#LIME IN THE CORNER IS SO CUTE....HES SO HAPPY LOOK AT HIM

[musubiki]

lime lime lime lime lime (and his m34th weapon that can turn into many things)

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene V: The Temporary Bliss)

Your fleeting moment of happiness is quickly overshadowed as old wounds from the past resurface.

Part warning: (18+) fingering, protected sex (because helping him roll down a condom is hot), and, unfortunately, angst Words: 4.8k A/n: so this is the last part of Act III: The Deception, you might want to prepare yourself as we get closer to the truth

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You were a coward. A fool. A mess. You didn’t know what to label yourself anymore, or if there were even words to describe the way you felt. But you did know one thing—you didn't have the strength to confront Spencer, you couldn't even see his face without feeling sick. So you did what you did best.

You avoided him. Plain and simple.

It was actually easier than you had expected. After that dreadful weekend, there seemed to be enough cases to distract you. You traveled across the state, one week in a new place, and another in a different city. By the end of the month, you hardly thought about him at all. Your friends seemed to be unaware of the underlying tension between you, and even if they did notice, they surprisingly kept their thoughts to themselves—everyone except Derek who teasingly pointed out that you seemed more focused on your work than usual.

You had shrugged off his comment with a forced laugh, brushing it off as if it was just a harmless observation. You told yourself that you were fine, that you had everything under control. But despite your efforts to stay distracted, the reality was different. The moment the plane landed back in Quantico, you knew you would have to face him again, especially when Emily suggested to hit the bar.

Her reason was to blow off steam after a gruesome few weeks, which was followed by a chorus of agreements from the team. Now you were left with no more excuses. Your eyes drifted toward him, his gaze slowly met yours, and that was how you found yourself in the same dingy, low-lit bar the team always gravitated to an hour later.

The familiar murmur of conversation and clinking of glasses greeted you as you entered the place. While the others settled to their usual spot in the corner, you quickly made a bee-line towards the bar. The bartender, a tall man with a slightly overgrown beard and sharp blue eyes, looked up as you approached.

He was cute, in a rugged, rough-around-the-edges kind of way. You would normally find yourself attracted to these types of men—confident, approachable, and with a certain easygoing charm. But apparently, your heart had other ideas, preferring a certain someone with a genius-level IQ with warm brown eyes.

“Hey, you're back," he greeted you, nodding his head. "Haven’t seen you in a while."

You leaned over the bar. "It's been a busy month."

"Where did you go off to this time?"

"Chicago."

He whistled softly. "Chicago, huh? Must have been a big one to send you all the way there." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “What did the bad guy do this time?”

You gave a small, secretive smile. "You know I can't talk about that. That's classified information."

The corner of his lips turned into a wide grin. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He picked up a glass and began wiping it down. “So, what’ll it be tonight? Your usual Margarita?”

You hesitated, shaking your head.

"Sex on the beach?"

Normally, you'd ask for either—you preferred something light and tangy, a drink that was strong enough to take the edge off without overwhelming you. But tonight was different. Tonight, you needed something with more kick.

“Give me a shot of tequila—no, make it two.”

A frown briefly crossed his face. “Are you sure?”

No.

“Yes,” you insisted. “I need something stronger tonight.”

The man studied your face for a moment before he nodded, pouring two generous shots in front of you. He turned to grab lime wedges from the small fridge under the counter but stopped abruptly when he noticed you’d already downed one of the shots.

"Wow, you weren't kidding.”

The strong liquor burned your throat. “That is disgusting.”

“That’s why you need this to chase it,” he said, sliding the lime wedge and a pinch of salt towards you. “Here.”

You purposely ignored him and brought the second glass to your lips, feeling the burn even before you swallowed.

“Here, take it.”

“No, I’m fine.” You pushed the now empty glass toward him, making a face. “Pour me another one.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on! I’m here with the gang!” You gestured toward the corner where the team was sitting. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

He hesitated, glancing over your shoulder and then back at you. “Fine, but this is the last one,” he said, reluctantly pouring another shot.

You gave him a quick nod, grabbing the shot and lifting it to your lips, steeling yourself for the burn. Just as you were about to drink, you felt a firm hand on your wrist. Your body tensed, not because of the sudden interruption, but because you felt another hand resting at your back before it slowly slid across, settling just at the soft curve of your waist.

You didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. His smell was unmistakable—clean, with a hint of soap and the faintest trace of coffee.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

You watched as Spencer took the glass from your grip, settling it on the counter. Your brows knit together in confusion. “What are you doing?”

But instead of answering you, his eyes were focused intently on the bartender. “You shouldn’t have given her another glass.”

The bartender’s eyes widened slightly, and he held up his hands. “Hey, she asked for it.”

You nodded along. “To be fair, he did offer me Sex on the Beach.”

That didn’t seem to help. Spencer’s grip tightened on your waist, and you could feel him pulling you slightly closer to him. “That’s not funny. We need to get you some water.”

“Reid, it’s just two shots—”

He cut you off, turning back to the bartender. “Can she get a glass of water?”

The bartender nodded, quickly grabbing a glass and filling it with water. He handed it to Spencer, who then turned his attention back to you. “Drink this, please.”

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you protested.

He placed the glass in your hand. “Drink it.”

“Two shots,” you argued, finally facing him. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve drunk a lot worse than this.”

“I'm aware.”

“Then why does it bother you so much?”

He went quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting between you, the glass of water, then back to you.

“Because I don’t like being the reason you’re drinking something you hate in the first place.”

You quickly downed the cool water. How could you even answer that? Your skin suddenly felt hot, and your palms grew clammy as he kept his hand on your waist. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“It’s not because of you,” you said, shrugging as you set the glass down.

"Isn't it, though? Why else would you be reacting this way?"

“Maybe I just like tequila now. Did you ever think of that?”

“You hate tequila," he replied as if it was common knowledge.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve developed a taste for it.”

“So you’ve suddenly decided you like something you’ve been avoiding for years?”

“Maybe I’m trying new things,” you shot back, your tone sharp. “Maybe you should try it too.”

There was a moment of silence as he considered your words. "I am trying new things."

You felt him tug you slightly, letting your body fall against his. Your heart sped up as you stared up at him. Even in the dim light of the bar, his brown eyes seemed to catch the faint glow, looking lighter and more intense than usual. You watched as his gaze drifted slowly to your lips.

"Reid..."

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?"

His expression softened as he looked back at you, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. "I'm trying to play the perfect boyfriend."

"So this is all an act?"

This was it, the moment of truth, the point where everything could change. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “No,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your hip.

Your hand fell to his chest, fingers pressing lightly to feel the rapid beat of his heart. It was pounding, just as fast as yours.

"Spencer..."

He let out a sigh—a sound that seemed to carry both relief and a touch of disbelief as it left his lips. "I thought I'd never hear you call me that again."

He was right. Ever since you drifted apart, calling him Reid felt safer, like a barrier that kept things distant and professional. Spencer was too personal, too intimate for the walls you had built around yourself. But now, standing so close, it felt like the past and present were colliding, making everything more confusing.

Your finger played with the knot of his tie, absentmindedly tracing the pattern. "You're making this more complicated."

He nodded. "I know."

"We're supposed to break this off."

"I know."

"We're supposed to stick to the plan."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, struggling for a moment before replying, “If that's what you want, then we'll go through it. But...”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "But what?"

"But I need to know if it’s really what you want." His voice faltered slightly. "If you want me to leave, I will."

His question hung in the air like a thick fog, making it hard for you to think clearly. It was a simple choice, wasn't it? Stick to the plan, keep up the fake dating, and finally break it off. No mess, no complications. But why, then, did the thought of him leaving feel like a heavy weight in your chest?

You caught him nervously trailing his bottom lip with his tongue—a habit of his when he was deep in thought. The simple gesture made you feel an unexpected pull, and before you knew it, you found yourself pressing closer to him.

“Spence,” you murmured. “You’re making this really hard.”

“I don’t want to make it hard,” he said quietly. “I-I just I need to know where we stand.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The words felt heavy on your tongue, but you knew you needed to say them.

"I want you to leave," you started, watching as his expression shifted, a hint of pain flickering in his eyes as he slowly pulled away. But before he could step back, you tugged on his tie, pulling him back towards you. "But I'm leaving with you."

His eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"

And suddenly, a wave of embarrassment washed over you, and you looked away. "What I'm trying to say is... that—well..."

"Well?"

Your gaze focused somewhere beyond his shoulder, finding it easier to speak without meeting his eyes. "I want to finish what we started that morning."

He blinked, processing your words. "You mean... when we..."

"Yeah."

You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "Oh." He leaned in slightly, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. "How drunk are you right now?"

You couldn't help but let a laugh escape your lips, finally looking back at him. "I had two shots!"

His expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You know what this means, right?"

"What?"

"If we…" He trailed off, clearing his throat before continuing, "If we do this, it'll change everything."

You smoothed down his shirt, your fingers lingering on the fabric. "I know."

"And you still want that?"

"I do."

He took a deep breath, searching your eyes for any hesitation. "And you want to leave... right now?"

"Look, if you don't want to—"

He quickly cut you off, shaking his head with a slight, nervous chuckle. “No, I do. I just… I want to make sure you do too.”

"I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't mean it."

His eyes softened. “You’re right,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile that looked almost like a grimace. “Okay. Okay. We’re doing this.”

Seeing him easily flustered was always amusing for you, and this time was no different. "Come on," you urged him, taking his hand in yours. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait, shouldn't we tell them we're leaving?"

You glanced back at your friends. "And tell them what? That we're going to have sex?"

He almost tripped over his own feet. "Well, when you put it that way…"

You squeezed his hand and flashed him a smile over your shoulder as you started toward the exit. With a quick, eager step, he followed behind.

Spencer’s apartment was just as you remembered—deep green walls, warm lighting, bookshelves lining every corner. But you barely had a moment to register your surroundings before he had his face buried in your neck.

His lips found the sensitive spot below your ear. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as his mouth trailed a wet path down your throat, and you had to push against his chest slightly because he was pressing you too hard against the door. For a man who spent most of his time buried in books, he seemed to have an unexpected strength that took you by surprise.

“Hey, hey,” you murmured, a soft giggle escaping as you tilted your head to look at him. “Slow down.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes before leaning down again, his hands coming up to cup your face as he kissed you.

His lips were hot against yours, moving with an eager, almost desperate need. He sucked gently on your lower lip, pulling it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft, audible pop. The sudden absence of his mouth left your skin tingling, only to be followed by the gentle graze of his teeth, a playful nip that made you gasp and clutch his shirt tighter.

You felt lightheaded, melting under his touch as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them open as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, coaxing them open. You let him in willingly, your tongue meeting his eagerly. The sensation left you feeling hot and dizzy, your entire body craving for more of his taste. It was as if his kiss was an intoxicating drug, leaving you utterly addicted. Even when he pulled away slightly to catch his breath, you grabbed him again, pressing your lips firmly against his.

Spencer sighed with pleasure as he held the back of your head, his fingers splaying against your scalp. You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the way his lips moved against yours, but the instant you felt his growing bulge brush your hip, you gently pushed him away.

A thin, glistening string of saliva followed you, and you reached up to wipe it from his mouth with a quick, almost embarrassed swipe. His breath came in ragged gasps as he looked down at you, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Sorry, I-I got carried away," he mumbled, letting his hand trail down your spine. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. "You thought I pushed you away because I want us to stop?"

"Uh... maybe? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, Spencer," you said softly, reaching up to loosen the knot of his tie. "I pushed you away because I need you to take me to your bed."

