#Joint Entrance Check

[freejobalertpop]

JET Counselling 2023 spherical 1 seat allotment end result and cut-off launched - Edu CG

Agriculture School, Jodhpur has launched the Joint Entrance Verify (JET) counselling 2023 spherical 1 seat allotment and cut-off guidelines. Candidates can look at the spherical 1 seat allotment and cut-off guidelines JET-2023 at jetauj2023.com. Candidates can look at the seat allotment end result for the JET 2023 by their candidate’s login. JET Counselling 2023 spherical 1 seat allotment end…

[ohproserpine]

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

[sturnsdarling]

She's the coolest person I know.

fratboy!matt tries to play it cool about him and smartand'mean'!reader spending alot of time together, but fratboy!chris and Nate aren't convinced

vibe check: chris and nate being idiots, nate not knowing what an emo is lol, fratboy!matts version of fluff

1k words

A/N: this concept was born from and is my take on the wonderful, amazing and ridiculously talented @sturnioz fratboy!matt and fratboy!chrisxshy!reader au. THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THE LOVE ON MY TOUGH GIRL FIC OMFG. this is a lil blurb I cooked up as a finishing touch to my contribution to cas' au. also I just love this pairing so much it makes me unwell

love and cigs, merc

Matt quietly shuffled into the front door of his frat house, tucking his car keys in his pocket with as little jingle as possible in hopes of sneaking past Chris and Nate on the sofa. He clicked the door shut and the boys’ ears perked up. 

“Fuck” Matt whispered. 

“Matty boy! You’re back! Where the fuck have you been” Nate craned his neck round, a canon joint hanging from his mouth. 

“He’s been at y/ns house” Chris answered for Matt, turning to smirk at the boy as he shifted his weight between his feet by the entrance of the living room. 

“Y/n? Isn’t that the emo chick that’s best friends with your girl?” Nate asked, pointing to Chris. 

“She’s not emo dickhead, she’s just a bit… grungy” Matt piped up at your defence immediately, knowing Nate meant it as an insult.

“and s!r/n is not my girl” Chris responded to Nate’s accusation 

“She’s totally fuckin emo dude she wears fishnets and walks around lookin’ like she’s gonna kill someone” Nate snickered, “and, she’s definitely your girl” he looked back to Chris who was rolling his eyes. 

“You’re with her like everyday, kid” Matt folded his arms over his chest, taking this perfect opportunity to get the subject off of himself. 

“And you get all gushy over her like she’s some little pretty flower whenever she’s around” Nate laughed, looking to Matt who was nodding his head and joining in the laughter.

“Okay, both of you shut the fuck up, yeah? When did this become about me? Matt's the one sneaking in after spending the last three days with his little pet emo” Chris scoffed, leaning forward to ash his joint in the glass tray before taking a long drag. 

“She’s not fuckin—“ Matt gritted his teeth, “she’s not my pet you freak, we’re just hangin’ out” He shrugged. 

“That’s not what it sounded like the other night” Nate raised his brows at Matt, a childlike laugh erupting from his mouth as he blew weed smoke into the air. 

“UH! FUCK! MATT! YOU’RE SO BIG! UH” Chris moaned, making fake orgasm faces as he shifted his weight so it looked like he was getting fucked. Nate curled over in laughter, slapping his knee with his free hand. 

Arms folded over his chest and eyes firmly rolled to the back of his head in annoyance, Matt felt a vibrating in his pocket, ‘Arabella' by the Arctic Monkeys blared from his phone as he pulled it from his pocket. 

“Both a’you shut the fuck up before I break your fuckin’ jaws” Matt said before quickly answering the phone, your voice like honey on the other end. 

“Hi Matthew” you said, sweetly

“Hey angel, what’s up?” He said, turning away from the boys. 

The sound of the sofa shifting against the floor grabbed his attention back to them, he was met with the sight of Chris pretending to fuck the side of the couch, slapping the leather arm as if it’s an ass and Nate, pretending to give a blowjob to the end of his dying joint.

“You uh, you left your english lit book here, thought you’d wanna know in case you think you lost it or somethin”

“Oh, shit, did I?” Matt asked, leaning down and taking his shoe off, throwing it full force at his idiot brother and best friend making obscene gestures and noises only a few feet away from him, “I’ll come get it now, sweetheart, m’gonna need it” Matt said, his words focused on you but his gaze firmly on the boys as they curled over in laughter, dodging Matts flying trainer. 

“Okay, text me when you’re here, I’ll buzz you in” You responded. 

“Alright angel, I won’t be long” He said, ending the phone and shoving it into his pocket. 

“BYE Y/N” Nate screamed across the living room, giggling and rolling into Chris like a child 

“Are you two finished?” Matt said, kicking off his other shoe and humming it at them, they ducked out the way and their laughter continued, not yet tired of the bit they were doing. 

“You just got home from hers and you’re going back? Kids pussy whipped” Chris said, shaking his head. 

“Y’know what Chris, I think our boy likes her” Nate said, raising his eyebrows a couple times. 

“oh you definitely fuckin’ do! you actually like this girl” Chris responded, turning to Matt who’s cheeks had flushed a bright red 

“So what if I do? Is that a problem?” Matt said, near enough squaring up to the boys. 

“Nah man, it’s cool, she’s cool” Nate shrugged, sensing they may have struck a nerve. 

“Yeah she is fuckin’ cool, she’s cool as fuck actually, probably the smartest person I’ve ever met, on top of being unbelievably fuckin' hot and she’s easy to be around, unlike you two shit talkin' idiots” Matt sounded off, throwing an arm up in frustration. 

“Kids in love” Chris scoffed, cocking his head towards Matt as he looked at Nate 

“For real, he’s obsessed” Nate chuckled, “fuck baby keep doing that, you’re so sexy oh my fucking god” Nate mocked Matt, laying back on the sofa and holding his hands over his crotch, pretending to be holding a girls head there as she sucks him off. 

Chris laughed and smacked Nate’s hands away from his dick, slapping his palm and dapping him up in agreement. 

Matt rolled his eyes and tensed his jaw, shaking his head as he turned to walk towards the front door. 

“When I get back m’gonna kick the shit out’a both of you” Matt said, pushing his feet into his sliders and opening the door in a huff, slamming it behind him, making the whole front room shake. 

“Whatever you say, angel!” Chris said, mimicking Matts nickname for you. 

Matt strode down the path towards his car in a huff, almost ripping his car door off its hinges as he slammed down into the passenger seat, taking a deep and fast breath. After a few short seconds of sitting with closed eyes to ground himself, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called you.

"how the fuck did you get here so fast?" your voice a soothing balm to his anger on the other end of the phone.

He chuckled, "I haven't even left my driveway yet, angel, just wanted to call you and let you know i'm staying at yours again tonight" he said, putting his keys into the ignition and starting his car.

"okay, s'fine. any particular reason or?" You drew out your final word

"jus' rather be with you than at mine" Matt said, shrugging.

"Awh, Matthew, you're so cringe" your cadence was insulting but Matt could feel your cheesy smile through the phone.

"watch your mouth, tough girl, or i'll fill it" his threatening tone sent a jolt up your spine

"Is that a promise?" you asked, seductively, a quick change in demeanour that Matt adored.

"you're a deviant, y'know that right?" Matt shook his head as he smiled at your response, it was like he built you in a lab.

"Just shut up and get here, I miss you, idiot" you hung up the phone before he could respond, not wanting to face the teasing that would inevitably follow admitting you miss him after barely an hour of being apart.

Matt opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of you hanging up, a grin crawled its way onto his face and he couldn't help but relish in the way you made him feel. He meant what he said to his brother and Nate, you really were the coolest person he knew.

[azmageddon]

I Can't Lose Him (Part Two)

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: After spending a horrible day patching your mate together, you just wanted to sit by his side, but Rhys has other plans for you.

Warning: Medical treatment, needles, Devlon being a jerk (let me know if I missed anything!) Painfully inaccurate to the original plot.

a/n: This is part two to I Can't Lose Him! I plan to make a Part Three with much more Azriel in it. Let me know if that's something you would like to see! Anyone interested in a universe about Cassian's twin/Azriel's mate??

His gentle breathing and dreamless sleep, thanks to Rhys, ebbed and flowed across the bond. Like the waves of the Sidra along the shore, the peacefulness was comforting. You felt your eyelids growing heavy while you listened to his breathing; sleep claimed you for the first time in nearly two days. 

The quiet didn’t last long as you jolted awake when almost immediately after closing your eyes, you heard a whisper of your name inside your mind. Your eyes shot open and you sat upright in your chair at the intrusion in your head. Your eyes quickly assessed your tent. 

Azriel lay asleep soundly in the makeshift bed before you. His right arm was settled again, tied in a sling to support the once dislocated joint. Patches of gauze covered the many stitches that you had sewn to put his membranous wings back together. His leg, once shattered and ruined, was put back together like a puzzle, resting in a splint and arrow straight.  You could see the gauze wrapped tightly around his torso that Majda and you had done to dress the wound that had both your arms in Azriel’s chest just hours ago. You shuttered at the memory and moved on.

Across the bed, in another chair on the other side of your mate, sat your twin brother, Cassian. Head fallen back and mouth open, Cassian was deep in sleep, his light snores filling the otherwise silent tent. 

Continuing your observation, you looked to the entrance of the tent and saw Rhys and Nesta at its entrance. The voice that had called your name in your mind belonged to your High Lord. Your mental shields must have slipped in your exhausted state, and checking them now, it was confirmed that you were struggling to keep them up, just as you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

You sighed at the sight of the two, nestling yourself back into the chair. You pulled the blanket around you tighter and closed your eyes again. Without opening them, you spoke to the two hovering by the entrance. 

“I haven’t slept in days, Rhys. You woke me up.” You focused again on the gentle sway along the bond and felt sleep nipping at the edges of your mind. When Rhys spoke again, he pulled you back to the surface of consciousness. 

“It’s been a long day for all of us, Y/N,” Rhys responded, hesitating briefly before he went on. His hesitation made you crack one eye open and focus it on him. Noting the slight furrow between his brow, you knew his decision to interrupt your vigil over your sleeping mate didn’t come lightly. Nesta had migrated over to Cassian, waking him up and urging him to listen to what Rhys had to say next. 

“It’s been a long day for all of us,” he said again, swallowing thickly as if the next words were getting caught in his throat. “I need you for one more thing.”

You sighed and opened both eyes this time, turning away from your High Lord and focusing them on Azriel’s face. “Haven’t I done enough today?” 

“Yes,” Rhys agreed, but instead of turning to leave through the tent flaps and allow you to continue your silent watch, you heard his boots crunch over the ground, bringing him closer to you. When you turned to look back at him, he was eye level, one leg kneeling to bring him down to the level of your chair. His hands rested on the arm rest and there was a pleading in his violet eyes. 

“Please, Y/N, I need your help.”

You flicked your gaze over to your brother. He was awake now, leaning forward in his chair to hear Rhys’ request. Red rimmed his bloodshot eyes, a sign his exhaustion was also catching up to him. He simply nodded his head at you, silently urging you to hear him out. 

Turning back to Rhys, you signed again. “What is it?”

“It’s Devlon. He’s been injured.”

You flinched at the sound of the Lord of Windhaven’s name. The arrogant and rude male flashed before your eyes. Remembering his sexist taunts and roaming hands made a chill travel down your spine. He had laughed and spit at you on your first return back to Illyria after being Under the Mountain, claiming you were better suited as a female without your wings. The memories made your head automatically shake, pulling away from Rhys and turning your attention back to your mate, still blissfully unaware. 

“Ask Madja to do it,” Cassian interjected, aware of your feelings toward the bastard.

