep myself busy, focus on work, ignore the way my phone would vibrate and my thoughts would jump straight to her. the same old game. she’d sent a few texts, nothing too serious, just little things to test the waters i guess, and when she called yesterday, talking about how much she missed me, i could already tell she was pulling me back in, trying to see if that thread between us would hold.

paige kept her word, though—i can give her that. i said i’d answer, and she made sure i’d have a reason to. she knew exactly what to say, and it’s a shame that she always does, really. it’s messed up, but it works. i can’t say i haven’t missed this, either. the way she can look at me and make me forget everything i swore i’d remember, every reason i should’ve walked away.

and now, here we are, the sun setting behind her window and casting everything, even her, in some warm, orange glow that only makes her look all the more attractive. it’s like the universe is playing along, trying to romanticize something i know i should be more careful with. there’s an old celtics game playing on the tv, but neither of us is really paying attention to it. i watch her more than the screen, notice the way her fingers brush absentmindedly over my leg, the way she insists that she should be the one to hold the joint to my lips.

paige leans back, and her hand has inched from my ankle to a casual spot on my bare thigh. we’re both too deep in drinks and hits to make sense of it, but i’m not sure i would’ve said anything even if i was sober. she’s wearing one of her uconn tees, which i guess you could call old now, the shirt hugging her arms a little tight. her hair’s falling over her shoulders, looking a little shriveled but still perfect, and every time she glances at me, she wears this smug little smirk.

“…feels like everything i knew it’d be. more work and pressure than it seems, but you know me,” paige says, her grin turning a little self-satisfied, like she’s relishing every second of her own success. we’ve been catching up—if that’s what you’d call it—for awhile now. i should probably leave soon, sober up and drive home. i’m not that far. but i don’t want to.

she drags her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, eyes hazily drifting back over to me. “what about you, huh?” she asks. “you got that insane move up. what’s that been like?”

i roll my eyes, tilting my head against the couch arm to look at her. “it’s not that insane.”

paige grins, shrugging and taking a sip of her lazy attempt at a cocktail. i’d offered to make them myself, honestly not trusting the blonde to not fuck it up, but she’d insisted, hostess duties or something.

“still sounds like a pretty big deal. you’re all professional and shit now,” she rambles, and i can’t help but chuckle at her choice of words.

i shake my head, hiking one of my legs up. “it’s not like i’m paige bueckers or anything,” i tease, a stupid, huge smile on my face. how is she able to bring out the worst and the best in me? “no one’s asking me to sign their shoes after a meeting.”

she laughs, eyes half-lidded and glassy, gaze intimidatingly lingering on me just a little too long. “bet you got your own version of that, though. people hangin’ on your every word, just tryna get a second of your time. don’t lie.”

i shrug, eyes shooting away from her. i don’t get how she does it. “i mean, it’s been good,” i admit. “long hours, but it’s nice to finally get involved the way i always wanted to, y’know?”

her hand shifts a little on my thigh, just enough to remind me it’s there, and i glance down. “coulda called that years ago,” she murmurs, barely louder than a whisper. then, it’s silent for a moment. just long enough for me to think of something else to ask her before she beats me to it. “you happy?”

i swallow, suddenly feeling a little hot in the face. “i am,” i reply after a pause, furrowing my eyebrows with a nod, almost like i’m trying to convince myself of it. “the dream, right?” i let out a breathy laugh, and paige smiles.

it’s silly to think that the both of us could recall that conversation like it was yesterday. but this wasn’t the dream. not the one we had when we were kids. just our own fucked up, adult version of it. and somehow, someway, we’re still here. somehow, someway, we still can’t let it go.

“and the people? they treat you right?” she sounds like she really cares, but is still trying not to press too hard.

“everyone’s good. most of them, anyway.” she can probably see through every word i say. pick up on the way i describe everything as good. i hesitate, looking back up at her. “never thought i’d be this close with a pro team after graduating, that’s for sure.”

“bro, ‘kea really don’t play ‘bout you,” paige laughs, but she’s serious. rickea’s one of the first people i got close with during my internship, contrary to belief. i was barely around the team then, too. “and maya’s been talking all kinds of good about you since cam’s party.”

i can feel my face flush, and i shift to sit up next to her, suddenly acutely aware of how close i am to paige, how tangled up i’ve let myself become. the mention of her name has clearly been a sore subject. i’m not sure why i feel so guilty, paige was mine first, but my mind flashes to her anyway, and then to paige, who’s probably hearing everything maya’s been saying about me, while i’m here, in the middle of all of it.

i don’t wanna ask what she’s been saying, and i surely don’t wanna press further into how deep paige and maya might be. ignorance is bliss, right? but shouldn’t it be my business? is paige still my business?

instead, i force a shrug. “i mean, it’s not like we’re on the same level,” i say, clearly selling myself a little short. maya’s been here longer, knows what she’s doing better than i do. credit never hurt.

paige doesn’t say anything. she inches just a little bit closer, and the sound of a sold out stadium of cheers from tatum’s three pointer is suddenly going in one ear and out the other. a small smirk tugs at her lips, and she tilts her head, eyes not sure what to focus on as she rubs up and down on my thigh, hand inching a little higher everytime. “i agree.”

i squint at her. “you do?” but it’s less of a question. my eyes flick to her lips, and i know she catches it because her smile widens, just a little.

“mhm,” she murmurs, her fingers twisting in, gripping my thigh until i’m squeezing my legs together. there’s a moment of silence, like she’s giving me a moment to breathe, to prepare, and she’s not done. “nobody’s fuckin’ with you, baby. believe that.”

i can feel my defenses slipping—not that they were ever really there anyway—as she presses closer, and i feel a warmth spreading through me, one that has nothing to do with the la heat. “what are we even doing, p?” i ask, and i don’t know where it came from. no part of me wanted to start an argument, or worse, hear the truth. i can’t look away.

she shifts, her expression softening as she glances down, then up again. she doesn’t know the answer either. “i dunno. what we always do.” she leans back a little, resting her head on the couch right near my chest, so close that her breath brushes against me with each exhale.

i tilt my head down, just enough to meet her blue hues, and the words come out before i even realize i’m saying them. “i’m supposed to be over this. over you.”

the second they’re out, i wish i could take them back. i didn’t wanna ruin the moment. the way her face changes, her jaw tightening and a flicker of something unreadable flashing in her eyes, tells me i’ve hit a nerve. a silence falls between us, an uncomfortable one if i’m honest, stretching longer than i mentally prepared myself for.

paige screws her eyes shut, letting out a low, frustrated breath as she sits up, running a hand over her face like she’s trying to gather herself. the loss of her touch makes me feel cold. “fuck, nai.”

i push myself up too, eyebrows are furrowed as i try to make sense of it. “what? i just asked a question.”

“you always gotta make shit so fuckin’ difficult,” she mutters, shaking her head like this whole thing is somehow my fault. like i’m the one complicating it.

i frown, glancing down, and she continues. “you’re just—God, nai, it’s like you can’t just let things be. you always gotta question it, question me.” she bites down on her lip. she’s actually upset, and the horrible part about it is that it’s so like her—so unmistakably paige—that somehow, i can’t even bring myself to be mad.

i want to laugh. “why does that piss you off?” i don’t want to say it, but the words slip out anyway. “you think you’ve given me any reason not to? especially now that you’re seeing maya?”

her head crooks to look at me, and her eyes narrow with it. “what the fuck does maya have to do with this?”

i can feel the heat in my face, the way everything inside me tightens, like i’ve been holding my breath for way too long. “what do you mean, what’s she got to do with it? you’re seeing her, paige. i’m not blind.”

her jaw clenches tighter than before, and she stands up, pacing a few steps before turning back to me. “we’re not—” she pauses, clearly trying to find her words, but i’m not giving her the time.

“that’s all i need to know,” i finish, forcing a tight-lipped grin. “you don’t have to lie. i’m quite sick of those from you, actually.” i chuckle, but it’s a hollow sound, one that doesn’t even make it past my throat. i reach for my shoes that i tossed to the side when i got here, pulling them onto my feet.

paige watches, hands on her hips, and i’m fine with her quiet. “i don’t want you to leave upset with me over somethin’ we coulda talked about,” she softens, but it doesn’t change the fact that i’m already over it.

“i’m not upset with you,” i bluff, and i tie the laces of my sneakers a little tighter than necessary.

she glances down, tongue swarming her mouth, and i don’t even have to look at her to know that she’s thinking of some way to stop me. “nai—“ she starts.

“i’m not upset,” i repeat, and i hope it was more firm this time. i force myself to look her in the eyes, not a single thought behind them. neither of us is willing to be the first to back down, but i’m too exhausted to care anymore. “i just need to go,” i finish, standing up and rounding the couch.

paige’s face drops, hesitation etched across her entire face. “you can’t leave. you had too much. just… stay, aight? we’ll figure it ou—”

i grab my jacket, ignoring her weak attempts. somehow, this all feels like that night again, and i feel that familiar nausea creep up. “i’ll call a fucking uber,” i snap, throwing the door open. and before she can stop me, i’m gone, my pulse racing as i step out into the hall, leaving behind the sound of her voice.

i don’t think i’m very good at pretending i’m not upset.

[raeathnos]

.

[ningvory]

yaaaayyy congrats on hitting 2k this is big!!! <3 <3

I was thinking maybe we could get a massage parlor AU with pervy mausseuse!julie being obsessed with her new client's ass to the point where she can't keep her fingers to herself and decided to give reader's ass a "deep tissue massage". So some dubcon and anal but feel free to add other things too! <3

⋆. 𐙚 �� 1,383 words • 2k event

a/n: anon this has gagged me..and i was lowkey feeling like reader with the major back problems..might need to go to a massage parlor myself..

CW: dubcon, g!p julie, ass play, anal, degrading, readers first time with anal, julie takes advantage of how oblivious reader is, belle is readers cowokers and recommends it to her, not proofread!

your back has been killing you for what seemed like forever, and being hunched over looking at a computer screen for over five hours doesn’t help you one bit. it’s probably the reason why your back is in the state it it.

normally you don’t have such an awful posture but it’s almost physically impossible to keep a straight posture the whole day. then you only have a thirty minute lunch break and a fifteen minute break.

“y/n~ fix your posture!” the voice of your coworker, anabelle pulled you away from the screen on your computer. when her words finally registered into your head, you slowly fixed your posture.

“it’s just so hard to keep a good posture, my lower back is killing me..” you mumbled, trying to ignore the pain from your back.

“luckily for you, i know someone who works at that new massage parlor down the street from our apartment area!” anabelle quietly squealed, almost like she’s been dying to tell you this information.

before you could even ask her anything she answered your questions almost immediately, “her names julie, she’s a few years older than us. i’ll book your appointment and text her that you know me!” she smiled before dragging a guest chair to the side of your chair.

she pulled the booking website up, doing all the work for you like shes worked at a massage parlor before, only letting you pick your favorite oils and candles for you. “done! your deep tissue massage is booked for 6:30 pm today, i got you the deluxe package so don’t forget to remove every single clothing, including your panties~” anabelle smiled your way, it was currently 6:00 pm, exactly an hour away from the time so you and anabelle began to pack up your things.

“you must be y/n, right? you’re our last client of the day!” the woman asked, you confirmed her assumption with a meek ‘yes’.’ “i can tell this is your first time at a massage parlor so i’ll guide you where you need to go.” the receptionist came from behind the counter to lead you the way.

“you must be y/n, right? you’re our last client of the day!” the woman asked, you confirmed her assumption with a meek ‘yes’.’ “i can tell this is your first time at a massage parlor so i’ll guide you where you need to go.” the receptionist came from behind the counter to lead you the way.

“you must be y/n, right? you’re our last client of the day!” the woman asked, you confirmed her assumption with a meek ‘yes’.’ “i can tell this is your first time at a massage parlor so i’ll guide you where you need to go.” the receptionist came from behind the counter to lead you the way.

she stopped in front of the changing rooms, “here’s your white and gold robe that come with the deluxe package, along with matching slippers.” she handed you it, allowing you to change in it.

once you got in the changing room, you stripped all your clothes, placing it in the bag your brought. you silently thank yourself for carrying extra clothes in your trunk in case of an emergency. you were slightly nervous, you’ve seen the videos of their hands going all over the client’s body and the noises that unexpectedly come out.

you opened the door, handing her the bag with your clothes and letting her lead the way to the room which was right around the corner, “ms. julie is already waiting for you in there. enjoy!” she lady said walking off, giving you a small smile.

you opened the door, to see julie sitting in her chair scrolling on her phone until she heard the door close, eyes falling on you and smiling. “ahh you must be y/n~ i’m julie.” she smiled at you, extending her hand for you to take. her personality relaxing you quickly.

“hey nice to meet you!“ you smiled, shaking her hand, “first time here?” she asked, noticing your nervousness, removing your robe for you and sitting you down on the table. “yeah” you said breathily, your nipples began to harden from being exposed to the atmosphere. you didn’t noticed her smirk when she took a look at your ass, “don’t worry~ and just relax..” she dragged the work out.

she began to set up the oils and candles, the ones you preferred. she grabbed the remote to the flatscreen tv in the room and played her shuffle of music to make thing less awkward for you. she instructed for you to lay down on your tummy and place your head in the hole before adjusting it to fit your body height just right.

she started warming your body up, placing the oils on your body, gently loosening you up, pulling a small moan from your mouth. “breathe, baby” she reminded you, guiding your breaths with her own. she quickly finds the tense spots, getting rid of them almost instantly, dragging out whimpers that just go straight to her cock! it didn’t help that your ass was just on full display for her and your whines makes it worse :(

when she gets to your lower back, just above your ass, she get a little rougher, massaging the most tense spot of your back, pulling out small moans. her hands slowly cups your ass cheeks, softly squeezing them in her hands and spreading them wide, revealing your cunt and asshole to her. “julie? is..is this apart of the massage?” you gasp, fighting the urge to moan. “of course, why wouldn’t it be? i’m a professional ‘ya know.” she bites her lip, responding to you.

“ah~ sorry” you replied, deadpanning yourself for asking something stupid, why would it not be apart of the massage? “no worries, sweetheart, now..tell me how this feels..” she interns her oil covered finger into your ass, earning a loud whine from you before swiftly slapping a hand to your mouth. “f-feels good..” you whine, the new sensation flooding your system.

you heard her pants unzip and her boxers fall to the ground, and that’s when you figured this probably wasn’t apart of the message, but your body felt so relaxed after she worked her magic and she was attractive. “don’t scream.” she warns your before pushing her thick cock into your ass, rendering you speechless, your eyes were closed tight trying to adapt to the stretch.