He watched intently as you pulled off his tie, and when you pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, his hands fell to his sides.

"Are you going to watch me undress you, or are you going to help?"

A slow smile spread across his face as he shrugged off the jacket completely, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. "I think I can manage that."

He started to unbutton his shirt, his fingers brushing against yours. The moment the last button was undone, he let the shirt fall to the floor with a soft rustle. Your palm glided over his chest as you took in his bare skin. You expected his body to be lean—he had long limbs, after all—but you didn't expect the subtle, defined muscles beneath your touch.

"Spencer, have you been working out?"

You could tell he was embarrassed by the way he shifted his gaze from you. "Morgan convinced me to stay in shape," he admitted with a shy smile. "He insists it's part of the job."

You plant a kiss right above his heart. "Well, it's definitely working."

The warmth of your lips seemed to ease his embarrassment, and he let out a soft sigh, his hands coming up to caress your back. You glanced up at him again. "Will you take me to your bed now?"

He quickly nodded and guided you towards his bedroom. Once inside, you pushed him down onto the edge of his bed. His hands roamed across your body as you slipped between his legs, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. The front of the fabric fell away and his gaze followed every movement, his hands eagerly helping you slide it off your shoulders.

Your bra came off next, the straps sliding down your arms as you tossed it aside. His eyes swept over you with admiration as he licked his lips, his gaze lingering on the exposed curve of your body. He pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

When he wrapped his lips around your nipple, a sharp, electrifying pleasure shot through you. His tongue flicked and teased, alternating between gentle suckles and soft nibbles that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him to you as he continued his ministrations, moving from one breast to the other.

The hand on your back slid lower, his fingers finding the waistband of your pants. You felt him unbutton them, the fabric loosening around your hips. With a firm but gentle tug, he slipped your pants down your legs, followed closely by your panties, until both garments pooled around your feet.

His hand began running up your leg, fingers slipping between your thighs. He let go of your nipple and looked up at you with those brown eyes that seemed to gleam under the light. “Can I touch you?”

You brushed his hair back gently from his forehead. “You’ve touched me before.”

“I want to hear you say it.” 

You felt his fingertips brush so lightly over your clit and you nodded. “Yes,” you breathed out, “You can touch me.”

All you could do was sigh as his fingers moved again. He was so gentle, so careful, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, spreading your arousal with each teasing stroke. His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features, drinking in the way your lips parted and your breath hitched with each touch.

"Th—That feels good," you cooed, your eyes fluttering low but not completely shut, wanting to see him as he worked over you. He followed your gaze where his fingers continued their exploration, gently pulling back the soft flesh to expose your clit. He traced light, feathery strokes over the sensitive skin and the motion left your legs shaking, nearly losing balance if he weren't holding you against him.

He grabbed the back of your thigh. “Put your leg up here.”

You complied and rested your feet on the bed, giving more access. The new position allowed him to press his fingers more deeply against your clit, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm. You were trembling, mind numb from the way he was touching you, and you almost couldn’t take it when he dipped his middle finger inside your cunt.

"God, Spencer,” you gasped, dropping a hand to the wrist that was nestled between your legs, nails digging into his skin. He slipped another finger inside you, and your eyes screwed shut this time. You could feel his fingers curling inside you, seeking, then finding, the tender spot that made you cry out in pleasure.

Everything became a blur after that. His fingers continued to thrust into you, and with each movement, you grew wetter, the slick sounds of your arousal echoing throughout his room. You clung to his shoulders for support, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he pressed soft kisses across your chest. His thumb then brushed against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure in gentle circles.

"I'm…” Your eyes fluttered open when his mouth latched onto your hard nipple. “I'm gonna come... if you... keep doing that..." 

You weren't even sure why you were warning him, but you couldn’t stop yourself as your hips rolled against his hands. His thumb circled your clit faster in response, and the world around you began to spin. You gasped his name, the sound escaping your lips in a desperate, breathless moan.

When his teeth softly grazed your sensitive nipple, you finally snapped. Wave after wave of orgasm bliss rolled through your body, the pulse of pleasure sending your thighs trembling as he held you through all of it. It's all too much, too intense, and you were left completely spent, shaking, breathless, and needing to lay down immediately.

Spencer caught you as you collapsed on top of him, the force of your weight pushing him onto his back. You stayed like that for a moment, trying to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly against his. But it didn't last long when you felt his bulge press right between your thighs. Without thinking, you found yourself rolling your hips.

He let out a sharp gasp, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you moved against him. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the hardness of his erection pressing against you through the fabric of his pants as your face hovered above his, lips barely touching.

"So when are you going to fuck me?"

He bucked his hips against you. "I-I... I have a condom in my drawer."

His words made you falter. Why does he have a condom?

It was stupid, really, you knew why contraception was necessary. But the thought of him having an active sexual life with someone else after you had drifted apart stung deeply. It wasn’t technically your business, but knowing that he might have been with others hurt, especially when the last man you had been close to was him.

"Spence... why do you have a condom?"

You hated how small your voice sounded.

He gently brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours as he weighed his words before letting out a sigh. "After… after that night, when we—almost… I just wanted to be prepared. I didn't know if… if we'd ever…"

You slowly relaxed. "So you haven't used any?"

He shook his head. "No, I haven't."

Your heart swelled at his words. You leaned in and kissed him softly, a sudden rush of affection washing over you. "Well, I think it's time we put it to use," you whispered against his lips, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Where did you put it?"

"Bottom drawer, on the left."

You pulled away to reach over to his drawer, hearing the sound of his belt buckle unlatching behind you. Your eyes briefly flashed towards the book sitting on the nightstand, a glimpse of its cover catching your attention. But you didn’t dwell on it, you were too focused on rummaging through his things until your fingers brushed against the familiar texture of the wrapper.

He was completely naked as you turned to face him again, your eyes catching his cock resting perfectly against his stomach as he leaned back against the pillows. You crawled over to him and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his bulging tip.

He let out a sharp hiss. "I-I don't think I can last long if you do that."

You smiled and straightened yourself, your fingers delicately tearing open the wrapper. You could feel his eyes on you, half-lidded with desire, his focus narrowing to the way your fingers brushed against his skin. His body tensed, and his breathing grew heavier, as you slowly slid the condom down his length.

The thin latex felt almost invisible under your fingertips, allowing the heat radiating from his body to seep through. He couldn't take his eyes off you, mesmerized by the way your fingers glided over him so effortlessly. Your touch was firm yet gentle, and when you finally reached the base, you gave him a final, possessive squeeze.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands finding your hips as you positioned yourself over him. You hovered above his tip, teasingly brushing it against your entrance before slowly sinking down. You paused halfway, adjusting to his size, feeling lightheaded as he stretched you regardless of how wet you were. It was overwhelming, but the numbness was exactly the kind of rush you were seeking.

And finally, with a deep breath, you let gravity pull you down, taking him all the way in.

You both gasped at the sensation, the intense fullness causing your muscles to clench around him. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he steadied you. Then, slowly, you began to move, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down.

Your breaths synchronized, shallow and quick, as you found a steady rhythm. Spencer’s hands guided you, his palms pressing firmly on your hips before trailing back to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You held onto his jaw as you leaned in, your lips meeting in a heated, breathless kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth and your brain turned to mush.

He kissed you hungrily while your hips continued to rise and fall, each movement driving him deeper inside you. You felt his hands roam your body, one sliding up your back to pull you closer, while the other remained on your ass, encouraging you. You moaned into his mouth, the sensation of his lips and his cock brushing your tight, inner walls making you tremble with pleasure.

You pulled back slightly, resting your forehead against his. "S-Spence..."

He nipped at your bottom lip, casually biting and pulling it between his teeth. "Mhm?"

You didn’t know why you had called out his name, only that you needed to. It was more of a reflex than anything else, a desperate need to connect as your pace quickened. He let out a low, throaty sound of pleasure as your walls clenched around him. And that was when you heard your name on his lips. It was soft, but it was enough to drive you to the edge. You rolled your hips urgently, trying to chase that familiar, blissful sensation but your thighs started to burn, your movements slowing down a little. He sensed your struggle and tightened his hands on your waist.

His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips bucking up to meet yours with force. His thrusts suddenly became more relentless, each powerful push driving him deeper inside you. The slick, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt filled the air, the squelch of your joined body punctuating with each thrust.

The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it was all-consuming. Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, you were both pushed over the edge. Your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm at the same time he spilled into you. His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes squeezed shut as your fingers dug into his shoulders, riding out every wave of your climax.

It took a few more minutes before you felt his body relax. You did the same, collapsing on top of him as he is hands softened their grip on you, gently caressing your back.

"Are you… okay?" You simply nodded, too tired to find your own voice. His thumb brushed your side. “Are you sure?”

You nodded again, snuggling yourself closer, feeling the weight of your body pressing down on him. He kissed the top of your head.

“I know you’re making yourself comfortable, but I really need to go to the bathroom.”

You lifted your head, meeting his eyes. “Would it bother you if I peed at the same time you clean yourself?”

The smile that spread across his face lit up his features. “Of course not.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his chest before reluctantly rolling off him. Spencer slid off the bed and reached for your hand, helping you up. You both moved to the bathroom, where Spencer headed for the sink to wash up while you made your way to the toilet.

As you sat there, you thought about how surprisingly natural this felt—almost as if you had done this before. The way he naturally kissed your cheek before exiting the bathroom didn’t feel awkward or out of place, it was oddly comforting. When you finally finished, he was already waiting for you in comfortable clothes. He stretched out his hand, and when you took it, he pulled you close. “Are you hungry?”

You found yourself nodding. “I could eat something.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll make us some sandwiches, I think I have enough stuff in the fridge,” he suggested, and then added somewhat sheepishly, “I also, um, put some fresh clothes out for you to use. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart might burst at how adorable he was. “Thank you, Spence. That’s really sweet.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before heading to the kitchen. You picked up the clothes he had laid out for you—a soft t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, but as you held them, your gaze drifted back to the book sitting on his nightstand. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked up the book, studying the cover.

The Narrative of John Smith.

You opened it, noticing the handwritten quote on the first page.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone, we find it with another.” —Thomas Merton—

A sudden feeling of nausea hit you, as if you’d been punched in the gut. You flipped through the pages, trying to steady your breathing. It wasn’t the softness of the paper that greeted you as you slipped onto the next page, but the sharp edges of something hard brushing against your fingertips. You carefully pulled out what seemed to be a photograph, your heart sinking as you realized whose it was… Because right in your hand, Maeve was smiling back at you.

Maeve.

Maeve. Donovan.

Everything suddenly came crashing back, the past shooting straight to your heart. The memories, the pain, the confusion—it all flooded your mind in an instant. You remembered why you and Spencer had drifted apart, why that night had changed everything. The woman staring back at you was the reason you had shut yourself off from him in the first place.

No, it wasn’t all her fault—you’d be a heartless fool to blame a dead woman for something she couldn’t control. But she had consumed his mind. The presence she held in his life was enough to end the friendship you once had. And now, holding the photograph, you felt an overwhelming tightness in your chest that made it hard to breathe. The walls seemed to close in, the room feeling too small.

You needed to get out of here.

You quickly pulled on your clothes, the fabric feeling suffocating as you hurriedly dressed. Your movements were frantic, driven by a need to escape. You dashed out of his room, but Spencer was already standing by the bedroom door.

"I was just about to call you, the food is—hey, what's wrong?"

You walked past him, the pain constricting your chest so tightly that you could barely breathe, let alone speak. “I… I need to go,” you stammered out over your shoulder.