Rhys shook his head. “She’s back in the medical tent. She’s swamped. Besides, Devlon wouldn’t let her touch him when he first took the hit.” 

Your gaze never left the warm bronze skin of Azriel’s face. His long lashes tickled his high cheekbones, fluttering in his sleep. Despite the monumental wounds he was sprouting, you had never seen Azriel sleep so well. Usually plagued by nightmares or insomnia, it was a gift to watch his calm face.

“Make Jessina do it. Or Alice. I trained them both myself,” you offered, still unable to tear your gaze away from Azriel’s peaceful features. 

You felt Rhys’ fingers curl around your upper arm, trying to get your attention, but you refused to relent. You knew this was a lost cause and you’d be forced to leave your mate to attend to another Illyrian’s wound. But until then, you’d take every opportunity to soak in the calm. 

“You know I can’t do that, Y/N,” Rhys pleaded, tightening his grip on your arm ever more slightly. This forced you to look away from your mate and back to the anxious, violet eyes inches from your own. “He’s one of the most important military leaders I have. I can’t leave him in the hands of just anyone. If you don’t treat him, he may never fly again.”

You snorted at the irony. “Is that an order?”

“Never. Please, Y/N, do this for me. It’s a favor.”

There was a long pause where the two of you stared at each other. The centuries of friendship held you both together. You thought back to your time Under the Mountain, when Rhys had vowed to return you home, and you vowed to stay by his side and trust him with your life. But this request, to treat the one person that made your life a living hell when you lived in Windhaven, and even now when you visited the clinic there, you weren’t sure if you could trust Rhys with this.

“I’ll stay with him,” Nesta’s voice cut through the thoughts in your head and broke your gaze away from the High Lord’s. “I’ll stay with him,” she repeated. “Rhys and Cassian will go with you so you’re not alone.”

As you contemplated the offer, Azriel let out a huff of air, attempting to shift in his sleep. Four pairs of eyes darted in this direction and watched as he furrowed his brow in pain from the movement. He quickly recovered and went back to his peaceful sleep. 

“Devlon has a mate too, you know,” Rhys said, hoping he could guilt you into helping the Lord.

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t know the bastard was capable of loving anyone besides himself.” 

Rhys smirked and the two of you stood. “I never said he loved her.” 

You slid your boots back onto your feet and carefully draped your blanket onto Azriel before turning to Nesta. “He could wake up at any time; there’s no way to know.” You pointed to a small bottle on the table beside the bed. “There’s a pain tonic in there. If he wakes up, make him take it. He’s going to need it, no matter what he says.” Nesta nodded at your instructions and sat in the chair Cassian had just vacated. “Oh, and Nesta?” you continued, “Don’t tell him where I am.” 

***

Rhys entered Lord Delvin’s tent first, holding the thick folds of the makeshift door open for you and Cassian to follow through. You were immediately engulfed by the smell of fae bane.

“Absolutely fucking not,” you heard Devlon exclaim when he looked up from his spot across the tent. He was seated on a backless wooden chair, his right wing flared out. Another Illyrian warrior stood behind him, examining the large slit that spanned almost the entire length of his wing. You instantly understood what Rhys meant when he said Devlon may never fly again. 

“You asked me to get you the best healer I could find. Luckily for you, Y/N’s the best healer in all seven courts.” Rhys put a hand on your back and gently, but firmly, nudged you forward.

“She’s not getting anywhere near me,” Devlon sneered, flinching slightly at the pain when his wing twitched in anger. “Knowing her, she’ll rip my wings off too.”

It took everything in you not to recoil at the reminder that your own wings had been severed at the base and pulled clean off. “Well, that’s enough for me. Enjoy walking the rest of your life,” you scoffed, turning on your heel and making to storm out of the tent and back to your mate, but Cassian stood in your way. 

Arms crossed and a fake look of male dominance held his gaze to yours. You knew both Cassian and Rhys had to put on a show in front of the Lord of Windhaven, but your exhaustion made you curse under your breath when you saw your twin in the way of your escape. 

Cassian leaned down to whisper in your ear so only you and Rhys could hear him. “Heal him so that I can properly beat the shit out of him.” Without so much as a smirk, Cassian gripped your shoulders and spun you back around to face Devlon. 

“Knock it off, Devlon,” Rhys growled, his voice laced with the command of a High Lord. “Either you let Y/N fix your wing or you face the possibility of Seth butchering it.” 

Devlon quickly looked over his shoulder at the Illyrian still examining his wing and pushed him off, seemingly affected by Rhys’ threat. He turned back to you and you stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest and casting him a look that said try me.

He looked you up and down a few times before accepting you as his only choice if he ever wanted to fly with his armies again. “Well, then, hurry up girl! Get over here and fix me, I haven’t got all day!” 

You snapped your head in Rhys’ direction, silently begging him not to make you heal the bastard. But Rhys simply jerked his head in Devlon’s direction and said, “Go on.”

You felt the gaze of all the males on you as you silently stalked toward the injured Illyrian. Rounding his chair, you stood behind him, ready to reach a hand out to assess his injury. 

Before you had the chance to touch him, Devlon hissed quietly “I better be able to fly after this, or I’ll hunt you down and gut you myself, the High Lord’s protection or not.”

Annoyed by the pure male arrogance, you roughly gripped his shoulder without responding and flashed your power through him. The sudden invasion of it practically made Devlon jump out of the chair in a shutter of pain as it raced through his body and settled in his wing. “Watch it!” he threatened, but didn’t pull away from your grip. 

You let your power wrap around the slit in the membrane of the wing and relay the information back to you. As you suspected, it was laced with fae bane, keeping the wound from healing and stitching itself back together. With another jolt of your power, you watched as the fae bane was lifted from the wound. As something only you could see, the poison seeped out of the wing and swirled in the air around it until you forced it to dissipate into a mist and disappear. 

“I need to sew it closed,” you said. Turning to Seth, you asked, “Where are your stitching supplies?”

The warrior stared at you blankly for a few moments, then shook his head. You rolled your eyes at the ineptitude of the male and thought to yourself, whoever made them the dominant sex was truly dumb.

You reached for the medical bag you brought with you and pulled out all the supplies you needed, placing them neatly on the table Seth dragged over to you. Settling yourself into another backless chair, you started to clean the wound in Devlon’s wing. 

You worked in silence for what seemed like forever as Rhys and Cassian stood watch. Devlon twitched every so often as the sting of the antiseptic burned his wound, but said nothing. The only thing that could be heart was the swish swish of your gauze pads against the membrane. 

Devlon sat there and eyed the general and the High Lord in front of him, and seemed to understand they were here, not to ensure his healing, but for your protection. He snorted as the thought came to him. “Where’s your other body guard?” 

You knew Devlon could feel you falter in your work at the question, but you quickly recovered and continued without answering him. 

“I hardly ever see you without the Shadowsinger practically crawling behind you,” he continued. “I’m surprised he’s not here on his hands and knees offering his back as your workstation.”

Cassian shifted where he stood. “Watch it, Devlon.”

You stayed quiet, gathering the dirty supplies and putting them to the side. You threaded your needle instead and prepared to start stitching the wound closed. “This is going to sting,” you warned, before plunging the needle into the membrane. 

“I saw the Shadowsinger being carried off into the medical tent during the fight.” You could hear the smile in his voice even though his back was facing you. “Is he dead?” he asked with no concern in his voice at all. He almost sounded hopeful. 

You forced yourself not to respond. No one outside of the Inner Circle knew you and Azriel were mated, and even they had only just learned of the secret during Amarantha’s reign. Allowing your anger to bubble to the surface and spill over on Devlon would only further his suspicions. So you quickly and efficiently finished the stitches, slathered the healing salve, and packed up your supplies, all while ignoring the chatter between the three males.

When you were finished, you stalked around to face Devlon. He stretched his wing in and out, testing the stitches and wincing at the leftover sting of pain from the healing wound. “This better work,” he warned.

You turned away from him, picking up your medical bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “No flying, and I’ll be back to see you in Windhaven to check the healing. Don't take the bandages off,” you flung over your shoulder at him. Pushing past Rhys and Cassian, you stalked out of the tent, your temper brimming at the surface. The two Illyrians followed behind you without another word to Devlon.

When you were finally out of earshot of anyone, you whirled on Rhys. “Don’t ever ask me to leave my mate to do something like that again,” you hissed under your breath. With that, you stalked away back to Azriel.

[bunnys-kisses]

could i order a smore, and a honey cruller, with an irish coffee served by oscar piastri ^-^

maybe established relationship with smoker!gf and oscar gets curious over summer break :3

bakery menu!

thank you for coming to the bakery, i hope you enjoy any orders you submit! the bunnies in the back at working hard as are your servers for the day! if you want submit your own order, check out the menu! thank you! for this lovely anon, thank you for the order! i hope you love it! (i love a good oscar story!)

s'more ("the accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + irish coffee (high sex) served by oscar piastri (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, high (weed) sex, smoking, smoker!reader, slight size kink, accent kink, outdoor/backyard sex, partially clothed sex, cowgirl position

"g'day, mate!" you laughed as you kept the joint between two of your fingers. you almost fell over across the patio couch. you made sure not to hit the hot end of the joint against the wicker of the couch.

oscar rolled his eyes as he leaned up against the air of the chair he was seated on, "oh is that how i sound to you? do you expect for me to pull a kangaroo from behind my ear."

you took another inhale and said, "no. i hope for a wombat though. they're cuter!" then burst into another series of giggles.

"the accent gets to you, doesn't it?" oscar rolled his eyes and simply laughed at you. you were amazing, even when you were stoned. you laughed a little louder when he tried to mock your fake your accent of his accent.

it was summer break, time off felt good for the both of you. you had spent the last few races with him leading up to the break you both desired. it was nice in england this time of year, even when it was slightly drizzly. but tonight was a nice day. you knew that tomorrow was going to be rainy.

oscar had a beer in his hand while you smoked a joint. he tried not to think too hard about how you got your weed. but regardless, he was happy that you were feeling good today. smoking looked hot on you, even if the scent of weed lingered in his nose.

"i'm curious.. i've neevr tried some."

"ever smoked anything."

he replied, "smoked cigarettes a little bit for a few months. never quite caught on." of course it didn't oscar was too perfect to ever be a smoker, "can i try some?"

you nodded, "of course, never one to not share." you handed to joint to him. then carefully watched him inhale and then softly exhale with a bit of a cough. he watched him grin lazily.

there was nothing wrong with a little bit of weed. he was painfully hot a little stoned. he giggled a little when you took another drag. you leaned forward and blew smoke in his face which made him shudder. he relaxed against the patio chair. the soft birds chirping as you smoked.