“so oblivious..it’s cute..” she grunts, pulling her cock all the way out just to plunge right back into your tight ass, you couldn’t find it in you to form a sentence, strangled moans just spilled out of your mouth.

“answer, slut.” she smacks your ass, making a loud moan come out of your mouth. the rooms were actually soundproof but she thinks it’s cute how hard you try to keep quiet. “y-yea..sorry” you reply, not really sure of what she even said.

she finds a steady pace, making you slide up and down on her table from the force of her thrust. “m-more please..” you beg and she smiles behind you before her hand found your hips and began ponding into you with her other hand toying with your clit, making you squirm under her touch.

after a few more thrusts and her degration, you felt something unfamiliar bubbling in your tummy, “julie.. i think i have to pee?” you questioned, not even sure yourself what this feeling was.

she giggled at your words, “silly baby, you’re about to squirt.” she explained, rubbing your clit quicker, as you thrash around on the table, back arching deeper into the table as you squirt all over her, legs shaking under her.

“fuck!” julie whines, shooting her thick spurts of cum into your used ass. “your appointment is all done!” she chuckles, pulling her spent cock out of you and zipping her pants up, and helping you get situated.

“should we schedule your next appointment? from now on my services will be free!” she winks, washing her hands off at the sink in the room. “uh huh..” you breathe out, still trying to collect yourself after that orgasm. “see you soon then!” she slips a paper with her phone number on it in your bag, and bids you goodbye for now.

you looked down and read the paper,

‘need to fill your other holes up too.. call me! <3’

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (2) | Yandere Isekai

Part 1

It’s so irritating for Haruko 

He remembers how he used to try and make noise in the beginning, when the same thing happened to him

But even without your struggling, he’s got more obstacles than he thought

“Tch all these guys getting in our way, maybe I should just kill them.”

“Haru no!”

“Why not, I'm sure you did it when I was trapped.”

“That…that doesn’t make it right!”

“So? Who cares about right when we’re in love? I think it was you who said that.”

Either way with or without your approval he’s figuring out a way to take down his newfound rivals

He kind of hopes they are as ambitious as the friends who recently abandoned him

Too bad they aren’t

In the original story, the crazy thing about the protagonist was that despite their obsessive love for Haruko and general disregard for those who got in the way of that was otherwise really inspiring

Breaking away from their elitist family for their violent morals ironic right

Joining the workforce, easily rising because of their work ethic and intelligence

And all that while beautifully evading a less-than-clean detective trying to pin the blame of random crimes on them

Which of course got them their own male leads attempting to pursue their affections

Always doomed to fall short because of circumstance or the protagonist suavely crushing their hopes to gush about their love

It was a uniquely terrible tragedy for their characters to be written this way

That’s what the random reviewers would say

Which is why you did feel inclined to maybe entertain them a bit more than the original protagonist would have ever done

“Since you are quitting….I hope you’ll let me treat you to dinner. For all your hard work of course.”

“Uh sure but I have to be home by sunset.”

“That’s a shame then we’ll have to—Wait. Did you say you would?”

“Yeah, are you okay?”

“YES! Ahem I mean yes I’m fine! I look forward to a nice evening together!”

Unknowingly furthering the obsession the protagonist was barely keeping at bay

“So mind telling me what you ordered that day at the restaurant?”

“I think it was my favorite dish there called the berry delight but I’m not sure. I think they changed the menu since I was there.”

“Why not confirm it later today? That way you can tell me if you did see the missing classmate of yours.”

“But I don’t remember exactly where I sat–”

“Then we’ll just have to sit in every spot until it rings a bell.”

“I don’t know if that’s–”

“Don’t fret. I’ll be paying but there's no way we’ll get to try every table. We’ll have to come back multiple times.”

“Okay…”

“No worries I’m sure you’ll get tired of eating there so we’ll go to some other places to give you a rest. Anywhere you wanted to try?”

You’d be foolish to think you could escape them by agreeing to Haruko’s entrapping of you 

It only takes a day of you not responding to messages that they both eagerly awaiting you at your door

And after the first few times, Haruko shooing them away they begin to get resourceful

“Yeah bud nice try their still out.”

“Hm well say that to my lovely warrant right here.”

“Wait! H-h-hold on! Geez I-i’ll go get them now but they are not going to be happy with you!”

It really doesn’t get better as the guard against the protagonist’s secrets begins to be let down as interested parties slowly make their way in

You don’t have the same ruthlessness or ability to deceive as the protagonist you took over for 

On top of that you never actually read the webtoon so you’ll be left trying to piece together whatever few weak points the protag has

Where if you hadn’t already started to make your pursuers interested all those faults are fuel for their agenda

“It’s so unfortunate that the company can sign off on your absence during this suspicious crime but I don’t mind editing records if you wouldn’t mind spending time with me. That way I can vet your personality myself. Over wine of course!”

It’s overwhelming constantly being pulled in 3 directions 

What’s worse you’re completely oblivious when the latest obstacle in the protag’s perfect life finally makes themselves known

“Hello darling, it took us years to find you but we did it!”

“Don’t look like that come give your Mama a hug!”

Part 3: Coming Soon

[yanderemommabean]

for the red rooms in devildom, imagine lucifer finally deciding to give red rooms a shot when he realizes mc will soon leave devildom and/or keeps rejecting his affection

Lucifer being the avatar of pride means he can’t exactly handle rejection. Maybe a few times at first, seeing it as a way to chase and have fun and to prove himself to you and sweep you off of your feet, but after a while it really gets under his skin. 

Why? Why are you denying him? Sure he can understand being scared of him, he’s one of the most powerful demons after all, and sadly you were more than once on the wrong end of that ire and anger when you first arrived. He won’t deny that your emotions with those incidents are possibly why you wouldn’t want to be with him, but surely now you see hes trying to make amends? That he’d kiss the ground you walk on and make sure to keep you safe? 

It seems you were serious about denying and rejecting his affections. You tell everyone at dinner what a wonderful time you’ve had, and how in three days time you’re expected to leave, back to the human world, leaving them to wallow in your absence. 

Well, you won’t get away with that. He won’t let you make this mistake. He just gives a soft smile, a gentle hug, and tells you that he’ll miss you, but as you head up to bed and listen to Mammon and Levi’s blabbering and sobbing, Lucifer decides to make a rather last resort call. 

The Red Rooms. The last place he ever wanted to bring you. While they care for the darling's experience, he doesn’t want to have to force this, but you’re really leaving him no choice! 

He’ll make sure the rooms are to your tastes. Stuffed animals to cry into when overwhelmed, softer gags to be easier on your jaw, padded cuffs to make sure your delicate human skin isn’t bruised unless he decides to bruise it himself. 

The demon chuckles on the other end of the line but once they hear who’s making the call, they shut up and show respect. 

“Nothing rough. This is to prove my devotion and how I’m better than my brothers. I want only the best, the softest, the cleanest and the safest. I won’t hesitate to kill you and wring your blood into my food to devour. Do we have an understanding?” 

He goes through the list, his mind getting even more perverted than Asmo as he pictures how he’ll make you moan and whimper for him. “Oh? Well I must admit that golden hellfire newt syrup would be a nice touch but I'm as ready as ill need to be. Yes, I'm aware it's a potent aphrodisiac but I assure you, my love and lust know no bounds when it comes to my sweet little minx” 

The call goes on a little longer, Lucifer giving some final details on safety measures, only giving Diavolo's emergency number in case he completely loses himself, and so on. Who woulda thought the demons in the seediest parts of the underworld would be so caring? Then again it’s rumored Barbatos and Diavolo run the palace in disguise so…

When asked how they are to bring you in, Lucifer just smiles and tries not to break the phone in an angered crush. To think they’d touch you, it just sent a pang of anger through his core. But he knows they’re simply doing their job, so he can’t exactly kill them just yet.

“I’ll use the spells you have on hand, or ill bring them in myself under a guise of a last dinner together. You’ll know it's me by what I'm wearing. None of this better go wrong, or I assure you, you wont live to warn the others of my wrath”.

-Mommabean (HI! I hope you likes this bean!!)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 3 - Oakmoss

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Omegaverse scent-heavy flirting, food related flirting, Brandon (derogatory)

It’s three weeks later that Sergeant Garrick catches you walking out of your building at the end of the day. You’re more distracted than usual - trying to decipher a text from Jack about his upcoming heat - so you’re almost on top of him before you realize. His smile is genuine when you jump back from nearly stepping on his boot.

“Sorry!”

“No harm done,” he assures you. His hand comes forward. “Sergent Kyle Garrick.”

“We’ve met,” you point out, allowing a short, comfortable handshake.

His grin goes a little bit sheepish when he takes his hand back. “Well, I had to introduce myself better than Soap, at least. That’s MacTavish.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well… good to meet you.”

“The team wanted to thank you, for the information,” he continues. “It was very helpful. That Lawrence guy would have had us runnin’ in circles. We also, uh,” he shuffles his feet a bit, and looks away. “We didn’t want to overstep. By offering a gift before clearing it with you.”

Oh, he thinks he’s clever. You arch an eyebrow, “You want me to give your pack permission to give me gifts, Sergent Garrick?”

“I told them you’d catch on too fast,” he laughs.

At least he has the decency not to deny it. Here you had been tying yourself into knots about being too emotional in a meeting, and now a pretty man is asking permission for his pack to court you. Part of you is relieved. The last thing you need is more alphas pissed off at you, prowling around the base looking for a pissing contest.

Another part of you is annoyed.

You carefully regulate your breathing. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at catching these kinds of things by now. But you don’t have to thank me for doing my job.” You sidestep him and start walking toward the car park.

Sergent Garrick falls into step beside you. “I’ve offended you.”

You sigh. Of course he’d be sensitive to the way your scent changes. You practically scent burned him in a closed room. You step to the side of the walkway and turn to face him. “I’m sure you and your pack are wonderful, sergeant, but I’ve had a long day.”

His smile is charming. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Not approaching me with a courting offer at my workplace would be a good start,” you say, blandly. You watch his face muscles twitch through confusion, shock, and a tinge of horror before continuing. “While I’m flattered that you would tell your pack about me, I prefer to keep things professional on base. And I’m sure your team would prefer that as well. Have a nice night.”

“Wait,” He reaches out, but has the good sense not to touch you. “Would it be better, then, to maybe approach you off-base?”

Why do alphas think I’ll find you elsewhere is ever a good thing to imply? “Like how Sergeant MacTavish approached me at the bar?” He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. You take a step back, his confusion tickling your nose. “I’m not really interested in being the subject of whatever competitive thing you have going. Have a good night, Sergeant.”

By the time you get back to your car, you’re not mad anymore. Just tired. You climb into the drivers seat and tip your head back with a sigh. Garrick and MacTavish aren’t the first alphas to want to try taming the Wildfire, and they won’t be the last. But it still stings. For once, it’d be nice if someone saw you and thought you were pretty and interesting instead of just a challenge to conquer.

You let yourself have a few more seconds of self-pity before you strap in and start the car. You’ll give Jack a call, make plans for his heat, and leave the sergeants to do their thing.

The next day, when you get to your office, there’s a travel cup of hot coffee from your favorite coffee shop on the edge of your desk, along with a gift card and a note. You don’t really think much of it - coffee from Sherry as a reward for a job well done isn’t unheard of - but the the gift card for 25 pounds is a bit excessive. The unfamiliar handwriting on the note catches your eye.

Please accept this apology for yesterday.

It’s signed by Captain John Price. That’s… interesting. Speaks well to the cohesion of the 141 that Sergeant Garrick would let him know that he made you uncomfortable. Hopefully this means that neither of the sergeants will be dogging your steps. On the other hand, an almost perfect coffee made it to your office somehow. You’re still dealing with a bit of overbearing alpha bullshit. But apology bullshit is better than the alternative, so you settle in for your day.

By lunch, you’ve pushed the note to the back of your mind. When Sherry walks in, you expect a conversation about taking on Jerry’s workload with his upcoming parental leave. You don’t expect her to place a paper bag from the very fancy sandwich shop across town onto your desk. You can smell warm bread and something else in there.

“Special delivery,” she says. Before you can pull the bag close to poke around, she holds out a folded piece of paper. “Ah, ah! I was told to give you this first.”

“What? Sherry, let me… eat.”

Please accept this offer as a formal request to discuss an intention of courtship. Captain Johnathan Price Lieutenant Simon Riley Sergeant Kyle Garrick Sergeant Johnathan MacTavish

Each of the signatures is different. You look from the note to Sherry’s curious face and back down. You’re glad you have so much practice locking down your scent, because your emotions are all over the place. You flash her a quick smile as you refold the note and stick it under the edge of your keyboard.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

She nods, with a nervous smile of her own. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the spike of your scent as your heart races. “The 141 had a successful mission after that awful meeting with Brandon and that CIA agent.”

“Oh! Well that’s good,” she says with a sharp nod. She knocks twice on the edge of your desk before she turns to leave. “You always do good work. Least those boys could do is buy you lunch.”

Once she’s gone, you wait a few seconds, then get up to quietly close your door. And then you eye the fancy paper bag on your desk like it’s a bomb. You circle back to pick up the note, read it, fold it, open it to read again.

You snap a picture and send it to the group chat. Then snap a picture of the gifts and note from this morning. You re-re-re-read the second note again.

When you phone rings, you pick up without looking. “What do I do?”

Jack wails into your ear. “Bitch, what do you MEAN what do you do?”

“Do I open it?”

“Open what?”

You snap a picture of the stamped bag sitting on the edge of your desk and send it to the chat. “They sent this with-”

Chrissy’s icy voice startles you. “If you don’t show me what’s in that bag right now I will scream.”

“What if opening it is accepting it?” When the phone chirps in your ear, you hiss, “I can’t do a video call, I’m in my office.”

“Quit stalling,” Chrissy snaps. “Open the bag.”

You pull it closer, then pause. “Should we wait for Mel?”

“NOW,” Jack bellows.

“I’m also at work,” Mel’s says, steady and unbothered. “So please stop yelling.”

The bag crinkles a bit when you pull it closer, silencing everyone. You’re not sure why you’re holding your breath, but it comes out in a little huff of disappointment when you look inside and the first thing you see is napkins.

“Okay,” you whisper, as you start pulling things out. The first food item you find is a roll. “We have… bread, still warm. A half of a sandwich - ooh! The goat cheese and pear one. A half salad,” you squint through the translucent lid. “It looks like it has berries. Oh, it looks like there’s a soup in here, too, nice. And the utensils. And…”

When you don’t say anything else, Jack prompts you. “And?”

“There’s a, uh,” you cover your eyes as your face flushes. “It’s a cake.”