Spencer's face fell as he saw the distress in your eyes, his hands reaching out to stop you as you headed for the front door. He turned you to face him, and the moment he saw the tears threatening to spill, his own expression crumpled in worry.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his hands gently cupping your face. You flinched and shoved him away.

“Don’t touch me.”

You noticed the hurt in his eyes, but you barely looked at him, trying to control your own emotions. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion. You felt the lingering warmth from the post-orgasmic rush, the serotonin still buzzing in your veins, but at the same time, the gut-wrenching pain was consuming you. The fleeting sensation you’d felt moments ago seemed like a cruel mockery now, as your heart twisted with every beat.

“You’re really leaving?”

You slowly nodded, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Just like that, after tonight?”

You remained silent, your mouth shut tight. Then you heard him mutter something under his breath, barely audible but unmistakable.

“That’s what you always do, isn’t it?”

Your eyes snapped to him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

There was a heavy silence, a beat of rising tension as his eyes narrowed at you. “You run away when things get hard.”

You stared back at him in surprise. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Yes,” he said sharply. “Every time we get to a point where we might actually resolve something, you disappear.”

Was that really how he saw you? Someone who ran away at the first sign of trouble? The thought was a bitter pill, one that left a heavy, sour taste in your mouth.

“That’s not fair,” you protested, shaking your head as you felt the sting of tears at the corner of your eyes.

“Well, you know what’s not fair?” His voice suddenly turned a pitch higher, each word cutting through the air. “Pulling me into this—this whole fake relationship thing and then running away when it starts to mean something real.”

“What?” The accusation stung, a sharp jab to your already fragile heart. “You think this was easy for me? You think I didn’t have doubts?”

"I think you dragged me into this and now you’re scared because it’s not just a game anymore," he pressed, his eyes flashing with frustration as he stepped closer. “Every time l show that l actually care, you run away.”

“I don’t run away.”

“Yes, you do. You always bail on me,” he argued, his tone growing sharper with each word. “Just like that morning, just like now, and just like that night—”

You finally had enough.

"Don’t you dare bring that up!” You snapped. “You don’t get to use that against me. You know exactly why I had to leave!”

Spencer flinched as if he was struck. The impact of your words hit him hard, and you could see the hurt and realization dawning in his eyes. His posture sagged, the tension in his shoulders melting away as the anger drained from his face. “I know, I know,” he whispered, the regret clear in his voice. “I-I’m sorry.”

Your heart ached, the pain of old wounds reopening. The memories of that night, the way you felt invisible and helpless—it all came crashing back. You shook your head, taking a step back, needing to put distance between you. “No, I can’t do this right now.”

You turned away, desperate to escape. The walls felt like they were closing in, your chest tightening with every breath.

“Wait,” he called after you. “I’m sorry. Please… I don’t… stay, please.”

You paused slightly, but you couldn’t let yourself give in. Not when every painful memory from that night seemed to claw its way back to the surface. Not when the fear of getting hurt again loomed so large. Not when you knew if you turned back now, you might never find the strength to walk away again.

“We should end this whole thing,” you said quietly, each word feeling like a knife twisting in your heart. “I’ll tell Hotch first thing in the morning.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. The reality of what you had said sank in, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had frozen. His face fell, a look of utter devastation crossed his features as his eyes searched yours, trying to grasp at the fragments of what was left. He opened his mouth to speak, but you couldn’t bear to face him any longer.

You slowly reached for the door, wrenching it open before stepping into the cold night. You left him standing there, watching helplessly as you walked away for what felt like the hundredth time.

[a-ikuoliver]

HAPPY BLOG BIRTHDAY 🎂🎉🎈glad you're here!

This event looks so fun and cute. The menu is everything 🥰

May I have a Blow Job with Bakugou or Dabi?

🖤🐈‍⬛ Kitten

HI KITTEN i am actually so sorry this took so long BUT i hope you enjoy this, i was a liilllllll bit cheeky with yours teehee AND THANK U @ghostbeam & @unearthsaturn FOR HELPING ME U ARE LIFESAVERS birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

"table 14 is a pair of fucking cun—"

"careful, sweetheart, people will start thinking i'm some sorta bad influence if you keep speaking like that." placing a short straw into the cocktail shaker, touya places his finger on the open end, lifting out a sip of the sweet cocktail, offering it to you. sapphire eyes flash when you roll your eyes at him, but silently accept his offer, sticking out your tongue for him to place the opposite end of the straw on, dropping a taste of the drink in your mouth.

"what's got you so riled up?" he waits for you to swallow, scrunching your face at the taste of the pure alcohol burning down your throat.

"jesus, touya, have you even shaken that thing yet?"

there's a flash of silver when he laughs, all sharp canines and surgical steel as he smacks the cocktail shaker lid down with a tattooed palm, "not yet, answer my question."

with a sigh and a cross of your arms, you grumble your reply, "i have a blind date tonight."

"a date? want something for the nerves?" shaking with one large hand, he reaches for the closest liquor to him with the other, shaking the half-empty bottle with a devilish smile.

"careful, people will start thinking you're some sorta bad influence," you repeat, your coy smile mirroring his, a flash of a smile as sweet as honey, sweet enough to fool touya's father into thinking you were never at the scene of the crime (the tattooed, pierced bartender notorious for worming his way out of write-ups, a tongue as silver as the bar through it; you, however, never stayed at the scene of the crime long enough to even be a suspect on enji's radar). touya's always too happy to play into your little innocent act, the slap on the wrist worth the mischievous flash in your eyes every shift, the squeeze of your thighs when he spoke to you in that scratchy, low tone, playfully chastising you from behind the bar.

"c'mon, one shot and i'll let you clock out."

"let me? daddy makes you manager for one night and you become a tyrant," you're speaking to him like a petulant child, tutting at him while grabbing a pair of shot glasses down from the shelf, "mix us something good."

slipping out from behind the bar, you drop the glass over to a woman at the other side of the bar, the same saccharine smile you saved for customers and touya's father, the one making you look just positively angelic, well, as much like an angel as you can in that low-cut shirt.

pouring amaretto into the tall shot glass with one hand, touya reaches for the irish cream with the other, his eyes locking on the whipped cream canister close by. glancing back around to you, he's never been more grateful for a customer to be keeping you from him; with his borrowed time, he slips the whipped cream canister far in the back of the fridge, behind the bottles of beer, behind the chilled wine.

you round the corner of the bar, dragging your feet dramatically, "now i really need a pick me up before the date."

touya smiles again, that mischievous smile that got him out of trouble wherever he went, having women at the bar swooning, sweet-talking his siblings into slicing lemons and limes so he could sneak out the back for a cigarette (the habit he promised to end, in exchange for that pretty, shiny tag saying manager), "need you to run out the back for me first, sweetheart,"

"touya. you can't actually stop me from clocking out just because you're manager, that tag doesn't mean you can coerce your employees."

"you wish," he holds his pinkie up, sea-blue eyes gleaming with faux innocence, "tried to make you a blowjob, you know, get you ready for your date."

touya ignores your snort, the roll of your eyes, instead focusing on your arms crossing over your chest, your squeeze of your tits together, "i ran out of whipped cream, and you know i can't leave the bar alone."

"when have the rules stopped you before, huh?"

"i'm a changed man," tugging at his name tag, his thick, silver rings click against the plastic, the foreign taste of innocence on his tongue.

his pierced bottom lip is stuck out once more, batting infuriatingly long lashes at you until you huff, "you owe me, todoroki."

abandoning your apron along the way, you tug the door to the cooler open, feeling the weight of touya's gaze shift away as a tall blond sauntered to the bar, painted fingertips tapping at his phone screen.

crimson meets cerulean over the dark wood of the bar, touya's hands behind his back, making quick work of the knot of his apron, still watching the blond as he fished for the whipped cream, "hey, i'm lookin' for—"

"she's busy." dropping his apron aside, he tops the shots with a squeeze of the whipped cream, trailing behind you to the cooler with a wink to your date.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Another remastered oldie. No cute banner this time because I'm lazy. [ SYNOPSIS ] Your slutty boyfriend convinces you to fuck in a nasty bar bathroom. [ WORD COUNT ] 2.9k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, established relationship, dom/sub undertones, sadomasochism, exhibitionism, public sex, rough oral sex, degradation (Zeke calls you a slut, says you're dumb), cum eating, drugs (marijuana), alcohol, Zeke's pullout game is mid tbh, and there's Neopets nostalgia.

Any establishment that opted to have red lighting as an aesthetic choice never failed to put you on guard. There was nothing quite like a wannabe speakeasy to set the mood. You had sad men hiding in corners. Sad men waiting for cute girls to talk to them. Sad men who hoped their presence in a trendy, gaudy bar with old guns hung on the walls made them interesting.

You and Zeke passed by it one cold morning and you mentioned how tacky you thought those kinds of places were. You said you wanted to go ironically. And of course called your bluff and decided your next date night would occur there. You reluctantly agreed. Denying him was a near impossible task.

You were the first at the bar, a disappointment because you wanted to have some form of comfort greet you. But no, Zeke was late as always.

He was probably at home, sitting on his ugly couch, smoking his ugly weed. His perfect body laid out next to an ugly ashtray overflowing with ugly cigarette butts, watching old Jerry Springer episodes on Youtube.

There was no other place you’d rather be. You wanted to be sprawled out on top of him, your head on his chest as he dithered about class disparity in the United States.

We can laugh at Beau and Cletus all we want, but look at us. I pay for high-speed internet so I can watch this shit unfettered and make fun of their shoes. You just complained about two-day shipping not being fast enough. And you ordered, what, loose leaf chamomile tea? We’re just as embarrassing as them, maybe even more so. The difference is that we have disposable income.

On second thought maybe you were better off languishing in a faux speakeasy. The ground may have been sticky underneath your shoes, but at least you didn’t have Zeke blabbering in your ear.

“Miss me?” Zeke purred in your ear before.

“Nope, I’ve been too busy.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah. I got caught up feeding my Neopet… Or if that’s not an acceptable answer, I can say I was sleeping with your dad. You choose.”

“Neopet. I like knowing you care about things.”

“Did you know they never die?”

You order a round of Cuba Libres.

“I don’t like rum,” Zeke whined.

You shoved the drink in his hand and stole a handful of cut limes from the little container behind the bar.

“Really?” he asked bluntly.

“They never put enough. Trust me. Anyway, that little green Mynci you made in 2001 is sitting there. Literally starving! Zeke.” You grabbed his wrist. “That is verbatim what it says on the website. Starving.” You plopped two slices of lime in his drink.

He stared at you, his grey eyes full of concern. He was high off his ass. “She was yellow.”

“What was her name?”

“I can’t remember, but I know it had like six numbers and probably three underscores.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Every fucking day.”

Laughter overtook both of you. You grabbed a table closest to the exit and he slid his backpack under it. You figured he didn’t want to linger long as well. The chairs were freezing. You shifted in your seat. The cold didn’t help your sore ass. Zeke took notice of this.

“I told you I was paddling you too hard.” He took a tiny sip of his drink.

“I still stand by that you weren’t hard enough.”

“You were crying, pet.”

“They were tears of happiness. You know, like when people win a Golden Globe or whatever.”

“No one gets that excited over a Golden Globe.”

You slumped down into your chair. You had no witty retort. This happened more often than not when he was around. In just about every other social situation you were the paragon of humor, a true queen of comedy.

“Aww, did I hit a nerve?” He kicked your shin from under the table. The pain perked you up. You proceeded to stomp on his foot eliciting an audible wince from him.