"you look good, beautiful." he said with a smirk, "like really good. my beautiful girlfriend. brighter than the sun." he laughed a little bit as he spread his thighs a little bit. showing off the bulge in his basketball shorts. he patted his thigh, "i want a slower look."

you finished the joint before you put it out in the ashtray before you got up. you swayed a little from side to side and giggled loudly, "oh, you true seducer!"

you got into his lap on the chair. there was enough space on it for you to spread your legs on the seat of it to straddle your lover's waist. you licked your lips at him as you rubbed your clothed pussy against his clothed cock.

you kissed him on the mouth once before you struggled to get your shorts and panties off while in his lap before you straddled him once more. you shuddered as you felt his cock press against your entrance. you held onto his strong shoulders as he rubbed against you, "i forget how small you are sometimes. i sometimes wonder how you could ever take me."

you giggled a little, "stubborn." then got yourself fully seated on his cock. it made him shudder and say something in hushed whispers you didn't quite pick up on. you held onto his shoulders. the smell of weed was dissipating from around you as you moved up and down your boyfriend's cock.

oscar was a good boyfriend. the kind that would make anyone swoon. he remembered every birthday and anniversary. even the ones that you honestly didn't even remember yourself! he was caring and loved to make you feel like the center of his world.

he licked his lips, his gaze a little unfocused as you moved against him. he was for sure high, but then again, so were you. you held onto him as you worked yourself up and down his cock. he could feel the flash of heat in his body as he felt close to you.

your backyard was private, no one was going to know what you were doing. but your voices could carry, so to relieve that problem, the two of you kept kissing passionately. you whimpered into the kisses as he groped your ass with those strong hands of yours.

oscar was fairly stronger than you. the kind of build that turned heads. and he loved how small you felt in his grasp, that you were something so delicate that you could easily break in half. but he loved you too much to ever hurt you like that. he wanted to worship your body, feel you against him as his heart fluttered in his chest. you were painfully beautiful, even in the afternoon light as you rode him. both of you stoned

"i have to admit." you said, "your accent is really hot. one of the first things i noticed about you." you laughed as you continued to ride him, "it sounds really good when we're having sex. when you moan so much your voice goes a little hoarse. it's hot." you purred.

he felt a shudder through his body as you rode him. even his thin t-shirt felt like too much clothing on him. but he'd get it all off when you got inside. he didn't realize how good sex felt when he was a little buzzed, no wonder you enjoyed a good joint and some oral sex. everything felt heightened and it felt really good with your cute cunt wrapped around his hard cock.

you two continued to fuck on the patio furniture. your kisses grew more needy as the two of you moved together in a sexual passion. you hand onto oscar's hair as you moved up and down his cock. you felt hot all over.

he stretched out his legs a little bit as he felt the heavy heat in his stomach. he tensed up and gripped onto your thighs a little harder as he came inside of you. he shuddered and felt the heat spread through his body. and you in turn continued to move up and down his cock. you pushed your hair out of your face as you rode him.

"oscar."

"i know beautiful." he said as he kissed you once more. you came around his cock, your grip tightly on him as you hit your peak. it made everything feel hot in your body.

you slowed down your thrusts and rested against his chest. your breathing heavy and the intensity of your orgasm was overwhelming. it was very hot.

"i didn't know weed was so good." he chuckled as he held onto your soft hips and rubbed his softening cock up against you. he kissed you once more.

you chuckled, "be careful, honey. you get drug tested remember." you got off his lap with shaky legs and tried to find your panties on the ground. he watched you and even leaned over to give your ass a pat when you were close enough. which made you jump a little.

he said, "i think i've had a little too much sun. why don't we get inside and i can see you fully naked. i'm still feeling pretty girl and i want to see how easily you come still." then tucked his cock back into his shorts and got up. he rubbed his forehead at the intensity of the high. he was a little shaky as the two of you led him back into your home.

maybe he'd let himself smoke once in a while. especially if it was with you, maybe after another round inside you two could share another joint. so he could get a real taste of it. <3

[elliesmainhoe]

Ellie Williams Headcanons : RichOlderWoman!Ellie

I got this as an ask but Tumblr ate it 😱 so here you go anon.

Okay Okay. So, first things first, from day one Ellie was always adamant when saying that you were NEVER her sugar baby.

you were just her controversially young girlfriend who she liked to spoil and have perched on her lap during boring business meetings.

speaking of SPOLING-

she regularly takes you on trips to expensive high end malls which exclusively house designer brands and WILL buy you anything you look at as long as you hold her hand while you both walk around.

but CEO Ellie Williams is a busy woman, and doesn't always have a long enough interval between meetings to keep you company.

in those cases she simply kisses you cheek and forehead before handing you a small black card and saying "give me a show of everything you buy when I get home, hm?"

arthritis may be fast approaching but those hips do not slow

(jk she's only in her late thirties, and you know for a fact the extent of working out she does keeps her joints in check)

in fact she gives the best strap game. the experience and the variety of expensive toys and the regular gym routine = 🤩

always her arm candy

every once in a while after lovingly gazing at you for a little too long, looking at your soft supple thighs, pink lipstick coated lips and shiny hair cascading beautifully from your head. she feels insecure?

it's an odd feeling.

an unfamiliar feeling.

but Ellie is mature, it's one thing you admire about herand she knows that a problem won't be resolved unless she talks to you.

so she does, and as soon as the voices of concern fall from her lips, you soon put those thoughts to rest <333

she does the same to you!!

it was a normal day, you woke up to a cup of coffee on your bed side, a small pastry from your favorite bakery, a credit card and a note which read:

"Good Morning my love, I completely forgot about the early morning meeting I had today. I got you some pastries as an apology, I'm sorry we can't go shopping today like we planned, but here's my card and the driver can take you to the mall.

Love you pretty girl, Ellie x"

•••••••

it was a while later when Joel, your driver, pulled up outside the office building, you thanked him swiftly and walked quickly towards the automatic doors of 'Williams Enterprises Headquarters', expensive jimmy choo heels clicking against the concrete entrance. The security guard, Bob, nodded his head in greeting and you returned the gesture with a smile.

The receptionist was... different. the usual blonde haired girl was replaced by a middle aged woman with greying hair, deep set wrinkles imbedded in pale skin. "Hi what can I do for you today?" a high squeaky voice came from her mouth. a tone of voice you knew from years of retail work and customer service, you winced instinctively.

"Hi, I'm here to see Miss Williams." you reply, fingers tightening on the strap of the mulberry purse Ellie had gifted you for your 2nd anniversary a few months passed.

"hmmm. I don't see you on the schedule, do you have an appointment?" she smiled, the fakeness clear and tone of voice irritated.

"oh, uhm no. I'm her girlfriend" silence. the fake smile plastered on the woman's face falling, as she looked over behind her to a colleague who nodded in confirmation of the story you had given her.

"sorry if this is intrusive kid, but aren't you a little young." she spoke, and chewed a piece of him you hadn't noticed before rather obnoxiously. "I mean I can tell you're..." her eyes scanned your frame "reaping the benefits."

"I mean, god I can't blame you" she continued " if I had the looks and youth I once did I would happily suck off anyone for chanel. Now tell me doll, how much surgery has Mrs. Williams paid for you to have done, surely those tits aren't real?"

you quickly brushed past her, ignoring the intrusive questions and stepped into the elevator, pressing the floor Ellie's office resided on.

the site of you immediately brought a smile onto your girlfriend's previously pinched and visibly frustrated face. "Hi pretty girl,", she pushed out her chair from behind her desk, patting her thigh for you to sit on. "Hi Els." the frown you couldn't quite erase from your features furrowed your brows in a way Ellie couldn't ignore.

"What happened baby? you upset with me for leaving earlier?" she asked softly, adjusting you on her lap and kissing your temple. "nah it's not that- I just-" your hands instinctively began playing with Ellie's fingers, twisting the ring on her index finger slowly. "the new lady, in reception. she said something-" you sighed. "and I just can't shake it."

"do you think that, I'm a burden? that the fact I'm so young means I'm leeching off you? I don't want to do that Ells. I like dresses and bags and makeup and you give that to me because you can, but I just- if you ever don't want to buy me stuff, please tell me Ells, I don't want to take and take and take when you don't want me to."

a soft chuckle shook Ellie's chest "pretty girl, look at me. The reason I work is to spoil you, the reason I go to these bullshit meetings with these stuckup assholes is to give you and me a life where money is no object. I love you sweet girl" she kissed your plush lips, the tension seemingly draining out of your body at the touch.

"now, which receptionist said that?"

•••••••••

A/N: cute little hc and drabble to get me back into the swing of things.

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[mysticmoosenger]

⋆｡⋆𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚖 (pt 1) ⋆⋆୨୧˚

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⊹₊⁺⋆.˚ 𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊⊹.✫・゜・。.

and what are the odds? you send me a text…

synopsis: after a bad night out you run into a mysterious and sexy as fuck stranger outside the bar who offers you his lighter. the tension is obvious and although he could only exchange a few words with you before being dragged back inside, his brother slips you his number.

wc: 1.1k

themes: lots of tension, eventual smut, weed/joints, both in college, the bar sucks, choso cannot escape his big brother duties

pairings: choso x reader

a/n: this will be a several part series!!! I feel like I was wordy as fuck with this one. I love when fics have a lot of tension in the start but I cant wait to write out the smut for this hehe. so excited to be back and writing again now that im a senior in college and actually have some free time since im not cramming with gen eds. so excited to graduate.

˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚

●・○・●・○・●

The music was deafening at the bar, your friends were chatting amongst themselves, and your social battery was dying quick. Yes, you loved nights out, but you were also no where near drunk enough to be enjoying random sweaty blacked out strangers brushing against you. Your friends were all wasted and too caught up in their conversations to realize you had left. You originally thought that a few moments in the bathroom would be a decent option, but looking over at the line proved otherwise. You quickly feel around in your pocket to double check that you still have your ID and start slipping away from your group towards the back door. This wasn’t new for you, and you knew your friends would know exactly where to find you anyway.

Weaving through the crowd, your shoes sticking to the floor, you eventually push yourself to the back entrance. Even the door knob is sticky. You note to yourself how impossible it feels to do this sober as you grip the door handle and exit the hazy bar. As you make your way across the alleyway you pull out a joint from your back pocket and reach for the lighter in your bra.

As if your night couldn’t get more terrible, you realize that your lighter is no where to be found. You slump against the cold brick of the building next door as you debate just heading home early. Yes, it is only 11pm, and no, nothing could convince you that this could get enjoyable.

As you are pulling out your phone to send a quick text to your friends to let them know you would be heading home, the door opens again, the music filling the alleyway. You glance up, making eye contact with one of the most beautiful strangers you have ever seen.

His hair is dark and a bit disheveled, one of his spikey buns hanging loosely to the side, brushing against his pierced ear. His face is perfectly chiseled with a really hot tattoo across his nose. With messy black eyeliner framing his eyes, he looks back up after closing the door. The eye contact lingered for a bit longer than normal, causing you both to take an extra breath to collect yourselves.

He looks like he was in a bit of a rush, but he got quickly distracted after seeing you. He approaches you and you immediately feel a sharp throb head straight down to your pussy. He glances at the joint in your hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a dark purple lighter.

“Need a light?”, he breathes, getting closer to you and offering it up. You reach out and take it, your hand brushing against his, sending what feels equivalent to a lightning bolt across your body. “This cannot be real…” you think, watching as he moves to lean against the wall beside you.

Internally, you are panicking. This beautiful man beside you, basically eye-fucking you? Are you dreaming? He looks you up and down, his glance lingering on your chest and collarbones, leading up to your neck and lips. He raises his gaze to make some of the most intense eye contact you have ever seen.

“Thanks, you saved me”, you say in what feels like a whisper, prying your eyes away from his to raise the joint to your lips, clicking the lighter. The wind was getting funneled down the alley, making lighting the joint basically impossible. He notices and gets closer, raising his hands to help block the wind. Taking your first drag, you can feel his intense gaze focusing on your face. You offer him a puff, which he accepts, his long slender fingers taking the now-lit joint from your hands. Wow… this man is angelic.

The addition of a peaceful high doesn’t do anything but make the obvious tension between you both even worse. He starts, “Have you been here before? I’ve never seen you, I’d probably remember if I have.”

You glance from his eyes to his lips that are busy breathing in the smoke, replying, “Only a few times, I prefer the bar closer to campus but my friends really like this one.”

He nods and raises his hand to your lips, holding the joint for you to take another drag. Fuck, this guy is so sexy. Before you can say anything else, the back door slams open, a shorter man with light pink hair and a stressed expression on his face quickly walks up to the handsome stranger.