The silence is deafening. You make yourself peek into the unassuming box, and the four-inch, round cake positively dripping with what smells like orange syrup, spices, and the faintest hint of alcohol. Your face gets even hotter when you connect the dots and realize the cardamom you’re smelling reminds you of Sergeant Garrick.

It’s Mel who breaks the silence, clearing their throat before asking, “Did they get you a custom cake from the Trinity Rose?”

You can’t make yourself say anything, so you take a picture of it for the group chat. Then a couple more at different angles, because the curl of orange and peel on top looks like something out of a movie. You hear when the photos load, each of your friends sucking in a quiet breath. Chrissy must mute her mic, because the background noise drops significantly.

“Someone please say something,” you whisper.

Jack says, “Holy shit.”

“What does it smell like?” Mel asks, cutting to the chase. “Is it good?”

“It smells so good,” you admit. “Like… ridiculously good.”

Chrissy comes back on the line, sounding a little breathless. “They apologized with coffee this morning?”

“Yeah-”

“So this wasn’t part of the apology,” she continues. “Guys, this is. This is a legit courtship thing.”

“The website says they offer courtship packages,” Mel confirms. “It’s pretty cute, a subscription service for lunch. But it doesn’t actually include a cake.”

“There’s gotta be at least a two week wait on something like this.” You say it as soon as you realize it. Embarrassment flashes hot and cold down your entire body and you have to cover your face. “Oh gods, this had to be planned in advance.”

Chrissy hisses, “The bakery at the Trinity Rose is award winning. Of course this was planned in advance.”

“Wait, are they all in a pack?” Jack yelps. “All four of them? And they’re all alphas? There has to be more to the pack than that, right?”

Mel makes a disagreeing sound. “If there were more, they’d have signed. This is a very formal pre-courtship gift. Well. Mostly formal.”

You have to resist chewing on your lip. “Should I eat it?”

“No reason to waste a perfectly nice lunch,” they point out. Jack and Chrissy make agreeing noises. “But I’d probably wait to eat the cake until you get home.”

“So I can think about it?”

“What? No. You’ve already decided to hear them out,” Mel dismisses. “I just wouldn’t eat a sex cake at work.”

That startles a squawking laugh out of you. “It’s not a sex cake!”

“Oh, so they got a custom syrup cake that matches your scent as a platonic gesture?” Chrissy challenges.

“…There’s a little bit of cardamom,” you admit. “That’s Sergeant Garrick’s scent.”

“It’s a sex cake,” Mel confirms over the train whistle noise Chrissy makes before she can mute herself again. “When Garrick shows up to escort you to your car this evening, maybe don’t chew his head off.”

“Oh no,” you groan. Your head thumps against your arm as you throw yourself down onto the desk. “He was trying to ask for permission to court me and I was a complete bitch to him.”

You deserve the laughter of your best friends for that. But eventually, you rally. If you’re actually going to enjoy your lunch, you have to start eating now or you’ll have to eat and work later. You start with the sandwich and mute your mic as you take a huge bite. By unspoken agreement, the conversation shifts to the weekend and Jack’s heat, then Chrissy’s client who insists on in person meetings three days before her heat. Mel lets you all ramble for a good twenty minutes before ushering everyone off the phone since Jack is the only one who doesn’t have deadlines and scheduled clients.

Which leaves you staring at the cake.

Your eyes dart to the still closed door of your office, then back. You’re too full of good food to eat a whole cake, but… a bite couldn’t hurt. And while the gift is definitely a little… suggestive… it’s not actually a sex cake. Just a bit... decadent. Sherry’s husband sends her flowers that match their pack’s scents. That’s basically the same thing.

Right?

Before you can second guess yourself, you scoop a bite into your mouth.

The taste that bursts over your tongue makes you moan out loud. You definitely should have waited until you got home. The cake is so rich, cut by the orange and whiskey in a way that almost demands a second bite. There’s something indescribable teasing the back of your palate, hidden by cardamom and the hint of something - raspberry? - but so distinctly there. When you try to focus on it, you keep coming back to a smokiness that can’t be anything but the alcohol.

Before you know it, you’ve eaten a quarter of the little cake. Your stomach feels warm, and you admit to yourself that it’s probably not a good idea to keep consuming alcohol at work. So you close the little box and lick the fork while you log back into your computer one handed. Your lips are sticky. Even after you use your thumb to help clean them off you’re so aware of them.

You catch yourself pursing and rolling your lips through the rest of your day. You can’t resist taking another bite every now and then. Every time, you remember Mel calling it a sex cake and wonder if Captain Price thought about this when placed the order. You remember the way Lieutenant Riley’s eyes had slid down your body. Had he known he wanted to send you this cake then? Did Sergeant MacTavish imagine you licking your fork when he signed the note? Was Sergeant Garrick thinking about this moment when he saw you yesterday?

When the day ends, you send a picture of the cake with more than a third missing to the group chat as you log out. I fucked up, it’s a sex cake.

Beta Daddy: Told you.

Best Bitch: WHAT DOES IT TASTE LIKE

Barbie: drinks at mel and jax tonite

You: :thumbsup:

You: genuinely no idea how to describe, i’ll try tonight

You’re nervous, closing up shop for the evening. Would Sergeant Garrick be waiting for you again? Or will your hyper-independence come back to bite you? You hope someone will be there to walk you, and the possibility of that not being the case cools you. And then you look back at the box of cake in your hands and flush hot. Maybe it’s better that you don’t run into anyone after an entire afternoon of rubbing your lips and thinking of the 141.

You’re shocked out of your musings just before you can exit the building by Brandon of all people calling your name. With a groan, you’re dropped back to reality. You at least let yourself step outside for some fresh air before he can reach you.

“Sherry said the 141 had a question for you. What was it?” Not even a hello. Typical. Thanks a lot, Sherry.

Luckily, you have a lie prepared. “Just another question about Cloudstone.”

“What question?” He steps closer, trying to use his height to intimidate. “I’m the point of contact, they should be speaking to me directly.”

“Hm. Maybe should’ve reached out to you,” Lieutenant Riley’s voice says from behind your right shoulder. “Got a lo’ of info on alpha enhancements, then?”

Brandon’s shocked, offended scent almost drowns out the Lieutenant’s. Almost. You tilt your head before you realize you’re doing it, and catch that hint of something that you’ve been chasing all afternoon, earthy and intriguing. Your mouth waters. You barely stop yourself from biting your lip and tune back into the conversation.

“I wasn’t able to give them an answer today,” you butt in, before Brandon can get too worked up. “I’ll CC you on the email when I have everything.”

“Fine,” Brandon says, glaring daggers at the Lieutenant.

And then the three of you just… stand there.

Behind you, Lieutenant Riley smells amused. “Dismissed.”

Brandon gapes at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dismissed. Unless you have more to add on the subject.”

Being caught between clashing alphas is not how you thought today would end. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see people look at Lieutenant Riley, then at Brandon, and then visibly decide to wait to exit the building. When you start to inch away, the lieutenant touches just beneath your left shoulder blade with the tips of his fingers. You freeze with a sharp inhale. Brandon looks between the two of you. Then his face settles into a sneer.

“Think hard about what you say next,” Lieutenant Riley ways with almost no inflection. Brandon’s face freezes and goes a little pale. You remember, suddenly, that the man at your back is also called the Ghost. “Because challenging me won’t go well for you. Walk away under your own power.”

The resonance of his voice combines with the way his scent teases your olfactory nerves and sends a shiver through you. You’re suddenly aware of the warmth that’s been building behind your bellybutton all afternoon. You don’t hear the next thing Brandon says. He’s too focused on his own offense to notice your distraction, thank the gods, but -

One of the fingers at your back taps you gently, once, twice. And then you feel the gentlest scrape of a fingernail against your shirt.

“I have to go,” you squeak, taking a step toward the parking lot. To Brandon, you say “I will make sure I email you first thing in the morning.”

You can see Brandon’s jaw working, but no matter how irritated he is, he’s outmatched and he knows it. After a moment, he answers. “See that you do.”

“’Ll walk you,” Lieutenant Riley intones. “Wanna make sure I understand the answer to the Captain’s question.” He turns his back to Brandon and gestures for you to continue walking.

A part of you wants to see what will happen if Brandon answers the obvious insult. It’s not hard to imagine the crunch of his body hitting the pavement, the way the Ghost might growl down and force him to yield. Another, loud part of you needs to not get this wet standing right outside of your office. So you hustle away and try to cool yourself down.

Of course, the Lieutenant is right beside you. You chance a glance up - he’s so tall! - at his face, covered today by a black surgical mask. His brown eyes catch yours and crinkle at the edges as he smiles, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps walking with you until you’re standing next to your car.

“Sorry,” he says, looking across the car park. “Weren’t my intention to cause trouble.”

“No,” you say, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket and looking at your keys in your hand. “It’s not your fault, I, um, I told my coworker that lunch was work-related. I guess she told Brandon.”

He nods. “Tha’s fair. Should I tell the Cap’n that lunch was work-related?”

When you look back up, he’s already gazing back at you. There’s just enough light to see his eyes darken as he tips his head up just a bit. He’s scenting you, his effect on you. You feel your face get hot as you look away from him again.

He gives an amused-sounding huff. “Need time to think about it?”

Do you? “No, I… I would be open to discussing an intention of courtship.”

Lieutenant Riley purrs. It’s deep and gravely, but unmistakable for anything else. The sound startles you into meeting his eyes. This time, he holds your gaze and takes a step forward, then another when you back up until you bump into your car. He doesn’t come any closer, but his eyes say that he wants to.

“Skipper wants to meet somewhere open,” he says. “The Spice Garden has a nice outdoor space, if you’re free Saturday.”

You almost say yes, but catch yourself. “I… have to help my friend through his heat this weekend.”

He nods his head, never breaking eye contact. “Next week, then.”

You do a quick calculation in your head. “I can be free tomorrow evening by… seven, as long as things aren’t too… formal.”

“Won’t be formal,” he assures you. “Cap insisted on a gift and formal invitation, but we don’t stand too much on ceremony. Bit unconventional, far as packs go.”

You nod, too fast. “Okay. I… does tomorrow work?”

“If you wanted us tonight, you could have us,” he answers, eyes crinkling again. He takes a step back, looking at the box in your hand, then back into your eyes. “Tomorrow then. Enjoy the cake.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

A continuation of Bad News First, Eddie. I am absolutely floored by the responses I received, and I will try my best to tag everyone who asked. I know it's not Eddie's part, but chronologically, Wayne's part felt right.

-

Of all the things Wayne’s been called, unobservant isn’t one of them. He’s lived in Hawkins his entire life. He knows who is who, what is what, and to keep his head down and believe there’s a cougar in the woods when he’s told.

So, when Nancy Wheeler shows up, asking questions, Wayne has answers. Is willing to give those answers because he remembers when little Will Byers went missing, and how Nancy and her friends had done more to try and find him than the entire police force of Hawkins. Nancy and her friends always seemed to be in the orbit of whatever terrible thing was happening in Hawkins these last few years.

So, foolishly, terribly, he doesn’t intervene. He thought they were like that Scooby Doo cartoon Eddie used to love; kids solving mysteries. If he’d known the true extent of the horror, he wouldn’t have let those kids go it alone. But he didn’t know then.

-

Still didn’t know the day he pretends to not know who Dustin Henderson is while swapping out Eddie’s missing poster. It’s easier than having to face someone who knows Eddie, someone who had been looking for him but failed to find him.

Until Dustin calls after him. Until Dustin speaks to him. Hands him Eddie’s necklace. Wayne can’t stand anymore, this breaks him. Dustin says he was with him, in the end. Calls Eddie a hero, said people would have loved him had they known him. It’s nothing Wayne doesn’t already know.

Eddie is his hero. He loves Eddie. And if he’d stepped in sooner, chased down these kids and asked just what the fuck was happening, maybe he could have changed the ending of this story.

-

Hawkins explodes into a hellscape days later and Wayne sets out to find Nancy Wheeler. If Eddie gave his life to protect these kids, then Wayne must strive to do no less.

Nancy’s got a good head on her shoulders, willing to accept any help offered. He can see how she’s survived this long. She gets in in touch with Hopper, who introduces him to Doctor Sam Owens and Lt Colonel Jack Sullivan.

-

He doesn’t think it’s fair that the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of a fourteen-year-old girl.

-

It’s Dustin who tells him the whole story, the night before the end. Either Eleven will win tomorrow, or she won’t, but the outcome gets decided then.

“I’m s-so sorry, Mr. M-Munson. We just… just left him there!” Dustin breaks down crying and Wayne reaches out to him, an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. If Wayne sheds a few tears, too, well. Who can blame him?

“Doctor Owens, a word,” Wayne pulls the man aside after the kids have gone to bed. “Dustin said… my boy is just yards away from our trailer. He didn’t even get out of the park. I understand it’s an all hands on deck situation, but can anyone be spared? Can anyone bring my boy back? I’ll go myself if I have to.”

Doctor Owens, a genuinely kind man, Wayne can tell, has tears filling his eyes just at the request. “Mr. Munson, we will do everything in our power to bring your boy home.”

-

Doctor Owens pays for the headstone. Said it was the least he could do since his team failed. Wayne tries not to be bitter about it.

The graffiti starts up almost immediately. Wayne doesn’t understand why.

-

He thinks he’s caught someone in the act, grabs roughly at the perpetrator and yanks. The Harrington boy stumbles up and back, a little bit of fear in his eyes but no paint in hand. He’s holding a rag and small container of paint thinner. A quick look between Harrington and the grave, he can see the half-cleaned headstone.

He’s never spoken much with Harrington, but Dustin has nothing bad to say.

“You know my boy?” because he can’t bring himself to say ‘knew’ just yet.

Harrington looks just about as haunted as Wayne feels when he says, so quietly, “Not as well as I would have liked, sir.”

-

Wayne is observant, but even he can admit it takes longer than he thought to figure out Steve Harrington. That boy had put himself between those kids and danger again, and again, and again, and lived. Eddie did it once and… well, Wayne reckons Steve thinks it should have been him. He won’t say so out loud, but Wayne sees a lot of his younger self in Steve, knows him in much the same way he knows himself.

Steve lives with a guilt he shouldn’t; this was Eddie’s choice. His reckless, dangerous, courageous choice. And they’ve got to learn to live with it. Steve’s parents are absent, and Wayne’s nephew is gone. Without any conscious decision about it, they’ve adopted each other.

Steve wants to know everything about Eddie. Every little story Wayne can come up with. And he, well, he loves that someone wants to know. Wants to remember Eddie with him.

“Bad news. I regret not knowing him sooner,” Steve confesses to him one day as they scrub the headstone clean again.