“How long are you trying to stay here?” you asked, hoping he’d say something like zero seconds or if I stay here any longer I’ll turn into sand.

“Long enough to have sex in what I am assuming is a gross bathroom.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re high, right? You can’t—This place is gross.”

“I had this planned from the beginning.” He leaned back in his chair. “It shouldn’t be too gross. This hellhole hasn’t been open that long.”

“My feet stick to the—”

“That’s character.” He leaned forward over the table, yanking you by the collar of your shirt so you were inches away from his face. “It makes for an interesting experience.”

You let out a nervous laugh, desperately fighting off the beginnings of arousal. The gross old men leered.

“Ugh. Fine. But I wanna be high too,” you complained.

He glanced at the growing pod of old men. “Let’s hit the bathroom.”

He got up, leaving his unfinished drink behind. It prompted you to do the same. They weren’t that impressive. You walked down the hall turning corners until you saw a sign for a bathroom. Zeke kicked in the door and shoved his head inside.

“I’m pretty sure no one is in here. And look, there are even stalls.”

He made his way over to one and tried to lock its door.

“Well that’s broken.”

He repeated this process on the remaining two stalls. None of them had working locks.

You looked around. “This is—”

“An even better opportunity than I could have imagined.”

You were speechless. You knew he was a borderline insatiable tramp, but this was a lot. You were conflicted. On one hand, getting railed by him always sounded like a good time. But on the other, getting potentially caught by one of those decaying dinosaurs sounded like torture. And you hadn’t committed any crimes bearing that level of punishment.

“But those guys are so weird looking,” you whined like a child.

“Who cares?”

“I care. It’d be one thing if they were like your hot friends…”

“You can’t say that and not specify which ones. It’s illegal. You and I both know that.”

“Fuck… Pieck, duh. Or Colt.”

“Oh god. Really?... Colt?” he sounded vaguely disgusted.

“Fuck you! Yeah, really Colt. It’d be a learning experience for him.”

“I wouldn’t let him join in.”

You smirked. “You say that now, but in the moment the tides may change.” You punctuated the sentence with a wink.

“Alright, you might have a point with the Colt thing. But I’m disappointed Reiner didn’t come up.”

“You know you can just say who you would want to catch us? Like my answers aren’t the end-all-be-all.”

You went to join him in the decrepit stall. You hugged his toned body and buried your face into the crook of his neck. His hands went straight to your ass, typical.

“Reiner, because I know it’d fuck with him,” he yammered on. “Or what’s that one guy’s name? The one that hangs out with my brother?”

“So many people hang out with your brother. You really want a 19-year-old catching us?”

“Hush. I’m thinking. Blonde. Blue eyes.” He paused. “Also Colt’s 19, dumb ass.”

“Colt doesn’t count!! Are you thinking of Historia?”

“What?! No.”

Zeke broke the hug and rubbed his temples. “It’s a boy. He is a boy.”

“Well, more like a man.”

“You’re not helping. Blonde. Blue eyes. He’s a,” Zeke paused for emphasis, “man.”

“I think that’s Armi—”

He barreled through your sentence. “Armin! Yes, him. It’d fuck him up too. He’s like an angel; we’d be stripping him of all innocence.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure a cute, 19-year-old college boy is getting at least some form of action. We all know who the right option is.”

“Alright, fuck it. Fine. Colt. Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Pervert,” he mumbled.

“Like you have room to talk.”

You grazed his cock with your hand. He smirked and pulled a joint from his pack of cigarettes. He held it between his lips and sparked it.

“I see you’re not concerned about getting caught.” He took a hit and then passed it to you.

You took a heavy drag off the joint. “I’m already going to get loudly fucked in a bathroom. I might as be high.”

You passed the joint back to him and he took a lengthy hit. He let the smoke drift from his mouth slowly. You plucked the joint from his fingers.

“I recommend taking another. A long one.”

“Why?” you said, smoke drifting from your mouth.

“Because you’re getting on your knees the second you exhale.”

You held the rest of the smoke in for as long as you could to spite him. But Zeke quickly tired of your bullshit and took the joint from you. He grabbed a chunk of your hair from the back of your scalp and pulled.

“Knees,” he muttered.

You scoffed. “Rude.”

However you did as you were told and he loosened his grip. He took a hit from the joint and blew the smoke towards the ceiling. The ground wasn’t sticky, but that did little to quell your disgust. You were always ashamed at the depths of depravity you allowed yourself to descend into for your boyfriend.

You looked up at him and asked, “Are you really gonna be able to keep the door shut?”

“No. Undo my belt.”

You gritted your teeth and started to fiddle with his belt. His rough hand rested on your head, softly caressing it. You knew such tenderness wouldn’t last long.

“I know you can work faster than that.”

You sighed dramatically. You quickly pulled his belt off and unbuttoned his jeans. You pulled them down and noted that his black briefs were sullied with precum. You yanked his underwear down and was greeted by his thick cock, a beautiful sight to behold. Drool pooled in your mouth, a small drop of it trickled from the corner of your mouth. Zeke lifted your chin and wiped it away with his calloused thumb.

“You’re foul. What will I ever do with you?”

You gazed up at him. “I don’t know… Let me milk every drop of cum from your cock?”

He smirked. “You’re so fucking stupid. Are you done talking?”

“I guess. I can’t think of anything else to—”

He grabbed the back of your head and forced his cock into your mouth. You lurched forward, using the bathroom stall door to keep some semblance of balance. His thrusts were methodical. Never too deep as he didn’t want you to gag on him, it was too early for that.

“You’re filthy, you know that? An utter degenerate.”

He continued to plunge his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth. You carefully breathed through your nose and tried to not cough on his length.

“You deserve to get caught. Everyone deserves to know what a disgusting slut you are.”

You attempted a nod, but Zeke put his rugged palm on your forehead and shoved you off of his cock.

“Say it.”

“I deserve to get caught.”

His grey stared down at you hazy with lust. “And?” He took one last hit off the joint.

“And everyone deserves to know how gross I am.”

He frowned and blew the smoke directly in your face. “Not quite, but close enough.” He shoved his cock back down your throat.

The bathroom stall proved to be a poor source of balance so you rested your hands on his tense thighs. His muscles contracted with pleasure. You relaxed your throat, finally getting the entirety of his cock in your mouth. You held it there for a few seconds before you felt the beginning of a gag. You pushed his hips away from you. He pulled out and continued to jerk off as you coughed and caught your breath.

“I’m getting really close,” he teased.

You smacked his hand away. You spit in yours and jerked him off while running your tongue along his slit.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He held your head in place and rammed his cock in your mouth. You grabbed onto his taut ass for leverage. His thrusts were becoming sloppy. He came hard, filling your throat with cum.

“I’m getting fucked, right?” you asked, wiping your lips.

“No, I thought I’d just stand here in this bathroom with my dick out.”

You rolled your eyes and got undressed. He led you out of the stall and shoved you against the sink. He groped your breasts, rough fingers pinching your nipples.

“Ouch!” you yelped.

Zeke laughed and pinched harder. He slipped three of his dexterous fingers into your slick pussy. They slid in and out with ease. He pushed you harder against the sink, the basin digging into your spine. You winced. He took notice and put his hands under your ass and lifted you up.

“Lock your legs around me,” he commanded.

He slammed his cock balls deep inside you. There was no tenderness in his thrusts. He wanted you to moan his name louder than you’d moan anyone else’s. But you resisted. The last thing you wanted to do was to bring any attention to yourself.

“Come on, pet,” he practically begged. “Say my name.”

You shook your head. You pictured those leering old men sipping their martinis, cocks stiff as they heard you moan. Zeke rubbed your clit with his thumb and started kissing your neck. His soft flaxen beard tickled your skin.

“Say my name or else I’ll go find some cheap whore that will.” 

His breath was hot on your neck. He pressed his thumb down hard on your clit.

“Fuck! Zeke!” Your legs tightened around his waist.

He placed his hand under your chin and forced you to make eye contact. His eyes were feral, darkened with desire.

“Weak. You can do better than that.”

You hugged him closer, fingernails digging into his chiseled back.

“Zeke!”

You felt your body growing warmer. Every cell in your body writhed with pleasure. You clung to his body as your orgasm intensified.

“I don’t remember giving you permission,” he whispered in your ear.

You attempted to hold back but it was too late. You moaned his name louder than even he anticipated. He held his hand over your mouth, his cock still inside you, thrusting away.

“I don’t remember saying you should start screaming either.” His tone was anxious. “I never thought I’d say this, but please shut the fuck up.”

You glared at him, but remained silent and allowed him to continue fucking you with his engorged cock.

“Good girl.”

The words barely left his lips before he let out a hearty moan. He pulled out of you.

“Hurry, get on your knees.”

You dropped down to them and opened your mouth. For the first time in years he missed, getting his cum all over your chin and down your neck. You were not impressed.

“You look so cute.”

He pinched your cheek and ordered you to stand up. He held your face in his hands. Just as he went to lick your neck the bathroom door swung open. It was one of the old men. Zeke didn’t stop licking you.

“Oh my word! I am so sorry. You, uh… You two… have fun.”

The guy ran out as quickly as he came in.

“I wonder if I could pay that guy to walk in on us whenever I want.”

You went to search for your underwear and found them inside a toilet. You flushed them away.

 “No. We talked about this already.”

“Colt would be traumatized if he walked in on this.”

Zeke finally put his dick away. You both stood at the sink washing your hands.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?! Whatever, let’s leave before we get kicked out for being absolutely disgusting. Not that I ever plan on coming back here.”

You walked out of the bathroom and faced the geezers. You kept your head down. Zeke on the other hand seemed to relish in the shame and even tried to high five the man who caught you.

Zeke grabbed his backpack from under the table you two had been previously sitting at. You headed to the spiral staircase that led to the exit. It was one of those rickety metal ones that would be considered decorative in a world that made sense. Zeke offered you his elbow and you held on while you cautiously made your way down the stairs. You pushed through the heavy doors and were greeted by a rush of cold air.

You shivered. “Fuck! I was inside before the sun went down.”

You were woefully unprepared for the weather.

“Good thing I’m a genius then, huh?” He pulled out a sweatshirt from his backpack. “Arms up.”

You raised your arms and he tugged the sweatshirt down onto your body.

“Thank you. I didn’t think it would be so chilly.”

Zeke pointed up at the perfectly clear night sky. “Yeah, we’re in for a cold one. Look.”

You both let out a collective whoa. It was a gorgeous sight; it almost made up for the ugliness that had previously occurred moments ago.

Zeke lightly slapped your ass. “Let’s get moving. We need to shower.”

“Come on, you don’t wanna stare at something dumb ass beautiful?”

If you had craned your neck back any further to see the stars you would have toppled over.“I already have a beautiful dumb ass I can stare at whenever I want. Now come on. I was balls deep in a paternity dispute before I got here. You’re going to love it, the baby daddy threw his gold tooth at his ex-wife. Jerry is pissed.”

[layla4567]

Hello! thanks for the D-90 fanfic, I know he was a secondary character and there is no so much material about him and I appreciate that you agreed to my request and did your best :D ! this time, may I request a mobius x reader? super cute super fluff

Thank you for your nice message, I appreciate that you liked it even though it was a little short. (I made it a fem reader but I never really describe the gender of the reader I hope you don't mind)

My silly little man

Mobius x Fem!reader

Summary: You want to organize something special for Mobius because you started to think that you don't really know when his birthday is, in fact, no one who works at the TVA really knows when they were born. After discovering that you were not created by the time keepers, your mission will be to find out Mobius' birthday with the help of Loki and give him a nice gift.