He raises his eyebrows and scolds the man beside you, “Choso! Where were you going? You left me alone to deal with Gojo! Really man? He’s wasted and won’t stop taking shots and blowing his money on buying them for girls! Come on man!!”, grabbing him by the wrist and ripping him away from you.

While he was stressed and in a rush, it’s not like he could ignore the obvious moment of tension he had interrupted. After shoving Choso back through the door and into the crowd, he turns back and quickly asks, “What’s your number? Not for me, for my brother. I saw that all and I’m not one to cockblock.”

You blush at the acknowledgement and exchange phones with him, typing your number into his phone which was open to a previous conversation with Choso, followed by at least 10 frantic texts asking where he was. You hit send, your number going straight to Choso. The man nods and takes his phone back, giving you back yours, with a newly added contact. He nearly runs back inside, giving you a quick smile and wink before closing the door.

You feel starstruck for a minute, staring at your phone and turning to walk down the alleyway to the street. Before you can even look up, you get an immediate text from Choso, “hey, what’s your name?”

-

You unlock your apartment door and enter, still glued to your phone, rereading all of the texts exchanged in the past hour. Your blush is nearly taking over your whole body as you set your phone down on the counter to heat up something to eat.

After a few minutes you look back at the now bright screen with a notification that reads, “what are you up to tomorrow? coffee after class?”

The breath empties from your lungs and your cheeks nearly burn off as you type your response, “yeah I’d love to, does 6 at the library’s Starbucks work?”

˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚

a/n: hope u enjoyed that!! I love a lot of tension in fics, it makes the eventual smut sooooo much better. stay tuned for pt. 2! It’ll be up by the end of the week. lmk how u like the fic! my ask box is open as well for any other requests or comments!

[vicariousresearcher]

You're a girl in one of those reverse gloryholes but for your first day you got put up on the high shelf.

afab reader, oral (f.recieving), prositution, glory hole, first time ever writing smut so be prepared for that.

--------

It was noisy. Much more than you’d think it would be. Then again it would be weird for it to be quiet.

High-pitched, performative moans taken straight out of a porn film. You had checked that this joint (didn’t) have a camera in the corner just in case this was, in fact, a porn film.

The leather you laid on had long warm, hamstrings sore from being spread and extended up. Loose straps are secured around your ankles. You kept swishing your legs from side to side because there was nothing to do up here.

When you signed up for this you’d thought you’d have at least gotten some action but they put you on this high shelf. Something about getting used to the positioning or whatever.

What was going to take getting used to was how damn boring this was. A couple of gropes here, lewd comments there, and if you got lucky-a couple of clumsy fingers fumbling their way around your clit before you were left for a girl actually at hip level.

Hard, slow footsteps picked themselves out of the puddle of sounds. Someone was coming over to your sad corner of dryness.

A hot breath on the inside of your thigh was the first different thing. Calloused fingers spreading your lips was the second.

“Oh, you poor thing.” A gruff voice spoke from behind the curtain that draped over your belly. A thin barrier to stop you from seeing who was inspecting your holes. So neglected you weren’t even wet in a place where grunts and moans drowned out everything else. Must’ve been such torture.

You felt a glob of saliva hit you as he dragged his fingers through it. Skimming over your entrance and working it into your clit with lazy circles.

He heard you sigh from your side of the curtain. The muscles in your legs visibly relaxing. Truly you had been abandoned by being put up on the high shelf. Not a cock fed into your mouth or cunt to keep you satiated. 

He took it slow-too slow in your opinion. Had you clenched and unclenching your fists to avoid not reaching down and grabbing at him.

But oh he knew what he was doing. One hand working at your clit, the other groping at your ass. Mouth pressed against the inside of your thigh. He must be very tall, you concluded. Tall enough not only to reach you but to peck almost up to your knee.

You were drooling onto the leather pad below by the time he let those kisses drift down. Juices glisten off your cunt. So much better than when he found you. 

Scruff rubbed against the fat of your ass as he plunged his tongue into its crevice. Licking a fat stripe all the way up only to go back down. Like a starved dog with its first meal in a week.

You couldn’t decide if his mouth was that of a very experienced man or one who hadn’t had the touch of a woman in years.

Fuck it was almost good enough. His tongue was warm and kept lapping over your entrance. Gummy walls clamping down in anticipation with each brush. You just needed a little bit more-

Your hand got slapped away when you reached it down to finger at your clit. 

Your huff of annoyance was cut short when his mouth latched around your bud. Jolting you into a half-sitting position. You could've sworn you heard a low chuckle when that mouth unlatched. If only you could under that thin little curtain, get your fingers into his hair and grind his mouth into you properly.

Gathering the wetness that was leaking from your pussy on his fingers, he pushed into you. Tongue still working at your clit while he dug in deep. Scissoring his fingers till he found that spongy spot that made you jump.

Embarrassingly loud squelches joined the cacophony of noises. Mewls and moans of your own came out when he prodded the blunt ends of his fingertips against your cervix.

You kept expecting him to pull back at some point a girl to open up and his attention to be drawn away only for you to be left high and definitely not dry.

But his small, strained grunts weren’t just from having his head buried between your legs but his free hand fishing his cock out of his jeans. Fisting it clumsily with his non-dominant hand because you deserved all the grace he could manage. 

The head all red and angry as he tried to imagine his cock where his fingers were. How much stronger you’d clamp down on its girth rather than just two digits. How much louder would your noises be? What if you didn’t have those cuffs around your ankles? Would you lock them around his hips to keep him from pulling out?

Fuck just the idea had him lapping at your cunt like the dog he was. Not even realizing you were at the edge till you let out a cry and thighs pressed against the sides of his face.

He pulled back, panting. Admiring how you strained against the cuffs to clamp your legs together. Thighs quivering while he could see how the curtain raised and fell with your pants as you came down from the orgasm.

Looking down at that photo of you plastered along the wall, he could only imagine how perfect you look right now.

You felt his fat hand pat your stomach as if to say ‘good job’ before disappearing back to his side of the curtain. The sound of him zipping back up his jeans and redoing his belt was barely audible through the fog in your brain.

It was only after he left that you processed the crumpled receipt left on your belly. Chicken scratch resembling a number on it. ————— This was initially a 141 thing rather than a Simon thing but my smut skills are not high enough for more than one person it seems. Maybe I’ll do a continuation of this with multiple but on a low shelf. Not sure yet.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 3: Public Sex

Summary: A night of revelry is almost too tempting for your vampire companion...so tempting he may just not be able to wait to indulge himself. Warnings: Public sex, making out, fingering, reader is female, mentions of a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. I am not responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @fraugwinska. Go check out their joint Kinktober list with a few other amazing authors!

In the dimly lit corner of the Elfsong tavern, laughter mingled with the smell of roasting meat and spilled ale. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows on the wooden beams, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere; perfect after a long journey for the group. While the East End of Baldur’s Gate was by no means pristene, since the defeat of Netherbrain, a good relaxing night on the town is what the party needed. 

Astarion sat at a table, his striking features accentuated by the golden glow of the firelight. His usual air of nonchalance was tinged with something different tonight: intrigue. Across the room, you twirled in a graceful dance, laughter ringing like silver bells as you swung around the room with Karlach. Your eyes sparkled, catching the light as you spun; emerald garb shimmering with each movement. The other patrons watched, entranced by your jubilant smile, but none could compete with the way Astarion looked at you. While you and he had traveled together since the beginning and even spurred on a possible romance, you had not yet crossed the constantly toed line between frienship and something more. He leaned back in his chair, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. You had a way of lighting up the room, transforming the mundane into something magical; an uninhibited spirit that made even the hardest of hearts feel lighter. As you danced, eyes sparkling with mirth, it was drawing him in like a moth to flame.

Beside him, Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink. “You seem rather taken, Astarion,” she teased, a smirk on her lips.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, “She’s captivating.”

As if sensing his gaze, you paused your dance with Karlach and locked eyes with Astarion. A soft smile spread across your face, and you beckoned him to join in the revelry with a wave. The moment hung in the air, charged with an electric tension that sent a thrill through him. He rose, adjusting his collar with a practiced elegance, and made his way to the dance floor, the warmth of the tavern wrapping around him like a cloak. When he reached you, a wide grin spread across your features, eyes alight with excitement. 

“I was wondering when you’d join me,” you quipped, pulling him into the dance. The rhythm of the music pulsed through the tavern, filling the air with a joyous melody. Astarion found himself lost in the moment, his usual reservations melting away as he moved with you.

He was surprised by how easily he joined in, his body swaying to the beat. You led him with a playful confidence and he couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly you drew everyone’s attention, how you seemed to thrive in the spotlight. Made sense since you were now the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Every twirl, every step was filled with a grace that both captivated and inspired him.

“See? Not so hard, is it?” you teased, her voice rising just above the music. 

“Hardly,” he replied, smirking. “I am an expert dancer. I merely needed the right partner.”

With a playful tug, you spun him around, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside the tavern faded away. He was no longer a vampire spawn hiding in the shadows, no longer a companion on a long and harrowing journey; he was simply Astarion, swept up in the exhilaration of the dance and the warmth of your presence.

As the music reached a crescendo, you pull him closer, faces mere inches apart; as your hot breath fans his face. A warmth forgein to his long dead body. “You know,” voice low and inviting, “there’s something charming about seeing you let loose.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Charming? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Absolutely,” you reply with a wink. 

And that is how the both of you ended up in the back corner of the tavern, you perched on Astarions lap as you relentlessly continued his assualt on your neck and collarbone. Perfect little dark purple marks now covered your neck, surely not disappearing anytime soon. Growling lowly against your neck, the vampire couldn’t help but inhale the sweet aroma of your blood and arousal blending, blinding his senses. 

“You smell so perfect for me, pet. Utterly divine…” 

Slowly trailing his fingers down the seams of your dress, Astarion is pleasently surpised to find a wet spot forming on your undergarments. Teasingly rubbing against the offending material, you can’t help but let out soft moans of appreciation at his ministrations. Grip tightening on his shoulders, you rock subtley into his hand; wanting to garner any amount of friction that you were so desperate for. 

“Hush now my sweet…we don’t want to alert the masses to our little escapade do you? No, no…this is only for me.”

Quieting your noises, you whimper softly as he slips his fingers past your underwear to slip two fingers into your drenched hole. He could feel how tight you were, how desperately you squeezed him; so needy for his touch and affection that he could swear that your cunt was made solely for his enjoyment. Pumping in and out, soft squelching noises hidden by the continued music and dancing around the tavern, no one paid the two of you any mind; turning a blind eye to your activities. 

Smirking, Astarion sped up, his fingers now curling and hitting that delicious spot inside you that nearly had you screaming; as a result, you slam your lips onto his as a way to quiet yourself. Pulling back and resting your head on his shoulder, panting wildly as your squirmed ontop of him; the coil in your stomach became taught as he continued his relentless pace. 

“That’s it, pet…let me see how pretty you are when you cum.”

The coil in your stomach snapped as you felt a blinding hot flash of liquid pour out of your overstimulated pussy, soaking Astarion’s hand in your release as he continues to pump into you; working you through your high. After a moment, letting you catch your breath, Astarion removes his fingers and wipes them inconspicously on his trousers. 

“Want to get out of here love?”

Let’s just say you came four times that night and couldn’t walk the next day…not that you minded of course. 

[aether-starlight]

Auscultation- Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x Reader

Warnings: None. Brief mention of poor eating habits.

Summary: You come to the hospital for a check-up regarding a past shoulder dislocation. 