“Good news. You know him now,” Wayne replies.

“Do I?”

Wayne can’t answer that. Not honestly one way or another. How well can you know someone from secondhand information? Steve spent a total of five days in his nephew’s company but he helps keep his memory alive. “I don’t know. What I do know is that Eddie Munson won’t be forgotten when I die. And that matters.”

-

He gets in an accident at the plant. He doesn’t remember what happened, not fully, but he knows that Steve never left his side. Demanded his come stay in his big empty house. Easier to move around in, with all the open space.

Wayne wasn’t really attached to his apartment anyway. If he was going to live the rest of his life in a home that had never known Eddie’s presence, it could at least be with someone who had known Eddie’s presence, however briefly.

-

Wayne wonders if he’s done the right thing sometimes. Indulging Steve’s need to know Eddie. At first, he thought it was fine, because learning about Eddie seemed to alleviate Steve’s guilt. But now.

He’s watching the boy fall in love with a ghost.

Helping it happen, even.

Robin and Steve aren’t nearly as quiet or subtle as they think, and Wayne’s observant. They seem to forget that Wayne’s just old, and not deaf and blind.

Or maybe, they’re comfortable enough that they don’t truly hide from him.

And it hurts his heart to think this (because he’s thinking it about his Eddie, wonderful, loving Eddie) but Steve deserves to love more than a ghost.

-

And then the kids graduate. Start to go to college. Steve acts fine, but he’s not. Wayne knows. It’s like he’s losing his purpose, but Wayne’s just as broken. Not strong enough to push Steve away. To make Steve go, too.

Honestly, he’s a little afraid that if he tried, then Steve would follow right after Eddie.

So, he doesn't. He decides he needs Steve, and perhaps even more so, Steve needs him.

-

Then, five years after Eddie’s death, the call happens. It’s about his piece of shit little brother, Wyatt. He’s gotta go, though. Because this is one last strand of Eddie. Eddie’s mother has been gone longer than Eddie, and fuck, Wyatt deserves to know. Wayne doesn’t claim to be a saint; if his brother wasn’t being released, he’d probably never tell him. He’d let him die in that prison believing his son is alive.

He doesn’t even know if Wyatt will care that Eddie’s gone. But he’s got to find out.

Steve drives him to the airport and no matter how many times Wayne says he’s coming back, Steve doesn’t seem to believe him.

-

But it’s not his shitty little brother waiting to greet him in Tennessee. It’s Eleven.

“Sorry for the lie, Mr. Munson,” she says. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I learned but Doctor Owens said that, this one time, we needed to be right before we could be honest.”

It’s Eddie. It’s Eddie Wyatt Munson, who looks at him shyly, almost as if afraid, from the apartment doorway Eleven takes him to. “Hey Uncle Wayne.”

It’s five fucking years too late but he pulls Eddie in a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much, you little bastard. Don’t you ever, ever do this to me again.”

-

Wayne learns.

They had found him, barely alive. It was better, they said, to take him away. Let the town cool down while Eddie healed, but he was catatonic for the better part of these last five years.

“Eddie woke up empty,” Eleven says softly, apropos nothing sitting next to Wayne as they watch Eddie discuss next steps with Owens. “He could be told to do things. Drink this. Eat that. His eyes never focused on anything. Doctor Owens called him a shell. I asked what that means. He said that Eddie’s body worked, but his mind did not because Eddie was not in his own mind anymore. But I knew he was in there. I had to get him back.” She reaches a hand out, waving in the general direction of Eddie’s head.

This surprises Wayne. “You brought him back?”

“Memory by memory,” Eleven says, picking at her pants leg. “Even the painful ones. Doctor Owens says every memory shapes who we are, even tough ones.”

Wayne looks at Eleven, a young woman of nineteen now, but remembers how scared and brave she’d been at fourteen.  “Words cannot express how thankful I am for you.”

“I did it for you. And maybe a little bit for me.”

Wayne makes a humming noise. Not truly questioning, but an acknowledgment of what she said. If she wants to share her reasons, he won’t stop her. He’s just not going to pry.

“I chose my friend. I chose Max.”

He knows. “You made the right choice.”

“I know. I am not guilty about it,” she frowns as she thinks about her words. “But Dustin is my friend, too, and I knew Eddie was his friend. But I cared more about Max. I had to do all I could to make it right. For you. For Dustin. For me.”

Wayne doesn’t have words, so he just pulls Eleven into a hug. It must convey all he needs because when she pulls back, she beams at him.

-

Wayne fills Eddie in on what has happened as best he can. It’s such a jarring difference, speaking to Eddie about Steve than it had been speaking to Steve about Eddie. Eddie just looks confused for most of it and doesn’t really ask followup questions, but Wayne understands. Eddie had known Steve for five days and he’s got time to really get to know Steve now. Steve thought all he’d ever have of Eddie is someone else’s memories.

“Just give him a chance, Eddie,” Wayne says.

“Give him a chance? As if I’d waste it,” Eddie breaths out, all wonder and awe and- Well, maybe Wayne isn’t as observant as he had always thought. “He took care of you when I couldn’t. He cares. I don’t think there’s a chance I wouldn’t give him.”

“How long have you had a thing for Steve?”

Eddie stutters over his words, eyes wide and wild. “That’s not- why would you think- when have I ever!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know this about you?” Wayne chuckles and lies, as if he hadn’t just watched all the pieces slot together in this moment.

“So, we’ll be living with Steve Harrington?” Eddie is blushing but he blows past Wayne’s question. “Will he… be okay with me being there?”

Steve’s been loving a ghost, is what Wayne thinks. Steve’s been in love with a ghost and this. This is a ghost story that can have a better ending. But he’s not going to make those declarations for Steve, so what he says is, “yeah. Steve and I had each other when we needed it. Now I need you, so Steve won’t mind at all.”

Eddie smiles to himself, pulling a strand of his hair to hide his face behind.

If he hadn’t just figured it out two minutes ago, that would have been a dead giveaway that his boy might be a little bit in love with Steve.

-

He calls Steve. Tells him he’s coming home and bringing a guest. Steve says that’s fine, he’ll fix up Robin’s old room into a guest room.

-

“This isn’t the way to the Harrington house,” Eddie observes from the passenger seat of the rental car Doctor Owens had paid for, to get them from Indianapolis back to Hawkins.

“Steve won’t be there. He comes here when he’s overwhelmed.”

“The cemetery?”

Wayne shrugs, “we both come talk to you. Steve always starts with the bad news, you know. I think you should start with good news. Just this once. Ah. See, there he is.” Wayne points and Eddie’s eyes follow.

Something akin to wonder passes over Eddie’s face and he all but falls out of the car before it’s even stopped.

Wayne thinks he’ll give them five or so minutes before following.

[hedgehog-moss]

I’ve been having a bit of a hay shortage lately—January was very cold and snowy so the animals ate a lot, plus I have an extra mouth to feed this year, and I hadn’t realised Poldine would eat so much in her first year! Next summer I’ll make sure to buy enough hay for 4 animals rather than 3 and a half.

In the meantime I’ve been offering various hay substitutes, such as brambles, or my Christmas tree. It was waiting on the pile of green waste I intend to burn in early spring, until I remembered seeing someone’s ad in the local paper that went “if you want to recycle your Christmas trees, give them to me, my goats will love them!” I figured well, llamas are tall goats, maybe they’ll enjoy a bit of Christmas tree, and they did !

(Baby Poldine is always very circumspect about new foods, but she did end up tasting it.)

Pirlouit was also pleased with this unexpected breakfast. They all took turns nibbling at the tree until only the trunk was left :)

Still, I was trying to contact nearby farmers to ask if they have some hay to spare (it’s not that I’ve run out, I just want to be prepared in case of another cold spell), and I also moved the animals to my other pasture down the road, as there’s still some dry grass there. It’s not well-fenced though, and I wasn’t very confident in this pasture’s ability to contain Pampe, but I figured—there’s no grass to be found in any nearby pasture, so why would she try to leave this one?

(Because Pampe.)

I left the llamas & donkey frolicking in this exciting new place (Poldine looked enchanted to explore a new pasture, she was bounding around like a baby goat!), and I went skiing today, as a (late) birthday gift to myself. The skiing station is just half an hour away and this has become a very anticipated birthday ritual since I moved here! This year I waited until I had found some way to keep the animals busy before taking a day off, so there would be no llama leaks in my absence.

So of course I got a text from a neighbour in the afternoon, telling me my llamas had been spotted on the road, going towards the village. (“Pampe looked determined. She was going to the grocery shop to get muesli.”) (Pampe is so famous, people even know her favourite snacks 😭)

Since I was literally on a ski slope I decided to turn my conscience off and pretend I hadn’t seen the text. I thought, if the llamas do end up in the village I’ll get more texts updating me on their position and I’ll be a responsible llama owner and go home (promise), but they’ll probably get off the road and into the woods somewhere between my house and the village and they’ll spend the afternoon eating communal shrubs and they’ll be fine.

When I went home a few hours later, I found my donkey alone in the pasture where I’d left him in the morning—we both had to wrestle with a moral dilemma today, and Pirlouit’s was “do I loyally follow my friends and potentially starve to death, or do I stay by myself in this place with very adequate dry grass to munch on?” He really hates being alone, yet he chose food over friendship.

I brought Pirou back to his normal pasture (he wouldn’t have liked to find himself alone after sunset) and went looking for the girls. I’d had a neighbour on the phone who had talked to someone who’d talked to someone who had seen the llamas and had “shooed them in the general direction of your house.” That was some very helpful shooing, because I found them just a couple of kilometres away, and indeed going in the right direction.

Pampelune leading the way, determined to go home before night; Pampérigouste last, internally grumbling that it was still early and they could have explored the world some more.

I usually jog with the llamas when I bring them home so we don’t spend too much time in the middle of the road, but there aren’t many cars when the road is icy and also after a day of skiing, you don’t really feel like jogging a few km at a brisk pace in heavy snow boots. So we went home in a slow and solemn procession.

I called the people who had told me about the llamas’ whereabouts to thank them, and explained that this escape was the result of a failed attempt to move the animals to my poorly-fenced second pasture because I don’t have a lot of hay left—and one of them told me he could spare a bale and he’d bring it to me tomorrow!

“So I’ve done everyone a favour” (is probably Pampe’s conclusion.)

I gave them hay as I figured they hadn’t had time to graze much in the other pasture, but only Pampe was hungry. Well, Pirlouit is always hungry, but Pampe indignantly rebuffed him. “You chose food over adventure. You don’t get to eat the food I’m getting as a reward for a successful adventure.”

Pirlouit is completely resigned to the fundamental unfairness of a dutiful donkey’s life.

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Three

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. mentions of parental abuse, mentions of violence, implied torture, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rhys asks you to be an emissary for the Night Court and Azriel volunteers to train you.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two

The next month was spent with you learning about Velaris and the rest of Prythian. Even though you were 20 when you ended up in the northern village, you knew a lot had changed in the 100… and 50… years since then. You couldn’t count on anything you learned from being a spy because so much was different under Amarantha.

You spent days in the Library under the house, reading books about High Lords and Illyrians. You also found some good romance novels you brought up to your room.

This city, one that was full of hopes and dreams and happiness… It hadn’t been touched in hundreds of years. Not even the people in the Court of Nightmares knew about it anymore, thanks to Rhys’s protection.

You got to know Cassian, Mor, and Amren pretty well. Azriel had been off doing his own spying, so you only got to know him from what the Inner Circle told you.

You felt like you were starting to belong here. Like you could find a place in the city. Maybe even in the circle. 

“I have an offer for you.” Rhys said at dinner one day. You took a sip of your wine and rose your eyebrows, telling him to go on. “We are trying to get the Illyrians to train the females. Those who want to be trained, or aren’t being threatened by their partners, of course. And I think you’d be a good emissary to the war bands.” He said, glancing at Cassian as if to say keep your mouth shut.

“Me? I- I don’t know if they would listen to a female… especially if their High Lord is having trouble with it.” You said, glancing over to Cassian. You knew the male would probably support what you chose, but if the High Lord and Lord Commander were struggling… 

“Well, then you’ll have to make them listen. And not to bring your abilities into it… but you are a Shadowsinger. They can’t deny that, and they’ll tolerate you more because of it.” He said. How lovely…

“Like they did for Azriel?” You asked, hearing the stories of the brothers from Mor and Rhys. They barely allowed him to train, being a bastard. The only reason they did was because he was a Shadowsinger, and Rhys’s friend… “I don’t know, Rhys… it’s one thing to visit those camps. But to try and convince them that they have to train females..” you trailed off. “I don’t even know how to fight. I can’t very well take on an Illyrian.”

“You know how to hunt, right?” Cassian asked and you shrugged. You hunted for Sirona and your family when you first arrived at the northern village, but you hadn’t done a lot in the past 50 years. The most you ever did was with your Shadows, and that was more described as sneaking. “Then I’ll teach you to fight. Show the Illyrians that females can fly in their ranks just as good, if not better, than any male.” He said.

“You can think about it-“ Rhys started but you shook your head.

“I’ll do it.” You said firmly. “I’m tired of being useless when it comes to protecting myself and the people I love. I’m not going to let it happen again.” You said, your shadows settling on your shoulders as if they were backing you up. You let your family down before. You let your blood family harm you and the only thing you could do was flee. 

“Okay, then it’s settled. I’ll train you-“

“How about I do it?” You heard Azriel’s voice, turning to him where he leaned against the wall. A few of your shadows bolted to him like the first day you met, this time wrapping around him before coming back to you. You could’ve sworn they brought some of his scent with them. They didn’t say anything, but they seemed to like him more than anyone else you met. 

“Az, when did you get back?” Cassian asked.

As smirked, “Just now.” He said

“You want to train (Y/N)?” Cassian asked, resulting in Azriel nodding.

“I can teach you how to fight with and without your shadows. And when I’ve gotta go out on missions, Cass can train you on the former.” He said and you looked at Rhys.

“Whatever you want.” Rhys said and smiled. “It’s your choice.”

You glanced between the two. You didn’t know Azriel as well as you did Cassian… but you knew he was a Shadowsinger like you. And you know he could help you hone your abilities. You also knew that he was just as much a deadly warrior as the other two males sitting beside you.

“Okay, it’s a good idea.” I said and gave him a small smile. You could’ve sworn you saw his face flush, but only for a moment before he was back to showing his unreadable mask. “Maybe you can teach me how to spy… and this time actually keep secrets when I want to.” You joked. You knew how to spy. Knew how to get information out of people. When Rhys didn’t have time to interrogate spies under the mountain, she had you do it. You still felt blood on your hands from all the lesser faeries and High Fae you harmed on her behalf. 