Warnings: just fluff

Word count: 3k

—————————♡—————————

With your hands framing your face and your elbows resting on the table, you listened attentively to Mobius talking about his favorite topic, jetskis.

"They are super fast vehicles and glide through the water like fish. I think it would be great to get on one of those, I would feel like Poseidon!"

Mobius' little eyes shone with excitement with every sentence he said and his body language was that of a happy child, he leaned over the table, moved his hands and from time to time he giggled, in short, he couldn't stop moving.

"And the best of all is that despite their size they are very light and can be carried on by more than one person.."

You nodded and smiled, memorizing every useful fact about jetskis. Suddenly Mobius remained silent, looking at you somewhat embarrassed.

"Hey… I'm not boring you, am I?"

"No! Of course not! It's funny when you talk to me about those jetskis"-you said surprised

He smiled with relief and ate a piece of his key lime pie. He wanted to take a break and decided to go with you to the pie room where you two were now. Whenever he felt stressed or discouraged, his favorite dessert that gave him the best comfort was key lime pie.

"You haven't tried your pie, aren't you hungry?"

"Oh, when I listen to you I forget everything else."

He seemed to blush and smiled shyly, you decided to take a taste of the pie. It was mint green and had a scoop of cream on top. When you put the fork in your mouth, your eyes widened.

"My God Mobius! It's delicious!"

"Have you never tried it before?"

"Ah ah"-You shook your head as you stuffed your cheeks with the delicious key lime pie. You looked like a bloated squirrel.

You finished the key lime pie before Mobius but you did it in such a hurry that you didn't realize that you had gotten cream on the corner of your mouth.

"You've got something… a little dirty. Here, let me help you."

Mobius took a small handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped the corner of your lip as you moved closer to him and made eye contact.

"Better?"-you asked

"Much better"-he said smiling

You smiled back warmly, he was a great man always willing to help. So gentlemanly and helpful with a fatherly attitude that no one else at TVA had. Although it is true that sometimes he was a little strange and made bad jokes, you always laughed because you adored him.

"Well I thought I was the only person who loved pie´s but I see that someone else beat me to it."-He said pointing to your empty plate.

You laughed, looking down and shrugging your shoulders, and when you looked up again you saw on the clock that it was time to go back to work.

"Oh, I think we talked too much, I better go back to my office, I don't want Miss Minutes to get angry."

He waved his hand dismissively. "That cartoon clock? Don't worry, she's probably busy chatting with Mickey Mouse and his friend Donald Duck."

You laughed again this time harder at his silly joke as you both got up and went back to your offices.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Hours later you were sitting pretending to work but in reality you were looking through the Mobius archives looking for important information, while from time to time you looked through their jetski magazines. Loki, who was next to you, looked at you out of the corner of his eye, intrigued. Suddenly he rolled up a magazine and hit you on the shoulder with it, you jumped and turned around offended.

"Ouch? What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Shouldn't you be working?"

"Ugh forget it Loki, you're not interested in what I'm doing."

"Right, but do you know who would be interested? What was the name of that grumpy judge who was a friend of Mobius? Oh, I remember, Ravonna! She'd be very upset if she caught you lazing around."

He made to stand up with a mischievous smile to tell Ravonna about your lack of efficiency when you stopped him by the wrist before he left.

"Fine, you win!! I'll tell you what I'm doing but don't tell Ravonna."

"I'm listening"

"I need to know Mobius's birthday"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"It's just that… haven't you stopped to think that no one here remembers the day they were born? Now we know that we are variants but we don't remember our birthdays, for example, you remember when you were born, right?"

"Of course I remember"

"See? That's my point, it's important to remember our birthday to know who we are, and Mobius needs to know who he is, or at least be reminded."

Loki looked at you for a while, thoughtful.

"Are you sure that's the only reason you're doing this?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, I mean, it's curious that you only want to know Mobius's birthday and not anyone else."

You avoided making eye contact with him and blushed slightly, you didn't want to lie to Loki because he was after all the god of mischief and no lie escaped him, but you didn't want to be so obvious either.

"Well, you know, Mobius is an important worker at the TVA, he is very good and understanding, loyal and patient and… he is someone important to me.."-you said in a low voice

Loki laughed, unable to contain himself, and you looked at him, frowning. Did he dare to mock you just now?

"I already knew that, I just wanted to see you admit it."

You punched him in the arm with your fist while he continued laughing. A while later he calmed down and told you

"Okay, I'll help you with whatever you need."

"I knew you would do it"-you smiled

You both agreed to use a Tempad to be able to travel to the Mobius timeline, without anyone finding out.

Walking shoulder to shoulder the two of you advanced through the halls of the TVA finding a place where you could open the time door without anyone seeing you, unfortunately Mobius was nearby talking to B-15 and saw you.

"Oh hey Loki, Y/N where are you going?"

"Oh uhh we were going to… we…-"-You murmured nervously.

"An alert sounded on our Tempads, it's just an annoying variant. Not very dangerous"-Loki said confidently helping you get by.

"How strange, no alarm went off in my Tempad"

"Not in mine either"-B-15 said, looking at them suspiciously.

"Well, I guess you'll have to send them to O.B to check them."

Loki smiled calmly and placed a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you to continue walking. They both walked away from Mobius and B-15 without looking back for fear that they would follow them. When they finally made sure that you and Loki were alone, they opened the time door.

"Phew, that was close."-you sighed

"Yeah, and be thankful that I saved you because you don't know how to lie."

"Hey!"

You couldn't say anything more because Loki rolled his eyes and pushed you slightly so that you crossed the time door and he followed you from behind.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

When you two walked out the door, a strong ray of sunlight hit your faces, forcing you to squint. A fresh breeze moved their hair and the soft singing of the birds sweetened their ears. In front of you was a picturesque house with toys lying in front near the sidewalk. Loki put his hands on his hips and you stood still waiting for something to happen.

"So, this is where the original Mobius lives, not bad, I mean, it's not the palace of Asgard but it looks comfortable-"

"Shh, someone's coming!"

From afar you saw how Mobius approached carrying two huge garbage cans making it difficult for him to walk. He was wearing a white shirt and pants with a blue vest, you sensed that it was the uniform of his original job.

"Ok guys we have a new rule and that is any toy found outside your room is gonna clasified as garbage. That is trash"

You watched as Mobius gathered the toys and felt your heart sink, so he had children. And if he had children that meant that maybe he also had a wife… you wrinkled your brow just thinking about it. Suddenly a blonde boy who was squatting ran out while Mobius called him shouting his name, to make matters worse another slightly older boy came out from behind the house and went for his brother. You lowered your head a little crestfallen, you no longer felt so much desire to visit him.

"Hey, what's wrong?"-Loki asked you worried

"Nothing, I don't think it was a good idea to come…"

You were about to turn around when Loki stopped you by the arm.

"No, no hey, hey wait. I know this seems strange but just because he has a son doesn't mean he should have a wife. Maybe he's a single father."

You didn't seem very convinced but you still stopped and turned to look at him.

"Besides, do you really think that if he had a wife, all those toys would be lying in the yard? Don't you think she would have already gone out to see what was going on?"

You hadn't thought about that, of course, Mobius seemed more like the kind of father who would be single and his children would drive him crazy. You smiled tenderly as you thought about that and as you remembered his fatherly attitude at the TVA, it made sense now.

"You're right, we shouldn't dramatize so much. Let's try to talk to him."-you sighed in relief

You and Loki walked towards the house where Mobius was still gathering the toys, carrying them under his arm as best he could. He suddenly turned around and was surprised to see the two of you.

"Oh hello there, do you need anything?"

Why did your throat feel dry every time you went to talk to him? The words didn't seem to come out of your mouth and your hands were sweating. You hated him. Loki once again came to your aid.

"We wanted to ask you something"

"Do you want to buy a jetski?"

Suddenly you forgot all nervousness and took a step forward

"Are you a jetski salesman?"

"Of course! That's what I dedicate myself to. Don, to serve you"

He extended his hand to shake it and you gladly did so. You were happy to know about his past and why he was always interested in those vehicles, finally the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together.

"Come with me, I have some excellent jetskis in my garage that I want to show you"

Don stepped forward and you whispered in Loki's ear.

"Don is a nice name, it suits him"

"So you think?"-he grimaced

The gray-haired man opened the door to his garage and showed them two beautiful jetskis in good condition.

"These are my greatest treasures, I shouldn't sell them to you but my wife is no longer here so no one is stopping me."-he laughed softly

Upon hearing that you raised your eyebrows without being able to contain yourself. Loki spoke to downplay your not at all hidden reaction.

"They are beautiful but we are looking for other models, could we chat inside? If you don't mind, of course"

"Alright, do you want something to drink? I have a couple of beers."

"It wouldn't be wise, we have to get back to work in a bit."

Suddenly Don seemed to notice your clothes and nodded smiling. Upon entering Don's house you could see that the disorder was also present there and not just in his yard. There were plates and pots piled up in the kitchen sink. On the table there were crayons, papers, glasses and tin soldiers. He hurriedly took out those things, apologizing profusely.

"Sorry for the mess, single dad."-He smiled embarrassedly.

"Do not worry I understand"

You looked at him, smiling tenderly, watching each of his movements and how you moved away his children's toys and drawings. Despite everything you thought he was a great father

"Well, sit down please, what model of jetski were you looking for?"

The three of you sat down and you and Loki looked at each other in silence not knowing what to say, you hadn't planned what to say, usually you improvised on the fly, especially Loki.

"Well we needed a big jetski of a specific color..."-it occurred to you to say

"Yes, yes and it is a special color to identify it from the other jetskis"-Loki said

"Okay, what color would it be? We have green, yellow, blue.."

"Purple maybe?"

"Or how about mother-of-pearl and gold?"

"Ok, that's a unique color."-Don said

You looked at Loki wanting to rip his head off. After all, he couldn't stop being the eccentric prince that he was. Don looked at the two of you confused, trying to guess if you were playing a prank on him.

"Look, I'll bring a magazine from the store where I work so you can see the prices and colors. I'll be right back."

When the gray-haired man left the kitchen you jumped up and looked around the place trying to find something that would tell you Mobius' birthday. On his refrigerator there were a lot of photos and notes stuck with magnets. His children's birthdays were written in the notes but not his, obviously. You sat back down quickly when Don returned with a jetski magazine.

"Well here it is, I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

You took the magazine smiling and approached Loki so you could both see the jetskis, obviously you had to feign interest so Don wouldn't get suspicious, but how could you get him to reveal the information you needed? Suddenly something occurred to you

"We are actually looking for a jetski to give to a friend for his birthday"

"Wow they must love their friend very much. I would have loved to receive that as a birthday gift"-he laughed

"Really? When is your birthday?"

"Oh it's already happened, it was October 15"

You looked at Loki and smiled at him, winking, he looked at you surprised at your abilities.

"Well in that case, happy belated birthday."

"Thank you"

You and Don looked at each other smiling tenderly, Loki smiled happily but then cleared his throat, bringing you back to reality and reminding you that they had to leave. With regret you saw Don again

"Well, I think we'll come back another day, there are so many jetskis that I can't decide"

"Yeah, and also if we don't go back to work our boss will get angry."-Loki said

The gray-haired man looked a little sad but managed to give a small smile.

"Oh ok, I got it. Please come back whenever you want, you are welcome in this house."

He walked you to the door but before leaving you grabbed his hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

"Thanks for everything"

The way you said it suggested that you thanked him for more than just showing you his jetskis. You and Loki left the house and returned to the TVA through the time door.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"And now what will we do? We already know that Mobius's birthday is October 15th but we still don't have any gifts for him"-You sighed frustratedly, sliding into your seat.