Word Count: 1k

Note: This is a continuation of Mending, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Zayne was talking. Or at least, his mouth was moving. 

Instead of paying attention, you were being haunted, once again, by the memory of him. The ghost of his hand over your cheek, his perfume, and the tension of his proximity. 

You wondered if he could tell you were distracted, or if he noticed the entranced stare you gave his lips every once in a while. They reminded you of his breath brushing your ear, of his palm pressed over your eyes, cool and steady.

Until an unexpected statement broke through your fixation.

“I will need you to remove your jacket.” 

If you hadn’t known him for such a long time, the tense set of his jaw may have slipped your notice, just like the slight clearing of his throat. 

Was he angry you were distracted?

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Okay.”

It was a quick removal. After all, one of your arms was in a sling, so the leather jacket was only wrapped around your shoulder.

Having supposed something like this would be necessary —this wasn’t your first dislocation, unfortunately—, you had brought a top, which meant the only barrier between your joint and his hands was a menial string. 

And you were not nervous about that. Nope. Not at all.

You stifled a shiver at the low temperature of the room and sat on the stretcher in a swift motion—being a hunter had its perks, it made you agile, even with an injured arm.

“I’m going to examine the area,” Zayne’s voice was soft, almost breathless as his hands hovered over the space where your shoulder met your neck.

You smacked your lips together and felt yourself relax just a little. 

“Okay.” 

His fingers were as cold as the room, startling you when they gently pulled the string of your top out of the way. 

You gasped.

“Forgive me,” he said, avoiding your gaze at all costs. 

His hand hovered over your skin, giving you a second to adjust. 

“It’s fine, Doctor Zayne.” 

You quite liked calling him that, liked the nervous edge to his voice when you did.

“Does this hurt?” He pressed down the pads of his fingers with moderate force.

“Not really,” you hummed. If anything, it felt kind of nice.

Zayne cleared his throat once more, shifting his grip to your forearm. 

Your heart rushed at the slide of his skin over yours, goosebumps rising in its wake.  It reminded you of holding his hand, the way the scars on his knuckles had felt as you brushed your thumb over them.

“Your iron levels were below average in your last check-up. Have you been eating well?” He asked.

Now it was time for you to be nervous.

“Of course,” you lied, lowering your gaze to his tie. 

Like everything concerning him, it was freakishly neat, with an understated geometric pattern in shades of gray. 

He probably measured it with a ruler before buying it. You pictured it: his unforgiving focus, the concentrated tilt of his mouth as he gripped it between lithe fingers. 

Unfortunately, said focus was now drilling a hole into your head.

“Fine, I may have skipped meals, you know I forget to eat sometimes.” 

“I suppose I should be grateful you don’t forget to breathe,” he quipped. 

“You are so prickly, you know that?” 

You played with his stethoscope with your free hand, following the bob of his Adam’s apple with a satisfied smirk. 

“I’m not prickly,” he denied. “I’m serious. Does this hurt?”

He gently rotated your arm, slow in his movement.

“And I’m not? Doesn’t hurt.” 

He gave you a loaded look, resting your hand back on your lap.

You mercilessly stifled the disappointment that rose at the pit of your stomach when he let go.

“Wouldn’t be the first word I used to describe you, no.”

You pressed the stethoscope’s bell to his chest, earpieces already in place. 

“Wow, your heart is beating pretty fast, are you sure you’re not the one with the heart pro—“

“Would you quit that?” He interrupted, sounding somewhere between amused and irritated as he unwrapped your fingers from around the bell. “It’s not a toy.”

“Sorry,” you fidgeted with the tubing before passing it to him.

“What’s with you today?” 

“Can’t help it,” you beamed. “Too much coffee.” 

Zayne tucked a strand of your hair back, stifling a groan of frustration. He was a weak, weak man.

When his palm curled around the shell of your ear, cradling it like something precious, he surely knew abstaining from temptation was a lost cause.

It was now warm, absorbing the heat of your skin. As soon as you left, his hands would probably run back cold. 

Somehow, that thought made something unpleasant unfurl within your chest. It felt malleable and elastic, it wanted to stretch itself and pull him close.

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” He asked, voice low. 

The whole world could be crashing down outside, Wanderers running rampant, and you wouldn’t know.

You let out a stuttered breath.

“What do you want to do with me?” 

It was meant to come across as teasing but crumbled halfway into something nearly hopeful.

The heat in your eyes snapped Zayne out of it, clearing the cloudiness from the hematite and amber in his gaze.

He stepped back, returning to the haven of his desk, where he closed your file with finality.

“Your shoulder seems to be healing well. I recommend you watch it closely and let me know if any discomfort appears.” You had never heard his voice so close to shaking.

“Zayne.” You stood from the examination table, feeling on edge.

“That was unprofessional of me. I’m sorry.” 

“What is it?” You insisted.

There was something between you, a wall that he carefully built. 

It became eroded with every interaction, shortened into something almost letting you peek into the other side, but never quite enough.

Your chest ached and it was ironic because nowadays you couldn’t always tell if it was from emotion or the Protocore fragments in it.

Zayne sunk into his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. The room’s temperature dropped, ice spreading against the glass of the window behind him.

“Zayne—” 

Your hand hovered by him, eager to provide any comfort you could offer, but his body language made you doubt. 

He was still hunched over himself, face turned away from you. The hand that wasn’t covering his face was closed in a fist, frost forming over his knuckles.

“Please…” he breathed out your name. “I need time.”

Your mind drifted back to when you fought that wanderer together, the way the whole room had frozen over afterward, his urgent insistence for you to leave.

“Okay,” you gave in, stumbling back. “Whatever it is, you know I’ll wait for you.”

[sunrisesfromthewest]

Playing Hard To Get Pt 2

Summary: The aftermath of the club left you bruised, agitated and with a little more pocket change. Although you didn't get exempt from completing your report......you're not exactly by yourself when everyone excepts you and Armando leaves to go home.

Warnings: Guns | Rated R Words | N-word used | Suggestive language and actions

Previous Part: Pt 1

Thanks for the Armando pictures @yeahnohoneybye 💓💓

Watching multiple women walk out the back had everyone on their toes as they didn’t see you among them, but hearing one of the dancers say something along the lines of how BP was about to go crazy had Armando alarmed.

Beckoning one of the women over he sees her glance at her friend with a smirk before walking towards him with a sway.

Acting as if he was interested, he lets her dance a bit before questioning her about all the girls coming from the back.

“You see that pretty thang from earlier perform.”

Humming he waits for her next reply, hands practically itching to push her off of him.

“BP likes to get a taste from newcomers but don't worry about that baby we can have our own fun as well."

Before he had time to even react to her words, gunshots go off causing the whole club to erupt in chaos. Pushing the girl away he quickly pulls out his gun from underneath his shirt and head towards the dressing room.

“What the hell was that!” Rafe yells over the still loud music and screams of the once vibrant club patrons.

"Sounds like it came from the back room!" Armando responded.

Shooting a few bodyguards, he hops onto the stage and runs towards the direction that you exited through a few moments earlier.

Gun drawn he walks through the short hallway, senses heightened from the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

"You one brave Bitch to think you could just pull a gun on me!" Big Papa shouts, keeping a tight hold on your bruising wrist as he fights against you.

Turning the corner, Armando entered the room just as the suspects manages to backhand and disarm you. Falling back into the wall vanity, you groan at the stinging sensation from the impact.

"Don't you make a fucking move!" Armando ordered, shifting his gaze between you and the suspect.

"OH, I see now your ass five-o!" he growled, keeping your gun trained on you as the other entrance opens to reveal the squad entering with their guns aimed at the man.

"Put the gun down, you don't want to add more to your charges or worse leave out of here in a damn body bag!" Mike insisted, moving forward a few steps.

Reaching out a hand behind your back, you pat the hard surface in search of a weapon to defend yourself.

"Nah y'all pigs done came in and fuck up my joint and you think a nigga leaving here in handcuffs......fuck that shit!" Raged BP as he tightens his grip on the weapon.

"Shit! This nigga finna crash out, we need to do something now!" Marcus yelled keeping his gun on the suspect.

Making eye contact with Armando, you see him widen his eyes and mouth no as you grab your discarded purse.

"I'LL SHOW YOU A FUCKING CRASH OU-" before he could finish you hit his wrist hard with your purse and slam your heels into his groin area.

Dropping the gun, he falls to his knees clutching his private, while cursing you out with a high pitch voice.

Lunging forward you grab your gun and press it against his sweating forehead, "WHO'S THE MOTHERFUCKING BITCH NOW HUH!"

Shifting your agitated eyes up you see all the men staring with a pain-stricken expression.

"Damn Y/N I ain't think you was gonna do all that!" Armando gulped, slipping handcuffs around the groaning suspects wrists.

"What I have to work with what I got and plus he fucked up my weave!" you explained, removing your gun from BPs head to put on your silk robe.

Arriving at the precinct, you sit down in your chair and place your sparkling heeled feet on top of your desk. While setting your small tote in your lap to double check that no money didn’t fall out after using it as a weapon.

"Y/N I can't let you keep that." Rita stated walking over to you to collect the money for evidence.

"Come on Rita, the man messed up my hair and I'll consider this as compensation y'all know my beautician isn't cheap!"

Laughing Kelly steps in,“Hey! Y/N put that work in on that pole, she deserves every penny!"

Muttering thank you; you continue to count your money while smacking Rafe's hand away as he tries to steal a bill and pointing your heeled feet at Dorn's approaching form.

"Aye I'm just coming to collect that twenty you owe me.”

Smacking your lips you remove your feet from the desk and scoot forward to hand him his change, "Y'all bet not start that 'You owe' me mess, at least wait till I get my hair done."

"Only thing I want is you, baby."

Turning your chair in Armandos direction you give him a small glare as you watch him cross his arms while leaning against his desk with a smirk.

"Like I said tell that to your little work girlfriend."

"And Like I told you......I just did."

Moving away from his desk, he walks over to stand in front of your sitting form causing you to peer up at him with raised brows. Placing his hand on your arm rest he cages you in and leans his lips towards your left ear.

"Second warning, princess."

Shifting away from his warm looming figure, you gaze into his brown eyes and briefly peer down at his dangling chain.

"Those warnings don't mean nothing to me." you commented, leaning back some more to catch his reaction.

Blinking down at you Armando traces his eyes down your face, "You’ll learn after you receive your third one." he replied in a low tone, before standing back upright and walking back to his desk.

Shivering from his words , you glanced around to see the team gazing between you and Armando awkwardly.

"I thought we was still at the strip club for a second." Marcus mutters as he and Mike heads to the breakroom.

Right when you turn to your desk to start your report, you feel a bill being snatched from the stack in your hand and seeing a familiar tattooed form dash by had you growling out their name.

"Rafe! You luck my feet hurt to damn much to chase after you!" You shouted, quickly sticking your money into your bag and placing it into your drawer.

As time passes by you continue to fill out the information from tonight's case with tired eyes, everyone had already finished theirs and left......well except for Armando who was currently typing away on his computer.

Yawning you get up to walk towards the breakroom, bare aching feet being soothed by the cold tiles of the precinct floors.

Entering the room, you make a beeline straight towards the coffee machine and after pressing a few buttons you hop onto the counter beside it as the machine works it magic.

Closing your eyes you release a content sigh from the smell of the beverage beginning to waft through the air but while you take in this peaceful moment you failed to notice Armando's approaching figure.

Feeling hands brush against your thighs had you jumping and shooting your eyes open, only to relax a bit when you see Armando standing in front of you.

Running his hands down your exposed shimmering legs, he pushes them apart to stand in between them.

"Why you keep fighting against this?"