Az only gave you a small nod before joining the rest of you at the table. “I do have one request,” you said to all of them. “I don’t go to Valorworth until I’m done training.” You said. Before any of them could ask, you continued. “I can’t see my family… My blood family… yet. What they did to me.. I was weak and a coward. I couldn’t stand up for myself so the only thing I did was run. So the next time I do see them, I want to be able to show them I’m not weak. And I won’t run from them.”

There was something of understanding on all of their faces as you looked around the table. “If you want to kill them, we’ll gladly allow it.” Cassian said with a small smirk on his face. “Hell, I’ll even do it.” Rhys said and you smiled, letting out a small laugh.

“I don’t need to go that far… yet.” You said and leaned back in the chair, happy to be able to help the Court.

“You’ll get a salary as well,” Rhys said. “You’re welcome to stay here at the House. Or the townhouse. But you can also find an apartment.” He said and you smiled.

“I’ll think about it. Right now, it’s better to stay close to where I can train.” You settled. “If staying here is okay with all of you, that is.” You said.

“Are you kidding? It’ll be so much better having you here and not just the boys.” Mor said and you laughed gently, finally feeling like you could really fit in here.

The next day you went up to the training ring, seeing Azriel already warming up. You stood quietly by the stairs, watching as his shadows moved with him as he did movements you’d seen thousands of times in Valorworth.

His shadows didn’t warn him of your presence. A couple of them snuck out from behind his legs and went over to you, circling around your hair. Your own shadows moved to join him in the center of the ring. You still barely understood the concept of Shadowsinging, even after all these years. But maybe now, with him as your teacher, you could understand it more. And learn to understand yourself.

You finally cleared your throat as you stepped forward. As much as you wanted to, you knew you couldn’t stand and watch him all day. “You certainly know what you’re doing.” You commented as you walked closer to him.

Rhys had gotten Illyrian training leathers for you, tailored to your wings and your sizes. So when you walked up to Azriel, he had to pause just to take you in. You didn’t wear dresses much, but you also didn’t wear anything as tight fitting as this. Not that he’s seen you within the past month.

You shifted under his gaze, looking up to the sky. After breakfast and before you came here, you decided to take a flight. You knew it would be getting colder, and the frigid fall air only proved you right. This would be one of the last nice days before it started to snow. And flying would be a hassle.

“I am teaching you for a reason.” He finally said and you nodded. “Come here, let’s get started.” He motioned you over to where he stood.

You walked over and set your hands to your side. You were glad he decided to train you here and not in Windhaven. You didn’t know if you could handle being seen by the males, critiqued. Cassian told you that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to train you here. Apparently, Azriel hated the Illyrians. You completely understood, too, from what you’d learn about Azriel. The things that happened to him while at the war camps. Especially before Rhysand’s mother had come along to take him in. Still, you didn’t want to start training as an Illyrian when you didn’t know anything. 

You weren’t sure how or why Azriel still adapted to the training, but it was probably so ingrained into him (and useful) that he couldn’t let it go. And so you had your trainer.

“I’m assuming you never trained at the camp?” He asked and you simply shook your head, scoffing at the idea. Your father would have killed you if he saw you anywhere near the training rings. “Do you know the exercises at all? Anything?” He asked and you shook your head.

“I was 20 when I left, and I was never allowed near the ring. I’ve only ever saw my brothers train once, and I remember the beating I got for it more than anything else.” You said. “All I know is that my father had a killer left hook that would leave my face bruised for a week. Even with my healing.” You said and saw something like anger flash through Azriel’s eyes before returning to his soft stare.

“Then let’s teach you an even worse one, and maybe he’ll learn never to hit a female again.” He said and you gave him a small smirk.

“Let’s.” You agreed and started the warm up with him.

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A/N: Well we see the reader finally interact with Azriel! Not much but just a little taste of it... I hope y'all like slow burns cause this one is very much that...

Tagging:

@cherry-cin @cleverzonkwombatsludge @nickisshadowsinger139

@atomolvnar @complete-randomness-2 @lilah-asteria @tele86

[faggymutt]

contains: pet play, cnc, knotting

new herding pup joining the pack and me and the older dogs have to teach him the ropes. at first, we just have him follow us around while we move the sheep around. after a little bit, we have him try to lead the herd, but he’s too soft, not enough teeth.

the other dogs and i decide that he needs to spend some one on one time with me to make him tougher. one of the days when the herd is more relaxed, i take him off to the smaller barn close to the edge of the property.

first, ill have him show me his teeth and his growl. his growl is more of a cough and his snarl looks like a grimace. with a demeaning chuckle, i'll shake my head and tell him to sit down, keep his eyes on me, and try not to get scared.

ill draw myself up to my full height and start a low rumble, slowly stalking towards the pup. my lips will curl up as a i get louder and closer to him, the rumble becoming more and more threatening.

his ears fold back and his tail tucks between his legs as i get closer to him. i start to circle him, and maybe im starting to have a little fun, and snap my jaw. i circle him once, twice, then stop in front of his face and snarl straight at him. he whimpers a little, so what if i think its funny?

and maybe i’ll get a little carried away and back him up against a wall. maybe ill pin his shoulders to the wood and start to sniff at his neck, drinking in his scent. it riles me up, my vision starting to cloud with red.

before i can stop myself, i’ve pushed him to the ground, shoving his face into the straw covered floor. he barks and whines, scrabbling at my arms and trying to get away. i pin his arms behind his back and mount him, shoving my cock into his puppycunt without any hesitation. his voice breaks on a moan and it sounds like music.

i can't help but rut into him without abandon. after a little bit, he starts to give in, his cries turning into whines for more. his puppyhole clenches around me, and i drape myself across his back, pushing his hips back onto my dick.

he starts to beg for my cum and my knot and who am i to deny him? with a few more heavy thrusts, ill finish inside him as i groan. he whimpers happily as he feels it fill him, squeezing around me. i sit up and pause, panting. then i start to grind into him, pushing my knot into his cunt. he squirms and whines, i think he underestimated the size, but when it finally pops in all he can do is say thank you.

we keep training in the barn, even after he's able to herd sheep on his own. you can never stop learning after all.

[leighsartworks216]

Hellooooo i have a request for Astarion that like

I’m dying to see:

Gn! Druid Tav that had small petty fight with Astarion, Astarion being his stubborn self didn’t apologize ~properly~ or acknowledge he was wrong, tries to pretend the fight didnt happen and chat with Tav, Tav shapeshifts into a cat to avoid talking to him and fights sass with sass and Astarion melts at Tav being adorable😭?

I finished writing this and then was like,, I forgot it's not normal for partners to like scold each other by pinching them and stuff?? My ex used to do shit like that so I just forgot that wasn't normal. So I'm just going to clarify that in this story it's not malicious or anything like that. If it makes you uncomfortable tho I am 100% willing to rewrite it so that's not there at all

Warnings: swearing, scratching

Word Count: 759

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Astarion sits beside you as though it’s just any other day. He’s got that damn suave smirk on his face - you can just feel it radiating off of him without even needing to see. You try not to visibly bristle and turn your head further away from him. It was best to just wait it out and maybe he’d finally suck up his damn pride long enough to apologize. Maybe.

“So, darling,” he makes sure to really emphasize the word, drawing it out sweetly, “in the interest of keeping myself in peak fighting form, I’m inclined to ask if you would be ever so kind as to let me dine with - or rather - on you tonight.”

You huff a dry laugh. Sharp, short, but lacking genuine amusement. You don’t say anything. Instead, you focus on patching up one of your shirts.

He leans close to you, hovering just over your shoulder. His chest just barely grazes your arm and his breath ghosts across your ear and neck. Was this bastard really trying to seduce you? At a time like this? “Please, dear heart? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You glance over your shoulder, to make sure he can see the dead-pan look on your face. “No.” You pull the thread taught. Admittedly, you tug a little more than necessary, bunching up the fabric. Astarion definitely notices. He always does.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about earlier?” he chides.

You turn to face your back fully to him, forcing him to move back. You smooth out the bunches of fabric and roughly, messily, continue the next few stitches. He sighs dramatically.

“Come on, love, that was hours ago! All I said was your stitches aren’t even!”

You scoffed and angrily wrinkled your shirt in your lap as you whirled around to face him. “You said my stitches weren’t even and that they were ugly! I have been fixing my clothes my whole life - this is the most efficient stitch to ensure it doesn’t unravel!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave a mile between stitches!”

Fuck this. If he doesn’t want to apologize, the least you can do is give him a taste of his own catty fighting style.

One moment, you’re a perfectly humanoid being. The next, you’ve shrunken to less than a foot off the ground. Your back arches, your tail fluffs and sticks straight up, and you bare pointed canines at him as a scratchy hissing comes from your throat. Astarion can hardly feel threatened by a feline.

“Now you’re just being childish,” he scoffs. You jump forward to dig your claws into his leg. “Ow! Hey, that’s not fair!”

He grabs you by your middle and lifts you up. Your claws are removed from his skin, but they continue to pull on his pants.

“You’re going to rip my pants!”

You squirm from his hold, releasing his pants in the process, and land back on the ground. You sit next to your abandoned, half-fixed shirt, back turned to the vampire once more. Your tail flicks side to side in irritation.

Astarion rubs his leg and checks that there’s no lasting damage. There isn’t, of course. Even your claws were mere pinpricks compared to what damage you could do with them, and you’d never willingly destroy his belongings, no matter how pissed at him you were. And even though you are pissed at him, he still can’t help but admire you.

You’re upset, but you’re not physically assaulting him until he apologizes. You pinch him, give him a little scratch - sure. But that pain fades, at most leaving a small mark that fades in a day. You’re so utterly, bafflingly kind to him. Even when he’s being a dick.

He reaches out and scratches just behind your ear. Your ear twitches, but otherwise you show no reaction to his touch. He sighs. “I’m sorry for insulting your handiwork, my dear. You know your work better than anyone, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Your tail continues flicking back and forth a moment longer. But then you relent. You turn around and press your cheek into his hand, which he gladly glides along your soft fur. He’d asked once what it felt like to be pet like this. You’d said it was like a massage; like someone was scratching an itch you just couldn’t reach.

You step into his lap and plop right down, rubbing yourself into his abdomen with loud purrs. He chuckles. “Oh you sweet thing,” he coos. “What have I done to deserve you?”

---

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[flemingsfreckles]

Helping Hand

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Preview: coming home from working as a mechanic, you notice a pretty girl struggling to change her tire.

Warnings: none

WC: 1.6k

A/N: this was inspired by how dirty I left work the other day, I don’t work as a car mechanic though but this was the easiest way to write the fic.

You had just finished a long shift at work, you felt disgusting. Your hands, arms and face were covered in a sticky and offputting mixture of grease, oil, hydraulic fluid, and likely just dirt. It was the worst part of your job working on heavy machinery in a shop you loved every second of it. Something about taking apart machines, finding the issue and putting it back together was like an exciting 3D puzzle.

As you walked down the sidewalk you noticed a girl, probably close to your age, bent over next to her car. It only takes a second to see what she’s doing, she’s changing a flat tire. Or at least she’s trying to change a flat tire.

You watch her as you continue to walk down the road in her direction, she seems a little confused, flipping through the car manual, picking up and placing down tools. It crosses your mind to help her. After the long day you had, you didn’t really want to do more work but it’s not like you had fully showered and were clean yet. Plus it didn’t hurt that the girl sitting on the ground was pretty and you were a sucker for brown haired girls.

As you approached her, you decided you’d offer the help. “Hey, I don’t mean to overstep, but would you like some help with that?”

The girl turns to you, her face is covered in freckles, her eyes soft. She takes a second, looking you up and down, her eyes lingering over the dirty patches on your clothes and skin. She gives you a smile and a wave. “Oh no, I’m good, thank you.” You notice her accent, she clearly wasn’t from around here.

“You sure? I don’t mind.” You can tell she’s confused and lost and you could see the girl giving up and calling a tow truck or maybe her boyfriend to come help her.

“Yeah I’m sure, thanks.” She gives you a quick glance before she turns back to working.

You then see something and realize now you can’t let this girl keep doing this on her own. So you take a step back, not wanting to overstep after she told you no twice, but still being around.

You can tell the girl knows you’re still behind her. She continues trying to work for a few minutes before she looks back at you, then back to the car, then back to you. She furrows her eyebrows in your direction, indicating her confusion on why you were still standing behind her.

“I’m just being a good citizen now. I’ll call 999 for you when your car falls off the jack that you set up all wrong.” You hold up your phone at her and give it a shake with a smile on your face.

“Oh.” The girl looks up at you then back at the car where it was being held off the ground. “Did I actually do it wrong?”

“Yeah you have it on the body, not on the frame.” You place down your bag and phone on the sidewalk and kneel down next to her. You point out to her that the car jack was just slightly off from where I should be set.

“So can I help you?”

“I guess, I just hate feeling like I can’t do things without someone else’s help. I’m not just a ditsy girl, I went to school for engineering.” You notice a frown on her face, it’s cute.

“Hey changing a tire isn’t something most people know how to do, they should, but most don’t. I really don’t mean for my offer of help to come off condescending. I definitely don’t think you’re ditsy. Most people would give up and call for a tow the second they see the flat tire, you at least were trying.” You give her a smile. She gives you a halfhearted grin.

“Yeah I guess, I just thought I was doing it right. So who taught you how to do this?” She’s turned to you, watching you move the jack on her car.

“I taught myself, but I do mechanics work for a job so, it’s really second nature.”

“Given how dirty you seem, I figured you worked on cars or maybe in a coal mine but I don’t know of any around here.” She makes a joke and looks at you, you can see her studying the lines of dirt across your face.

“Yeah sorry, I promise I tried to wash before I left work, the grease just never comes out.” You hold your hands out, flipping them over to show her. “So can I ask what your plan was going to be if you couldn’t get this yourself?”

“Probably a tow truck, or call Sam or something.” She shrugs. You feel a little deflated at the mention of a man, not that you expected the beautiful girl in front of you to have any interest but you held out a sliver of hope.

“Sam? Is he your boyfriend?” Hoping he was maybe just a friend and you wouldn’t have to completely abandon the idea of asking her out.

“Oh no, she’s my teammate. I feel like she’d know how to do this.” The girl pauses for a second. “I don’t date men.”

“Oh.” Your response accidentally coming out as if you were disappointed in her admitting she didn’t date men.

“Sorry I don’t know why I said that.”

“I don’t date men either.” You throw out the comment, both to make her feel more comfortable in the fact that she just came out on what seemed like accident, or that you wanted to let her know you were into women too.

“So teammate? What do you play?”