"And we should decorate the place too, just saying"

You rolled your eyes, growling and covering your face.

"Loki, you are not helping, instead of saying what I already know we should do, propose an idea"

"Sorry i'm trying! I have never had to organize a birthday party before"

You scratched your head, frowning and trying to come up with something.

"Well we could ask O.B to design something for Mobius, maybe a miniature jetski, you know O.B is good at inventing and fixing things"

Loki nodded listening attentively.

"And to decorate the place we will have to ask B-15 and Casey for help. We won't be able to do it alone"

"Pftt speak for yourself"

You looked at him frowning and he laughed but then he got serious and cleared his throat.

"Alright, let's go see that little inventor."

It didn't take long for the two of you to reach the basement where O.B worked. As always he greeted them smiling happy as a clam.

"Guys! It's nice to see you! What are you doing here?"

Suddenly you felt a little bad about what you were going to ask him, O.B was already a busy man and his office seemed like the result of a whirlwind of things, all messy. But Mobius was priority now

"I need you to try to recreate a miniature jetski, it doesn't have to be perfect. You can do it with whatever you find, screws, wires, whatever you want. Just try to make it look like a jetski"

You handed him a magazine that you had taken from Mobius's desk drawer so he would know the exact shape he should recreate.

"Ok! May I ask why do I have to do this?"

"Well, it's a gift for Mobius but don't say anything, it's a surprise."-you winked

"Alright, I won't say anything, I promise"

You and Loki left the little bespectacled man to work and headed into the hallways looking for Casey and B-15. They went a long way when they found Mobius again.

"Hello again, have you caught the variant yet?"

"What variant?-"

Suddenly you stomped on Loki to keep his mouth shut. He grabbed his foot, growling and looked at you angrily. You only saw Mobius and smiled nervously.

"Yes, we already caught it, luckily everything turned out well"

"Hmm, right."

You quickly took Loki by the arm, cursing inwardly while Mobius stood with his hands on his hips, looking at them suspiciously. He wasn't stupid, it was obvious that he knew something was wrong, and Loki almost ruined it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Mobius was upset and confused, pacing back and forth trying to figure out what you two were up to. He was racking his brain trying to figure out if they had gotten into trouble and were afraid to tell him. To console himself he ate a slice of pie. He suddenly realized that you spent a lot of time with Loki and he felt weird. Was it jealousy? But why would I be jealous of Loki? He was his friend and you… you… well, anyway. He told himself he didn't have to worry. When you finish eating the pie. He went to see O.B and was surprised by the silence there was, it was a heavy, suffocating silence as if something was lurking and was about to attack him. When he got to the basement he didn't see anyone, he turned around to look somewhere else and that's when he found a large banner with his name and the phrase "Happy Birthday."

"What the..-"

Suddenly Casey, O.B, Loki, B-15 and you came out from behind the engineer's desk and yelled "surprise!". Mobius turned around, startled and confused.

"What is all this??"

You approached with your hands behind your back and smiling from ear to ear.

"It's a birthday party, listen I know it sounds weird but you never knew when you were really born so Loki and I went to your original timeline and found out! Isn't it amazing?!"

Mobius opened his eyes wide and murmured.

"You and Loki did what? Why?"

"We all deserve to know where we come from to know who we are. We must know our past to understand our present. Today is not October 15 but we still wanted to celebrate that somewhere and at some time on earth you were born"-you looked at Loki and the others

"And remind you what a good person you are, and a great friend too"

"A loyal and helpful TVA agent"-B-15 said

"The man who always visits me and asks me how I am"-O.B said

"Or the man who is always patient and knows how to listen"-Casey said

Mobius looked at everyone moved and then looked at you.

"And most importantly, the person who is always there for everyone, who is understanding, passionate and optimistic. You always know what to say and when. We care about you Mobius, especially me"

Mobius didn't know what to say and his eyes were already wet, when from behind you you took out the gift that O.B had finished, a pocket jetski made of metal and welded. It was a little rustic and lacked paint but it was perfect

"I apologize for not being able to paint it, I didn't have time"-O.B said

Mobius laughed tenderly and grabbed the jetski, tears of happiness now running down his cheeks. He admired the piece of metal as if it were a treasure, that was more than he could wish for or imagine. He looked at all his friends smiling, he couldn't believe they had done something like that for him.

"I really don't know what to say, thank you"

"You don't have to say anything"

You hugged Mobius and gave him a kiss on the cheek, he melted into your arms inhaling your perfume and closing his eyes like a newborn being lulled to sleep.

"I love you silly little man"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

small note: I'm not an astrologist or anything but I couldn't decide whether to make Mobius of the sign cancer or libra, in the end I decided on libra lol

[storywriter12]

This is my first time I have done anything of hilson or anything of house I just started to watch the tv show and I thought why not do something cute so here it is enjoy❤️

Wilson's birthday 

It was bright and early in the morning and it was Wilson's birthday. He lied beside house still sleeping looking so peaceful as his eyes were shut he held tight to the blanket. 

(house) I brushed some of his brown fluffy hair away from his face. That must have done it because he moved, opening his tired eyes and he smiled at me "m.. Morning" he said I smiled. Oh finally I've been waiting for hours. He rolled his eyes, cuddling up to me resting his head on my chest. I kissed his head. Oh happy birthday I said he smiled "thank you" I drank from my cup and looked at the time it was nearly 10 ohhh come on,get off me your gift is going to arrive soon I said "awe but I wanna cuddle" in abit OK I promise

(wilson) I nodded OK. The door knocked and he got up off the bed and liming with his cane out of the bedroom door down the hall. I heard the front door open, a few words were said, then the door shut. I heard his cane on the floor and then he came into the bedroom with a brown box. He put it on the bed. I looked at him and he looked at me. "um open it then" he said ok i smiled moving the blankets off of me and opened the box when I did I heard little meows I gasp as I looked in  the box there in the corner was a. Little fluffy white kitten who looked up at me and meowed again, oh it's a kitten I said softly I picked it up and sat the kitten down on  my chest as it meowed again. Thank you I said house smiled I cuddled him 

(house) happy birthday babe 

[dreamerstreamer]

Sugar & Spice

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: The holidays are here! What better way is there to end the year than with Clay and some cookies?

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: happy holidays, folks! due to popular demand, this year’s holiday special is written for dream. i hope you all sincerely enjoy and have a wonderful day!

You peered down at the bowl in front of you, your eyes narrowing. Needs more... yellow.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you reached across the counter for a small bottle, quickly unscrewing the cap. Holding it over the bowl, you gently squeezed until a single drop fell atop the fluffy frosting sitting in the center. Your lips quirked upward, a twang of satisfaction running through you.

You hummed as picked up the bowl with one hand and grabbed a wooden spoon with the other. Sticking the spoon in, you began to stir, watching with hopeful eyes as the frosting’s hue slowly began to shift ever so slightly. A few moments later, your arm stilled, pride swelling in your chest at the perfect shade of lime green that stared back at you.

“There we go.”

All of a sudden, a beep filled the air, and you startled. Realization quickly washed over you, and your shoulders sank. The oven’s done preheating, you thought to yourself with a flicker of joy.

Flipping around, you slid the bowl across the counter toward the other bowl of frosting you had already made, then turned on your heel. You reached for the oven mitts hanging on the cabinet door, slipping them on with a grin as your fingers fit perfectly inside. You were about to focus your attention on the silver tray of dough you had laid out earlier when a dash of brown caught your attention. You whirled, your gaze landing on a familiar, furry face who was about six inches too close to your precious icing.

“Patches,” you said slowly, eyeing the paw she had raised over the bowl’s middle, “if you’re about to do what I think you’re going to do, don’t.”

She froze at the sound of your voice, her movements coming to a halt as you inched closer toward her.

“Seriously, Patches. You’ll get sick.”

She blinked at you, her big, green eyes scanning your face as her whiskers twitched. You held your breath as you stared back, your fingers crossing behind your back.

Her tail flicked once—twice.

Then she lowered her paw.

You nearly sank to the ground in relief, quickly leaning over to snatch the bowl away and clutch it to your chest. “Thank goodness,” you mumbled to yourself, your eyes squeezing shut. “I thought I was going to have to sta—“

“Hi.”

You yelped, leaping with a start as you whipped around, your fingers curling around the edge of the bowl. On the other side of the kitchen island stood Clay, his hand scratching behind Patches’ ear as she nuzzled up into his touch. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you let out a deep breath, your hand resting atop your pounding heart.

“Holy crap,” you breathed, sending him a shaky smile as you straightened, “you scared me.”

He flashed you a crooked grin, pulling his hand away from Patches. The moment he did, she leapt off the counter, scampering away down the hall. “Sorry. I just I finished streaming and wanted to come see what you were up to.” His eyes darted to the mitts on your hands then the counter behind you. “What are you baking?”

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you placed the bowl of frosting down next to you, quickly grabbing the tray of dough you had made earlier. “Gingerbread cookies!” You sent him a wink. “But with a twist.”

He took a step toward you, blinking down at the array of squares and circles littering the platter before his eyes caught on a particular shape. “Is that... my YouTube profile picture?”

Your eyes curved into tiny crescents. “Yeah! Aren’t they cute?”

He bobbed his head, his emerald gaze crinkling at the corners. “Very.”

You walked toward the oven, pulling it open with a gloved hand. “I have all the icing ready to go for after it’s done baking,” you said, careful not to burn yourself as you slid the tray inside, “and I even got some fondant for your eyes and smile.” You pouted as you pushed the door closed. “I was going to use black licorice, but I figured it might not taste as good.”

While you pressed a few buttons on the stovetop, Clay leaned against the counter, dipping a finger into the bowl of frosting before bringing it back to his lips. He eyed his finger curiously for a moment, then flicked his tongue out to lap up the white cream. He tilted his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he swallowed. “Mm, sweet. You sure put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”

You walked over to him, leaning over to tap his nose with your clean finger. “It’s a special time of year. It’d just be sad if I didn’t put in at least a little extra effort.”

The smile he sent you was absolutely dazzling, and you could have sworn you felt your head spin at the sight. “Well,” he said, “you went the extra mile, so I think you’ve done more than enough.”

Pulling the oven mitts off, you hung them back on the cabinet, eyeing the bowls of frosting. “I still have to wait for them to bake,” you began, counting in your fingers, “decorate, then clean, but after all that, then I’ll be finished.”

Clay’s hand slid over the counter toward you. “Can I help?” His gaze averted from yours, something akin to embarrassment flickering within. “I-I’m not an artist or anything, bu—“

You put your hand on top of his. “Yes,” you said without missing a beat. “Absolutely. Of course, you can.” A wicked grin flashed across your face. “If you also help me clean.”

His expression mirrored your sly one. “Like I would let you do it alone, anyways.” He wrinkled his nose. “Just don’t send any pictures of the cookies I decorate to George or Sap, though.” He nearly shivered at the idea. “They’ll definitely clown me.”

You laughed at the thought of the inevitable string of mocking messages he would be sure to receive, a wave of affection surging through you. His stare was fond as he added, “How long do we have to wait?”

Your eyes glanced at the timer on the oven. “Like ten, fifteen minutes, tops. It won’t be that long.”

He pushed off from the counter, standing up straight. “What do you wanna do for fifteen minutes, then?”

You hummed, pursing your lips for a moment before your face lit up. “Cuddles?”

He blinked at you once, then chuckled. “Cuddling, it is, then.”