"Against what?" you asked stopping the movement of his tan hands, already feeling yourself becoming hot just from his simple touch.

“The possibility of us.” Armando answered, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter while keeping a soft grip on the back of your knees.

"I already told you before I'm not interested."

"You're saying one thing, but your body says another, mami." he remarked, moving his hand under your robe, and playful pulling at your thong strap.

Rolling your eyes, you try to scoot away from his overwhelming figure but his grip on your hips keeps you in place.

"What are yo-"

"Tell me if you want me to stop." he stated, cutting you off while pressing his front against yours.

"Arma-" before you could utter his name, your mouth drops open as he begins to press firm hot kisses down your exposed neck.

Mind becoming scattered you don't know whether to keep him close or push him away.

"Use your words baby.... let me know if you want me to stop." he muttered pressing his warm lips against your soft ones.

Digging your nails into his firm shoulders,he wraps your thick brown legs around his waist causing you to moan into the kiss.

However, the sensation of his hard covered member grinding against your thin thong had you pushing at his firm chest, "W -wait, Armando!"

Freezing his movements he sucks in a deep breath, staring you down hungrily while waiting for you to speak.

The nerves in your belly were going crazy from the way his intense dilated eyes trail down to your partially opened robe.

Looking back up he sees the dazed look on your face making him gently grab your right hand.

"Don't go quiet on me Y/N," he breathed bringing his lips to your bruised wrist.

"Tell me what's on your mind, baby."

Shaking away the lustful thoughts clouding your brain, you use your other manicured hand to move him back.

"You really wanna know what's on my mind?" you smirked, hopping off the counter and turning your attention to the coffee machine.

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't." he taunted, rolling his lower half against your ass,resulting in you gripping the counter to prevent yourself from meeting his movements.

Wrapping his arms around your waist,he gives your flushed brown cheek a kiss and reaches a hand down to play with the strap keeping your robe together.

"Just thinking about how you went all day ignoring me and trying to make me jealous but the minute you seen me twirling on that pole you went back to begging." you commented, fixing you and him a cup of much needed coffee.

"Ain’t nobody was begging sweetheart,I was just simply returning the same energy you been giving to me." he growled ,extending his hand to grab the cup you prepared for him while releasing you from his hold.

"Oh yeah and what was that."

"Teasing me as if you want to take this to the next level but then acting like I'm just a 'colleague'. " Armando explained, keeping his eyes on you while taking a sip of the hot beverage.

"Oh, you're so cute to think that's how I tease." you added, heading back to your desk,no longer interested in drinking your coffee.

Following after you amused, he watches you log out your computer and gather your things.

Causing him to turn his attention to his own desk to complete the same motions.

Missing the sight of you sliding a certain piece of clothing down your glittering legs.

"If what you been showing me this whole time wasn’t your form of teasing then I can’t even imagi-”

Before he could finish, a soft material hits the side of his head making him freeze on the spot as his eyes land on your thong.

" See ya on Monday!" you purred, walking fast to the front of the precinct.

Snatching up the discarded thong and stuffing it into his pocket; he grabs his few belongings and quickly chase after your retreating figure with newfound desire.

"Your gonna learn to stop running from things you start, Y/N!"

Author’s Note🎙️:Hope you guys enjoyed I had to dig deep on Pinterest for that visual of Y/N stripper outfit😭 and I got carried away with typing a Mike Lowrey x reader one-shot😁.

Let me know if I should do one more part to this ⬆️.

Tag-list: @poppetbaby02 @livirosa@dyttomori @cibresworld @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @theclownmimi @blackgirlmagicforever @3amvaiya @thesizzler @bitchyglittersuit @leahnicole1219 @babywinter @housewifewithnohusband22 @undevidedattentionsblog @delusionalbutterfly @ky44 @thatwassofetch @pandorafrost @yeahnohoneybye

[afeelgoodblog]

Best News of Last Week - July 3, 2023

🐕 - This dog is 'disc'-overing hidden treasures! Get ready for the 'paws'-itively successful fundraiser, Daisy's Discs!

1. Most unionized US rail workers now have new sick leave

More than 60% of U.S. unionized railroad workers at major railroads are now covered by new sick leave agreements, a trade group said Monday.

Last year railroads came under fire for not agreeing to paid sick leave during labor negotiations.

2. Missing teen found after being lost in the wilderness for 50 hours

Esther Wang, 16, had been hiking with three other people through the Maple Ridge park on Tuesday.

The group made it to Steve’s lookout around 2:45 p.m. that day.However, when they headed back down to the campsite, after about 15 minutes of hiking, the group leader realized Wang was missing. They returned to the lookout to look for Wang but couldn’t find her. The leader headed to the trail entrance to notify a park ranger and police.

“Esther Wang has been located. She’s healthy, she is happy and she’s with family.”

3. A dog has retrieved 155 discs from woods. They’ll be on sale soon, with proceeds going to the park in West Virginia where they were found

Meet Daisy, the yellow Labrador retriever with a unique talent for finding lost Frisbee golf discs at Grand Vue Park in West Virginia. Four years ago, while on a walk with her owner Kelly Mason, Daisy discovered a disc in the woods and proudly brought it back. Since then, Daisy's obsession with finding stray discs has grown, and she has collected an impressive cache of 155 discs.

Mason and park officials have now come up with a plan to return the discs to their owners if they are labeled, and any unclaimed discs will be sold as a fundraiser to support the park's disc golf courses. Daisy's Discs is expected to be a success, with many excited about the possibility of recovering their lost discs thanks to Daisy's remarkable skills.

4. Australian earless dragon last seen in 1969 rediscovered in secret location

A tiny earless dragon feared to be extinct in the wild has been sighted for the first time in more than 50 years – at a location that is being kept secret to help preservation efforts.

The Victorian grassland earless dragon, Tympanocryptis pinguicolla, has now been rediscovered in the state, according to a joint statement issued by the Victorian and federal Labor governments on Sunday.

5. Detroit is going to power 100% of its municipal buildings with solar

All of Detroit’s municipal buildings are going to be powered by neighborhood solar as part of the city’s efforts to combat climate change – check out the city’s cool grassroots plan. Meet Detroit Rock Solar City.

The city has determined that it’s going to need around 250 acres of solar panels in order to achieve 100% solar power for its municipal buildings.

6. Canada Officially Bans Cosmetic Testing on Animals

The fight for cruelty-free beauty in Canada has seen a significant breakthrough as the Canadian government legislates a full ban on cosmetic animal testing and trade, marking a victory for Animal rights advocates and eco-conscious consumers.

This landmark decision is part of the Budget Implementation Act (Bill C-47), not only prohibiting cosmetic animal testing but also putting an end to the sale of cosmetics that use new animal testing data for safety substantiation.

7. Belize certified malaria-free by WHO

The World Health Organization (WHO) has certified Belize as malaria-free, following the country’s over 70 years of continued efforts to stamp out the disease.

“WHO congratulates the people and government of Belize and their network of global and local partners for this achievement”, said Dr Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, WHO Director-General. “Belize is another example of how, with the right tools and the right approach, we can dream of a malaria-free future.”

----

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Support this newsletter ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog.

[narraboths]

i'd like to think you could just walk into a diner in national city and see supergirl (costume and all, no fucks given) and lena luthor making out like teenagers in a corner booth

[Ao3]

The first time Supergirl comes to The Intergalactic, she’s thrown straight through its glass doors by a giant space lizard.

It’s really not how Ellie imagined meeting the city’s superhero. It’s not that she thought she’d actually ever meet Supergirl, least of all at work. Tucked away in a side-street near National City University and surviving in a cramped space, with minimal staff, and decor left from the beginning of the Space Age, The Intergalactic mostly sees harried college students and late-night party-goers in need of some fuel. Alien attacks and billowing capes are usually not on the menu.

She has no time to be disappointed by the circumstances of their chance meeting, though. She cannot feel anything beyond absolute terror, really, given the giant space lizard that just made the Girl of Steel demolish their sleepy burger joint’s entrance.

But then, Supergirl climbs back to her feet as she always does, shoulders squared, arms raised, ready to fight. She winces a little at the damage, shooting an apologetic smile towards Ellie before she’d fly up up and away, dragging the lizard into the sky with her. The sight of it is so fucking cool that for a second, Ellie is even distracted from the absolute wreckage around her.

(Then, her shoes almost catch fire and she’s brought back to the cold, hard, rubble-covered ground of reality.)

Later, when the news reports are loud with praise for another successful Super-save, and Ellie has managed to sweep up most of the broken glass and endured a hysterical call from her boss, Supergirl touches down in front of their doors again.

“Hello,” she waves with a little smile. She still has soot marks on her face, but she stands tall, impossibly dashing. “I’m very sorry for the commotion,” she says, before Ellie could even process the fact that the hero of National City is at her doorstep, again, engaging with her in casual conversation. “I just wanted to check in and see if everyone here was alright.”

“You just fought with an alien lizard,” Ellie blurts out, and Supergirl shrugs, in a hey, just another day on the job kinda way.

“Dracokardosian, actually. Doesn’t matter,” she adds quickly, then plants her hands on her hips. The Super-pose. It makes her shoulders seem even wider, the fabric of her suit straining against her upper arms. Ellie feels giddy. “Listen, I’ll make sure you’ll be reimbursed for the damage, but can I lend a hand with anything?”

“We’re fine, I think. It’s only the storefront that got hit– that you hit. No great damage, no injuries.” Supergirl smiles with palpable relief, and Ellie feels the need to ramble on, to keep her there, to bask in the glory of the superhero a little longer. The smell of still-hot frying oil wafting from the kitchen gives her the prompt before she’d even think about it. “Would you like a burger?”

Supergirl looks at her with a confused frown.

“Aren’t you guys closed up yet?”

“I mean, it’s not like we can really close right now,” Ellie shrugs, gesturing towards the gaping hole where the diner’s entrance used to be. It earns an amused little snort from Supergirl, just enough of a boost for Ellie to press on, heart beating in her throat. “Plus, you’re the only reason the place is still standing at all and I’d really like to be able to brag about having served Supergirl, like how many places get to do that?“

“Well, there’s this great patisserie on Lamarr Ave,” Supergirl says, forehead crinkling in concentration as she mulls over the answer. “And then my regular Chinese place, and this café in Paris–” She cuts herself off with a grin. “Okay, point taken. I would love one. But mind if I fix your door in the meantime?”

Ellie nods so vehemently that she gives herself a headrush.

“It’s a deal.”

Supergirl touches a hand to her earpiece, speaking low and incomprehensible before she’d speed away again and Ellie saunters off to the kitchen.

Inside, Jay is half-napping over the sink. He wakes from his slumber with dark, bleary eyes and stares in disbelief as Ellie rattles off the order, until she tells him it’s for Supergirl. He laughs first (yeah, and I’m the Virgin Mary), then takes a peek outside where Supergirl now busy welding the new doors using her heat vision, with a swarm of nanites hovering nearby for assistance. She stops for a second to wave at them: Ellie feels her heart fluttering and Jay gets all red and sweaty, rushing back to the kitchen and getting to it with such dedication as if the diner making it into the Michelin Guide depended on it.

By the time he’s done, The Intergalactic is sporting a brand new, shiny pair of doors, and Supergirl is sitting in a booth, excitedly drumming on a table with her fingers. Then, one burger swiftly turns into three, plus six sides of fries, two milkshakes, and some fried onions for good measure, Supergirl wolfing it all down at a speed fitting her superhuman appetite. She still finds the time to entertain Ellie and Jay with details of her fight between bites (his name is Spike, he was just scared), joking around with them with such geniality that makes her seem more like one of the nicer jocks from NCU, not a demigod in a supersuit. She’s sunshine personified. She compliments the food about half a dozen times (Jay blushes so hard that his face ends up looking like a ripe tomato), leaves a tip large enough to foot the bill twice, and even though it’s nearing midnight by the time she steps outside, Ellie feels a heavy pang in her heart to watch her leave. Supergirl smiles and waves them goodbye, and Ellie manages to run outside just as she takes off, yelling after her: 

“See you again!”