“Oh soccer, or football, I guess. I’m also obviously not from here, I’m from Canada hence the lack of accent or I guess to you it probably sounds like I have an accent.”

“What made you move?” You couldn’t help but ask, it wasn’t everyday that you run into someone from another country, let alone one so far away.

“Also soccer.”

“Oh? Really?” You rack your brain wondering if there were other football fans that would move to London just to be near the Premier League teams, which sounded crazy to you.

“What do you do for work? You said you went to school for engineering, is that what you do?”

The girl laughs and her laugh is sweet, it sounds like sunshine. “Will you think I’m a liar if I tell you soccer?”

“Really? Like, you play professionally?”

“Yes.”

“That makes more sense, I just thought you were a diehard fan and moved to watch the games, which I realize now is incredibly stupid to consider. I don’t really follow football, too much running for me. But it’s obviously a popular game around here.” You hear her laugh at your thought process, her laugh is suddenly becoming one of your favorite sounds.

She let you work in silence for a bit. Once you got the jack set up in the right spot it was a quick process to put the spare on. She asked questions here and there, a little about your job, a little about what you were doing to her car.

“When you put the new one on, you have to tighten the bolts in a star pattern, see.” You demonstrate how to correctly tighten the wheel on to the car. “That way it’s not angled and doesn’t put any uneven force on your axel.”

“And there you go!” You hold your hands out as if you’ve just created a masterpiece painting and were displaying it. It had only taken a couple of minutes for you to change the girls tire, you hoped you weren’t holding her up from her plans. She helps clean up, grabbing some of the tools while you lowered the jack and her car back to the ground. You pick up the flat tire and walk it around to where she had the trunk open, placing it inside.

“Thank you again, I really owe you.” She says as her hand reaches to close the hatch of her car.

“Do you by chance like coffee?” It was a completely out of the blue question, but you couldn’t help but ask, hoping it would lead you in the direction of a date.

She looks at her watch and back up to you with confusion on her face. “I do. But isn’t it a little late for coffee?”

“Oh no, I don’t mean today. Maybe sometime this week or weekend if you’re interested, I could take you out to a cafe I like?” Giving her your best convincing smile, you were hoping she’d say yes.

“Wait but I’m supposed to be taking you out, you fixed my car and all.” The girl points at the spare tire on her car.

“I technically didn’t fix it, you still need a new tire. Don’t drive too far on that spare. If you need shop recommendations I know a few good ones in the area that won’t try and upsell you on stupid stuff just because you’re a woman.”

“That would be great.”

“Why don’t you give me your number so I can send you a few places?”

“Wow. Smooth.” She says as she takes your phone putting her name into your phone. And she hands it back to you. You read her contact.

“Jessie Fleming.” You read off her name. The name feels slightly familiar, probably just from jerseys or the radio or tv, you’re not sure but you don’t care to know her as famous footballer Jessie Fleming, you like her as the sweet brown hair brown eyes girl you helped out.

“That’s me.”

You tell her your name and stick out your hand to shake hers, you look down at it, doing your best to wipe it on your jeans before extending your hand again. “I promise my hands are clean, with the exception of maybe any dirt from your tire.”

“It was great to meet you, Jessie, I’ll be sure to text those recommendations and I’ll expect you to tell me when you’re not busy being a professional athlete and I can take you on a coffee date.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Have a good night Jessie!” You say to her before turning to finish your walk down the street. For a second you think about googling the girl but then decide against it when her name pops up on your phone.

Jessie Fleming ⚽️: I have a match in town Saturday but I’ll be free all day Sunday if that works for you?

You: sounds like a date!

You smiled as you typed and sent the message. You had a date and a sudden new interest in women’s football.

[cece693]

Stupid Crush Pt. 2 (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

Because many of you keep requesting a part two of my original post, I couldn't help myself :) However, you might hate me for this but I want to practice writing sad endings, so if you aren't comfortable with that, I suggest living blind.

link to part one

tags: breakup, no making up, reader tries to move on, major character death, ambiguous ending, heartbreak

Nico di Angelo had never been one to give up easily, and when it came to you, he refused to let you slip away without a fight. Even after your breakup—after the heart-wrenching conversation that left him feeling gutted and empty—Nico couldn’t accept that it was truly over. He loved you. He knew he had made mistakes, but there was no way he could let that be the end.

For weeks after your relationship had ended, Nico threw himself into trying to prove his love. He started small, hoping that maybe you’d notice: he’d offer to help with your tasks, leaving small reminders that he still cared. He lingered around the Argo II, hoping for a chance to talk, to catch your eye. But every time, you kept your distance.

But then came the war.

The final fight against Gaea loomed over them all, leaving little room for anything other than survival. The battle was brutal, stretching the demigods to their limits, and for a while, Nico had to push his desire to win you back aside. They were fighting for their lives now. There was no time for hearts and feelings when the world was on the verge of collapse.

Even as he fought with everything he had, one thought kept Nico going: you. He clung to the hope that when this was all over, when Gaea was defeated, and the war was behind them, he would have another chance. Every swing of his sword, every shadow he manipulated, every ounce of his energy was fueled by the need to return to your side. He had to survive. He had to make it back to you. The war didn't come without a cost; many campers had died in battle, and with restoration efforts taking everyone's time, Nico didn't breach you or the topic until a week later.

He took it a step further. If you didn't want to see Nico, he will leave reminders of his love. This gesture alone should tell you how much you meant to him; he was always someone who kept his emotions buried beneath layers of coldess and sarcasm. But for you, he would try. He left small letters under your door—handwritten notes that declared his love in ways that were unfamiliar to him. They were never long, just a few lines scrawled in his messy handwriting, but they held every ounce of sincerity Nico could muster:

I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.

You were never the second choice. I wish I could make you see that.

I’m still here. Waiting.

He even placed his skull ring inside one of those notes, hoping that action alone would make you answer his pleads, but to no avail. Finally, after countless sleepless nights and too many failed attempts to reach you, Nico couldn’t take it anymore. He needed closure. He needed to hear your voice, even if it ended with you punching him (rightfully so.)

It was late in the evening when Nico made his way to your cabin. The sky was painted in hues of deep purple and orange, the last remnants of the sunset casting long shadows across the camp. Nico’s heart pounded in his chest, dread and hope warring within him as he stood outside your door. He knocked, and after a long moment, the door creaked open.

You stood there, framed by the soft glow of the cabin’s lanterns, your expression unreadable. You didn’t say anything at first, just stared at Nico, waiting. Nico swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, but eventually stepped aside, letting him in. The cabin was quiet, Percy nowhere to be seen. For that, Nico was thankful. He wouldn't be surprised if you had told Percy what occurred that day. He stood there for a moment, unsure where to begin. He’d rehearsed this conversation in his head a thousand times, but now that he was here, in front of you, the words felt heavy, stuck in his throat.

“I—I’ve been trying to show you that I’m sorry,” Nico started, his voice shaky. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I never wanted to. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

"Nico." You whispered softly, eyes softening. "I-I'm trying things out with Will."

Nico's world shattered. "What?" was all he could muster. He blinked rapidly, unable to process what you had just said. His mouth opened, then closed, and for a moment he looked like he was going to crumble right in front of you.

“I…I’m trying things out with Will,” you repeated, a bit more firmly this time. Your voice was gentle, but there was a finality to it that made Nico’s heart twist painfully. His gaze dropped to the floor, staring at his shoes as if they held some kind of answer he couldn’t find in your eyes.

The silence stretched on between you, heavy and suffocating. Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the weight of all his efforts—the letters, the gifts, the endless nights of regret—collapsing under the simple truth of your words. He wanted to scream, to beg you to reconsider, but his voice failed him. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was barely a whisper.

“When did this happen?” His throat felt tight, like the air was being squeezed out of him, but he forced himself to look up, to meet your gaze even though it hurt.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “A few weeks after the battle with Gaea. Will and I…we just started talking, and things…they just happened.”

Nico’s heart twisted again, sharper this time, like a knife being driven deeper. The battle with Gaea—the war that had forced him to pause his desperate attempts to win you back, the war he had survived just so he could return to your side—had been the turning point for you, but not in the way he had hoped. He’d come back, bruised and exhausted, believing that his chance would come after the fighting was done. But the war had ended, and you had already found someone else.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You exhaled slowly, the sadness in your eyes deepening. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you. I was waiting for the right moment, but there never seemed to be one. You’ve been trying so hard, and I didn’t know how to tell you that I had moved on.”

He flinched, feeling the sting of those words cut deep. His hands trembled, and he shoved them into his pockets, trying to stop them from shaking. “Moved on?” The disbelief in his voice was raw, painful. “I never stopped loving you. Every day, I thought of ways to make it right, to show you how much you mean to me.”

“I know, Nico.” Your voice was almost pleading now, as if you wanted him to understand. “I saw everything you did. The letters, the ring—you don’t know how much it meant to me. But it’s not about how much you love me, Nico. It’s about trust. It’s about how I felt and how I still feel.”

“Then why did you keep the ring?” he asked desperately, his voice breaking as he gestured towards your desk, where his skull ring still sat, untouched since the day he left it there.

You looked away, your expression pained. “Because a part of me will always care for you. You were my first love, and I’ll never forget that. But Will, he’s been there for me in a way I needed. He’s open, and he doesn’t hide from me. I needed someone who could be honest with me, and you never were.”

The words felt like a slap to Nico’s face. He stepped back, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back the tears burning in his eyes. “I wanted to be,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I tried. I tried so hard.”

“I know you did,” you said softly, a single tear slipping down your cheek. “But sometimes trying isn’t enough.”

Nico’s chest tightened, and he felt the darkness inside him stirring—the familiar, suffocating void that had always been there, lurking just beneath the surface. He’d fought so hard to keep it at bay, to be stronger for you. But now, standing in your cabin with the truth hanging between you like a wall he could never break through, he felt it closing in on him again.

“I—I have to go,” he choked out, turning away before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at you any longer, not when the weight of your rejection was crushing him from the inside out.

“Nico, wait—” you called after him, but he was already halfway to the door, his footsteps heavy and unsteady. He paused, just for a moment, his hand on the doorknob, and for a second he thought about turning back, about begging you one last time not to leave him behind. But he knew it wouldn’t matter. Your mind was made up, and no amount of pleading would change that.

Without another word, Nico stepped out into the night, the cool breeze washing over him as he made his way toward the darkness beyond. The camp was quiet, the stars twinkling overhead, but all he could see was the shattered remains of his hopes and dreams, lying in pieces around him. He had tried—he had tried so hard—but in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

As he walked away, the darkness swallowed him whole, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t try to fight it.

Three days later, the camp was still buzzing with post-war activity. You threw yourself into helping with the rebuilding, avoiding thoughts of Nico and the painful conversation that had ended it all. Will was always by your side, his presence a comfort to your wounded heart. It wasn't that you didn't love Nico anymore; you would perhaps love him for the rest of your life, but it was time to put yourself first.

One afternoon, you were helping organize the infirmary with Will when a sudden, cold chill ran down your spine. You froze, a sense of dread settling over you. Before you could say anything, a shout rang out from outside, a voice filled with panic and fear. “There’s been an attack!”

You and Will bolted out of the cabin, following the frantic crowd toward the forest’s edge. Your heart pounded in your chest as you pushed through the campers, the anxiety mounting with every step. When you finally reached the clearing, you saw them—several demigods huddled around a small, motionless figure lying in the grass.

“No,” you whispered, your blood turning to ice as you caught sight of the dark clothes, the familiar face pale and still. “Nico…”

Will was already kneeling beside him, his hands glowing with golden light as he tried to heal the deep, ragged wound that marred Nico’s side. But you could see it in his eyes—the terror, the hopelessness. The injury was too severe, the damage too great.

“No, no, no,” you said, falling to your knees beside him, your hands hovering helplessly over Nico’s broken body. His eyes fluttered open, just barely, the shadows that had once seemed so invincible now dimmed to a fragile flicker.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a faint rasp that barely reached your ears. His gaze was distant, glassy, but somehow he managed to find yours, a small, sad smile ghosting across his lips. “I never meant to hurt you."

A sob caught in your throat as you cupped his cheek, your hands trembling. “Nico, please…Just hold on,” you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of panic and grief.

Nico’s smile wavered, his chest shuddering with the effort to breathe. “I’m…I’m so tired,” he murmured, his eyes beginning to drift shut, the pain etched into every line of his face. “I wanted to make things right…to make you…happy.” Each word came slower, his strength ebbing away with every breath he took.

“You did,” you said, your voice fierce despite the tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed his hand harder, as if the strength of your grip alone could keep him tethered to this world. “Nico, you did make me happy. You still do. Just stay with me. Please, Nico, don’t go.”

A tear slid down Nico's pale cheek, mingling with the blood that stained his skin. “I love you,” he whispered, the words barely a breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a desperate intensity. “Always…love you.”

“I love you too,” you choked out, pressing your forehead against his, your tears mingling with his. You felt his body go slack, his hand falling limp in your grasp. “Nico! No, please! Nico!” You held his body close, your heart breaking all over again as the truth settled over you. The boy who had fought through hell for you, who had bared his soul and faced his deepest fears, was gone.

His last breath had been a promise—a truth you’d never doubted, even when he had hurt you. But now, that truth lay heavy in your arms, lifeless and still. His body felt too small, too fragile, for someone who had carried so much pain, who had survived so much darkness. The only comfort you took was that you would see Nico again. That was a promise.

[confessionbrain-writings]

Southern Sass 2 - Benny Cross

Pairing: Benny Cross x OFC!Reader A/N: Thanks for the love for part 1. I suggest you read it before continuing this. I've never created something like this before, but I find myself enjoying this a lot, so who knows what'll happens next. I love to connect with you, the reader, so please don't be shy and say 'hi' and tell me what you think.🧡

*Ring… ring… ring…*

*Click*

“Yeah?”

You couldn’t stop the grin forming on your face as Benny’s voice came through the line.

“Benny, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“Francesca? Missin’ me already?”

“Like a stone in my shoe.”

“Ouch… y’wound me.”

“Yeah… I bet. I reckon you can guess why I’m calling?”

“‘Cause y’love hearin’ m’voice?”

“Not even close.”

“Shame.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah… Well Johnny’s not ‘ere.”

“Of course, what’s new…”

You sighed deeply.

“So, Benny…”

“Franki?”

A smile tugged at your lips at hearing him use your nickname.

“Tell me something.”

“What y’wanna hear?”

“Anything. What about your day?”

“Alright. I had myself a little adventure today.”

“Yeah? Do tell.”

“So, I went out on my bike y’know. Revin’ up and takin’ a corner a bit too fast, hit some autumn leaves and next thing I know I was sliding ‘cross the asphalt for a good stretch.”