You let out a small victory cry, missing the way his eyes softened. You turned on your feet, gesturing to your backside. “Help me take off my apron?”

He padded up to you with a hum, his hands reaching over to grasp at the fabric securing the apron around your waist. His fingers were warm against the small of your back, and with a few tugs, the knot unraveled in an whirl. You easily slipped the apron off your shoulders and around your head, flashing Clay another grin as you placed it atop the counter. “Thank you.”

When he returned your thanks with a soft, “You’re welcome,” you turned on your heel for the living room. You had made it about five feet when a warm hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in place.

You paused, turning to look at Clay over your shoulder. “Clay?” you murmured.

He raised his eyebrows at you, his smile curling into a smirk as he pointed above the two of you. “Would you look at that.”

You glanced up, and you felt your throat tighten.

Of course. Mistletoe.

You had nearly forgotten he had hung it up the day before, mischief dancing across his face as you rolled your eyes at him. Shaking your head, you couldn’t stop the lovestruck smile from spreading across your face as you lowered your head, your gaze locking onto his. He was a dork, but he was your dork, and that was all that mattered.

In an instant, his arms were around your waist, pulling you toward him until your chests were flush against one another. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up to press your lips to his. He grinned into the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and you made a small noise that only made him smile harder. You ran a hand through his hair, digging your fingers into the base of his locks. He tasted sweet like sugar, and you could have sworn you could taste the frosting he had licked just a few minutes prior.

You parted with a gasp, his forehead leaning against yours as the two of your calmed your beating hearts, his hot breath fanning over your face. His lips were rosy and swollen, his hair disheveled this way and that. You were sure you looked just as messy, if not more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you simply smiled at him.

“Happy now, lover boy?” you quipped. When he nodded, looking like a lovesick puppy, you tugged at his arm with a laugh. “Alright, let’s go cuddle, now.”

You pulled him toward the living room with ease with a bounce in your step, lunging for the couch. With a small cry of victory, you tumbled into the couch cushions, Clay following right after you. The moment he sat down, you flipped over, snuggling into his side as he slung his arm around you.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, your hearts beating in sync with one another as you simply basked in each other’s presences. You were practically drowning in his warm touch and the steadily growing scent of gingerbread.

Rolling over slightly, you traced a finger over the vein in his arm, murmuring softly, “This year’s been kind of wild, hasn’t it?”

You could practically feel him roll his eyes beside you as a chuckle flew from his lips. “Don’t even get me started. I could spend ages talking about how crazy everything’s been.”

You shifted in his arms, your eyes scanning his face. Something in your chest felt hazy as your gaze traced over the curve of his cheek and the slope of his nose.

“But not all of it has been bad, you know?” you murmured, reaching a hand up to his cheek. As your skin met his, he leaned into your touch, your thumb tracing over the myriad of freckles dusting his face. “You’ve done a lot of crazy cool stuff. Look at how much your channel’s grown—how much you’ve grown. You even won a Streamy award.”

His cheeks flushed, and he buried his face into your hand, his lips pressing against your palm as his voice came out slightly muffled. “You give me too much credit.”

You lowered your hand and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “You deserve all of it and more,” you whispered, just for him to hear. “You’re more amazing than you know. You made your dream come true.” Your gaze was sincere as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling him shiver beneath you. “Little Clay would be so proud.”

As you pulled away from him, you took in the sight of his rosy cheeks and viridian eyes, his lips parted in awe as he simply stared at you. You felt your face grow hot underneath his gaze, and you lowered your eyes to your lap, clasping your hands together. Even just his stare made you so flustered—was it even possible to be so deeply affected by one person?

After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. “How did I get so lucky?”

You lifted your chin, tilting your head at him as your eyebrows knit together. “Well, you did spend literal months studying the YouTube algorithm, and you’re still constantly working on videos,” you pointed out. “Plus, you stream, so I wouldn’t necessarily call all that just lu—“

He shook his head, smiling. “No, no.” He looked at you dead on, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I mean, how did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “What?”

He reached over, slipping your hand into his as he intertwined your fingers together. “You’re not something I can study for,” he murmured into your ear, his voice wrapping around you like a cozy blanket, “or some plug-in that I can code.” Something warm and gooey melted in your stomach. “You’re just you, through and through, and by some miracle, you’re sitting here with me.”

Your face practically burst into flames, and you most definitely felt yourself starting to turn to putty. You wanted to hide your face in your hand, but he was holding it, so all you could manage was a shy whine. You barely managed to catch a glimpse of his cocky grin before you turned, burying your face in his neck.

“Clay,” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how hard your heart was beating, “you are so embarrassing.”

You could hear his smile as he spoke, squeezing your hand. “You love me for it.”

You couldn’t stop a smile of your own from stretching across your face as you squeezed back. “Yeah, I do.”

Slowly, he untangled your hands and wrapped his arms around you, tugging you closer to his chest as you sank into him. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend the holidays, all cuddled and cozied up in Clay’s warm embrace with gingerbread cookies baking in the back. As you drank in his cologne and felt his heartbeat ringing in your ears like a familiar melody, you only had one thing on your mind.

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

Just then, there was a deafening crash and the unmistakable clattering of bowls.

You froze in Clay’s arms, your eyes shooting wide open as his hold went slack around you.

There was a beat of silence, followed by a meow.

Your jaw dropped.

Oh my god.

You didn’t allow yourself any time to think before you scrambled off the couch, nearly tripling over your own feet as you raced toward the kitchen, Clay’s voice calling out after you.

“[Y/N]! What’s going on?”

For a few moments, there was only the sound of heavy panting. Then came a loud wail.

“Patches!”

It was far from a perfect holiday, to say the least, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 07

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: A little nerves, a little fluff, a little angst at the dinner

WC: 4225

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Y/N’s mouth opens and closes in quick succession.

She keeps on shaking her head, “I’m sorry, I think I must have not heard right,” She starts to chuckle but it’s not a good chuckle, it comes out more drily, like she tries to override her confusion with it, and Dean cocks an eyebrow, thinks she’s adorable how she keeps shaking her head. “I thought you said that if this should blow up because of me that I’d have to marry you,”

“That’s exactly what I said,” His voice is steady because he really means it.

“Oh no,” She shakes her head again, continues to look at him puzzled, “You can’t be serious,”

“I’m dead serious,”

“Dean, you don’t even know what you’re saying,” She looks around the hallway, looks up at the ceiling, as if she’s trying to spot a damn camera. 

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Dean waits until her gaze is back on him and then he stares her down, “Sweetheart, do I look like I’m joking?”

She narrows her eyes as she looks at him, and Dean notices that she tries to see in his eyes if he’s joking. He can tell that she’s trying to read something. Fucking anything. But she can’t. They never can. Maybe she’ll get it, she never will. He’s hard to read, is not really an open book. He doesn’t think there’s anyone out there in this world who can read him and that’s because Dean wants it that way. He has built up his business persona, has shaped himself to be unreadable, unpredictable even. It works to his advantage.

Her eyes go back to their usual size, but there’s a frown between her eyebrows, “Give me one good reason why you would want that?” 

Dean reaches out his hand, grazes her cheek with his knuckles before he moves his thumb up, rubs gently in between her eyebrows with it to ease the frown. 

“I think,” He starts to say and pauses to clear his throat, using the time to think his words thoroughly. His thumb leaves her again, pulls his hand back and sticks it back into his pants pockets. He only realizes it now that he’s been touching her. Has been touching her more than he probably should. In private. After he composes himself, he starts to speak again, “The most important reason is, that eventually, I will have to get married anyway. I should keep up our arrangement, it just seems easier.”

It’s not bad for him, who’s a businessman, to want to stick to a deal that’s already going on when both parties benefit from it, right? Right. But somehow there’s a feeling in his gut that tells him that what he just said was wrong.

The frowns back and she looks at him like she doubts him and there’s something he can detect in her eyes that he can’t quite put his finger on. Was it disappointment? 

He quickly tries to save the mood. 

“But don’t worry,” Dean chuckles and looks down at her, pulling his chin to his chest. It’s most definitely not his best angle, most definitely he doesn’t look like the hottest entrepreneur 2020 like this. But hey, she’s stuck with him now and he’s stuck with her. Time to get accustomed to the side that’s not always rainbows and cupcakes, and somehow it works because the frown’s gone. “It’ll only happen if you lose,” 

Y/N snorts. She’s trying her best to keep her cool he guesses, and she crosses her arms over her chest. It prompts her tits to be squished and they almost spill out of because of the wide cleavage. Dean knows he shouldn’t but it’s almost impossible. So, he does what every man would be doing, he risks a glance, hopes she doesn’t notice. 

But she does. Because he knows by the way the corner of her lips curve up that she must have noticed him staring. And it’s like she’s taunting him because she presses her arms together some more as she starts to grin. It’s all cocky and fuck, he’d never thought he’d see a cocky smile on a girl that matches his. 

“Fine, just don’t come crying when you have to fork over a new apartment, loverboy,” She ends up smiling satisfactorily, it’s almost too cute.

Dean chuckles again, “That only happens when I lose, sweetheart,” And then he leans closer, brushes his lips against the shell of her ear to whisper to her. It could be his imagination, but she’s shivering. From up close he can smell her perfume, and he absolutely loves the scent on her. Dean keeps his voice  low when he speaks, “And I never lose, baby,”

Standing back, Dean holds out a hand out for her to shake. Y/N does, with a narrowing of her eyes, grips his hand just a little tighter to tell him silently, that’s she’s not a loser as well. 

He likes that. Likes how she absolutely is down to compete. 

“Got yourself a deal there,” Dean nods and instead of letting go of her hand, he holds it tighter, keeps it in his as he pulls her along the hallway and into the dining room.

 *

As he pulls a chair out for her to sit on, the doorbell rings. Dean should have known, his dad’s never late.

“Dean,” She whispers.

“What?”

“Why is there so much silverware?”

He laughs. Full on.

She elbows him in the ribs because the footsteps of his father and the maid are coming closer. 

“Seriously, which ones do I choose?” Y/N hisses.

His father is already in the room and comes closer, so Dean leans over to her, whispers into her ear, “Work your way from the outside in. They are placed in the order of use. It’s not hard,” 

“‘K,” 

She nods, but the frowns still there so Dean reaches under the table, lays his hand on her thigh, squeezes reassuringly and she wants to stand up and greet his dad, but Dean holds her down, thumb drawing circles on her skin, “Stay,”

They aren’t formal. His father usually sits down to eat because that’s what he came here for. It’s not a fucking social party. There are no eyes on them and John Winchester doesn’t go out of his way to impress anyone when the press is not around.

And as Dean predicted, his father sits down before he even greets them.

“Y/N, Dean,” There’s a courtesy nod.

  Dean and his dad hold small talk and it isn’t two minutes later that the maid brings in their first course. 

While she was getting dressed, the chef sent the maid around to ask her if there’s something she doesn’t like or if there’s something she is allergic to and Y/N guesses that they are pretty happy that she could literally eat anything. She grew up not having too much food around so food in general gets her excited and she loves to try new things.

When the maid sets their entrees in front of them, Dean’s hand leaves her thigh, and she doesn't even notice that he’s been touching her the whole time. Is it weird that it felt natural to her? Somehow, she has the feeling that it doesn’t seem that he noticed it either because Dean just pulls his hand from her thigh and starts to dig into his food like it’s no big deal.

Maybe it isn’t. Maybe, she thinks, he really enjoys touching her to feel close to her and that’s a good start, right? At least he doesn’t look as troubled as he usually is around her.