She thinks she can see Supergirl wink at her before she speeds away.

-

The second time Supergirl visits the diner, it’s been well over a month since the space lizard incident, and Ellie has honestly given up on ever seeing the Girl of Steel in person again. It’s just past the mid-day rush, the diner mostly emptied out, the staff finally getting a breather. She’s busy cleaning the tables in the back when Lev walks up to her, poking her arm.

“Hey, am I tripping, or is that really Supergirl?”

Ellie turns around at lightning speed, just in time to catch Supergirl leaning against the empty counter with a friendly smile.

"Can I get a booth?” She asks, courteously ignoring the way Lev’s jaw is hanging wide open. “Your burgers smell so fantastic, my mouth has been watering all the way from Metropolis.”

Ellie’s shaking with so much nervous energy that she thinks she might start vibrating like the Flash.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever, I’ll be right with you!”

-

Supergirl is, well, just super. 

Her visits to The Intergalactic are infrequent enough that the place doesn’t get hounded by paps, or Super-fans, or any villain of the week; arriving almost always in off-hours, when the place is almost as empty as the street outside. But her appearances are plenty enough for every single member of the staff to fall head over heels in love with her. She turns out to be just as ridiculously kind and nice as the CatCo fluff pieces would have the public believe: always praising the food, being as courteous with the staff as she is game to take selfies with them. She chats with Lev about their college studies, gives Ellie an air-lift when her car breaks down one night. She makes people smile just by walking through the door.

She’s the best part of the job.

-

When Supergirl turns up with Lena Luthor at her side one day, Ellie’s already so used to the outlandishness of their superhero regular that she’s only moderately shaken to see the most notorious public figure of National City striding into the diner with her.

She still almost bites down on her tongue and trips over, because holy shit, Lena Luthor is a sight. There’s always a touch of unreal about Supergirl’s appearance – maybe it’s the suit, maybe it’s the knowledge that she’s an alien, maybe it’s the fact that she always looks like she’s glowing from the inside. Her towering physique and artfully drawn features are awing, but they also seem just right for a superhero.

But Lena Luthor is only an ordinary human, and no ordinary human, all-powerful CEO or not, should look like a Greek goddess personified.

Ellie is so engrossed that she doesn’t even notice at first how Supergirl’s hand is resting on the small of Miss Luthor’s back, how they’re standing so close that their shoulders brush together, Lena Luthor leaning just slightly against the hero.

“Quaint,” she murmurs, low and amused, and though there’s nothing unkind about it, Ellie’s suddenly very aware of how pristine she looks in the middle of their greasy little diner. (Shit, her clothes must be worth more than the whole place.) But then, before she could get flustered, Supergirl snorts, bumping Miss Luthor’s shoulder with a grin.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Their rapport is so charming that at first, it doesn’t even register with Ellie how downright smitten Lena Luthor’s smile is in response to Supergirl’s teasing.

-

Lena Luthor turns out to be super in her own ways. She’s more reserved than Supergirl, more guarded about her appearances, too, but disarmingly nice all the same. The tabloid headlines screaming ice queen and megalomaniac seem more and more ridiculous with every visit – there’s very little that says Mad Luthor about the small, overworked young woman who makes a point of asking about her day and leaves large enough tips that they can refit the whole kitchen with it and fix up the back room.

They keep odd hours those days, though, popping in for early morning coffees, or late, late night snacks. They share a plate more often than not, and the sight of Supergirl stealing a bite off of Lena Luthor’s fork becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence. (In no particular order, so does the following: Lena Luthor’s head resting on Supergirl’s shoulders, eyes fluttered shut; Supergirl leaning forward a little so Lena Luthor can press a goodbye kiss to her cheek before the superhero would fly off with a grin; Lena Luthor wiping some grease from the corner of Supergirl’s mouth with an indescribably fond smile).

It starts feeling like something that’s just meant to be.

-

Ellie doesn’t know whether it’s their first kiss or not when she witnesses it.

She’d never want to pry, either. It’s only by accident that she sees it happen at all. But she does see it, late one night, when Supergirl and Miss Luthor are huddled together in one of the booths in the back.

They look a little tired now – Supergirl’s cape is half off her shoulder, Lena Luthor’s hair let down and a touch messy, jarringly for her usually so put-together appearance – but sweet, too, as they always do, and utterly enamored. Supergirl’s hand is cradling Lena’s chin, Lena’s hands are buried in her golden mane, their lips pressing together gently, both of them smiling radiantly, lost in their own world. Then Lena presses forward a little, pushing Supergirl against her seat, and Ellie turns away with a burning face and starts scrubbing a table so hard that she risks putting a hole through the damn thing, trying to pretend she didn’t hear the breathless, overjoyed laugh echoing through the empty room.

-

It is, strictly speaking, not an issue that National City’s power couple has picked your place of work to be their makeout spot. Supergirl’s still the nicest person alive and Miss Luthor’s tipping habits have only grown more generous. They just take the booth that’s the farthest in the back, Ellie tries not to bother them too much, and if someone catches a glimpse of a red cape or a striking jawline, an emphatic glare and Just be cool, man usually does the trick.

Heroes, they’re just like us.

[aroeddiediaz]

7x04 Coda

Sprained ankles hurt. Eddie shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by the pain, because he knows all too well that the amount of pain injuries feel like is almost inverse with the actual damage they cause. A shot from a sniper felt like almost nothing, while a stubbed toe sends ricochets up his spine.

But that’s nothing compared to the encroaching feeling of dread as Eddie thinks back on his interactions with Buck over the last two weeks, and what might have caused his best friend to lash out at him.

“I think we fucked up,” he grumbles to Tommy, who gives him a quick glance before returning his attention to the road.

“You mean with Evan?” Tommy says.

Evan. That was kind of weird, right? Eddie had only ever heard Buck’s sister and parents call him by his first name before. He’d only used the name once himself, when he told Buck about his will.

But Buck hadn’t corrected Tommy on it, so he must not mind, Eddie supposes.

Eddie shakes that stray thought away.

“Yeah,” he continues, even though talking kind of hurts right now. That didn’t seem fair, it’s Eddie’s ankle that’s injured, not his lungs. “I mean, with me kind of blowing him off to come to that karaoke night… and the UFC fight in Vegas… and the pickup game…”

Looking back on it now, Eddie’s not sure when it all got so out of hand. He and Tommy had hit it off on the Coast Guard ride back to LA, while Buck was off checking in with Bobby and Athena. He’d been so excited as they shared their similar interests and history- army, MMA, old cars- that he’d immediately made plans to hang out. When Tommy mentioned that he could get them rinkside tickets in Vegas, Eddie had jumped on it immediately. He didn’t even think about mentioning it to Buck.

And the babysitting thing… Eddie kind of wants to curl up thinking back to the strange face Buck had made when Eddie asked him to watch over Chris. Buck usually loved hanging out with Chris, even volunteering for it when Eddie mentioned having plans, so he didn’t think twice about asking it of him. He should have known.

“Ooh, yeah.” Tommy lets out a whistle. “We did fuck up, huh. Could have at least invited him to muay thai after the match.”

Eddie laughs a little, strained by the pain and the stirrings of shame. “Buck doesn’t know muay thai. Just boxing.”

“Yeah?” There’s a funny tone to Tommy’s voice. “Maybe we should teach him.”

Eddie does a careful rotation of his inflamed joint. The stretch does help ease the pain a little. “Maybe you should offer him lessons,” he says. “I’m gonna be out of commission for a little bit.”

Tommy glances at him again. A slightly longer one, with them stopped at a red light, kind of searching. “You think he’d be interested in learning from me?”

“Oh yeah. You’re great. And Buck’s a quick study for sure.” Eddie glances out the window, and sees the urgent care clinic sign just past the intersection. “Actually, you think you could do me a favor?”

The light turns green. Tommy drives forward. “Of course.”

“Could you talk to Buck for me?” Eddie asks. “I’m sure he’s feeling all sorts of guilty right now, and it’s not his fault. He just got a little too aggressive at the game.”

It’s really too bad. Buck’s really good at basketball, for someone who hates the game so much. Eddie’s sure he’ll never get Buck to touch a ball again.

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy says, slowly, as he pulls up into the parking lot. “If you’re sure you want me to speak with him.”

Eddie nods. “He’s probably licking his wounds at his loft right now, and he’ll need a bit of a kick in the pants before he comes to see me. I trust you.”

Tommy chuckles a little. “Alright, then. I’ll swing by his place in the morning, before my shift, check in on him for you.”

That’s a relief. They find a parking spot close to the clinic entrance, and Eddie hisses a little as he opens the door and swings his legs out. He needs to be more considerate of Buck’s feelings, going forward. He has the sinking feeling that he’s started to take him for granted.

He’ll have to pay him more attention.

[hihomeghere]

Blue Ain’t Your Color | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word count : 3k Warnings/tags: Alcohol, consuming alcohol, bar setting, talk of manipulative exes, kissing, cursing, bachelor/bachelorette party, talk of infidelity, Modern!AU Summary : Loosely based on the song, Blue Ain't Your Color. After a rough breakup you force yourself to go to your best friend’s joint bachelor/bachelorette party. Knowing that a certain best man will be there.

As the hours ticked closer to 5pm, you wondered how rude it would be to flake out on your best friends' bachelorette party. It wasn’t like she’d be alone, after sharing a friend group for so long it was only natural to have a combined bachelor and bachelorette party. And for as long as John and Abigail were together your little group felt more like family than friends.

Your phone buzzed next to you, a telltale sign of a text. Most likely from your asshole ex.

Fuck it. You picked it up, turning it towards your face. Abigail’s name popped up instead of his as a welcomed surprise.

‘You have about thirty more minutes to sulk before you better get your ass down here.’ You snorted at her message, rolling your eyes.

‘I was not sulking🙄’ You texted back, caught red handed by her unreasonable psychic senses.

‘I know you.’ She messaged, before the three little dots pop up again. ‘He wasn’t even hot, you were doing charity work.’ You laughed shaking your head, the first real smile gracing your face for the first time in two weeks.

‘True.’ You text back, sighing as you pull yourself off of your couch. ‘I’ll see you in 20😘’

It’s just one night, one night where you end your pity party. Abigail’s right, he wasn’t even that hot, and an awful kisser to boot. You needed to put your feelings aside and be there for your best friend.

You knew you’d had fun, all your girls would be there, and there would be karaoke. You knew you’d be heartbroken if you missed Sean and Lenny’s rendition of Don’t go breaking my heart. You applied your makeup, making sure to look killer in all the photos that would inevitably end up on social media. It was the best revenge for him sleeping with his girl ‘best friend’, to show him what he’s missing. And if you happened to look good for another certain man, well that was just a bonus.

Throwing on your best little black dress, you admired how it hugged your curves. Checking your makeup and hair one more time before heading out the door for your Uber.

It wasn’t long until you pulled up at the Horseshoe Overlook, the place to be on a Friday night. You could see Javier in front of the entrance, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Ay! There she is!” He exclaimed as you stepped out of your Uber, grinning as he walked over to you pulling you into a hug.

“Hey Javi.” You chuckled, “Everyone else inside?” You asked as he pulled away, sparks falling to the ground as he tapped his cigarette.