“Oh no! Is your bike okay?”

It was quiet for a few seconds before Benny answered, feigned hurt dripping from his voice.

“Y’care more about my bike than me?”

“Oh, I know how it is with you bikers. Caring more about their metal steeds than themselves. Or are you telling me I’m wrong?”

“Yeah… y’got me there, Franki. Luckily she only has some scratches, she’ll be fine. But, now y’mention it, my shoulder does hurt a little…”

“Maybe you should see a doctor then.”

“Or maybe I just need a bit of lovin’.

You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Benny. Ain’t a chance.”

“Ouch… y’re breakin’ ma heart here, Franki.”

“Oh please, don’t be ridiculous, you don’t have one.”

“Is that what ya think?”

“No. It’s what I know about you bikers.”

“Mmm. Let me prove y’otherwise.”

“How?”

Benny took a deep breath, his voice dropping to a playful, almost mischievous tone.

“How? Well, how ‘bout this— I pick you up on my metal steed, which I’m pretty sure y’gonna love right-away,  and we take y’out on the open road to ride underneath the bright stars. Have y’ever been out of the city to see ‘em? They’re even more beautiful ‘cause y’can see ‘em so much clearer. And best of all, I’ll let y’hold on tight, y’know, so y’can feel just how big of a heart I have. And then—.”

“Then what?”

“Guess y’only gonna find out when y’accept my invitation.”

“Nice try, Benny.”

“Give a man a chance.”

“You just told me you had an accident, so I’m not sure that’d be such a brilliant idea.”

“Don’t worry, Franki. I’ll be gentle with you.”

“We’ll see about that. Anyway, just be careful, alright?”

“Only if you promise to keep callin’ me.”

You huffed.

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

“Was a pleasure as always Benny, take care.”

“Oh, so you do like me then? Here I was starting to think y’were playing hard to get.”

“Bye, Benny.”

*Tuut tuut tuut*

[thefangirlfever]

"Let me keep you warm"(a Miguel O'hara NSFW story, 18+)

Summary: What would happen if the two of you spend the night in a cabin during a snow storm?

Tags: NSFW, MDNI, F/M, dad bod Miguel, oral sex (F. receiving), married couple, breast play (slightly), masturbation, face sitting, curvy y/n

==========================

The two of you were cuddling in front of the fireplace while the storm kept raging outside. You’ve been taken by surprise by the weather and since the beginning of the storm, the power has run out in the cabin. There were some candles in the cellar that you used to light up the room and you could also rely on the fireplace’s light and warmth.

Even so, your body was slightly shivering under the covers. Miguel was hugging you from behind, his strong arms circling your much smaller silhouette, holding you close enough to keep you warm and still being gentle with you as if you were made of glass. He knew that the storm was worrying you and he was trying his best to reassure you. One of his hands kept stroking your hair while whispering sweet nothings, trying to keep your attention away from what was going on inside. Still, your eyes would often linger on the window. There was something mesmerizing in this eerie landscape, as white and pure as a pearl. You were both fascinated and frightened by this sight. Feeling your body shivering, Miguel’s arms held you tighter and he planted a quick kiss on the top of your head. His eyes also looked at the window but he didn’t seem as impressed as you. He just sighed.

“I’ll have to shovel all the snow tomorrow I guess…”

You scoffed at his so-practical mind, which made him smile softly. As long as you were not scared, he didn’t mind shoveling as much snow as possible the next day. His mouth didn’t leave your head and instead he gave one quick kiss to your ear and then to your nape, making a few hair standing up.

“Miguel...do you think it’s the right moment for that?”

Even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew that he was smiling. His lips kept giving some quick pecks to your skin, carefully moving your hair to the side.

“Of course. It’s just the two of us, trapped in the middle of the woods… It’s like we’re all alone in the world.”

“I didn’t know that you were such a romantic.”, you teased him. Even if you rolled your eyes at his words, you were clearly amused. When his hands slipped under the blanket and began to run up and down your back, you didn’t move away. His hands were surprisingly warm, while you’ve been feeling like an ice cube all the time you spend in this place. Even if you already knew it, it still surprised you every time, just how warm his body constantly was. You were not shy to say the word. Miguel just felt comfortable and he knew it, whether it was good or bad for you was still up to decide. It could be quite delightful to come back home after a long day of work and just lay your head on his tummy, let him cradle you in his arms and make the little spoon out of you. But sometimes he knew you were unable to resist him in these conditions and he didn’t shy away from using these advantages.

“Romantic? If you could read my thoughts right now, I don’t think you would call me this way.”, he teased you back while his fingertips ran over your spine. His hand tugged at the hem of your shirt and you felt his fingertips on the small of your back. Your ears perked up at his words and took a pink hue, which you couldn’t hide from him in this position. Miguel was ruthless in these moments; he just knew it wouldn’t take a lot of time for you to indulge in this moment.

“Maybe this storm is even a good thing? It’s been such a long time since I had you all for myself…”

You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. It’s been so long since the two of you have had a moment for yourselves and these holidays were supposed to be the occasion to catch up on this time. Yes, life has kept you busy these last months, work has been hectic and you were often too tired to do anything. Miguel never pressured you into doing anything against your well-being or that could deprive you of some well-deserve rest. But that didn’t mean you didn’t want something to happen. In fact, you had some ideas on how to spend these holidays… Everything was supposed to be perfect, romantic in every way… and this stupid storm ruined everything. This simple thought frustrated you even more. Feeling your body tense, Miguel kept massaging your back, rubbing his hands over you in slow, circular motions. He knew it was frustrating for you since you had planned everything so well, and he appreciated your efforts. But he didn’t need all that and he was determined to prove it to you.

Miguel’s lips kept kissing your neck, even gently nibbling on it. You were slowly feeling your body getting warmer, especially one area.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it…”

Well, you did think about it. Honestly, at some point you were only thinking about this, especially after weeks of inactivity.

“Maybe, I did…”, you answered quietly. Miguel smiled against your skin as he pulled you closer to him. The blanket fell from your shoulders and his hands snaked up higher on your back. Your shirt slowly lifted up, revealing more of your skin and Miguel smirked, noticing that you didn’t have a bra on.

“You’re really making this almost too easy for me.” His fingertips brushed against your spine, making you shiver. He took his time admiring your body squirm under his touch, the way the freckles and moles on your back seemed to dance against your skin, looking like a constellation. Under your skin, your ribs were heaving up and down at a slow pace, just like your breathing had slowed down. Miguel couldn’t fight back the urge to wrap his hands around them, feeling how thin your skin was, how you were shaking so slightly… His hands kept moving higher, soon resting under your chest, feeling your heartbeat under his fingers. After weeks spend without touching you, or at least not how he was dreaming of, he felt like he could get drunk from your skin.

“I need to see you. Please…”, he whispered in the crook of your neck.

In the silence of the room, only the noise of the fire cracking could be heard. You slowly lifted your arms, not making any other move, letting him take control of the situation. Despite his craving for your body, he managed to slowly take your shirt off. He tossed the fabric on the side without a lot of care, his eyes too focused on you. The fire was creating shadows on your body, highlighting every curve there was to see. You were sweating a little and he could feel it, smell it, just like he could feel the warmth of your body. None of that bothered him, quite the opposite. It was the proof that you were there, real and more beautiful than ever. Wherever his fingers were caressing you, its shadow was clearly visible on your skin and you couldn’t help but follow him with your eyes.

“I’ve missed this so much. I’ve missed you…” He didn’t need to tell you. His hands were speaking for him as he gently cupped your breasts, feeling their weight and the texture of your skin. He took his time feeling them as if it was his first time discovering them. In fact he knew them by heart at this point, just like the rest of your body. But that didn’t stop him from following the blue veins under your skin with his fingertips. Finally his calloused fingertips reached the center of your breasts and brushed against your nipples. You felt your body stiffen at his touch. You’ve never felt this sensitive in such a long time. It felt like waking up from a very long nap.

“I’ve missed that too…”, you answered quietly. Miguel nibbled your ear, watching with a growing excitement your body responding to his teasing.

“How bad did you miss it?”

Bad. You missed it so bad and it’s easy to read this hunger in your eyes. You turn your head and watch Miguel’s expression. He looks as hungry as you, if not more. Both your faces are close enough for you to kiss but he refuses you his lips and instead keeps nibbling on your earlobe, teasing you between each bite:

“Show me. Show me how you’ve missed it. I want to see what you were doing when I couldn’t take care of you.”

You were more than happy to know that you could ease the aching burn in your lower body. Since Miguel has started touching you, you felt yourself getting wet. You were so responsive, so needy that you obediently lowered you pajama pants, exposing a wet patch in the middle of your underwear. Miguel groaned at the sight before kissing your skin end encouraging you to keep going. With your eyes closed, you slide your finger up and down, feeling your swollen lips and the wetness spreading down there. You were taking your time and Miguel didn’t rush you, enjoying the show you were giving him. When you finally slipped one finger inside your underwear, he finally said something:

“Take it off please… I want to see it.” One of his hands held your left thigh and moved it to the side, spreading your legs further as you kept undressing. You may have been naked in this moment, but you’ve never felt hotter. Your sweat kept dribbling in small droplets over the curves of your body, down to the patch of brown pubic hair between your thighs. Your arousal was glistening on the brown little bush and when you parted your lips, a sharp contrast appeared between your slick, pink and puffy lips and the tuft of hair.

“So pretty…”, Miguel whispered in awe. His hands were dying to touch you but the sight of your fingers moving between your little forest, diving into this little river made his breath heavier.

At first, you were hesitant, almost shy but the more you were remembering these long nights of solitude and this frustration, the deeper you delved into your throbbing cunt. You were knuckles deep inside your hole, your thumb brushing against your clit, and you were soon panting. No matter how hard you tried, how fast you were fingering yourself, you would never achieve the same sensation as when he was inside you. And he knew it. He knew what you were craving, what you wanted and he would make you say it, ask for it.

You were so close and yet you didn’t reach your peak. You could almost feel your orgasm slipping between your fingers. The more you chase it, the further it ran away, leaving you a mess, your fingers covered in your juice and still this craving sensation inside of you, like an itch that needed to be scratched but you couldn’t reach it. Miguel sensed your desperation; he saw your face crunched up in a grimace of agony, your lips slightly parted in an annoyed grunt. He kissed your neck one last time and whispered:

“Let me take care of that.”

He was more than eager to help you. These weeks had also left him needy and frustrated. No matter how much he tried to relieve himself of that pressure, this was never enough. What he needed was not to just empty himself, to give into this release, but you. He wanted you. With one gentle move of his hands, he helped you lie down on the fuzzy carpet. You were facing him and the fire kept projecting his soft shadows on your body. He didn’t even know where to begin with you. Everything he saw, every single part of you seemed to call him, to ask for his attention. He quickly removed his flannel shirt and a soft sound escape your lips. You stretched your arms, as if you were asking for him to embrace you, to let you lie down his powerful chest. His eyes kept roaming your body and he undid his pants with such an urgency that his fingers were almost shaking and he had to try twice to unbuckle them. Once his body was finally free of his clothes, he finally leaned over you. You’ve missed the way his body was crushing you, engulfing you, wrapping around perfectly as if he tried to cut you from the rest of the world. You were calling his name, pleading for him to suffocate you even.

“I’m here mi Vida. I’m coming...I’m coming…” His lips met yours in a heated kiss while you kept on stroking his hair. Once he had broken the kiss, Miguel gave your lower lip one playful bite and he began to trace his way down your body. His lips didn’t neglect any part of you and all this time, he never stopped looking at you. When his lips reached your navel, he could smell your arousal oozing from between your legs. It was intoxicating, bittersweet and just like some rich honey. He couldn’t stop himself from taking a bite…

Miguel’s hands slipped under your butt and he grabbed it, lifting you slightly from the ground until your lips were connected. He took his time kissing your womanhood, his lips grazing your mound, your inner thighs… His thick tongue made its way between your folds, exploring every inch of you, tasting you like you were some ripe and juicy fruit. He was eating you like a starved man with no consideration from the mess he was doing on himself as your cyprine leaked down his chin and made his lips glisten. As if this wasn’t already too much for you, he never stopped looking at you all this time. His face buried between your thighs with his eyes only poking out, looking at you in awe. The sounds he was making while eating you out only added to your pleasure and you squeezed your thighs around his face. Only muffled sounds reached your ears as he kept moving his tongue, deeper and deeper. Frustrated to not reach your spot, he lifted your hips higher, your legs hanging around his neck as he kept lapping at your juice like an animal. You were moving your hips in rhythm with his lips and the more you kept moving, the more you felt hot, almost burning. But it was worth it. Still, Miguel couldn’t stand the sight of you working so hard when he just wanted to pleasure you like you deserved it after all this time.

“This won’t do it. I want to feel you deeper…” He gave your lips one teasing lick before dragging you closer to him. Sometimes you forgot how strong he was, but not in these moments. Without any struggle, he lifted you and pressed your body against his.

“Miguel, what are you doing?” You were still a little dizzy from your last game and you didn’t understand why he made you move, especially since you were quite enjoying what the two of you were doing.

“I think there’s something we could try… and that would be more enjoyable for you.”

Nothing good ever comes out from his wicked smile, and that’s why you liked seeing it on his face so much.

“Is it really going to be enjoyable for me or just for you?”, you asked with a teasing smile. Miguel chuckled at your insinuation and kissed your neck once again, while holding the other side of your face with his hand. You could feel the sweat dripping down your back, strands of hair clinging to your forehead and the skin of your neck turning moist from your sweat. This didn’t stop Miguel to kiss you hungrily. His own body seemed to glisten in this light, revealing golden undertones to his tan skin. Your skins rubbed against one another, your scents mixing into one heady aroma that you would take to you sheets for the rest of the night.

Miguel’s teeth dragged along your skin, tasting your essence until he reached your pulse. Purple and red marks had bloomed on your neck from his caress and he delighted himself, knowing that the next day you would wear the proof of his love. His lips kissed the part of your neck where he could feel your pulse. His lips trapped your heart and he whispered:

“I think it could be very enjoyable for the two of us.”

You smiled against his temple and replies: “What do you have in mind?”

“I want you to sit on my face. I need to feel you deeper.”

This seemed really tempting but you’ve never tried this before. In fact, you were a little afraid that your weight could be a problem. You looked at your body and Miguel’s eyes followed yours. With a gentle motion of his hand, he tilted your head up. His eyes looked for yours, trying to reassure you. He patiently listened to your explanations, to yours fears and as much as he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, he also craved this contact. You thought you would be too heavy for him? That you would crush him? Hell, he’d die a happy man if he met his death between your legs.