“You know it.” He grinned, motioning inside with a tilt of his head. You took a deep breath before pushing open the doors, the smell of alcohol and fried food filling your nostrils. It didn’t take you long to find the rambunctious group of assholes you called your best friends.

You could already see Sadie on Charles shoulders, waving at you with a huge grin on her face. Abigail immediately threw her arms around you.

“You done sulking?” she laughed, pressing a shot into your hand. You threw it back, a shiver running through you as the alcohol ran down your throat.

“I’m working on it.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s kind of hard to be sad around y'all." You smiled, looking around at your friends. Your eyes seemed to find- well not find- the man you had hoped to see tonight. The best man.

“Arthur’s not here yet if you’re wondering.” Abigail whispered, a mischievous glint in her bright blue eyes.

“I wasn’t looking for him.” You said, rolling your eyes, lying through your teeth.

“Well in case you were wondering,” She started, her hand wrapping around your waist as she pulled you close. “He’s single.” You furrowed your brows, your head snapping to look at her. Ever since you could remember Arthur had been stuck on this one girl, Mary. They had the absolute worst on and off again relationship you’d ever seen. Honestly it was painful to watch at points, and let’s just say she didn’t get along with most of the group.

“I’m not looking to be a rebound, thank you very much.” You said, trying to stay as nonchalant as possible. Of course, Abigail saw straight through your facade, but she didn’t push it.

“Alright honey, whatever you say.” She cooed, fixing her ‘bride’ sash before going off to find John. The bright neon blue lights illuminating the low lit bar. You snuck away from the festivities, making your way to the bar and setting yourself on an open stool. Flagging down one of the bartenders for a drink. Maybe you’d drown your sorrows a bit before getting back to the party. Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Not thinking twice about it, you pulled it out checking the notification. Your smile fell off your face as you read the latest test from your ex. Who was apparently working on the new record of how many times someone could say they’ve ‘changed’ in a day.

You groaned, laying your phone face down on the bar top. Thankful for the vodka cran placed in front of you. Even though it was cheaper to drink away your sorrows at home, it never tasted quite as good. You slowly sipped your drink, watching the white cubes slowly get more transparent in the red liquid.

“You gonna drink it or just watch the ice melt?” A deep rumbling voice asked, as no one other than human sunshine Arthur Morgan pulled up next to you. The man who had been strictly off limits for years now dangled in front of you on a hook. His hands were stained as he laid them on the bar top, no doubt from the various vehicles he’d worked on all day.

“Still debating.” You sighed, offering him a small smile.

“Rough day?” He asked, his flannel rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tanned forearms.

“More like week.” You said with a weak chuckle, your cheeks already heating up with the hunk of a man next to you. How Arthur and John were brothers you had no idea. They were near opposites of each other. Let’s just say, you and Abigail never had to worry about fighting over boys. Arthur slipped off his cap, pushing his honey blond locks back with his calloused hand before setting his hat back on his head. His bright azure eyes scanned the bar even though you knew he would buy the same drink as always.

“Yeah,” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah I get that.” He said, calling the bartender over with a raise of his finger.

You sipped your drink, squeezing the lime before placing it back on the rim. Cooling the rising heat in your cheeks as Arthur moved closer to you. A deep rumbling laugh left his lips as you turned to see what was causing him so much joy. You saw Sean hoist Lenny onto his shoulders, nearly falling over with the weight of him. If they weren’t careful they’d get kicked out again.

He turned his rosy cheeked face towards you, eyeing you with a questioning look. “So,” He said, raising his bourbon to his lips, “Where’s what’s his face?”

You chuckled dryly, shaking your head. “Probably chasing after anything with a pair of tits.” You huffed, rolling your eyes, taking a long sip of your drink.

“That’s a shame.” He whistled, although from the tone in his voice you can tell it’s anything but a shame. You shrug, looking back towards the rest of the group.

“Not really, none of you guys liked him much anyway.” You said twirling your straw around in your drink, a deep frown etched on your face.

“Yeah, but you liked him.” He said, nudging your shoulder, offering you a sad smile. If anyone knew how you felt it would be Arthur. Mary wasn’t exactly popular with your group of friends either.

As much as you hated to admit it, you did like him. Maybe that’s the problem, no matter how much everyone said he didn’t deserve you, he still broke your heart.

“I know it ain’t my place,” He starts, holding up his hand, “But blue ain’t your color.” He said, wetting his lips before bringing his glass up. The corner of your mouth tugged upwards, as you looked at him from the corner of your eye. “There she is.” He said with a smile.

If it was anyone else talking to you this way, you’d think they were flirting with you. Maybe you were just hoping that the same could be said for Arthur. But you knew it wasn’t likely, Arthur wasn’t the type of guy to pick up some random girl from a bar and take her home. Maybe in his younger years, when Mary and him had called it quits for the umpteenth time, but not now. Then again, you weren’t some random girl.

“That was incredibly cheesy.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes, a smile growing on your lips.

Being around Arthur was like having your own personal bit of sunlight, he exuded warmth, brightening up any room. You on the other hand could practically hear the thunder rolling from the clouds that hung over your head. Why he had decided to sit with you, you didn’t know. Other than the fact that he was just a good guy.

“So, I heard about you and Mary.” You said, clearing your throat, looking up at him. He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck, a shadow passing across his face.

“You and the whole town.” He sighed, bringing his glass to his lips, sucking in a breath as it ran down his throat. You nodded, taking another sip of your drink.

“It won’t be long until y'all are back together anyway.” You said, twirling your straw around in your drink, biting your lip as you looked down.

“No.” He said, shaking his head, "She's- well she’s moved on, think I should too.” He nodded, a light blush coloring his cheeks.

“And here everyone thought you were gonna get married next.” You said nudging his elbow, trying to hide your jealous tone.

“Me?” He asked, his head snapping to look at you, a bewildered look on his face. “No way, not to her at least.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Her and I, well we didn’t agree on most things. A marriage between us would have been doomed from the start. But uh, we probably shouldn’t be talking about doomed marriages, bad luck and all.” He said with a toothy grin.

“Didn’t know you were superstitious.” You smiled.

“Well it’s not every day your little brother finds someone stupid enough to marry him.” He teased, although you could hear a hint of truth in his tone.

“Well Abigail is pretty taken by him.” You chuckled, looking over at the two of them.

“Yeah, they’re good for each other. She keeps him in line.” He nodded, finishing his drink before setting it down on the bar top.

“Happy to pass your job off?” You asked with a smirk.

“John hasn’t listened to me in years.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Other than Abigail, Dutch is the only person he listens to.” You smiled, watching the rest of your friends pair off and hit the dance floor. Your heart slowly sunk into your stomach.

“Hey.” He said, giving you a lopsided smile, “Could this old fool have a dance?” He asked, holding out his hand for you to take.

“You ain’t that old.” You laughed taking his hand, butterflies erupting in your stomach. His calloused hand was surprisingly warm and gentle as he held yours. He pulled you off of your stool, leading you onto the dance floor.

“Atta girl Y/n!” Karen called from the sideline, holding up a very intoxicated Sean. You were thankful for the low lights, knowing you were red as a tomato. Your cheeks burning as Arthur turned to face you.

“Hey,” His finger lifted your chin, “eyes on me, alright?” He grinned, you wondered if you had imagined the slight waver in his voice. You nodded, swallowing thickly as another song started to play. One his hands holding your hip while the other clasped your own. You looked over at the other couples, your foot landing on top of Arthur’s boot.

“Sorry!” You whispered, wincing. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“That was nothin’.” He grinned, twirling you in a gentle circle.

“I’m not the best dancer.” You admitted, chucking weakly as you looked down at your feet.

“Oh c’mon now,” He said pulling you closer, his hand on the small of your back, “You’re not so bad.” He spun you around on the wooden dance floor, his eyes sparkling under the disco ball. “You just gotta let me lead.”

It was getting harder with every passing moment to fight your feelings from bubbling over. He was so handsome, the sweetest guy in the whole world. More importantly he was your friend, not just because he wanted to get in your pants, but because he cared. It didn’t hurt that he was a fantastic dancer, too.

“Used to see you out dancin’ every weekend with the girls.” He said softly. That had been right before you got together with your ex. He didn’t like dancing and he didn’t want you going out if he couldn’t go with you. It was controlling in hindsight, but at the time you had on your rose colored glasses.

“Guess I’m not as good as I used to be.” You chuckled, a nervous grin tugging at your lips.

“That’s alright, darlin’.” He said softly, his hand moving to between your shoulder blades as he dipped you. You held onto his shoulder, his hand sliding down your thigh. Your breath caught in your throat. “You just need to practice.” He whispered before pulling you back onto your feet. Your breaths mingled, your chest brushing against his with every inhale.

His eyes moved from yours to your lips. His words ringing out in your head. Think I should move on too. He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours as he captured your lips. Before you know what you’re doing you’re pushing him off. Running across the dance floor and out into the parking lot, like the clock had struck midnight. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you held onto your forearms. The cool night air biting your nose and cheeks.

You wouldn’t be a rebound. You couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t when you’ve been in love with Arthur for a lot longer than you’d like to admit.

“Y/n!” He calls from the entrance, striding over to you. His eyes almost frantic and his mouth set in a thin line. “I’m sorry, alright?”

“It’s fine Arthur.” You said shaking your head, looking down.

“No, no it’s not you just- you just got out of a relationship and-“ He lets out a frustrated groan as he runs his hand through his hair. His other hand crushing his hat in his fist. “I was outta line.” He said, his gaze falling to the ground as he hung his head.

“I just- I can’t be a rebound Arthur.” You said, shaking your head as you looked up at him.

“A what?” He asked, his brows furrowed as he met your gaze. “Is that what you think this is?” He scoffed, looking down.

“If that’s not what this is then what is it?” You asked, your brows furrowing as you crossed your arms. He sighed, meeting your eyes. He looked wrecked, his chest heaving as he chewed his lower lip.

“I-“ he sighed, putting his hat back on. “I like you y/n, a lot.” He confessed, his hands resting on his hips. “More than I should.” He said mostly to himself as he shook his head.

“But Mary-“

“Mary and I have been done for months.” He said cutting you off. “We were both stringing each other along even though we didn’t love each other.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “We both… well we both had feelings for other people.” He admits, his eyes holding a sort of desperation. Like he was silently pleading you to believe him. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “When I heard you were single I didn’t want to miss my chance.” He sighed.

Your mouth hung open like a dead fish, not the most attractive thing after someone just confessed they had feelings for you. “I-“

“Don’t feel like you gotta say nothin’.” He said, holding his hand up. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way.” He said, pursing his lips. You shook your head, rushing over to him and slamming your lips against his. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer. His hands immediately found your waist, holding you against the hard line of his body.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” You asked breathlessly, a grin spreading across your face. He blinked, the gears slowly turning in his head.

“Why didn’t you?” He asked with an equally breathless chuckle, his thumbs rubbing against your hips. You shook your head, grinning as you rested your forehead against his.

“Didn’t think you liked me like that.” You admitted, your cheeks flushed, the cold chill nipping your nose.

“I’d be a fool not to.” He laughed, cupping your cheek. He brought your chin up, pressing his lips against yours in a sweet embrace. Your toes nearly curling in your shoes. “Although, you do need some more practice with your dancin’.” He teased, “Maybe I could take you out sometime?”

“I’d like that.” You nodded, pressing your lips against his again. Arthur’s lips were more intoxicating than anything you could have ordered inside.

“You know we’re never gonna hear the end of it when we walk back in there.” You chuckled looking up at him.

“They’re probably too drunk to notice,” He mused, “besides, I want everyone to know that smile on your lips is cause of me.” He said throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he kissed your head.