And that’s how you ended up sitting on his face. You were very careful to not crush him but that wasn’t enough for Miguel. He grabbed your hips and made you sit on him, really sit on him. Just when you were wondering if it wasn’t too much, you heard a muffled moan coming from between your legs. As much as you were embarrassed, you had to recognize that it was indeed as enjoyable as Miguel said it would be. His hungry lips were sucking on your cunt, drinking down from your hole as if he had stayed thirsty for too long. Your mound was rubbing perfectly with his strong nose every time your grind your hips, something you quickly took the rhythm for. Your hands grabbed his hair in a tight fist as you rode the wave, feeling yourself getting higher with each stroke of his tongue. Your moans joined in unison and Miguel’s tongue was danging against your clit, making the little nub stiffen more and more...until you couldn’t take it anymore. You erupted on his face and if you weren’t already dizzy with all this heat, you would have swear you heard him laughing.

On his side, it seemed that he had enjoyed this as much as you. It was impossible to not spot his hard-on as you slowly left his face. Miguel just gave you one look and you knew that this night was far from over.

==============================

I hope you enjoyed this new episode of "Dad bod Miguel O'hara does naughty things to you"™ I have other ideas for him.

Edit: thanks for the 200 likes ~~

[whoisneo404]

Can I get a fic where male reader has had an attitude all day and Nick decided to fuck it out of him and overstimulate him. (So there is like a lot of teasing and maybe he gets like tied to the bed?)

All I Need.

Summary: after telling you all day to behave, Nick grows tired of you attitude and decides to fuck it out of you.

Tw: NSFW, cursing, a few spanks, Nick calls reader slut a few times.

Note: I tried to keep the readers body as vague as possible so everyone can enjoy this :3 also, i wrote this with that outfit on mind.

There was no reason for me to be grumpy, I just woke up this way, sadly for everyone else today was a busy day.

‘’What do you want to eat?’’ Nick looks down at his phone scrolling throw the ordering app.

‘’I don’t know, whatever.’’ He slightly raises his eyes to look at me, his brows a bit frowned.

‘’I’m asking you, what do you want to eat?’’ he asks again and I let out a huff.

‘’Whatever.’’ I roll my eyes at him and cross my arms.

‘’Don’t talk to me like that… I’ll order and if you don’t like I don’t wanna hear you whinnying about it, got it?’’ he looks back at his phone ordering our breakfast.

When the food arrived, I don’t want to eat it. I just stare at it while Nick eats from his sandwich.  

‘’Why won’t you eat?’’ he finally asks after a while, I just shrug my shoulders and he lets out a sigh.

‘’Don’t want to.’’

‘’You could have told me that.’’

‘’Whatever.’’

‘’Don’t whatever me. What happened today? Why are you so moody?’’ he’s frowning, the muscles of his face tensing and I don’t know why, but it makes me feel grumpier.

‘’I don’t know, leave me alone.’’

His jaw tenses and then he speaks softly. ‘’Okay.’’

---

It was a long day, photoshoot after breakfast, lunch with friends, afternoon meeting to discuss the next merch drop, and at night dinner with friends again. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered me, but today I just can’t seem to be able to take it.

‘’Boy, what’s wrong with you?’’ Tara who is sitting besides me asks.

‘’I don’t know. I woke up with the worst mood ever, I am so grumpy for no reason.’’ I grumble to her.

‘’I get it, it sometimes happens to me too. Wanna tell me about it?’’ I do, I talk to her about how I feel and I start to lighten up, feeling like the burden of the day is leaving my body. We start to laugh and joke about our grumpy moods. From time to time I feel Nicks intense stare from across the table, but I decide to brush it off.

‘’Give me a second, I’ll go to the bathroom.’’ I stand up and walk to the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and move my hair a bit, I hear the door opening and I see Nicks reflection on the mirror.

‘’So, you are not grumpy anymore?’’ I look at him on the mirror, his arms are crossed over his chest and he looks mad.

‘’Maybe, I don’t know.’’

‘’Oh, I think you aren’t because you were laughing a lot with Tara out there.’’ I turn around and also cross my arms, my chin high and a grin on my face.

‘’Yeah, she’s really funny.’’

‘’Is that so?’’ he raises on eyebrow, slowly walking towards me. ‘’Does she make you laugh more than me?’’

‘’Not really, but she knows how to handle me when I’m grumpy.’’ Both of his hands are on my hips, his gaze piercing throw my soul.

‘’And I can’t? are you saying I can’t handle you?’’ Nicks voice is low, his grip on my hips tightening and I gulp nervously.

‘’Maybe if you feel that way it’s because it’s true…’’ I smile playfully and he growls.

‘’You were being a brat all day, you are so fucking spoiled you think you can get away with everything. Don’t make me get angrier because you won’t like how I am planning to make you behave.’’ My cheeks turn red, he knows just how to handle me, he knows exactly what to do and say to make me melt on his hands. But I want more, I want to see how far a can push.

‘’You hallow threats don’t scare me.’’ I walk away from his grip and to the bathroom door. ‘’Also, I think you look hot when you try to be dominant.’’ I wink at him and walk out of the bathroom; I hear a faint mumbling inside of it and I giggle as I make my way to the table.

---

‘’Want me to drop you off?’’ Matt talks softly to me when we everybody is standing outside the restaurant, saying goodbyes, seeing of they will go to their homes.

‘’I already ordered an uber for us.’’ Nick says standing besides me, his hand on my waist, pressing me against him.

‘’You staying the night there?’’ Matt asks again and Nick hums. ‘’Okay, see you then. Bye.’’ Then he walks besides Chris who was saying goodbye to everybody.

When the car arrives Nick and I sit in silent, both of his hands on his knees, he seems grumpy. I might have flirted a bit with Jake to see how he reacts, but I don’t think he is too mad… is he?

When we arrive at my apartment, I thank the driver and we walk in silence to my place. I feel his gaze on my back as I unlock the door slowly, regretting a bit my actions.

‘’I-… Nick.’’

‘’Shut up.’’ He pushes the door open and shoves me inside too. He closes the door behind him, takes of his jacket and hangs it on the coat hanger. ‘’Go to your room, take off your clothes, leave your boxers. I want you on your knees on the floor when I arrive. If you are not doing it, I swear…’’ he takes a deep breath, he is not looking at me, he is massaging his forehead with one hand, my legs shake as I nod even when he can’t see me. ‘’Go, 10, 9…’’ I sprint to my room, undoing my pants and taking of my shirt on the way there. I slam the door open and throw my shirt somewhere, quickly shoving my shoes out and then taking off my pants, I try to steady my breath as I kneel on the floor in front of my bed.

I hear the faint steps and counting getting louder and louder. ‘’1 and 0.’’ Nick enters the room, his tie undone and his shirt undone a few buttons. ‘’Oh, so you can be obedient.’’ He sits at the edge of the bed in front of me, my cheeks turn red and I nod slightly. ‘’You made me really mad today, being a brat all day, you think that I was going to let it slide?’’ I shake my head. ‘’And then it seems like nothing happened, like you weren’t a fucking whinny bitch all day, you go and laugh your ass off with Tara, and then you fucking flirt with Jake, in front of me.’’ I gulp and look down at his boots. ‘’Maybe I have been too nice with you lately and you have forgotten who you belong to.’’ I shake my head. ‘’Words, slut.’’ His hand grips my jaw, forcing my head up, meeting his eyes that seemed darker than usual.

‘’N-no. I’m yours.’’

‘’Well, you aren’t acting like it. I’ll have to fuck you into my good boy again, don’t I?’’ I nod the best I can with his iron grip on me. ‘’That’s it.’’ His hand leaves my jaw, it goes to his pants to undo them and lower them enough so he can take his dick out. ‘’Come closer, crawl.’’ He pats his thigh, and I crawl closer to him, his hand gripping the base of his cock, pumping it a few times. ‘’Go on, suck it.’’ His hand leaves his dick and makes its way to my head, grabbing me by the hair and pulling my face closer to him, I open my mouth and take him. I move my head up and down slowly, his hand is still on my hair, not pushing or pulling, not yet. ‘’Shit, that’s it. Faster.’’ I obey, moving my head faster and deeper. He lets out a growl, I look up at him, his head is throwed back and his eyes are closed. Then I feel it, his grip on my hair tightening, he starts pushing and pulling my head, using my mouth just for his pleasure, I feel the tip close to the back of my throat, my eyes are watery and I gag with every thrust. He looks down at me, biting on his lip. ‘’God, my slut taking that cock so well in his mouth. Fuck, you look so pretty with your mouth full.’’ He pulls my head backwards, with my tongue out and a few tears running down my eyes I pant, looking up at him with my teary eyes, I feel his precum on my cheek and nose, I can taste it on my tongue.

‘’Shit. So pretty when I use you, so fucking handsome. Is that all you needed to shut up? You needed my dick on your mouth to finally shut up. Tell me baby.’’ I close my mouth, licking my lips and nodding. ‘’That’s it, good slut.’’ I place my head on his thigh and he pats my head softly. After a few seconds my breath is steady again, he wipes the tears that fell down my face. ‘’On the bed, now.’’ I stand up, slowly laying down on the bed. My legs are clenched together trying to find a bit of friction. I see Nick taking his tie off. ‘’Arms up.’’ As soon as he says it my arms are above my head, my wrists together, and he softly but efficiently ties my hands together.

His hands roam my body, his teeth and lips leaving red marks all over my body. He doesn’t miss a single spot, my arms, my neck, chest, belly, thighs. My body squirms and shivers with his touch. Moans slipping from my mouth. ‘’Please, need you.’’

‘’But baby, don’t you remember? You were a fucking brat today; you don’t get to decide what you get… but maybe if you beg I’ll consider letting you cum.’’ He bites my thigh and slaps it.

‘’Please, I need you. Please, I’m sorry, won’t do it again, just please, want you so bad.’’ I feel him smiling against my skin. Nick bites the hem of my boxers and slides them down, my breath hitches at that sight.

‘’God, you are a mess. So, fucking needy.’’ he reaches out to my nightstand grabbing a bottle of lube that he left last time, he coats two of his fingers on it. ‘’Knees to your chest.’’ He demands, I pull up my legs the best I can without the help of my hands. ‘’Good job. Fuck, look at you, all wet and ready for me.’’ His fingers make their way to my entrance, slowly drawing lines and circles on in, making my legs tremble. Slowly he pushes the two fingers in, making my back arch a bit, my mouth opening and a soft moan escaping my mouth. His fingers start making scissor motions for a few seconds, then the introduces another finger, and this time he stars pumping the three of them at an ungodly pace. My back arching more, mouth and pleads leaving my mouth. ‘’Keep your legs up, come on.’’ His other hand on one of my knees, keeping it against my chest.

"Can’t. Fuck, I can’t. Please, please, can I cum?’’

‘’Go ahead baby.’’ a few quick pumps more and my legs were shaking, my head pressed against the mattress, but his hands didn’t stop, he started pumping faster, his fingers curling just the right way hitting all the right spots inside of me. ‘’Fuck, Nick. Please!’’ My eyes get watery, my hands gripping the sheets below it.

‘’I wanna hear you, don’t hold back. Make sure everyone hears how much of a slut you are for me, want everyone to know how good I make you feel.’’ My legs can’t stop shaking. I can’t control my moans. My thoughts are incoherent and my words too.

‘’Please! too much. So good.’’ I feel my stomach tightening again, and once again I let myself go on his hand. But this time he pulls his fingers out.

‘’Good fucking slut.’’ He kisses my cheek. ‘’My handsome pretty slut.’’ My chest goes up and down heavily. ‘’Can you keep going.’’ I nod. ‘’Words baby, need you to tell me what color.’’

‘’Yes, yes. Green.’’

‘’Good job.’’ He kisses my cheek again. ‘’On all fours.’’ He whispers against my hear. Letting go of my thighs he lets me roll around and I try to hold myself up the best I can with my shaky legs. I feel one slap on my ass and then the same hand gripping my hip. ‘’Say please, tell me you want me inside of you.’’

‘’Please, please. Want you, need you, need you inside. Please…’’ I move my hips backwards searching for his warmth and he slaps my ass again.

‘’So, fucking needy. Arch your back a bit more for me.’’ I do the best I can, my legs still a bit weak. ‘’So pretty…’’ I fill the tip entering my hole, I bit my lip, then he slams his hips hardly into me knocking all the hair out of my body. ‘’Go on, fuck yourself on my cock.’’

‘’Ah, fuck…’’ I moan against the pillow, rocking slamming my hips against his, going dumb on his dick. My movements are messy and my legs grow tired of moving. ‘’Can’t! please, fuck me. Please.’’

‘’God, you are so useless without me, aren’t you? Need me to fuck you, baby?’’ I moan loudly as a response. ‘’What a slut, my slut.’’ Another slap on my ass, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me in every time he thrust so I feel him deeper and rougher.

‘’Fuck. Nick!’’ my legs give up on me, I don’t fall because his strong hands are keeping me up.

‘’Didn’t give you permission.’’

‘’Sorry. Couldn’t wait, too good.’’ His trusts slow down and he starts to rub my back soflty.

‘’Wanna help me finish?’’

‘’Yes, please. wanna help you. Need to.’’ I feel a soft kiss on my shoulder and a small bite too. His hips start moving faster, it gets messy and rough again, the room filled with wet noises and moans from both of us.

‘’That’s it, so good for me. I just needed to fuck you properly for you to behave. My good boy, my good fucking slut.’’ His hands grip my waist tightly, my mind is dizzy and I can’t take it anymore, but it feels too good to stop. ‘’Shit baby, that’s it. Can I cum inside?’’

‘’Please, yes, need it inside. Please.’’ his trusts get messier, uneven and slower. His fingers digging into my flesh, probably leaving red marks I will see tomorrow.

‘’Fuck baby, cum with me. Do it. Fuck.’’ he gives two slow but deep trust and then pulls out, my legs are trembling, my breath is shaky. He helps me lay into my back and softly starts untying my hands. ‘’That’s it, good job baby. Good fucking job.’’ He kisses my cheek softly. ‘’Did so good, suck a good boy for me.’’ When my hands are free, they immediately wrap around his neck, nuzzling my face against it. ‘’I know baby, I know. I was a bit mean, but you know what bad boys get… now it’s time for me to take care of you, I’ll go get some water and something to clean us up.’’ I shake my head against his neck. ‘’Not yet? Okay, just a few seconds more, I have to get you some water baby.’’

His hands rubs my sides, his strong sent making me feel safe and warm. Nick knows exactly what to do to shut me up and make me his good boy again. He knows exactly what I need because he is all I need.