It’s chicken truffles terrine on a salad bouquet and god, the terrine melts on her tongue and there’s an explosion of tastes going on in her mouth. 

She hums her approval after the first bite, which prompts Mr. Winchester Sr. to smirk at her. 

The conversation is kept light during the first course, maybe Dean nor his father wanting to spoil their appetite. And she keeps herself mum, too afraid she would start to bubble nonsense because she’s still so damn nervous.

“Sauntéed Dover with Almond and Soy-Lime emulsion,” The maid said as she brought out the main course and honestly, Y/N doesn’t understand any of it but hell, if it’s as good as the entrée, they should keep bridging them out.

Before she could dig her fork into the glorious fish, though, John Winchester clears his throat to speak. 

“So, Y/N, I heard you are working in our company?”

Her heart starts to race and there’s that sweaty hand again. 

She pulls herself together and looks at Mr. Winchester Sr. tries to meet his eyes because she doesn’t want to seem like she’s incapable of answering a damn simple question. 

“Sir, yes. In fact, I met Dean there,”

The fact that she held his eye contact works, because John nods, before he takes the fork and digs into his meal. The relief she feels when John doesn’t ask more questions is vast. 

She takes a bite of the fish herself and it falls apart as soon as the fork touches it. Her mouth starts to water before she pushes the forkful of fish into her mouth and she isn’t disappointed because god, that explosion of taste is back and the fish melts on her tongue. 

Humming out loud, she closes her eyes, savoring the fish and the taste of the soy-lime sauce. 

Dean chuckles next to her when he hears it, and his hand is back on her thigh, squeezing it in what she hopes is approval. 

When she opens her eyes, she sees John watching them, but there’s a smirk on the older man’s lips. 

“It’s good to see a woman with an appetite,” He says.

“I’m sorry,” Her face feels flush, “I just get very excited about good food,”

Dean’s hand squeezes her thigh again, as if he wants to say that it’s okay. 

His father is watching them, though. She realizes as she looks back to the old man and he still hasn’t budged. That’s when she knows that he’s watching if they are real. 

Y/N leans closer to Dean, lets her hand trail up his muscled back, her fingers threading through the short hair at the nape of his neck and the color in Dean’s cheek rises up. His ears are tinted pink. She clearly affects him. She just doesn’t know if it’s good or bad. 

Before she can move closer, Dean almost winds himself out of her grip, and his hand that’s on her thigh goes behind him, plukes her hand away from his neck to hold it in his palm. 

“Are you okay?” She whispers, doesn’t want to be too loud, even though his father has seen everything already. Clearly, he’s not okay, but she just doesn’t know what it is. Does her touching him hurt him so much? Why do they keep doing it then? 

Dean catches himself, places a kiss on the back of her hand before he moves closer to kiss her cheek. He stops short, to whisper in her ear, “No, I think I’m in trouble,”

His lips lingering close to her ear, sending shivers down her spine. What does he mean he’s in trouble? How? What? 

Before she can wrap her head around what Dean just said, John clears his throat to speak.

“Y/N, what do you think about my son’s prenup?”

If John thinks he caught her by surprise, he really did. 

“Uh,” She starts to say, stammers as her mouth tries to form words. Of course, Dean Winchester would have a prenup. Sam mentioned that Carmen was ready to sign that thing. It’s not a secret that wealthy men have prenups, right? 

“He hadn’t shown you the prenup yet, did he?” John’s lips are crooked into a cocky grin. 

And it’s then that Dean turns to her and lays his hand back on her thigh, “I didn’t show it to you because we won’t have a prenup,” His voice is soft, gentle while his eyes are on her, as if he wants to make sure that she hears him. 

“You what?” Mr. Winchester Sr. asks loudly.

Dean’s eyes leave hers as he tilts his head back to meet his dad’s gaze. “I won’t have a prenup with her, Dad,” His voice is louder this time, firm, as if he is putting his foot down.

“Dean, I—,”

“—No, I know exactly what you want to say. Fact is, it’s my marriage, and my life. You have no say in this. I trust Y/N. We don’t need it and that’s my final word.” He’s even louder, getting all worked up and it’s her turn to lay her hand on his thigh to calm him down. 

He flinches at her touch, just a little, but she notices it nonetheless. And she gets a bit discouraged. Why does he bother holding a speech with not getting a prenup when he flinches at her touches? She doesn’t fucking get it.

John Winchester stands up abruptly and buttons up his suit jacket, “Well, it was nice, but I have another dinner meeting to attend,” He says as he nods to Dean and her, “Dean, I’ll see you at the event, and Y/N, it was nice meeting the woman who manages to enchant my son enough for him not being able to think straight.”

The man walks over to the door, stalls and looks back, “I will get Sam to talk some sense into you, and I hope next time I see you, you’ll have changed your mind.” He says, completely ignoring her presence.

“Wow,” She huffs out as soon as the apartment door shuts close. 

“Yeah,” Dean snorts, “That’s my father for you.”

She wonders if she should bring up the prenup, but decides against it. It’s not like they’re going to get married anyway, right? Surely, Dean’s legal team will be able to find a solution before they have to go that far and she certainly will not lose the bet they have running.

Returning to her meal, she forks the fish into her mouth, groans loudly this time because the old grumpy Mr. Winchester is gone and Dean sets his fork to the side and braces his elbow on the table. He turns his body a little, tilts his head and lays it on the hand of the arm that’s on the table as he continues to watch her eat with a grin on his face.

“You really like the fish, huh?”

“God,” She exclaims, “The food here is excellent,” 

“I’ll pass your compliment to the chef,” 

“I hope me gaining weight is not in the contract because I think there’s a big chance it will happen if I get fed delicious meals,” Y/N smiles at him with her mouth around the fork. 

“It isn’t,” Dean replies and it seems like he really enjoys her enthusiasm.

He hasn’t touched his food, but he’s waiting patiently for her to finish hers. As soon as she does, he gets up and holds out a hand for her to take, “C’mon, we’re taking the dessert in my study.”

“In your study?” 

“Yeah,” Dean grins as he leads her out, “I would have suggested having taken it on the terrace, but it’s too chilly and you’re barely wearing anything. The next best view in this penthouse is from the study window.”

He leads her inside and he’s not really wrong. Now that it’s dark out, the city below them is lit up by a million lights. 

“Is that why it’s your study? Because you spend your nights here often and you wanted a good view?”

Dean hasn’t turned on the light in the room, but there’s enough light coming in from the window that she can see his cheek turning pink, “Maybe,” He shrugs.

Thinking that it’s probably something he doesn’t want to talk about, she makes her way to the couch right by the window, takes off her shoes and curls her legs on the sofa. 

The maid comes in to bring them the dessert and a refill of her wine glass. It’s a really good wine, she can’t lie. It makes her feel woozy in the best kind of way and she can’t stop wanting more, even if her head’s already swimming a little. 

Y/N looks back to see Dean pouring himself a couple of fingers of whiskey before he takes off his suit jacket. He didn’t bother wearing a tie to the dinner. He opens up another button, and it makes him look more relaxed. He sets his glass on to the tray and balances the items over to set it down on the little table next to the couch.

He hands her the plate with what she assumes is something chocolatey. 

Digging her silver spoon into it, she takes a bite, hums and groans as the flavor hits her taste buds. It’s dark chocolate, which normally she doesn’t really like that much, but it’s spiked with something she can’t put her finger on but it’s fucking delicious. 

“Oh my god,” She moans, “It’s so good,”

“I can tell,” He chuckles as he watches her eat.

“Wait,” She pauses her devouring and raises her eyebrows at him. Dean’s only been holding his tumbler and a glance over to the tray, she can see that there isn’t any dessert on it for him, “You’re not having dessert?”

“Nah,” He says, “I’m not much of a dessert guy,”

“What?”

“Yeah,” He exhales, “I’m not much of a fancy dishes kinda guy anyway, but it’s hard if you grew up like that,”

“So, you’re telling me that you’d rather eat something simple than those magnificent dishes your chef creates?”

“Yep,”

“You’re weird,” 

“I know,” He chuckles, “But I’m glad you enjoy it. I’m sure the chef is delighted to have someone to cook for either,”

Y/N takes another spoonful, moaning and closing her eyes again and Dean shifts next to her. When she opens her eyes back up, he’s watching her with a smile on his face.

“Seriously, you’ve got to try this!” She digs into the mousse again and scoops up enough to hold it over to Dean. 

“Oh, no, I—,” He starts to say.

“Please? For me? You’ve got taste it,”

And she’s kind of pestering him, the spoon already brushing at his lips. 

“Come on,” She nudges the spoon to his lips, “I can’t be the only one to enjoy this tonight,” 

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing along his lips, “Fine,” 

He opens his mouth and she pushes the spoon in. Dean's lips seal around the small silverware, and she pulls it out while his eyes are on hers. 

She feels flush, feels hot all of a sudden. It might have been more intimate than she thought it would be.

“And?” She asks and Dean nods his head.

“It’s good,”

“It’s good?” She frowns, “It’s fucking amazing!” 

He smiles.

 *

 After she devoured her dessert they stayed on the sofa and she emptied her glass of wine. And it’s not like she had planned it, but the wine makes her limbs feel heavy and her head light, and somehow, she ends up closer to Dean, laying her head on his shoulder.  

He lets her.

“You know, you did good tonight,” Dean says. She can feel his voice vibrating from his body. 

“Why thank you,” Y/N chuckles, “I’ll take that,”

“You should,” 

He nudges his shoulder up, making her lift her head and Dean takes the opportunity to drape his arm over the back of the couch so that it’ll be more comfortable for her. She doesn’t hesitate to curl herself into his side. She’s overly clingy when she drinks and she hopes he doesn’t mind.

While she looks out of the window, the lights blend into each other. 

“You know, I was wondering,” She starts to say and she doesn’t even know why she says it. It must be the wine speaking, “Have you ever had sex against the window in the dark?”

She can feel his body stiffen significantly. Dean inhales before he lets out an exhale with a chuckle, “How many glasses of wine did you have?”

“Eh, not much,”

“It seems to me like you’re a little tipsy,”

“Ugh, I am not,”

That’s a lie. She’s definitely tipsy. Maybe bordering on being drunk. She’s such a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, it’s a little embarrassing. 

“Right,” He’s still chuckling, “Thank you, by the way,”

Ah, he’s trying to steer the conversation away from the sex. She’s a little disappointed but well, if he doesn’t want to talk about something that’s fine. So, instead of pestering him, she asks, “Thank you for what?”

“For playing it so well. I really believed you liked me.” 

“Dean,” She pauses to look up at him, “I do like you.” 

“Yeah?”

Y/N lays her head back on his chest, “Yeah, you’re not a bad man, Dean. You certainly went out of your way to make it comfortable for my little family.”

“It’s the least I could have done considering you guys are giving up your life to help me out,”

“That counts as something in my book. And you know what?”

“What?”

She chuckles, “You’re funny,”

“I am?”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re even trying to be but you are. The way you’re always grumpy, it’s kind of funny, to be honest,”

“Hey,” He protests, but he’s chuckling himself. 

“I like spending time with you,” 

“That’s good because I like spending time with you, too,” He says and his hand comes down from the edge of the couch to stroke along her arm. 

They stay like that for a while, both of them staring out the window wordlessly. She enjoys the silence with him, and she desperately tries not to think about him pressing her against the window and fucking her to the backdrop of the city lights. Nope. Totally not on her mind.

It’s when she feels her eyelids getting heavy that she pushes herself away from Dean and maybe she just imagines it, but there’s a subtle whine that comes out of this throat. He catches himself pretty quickly, though. 

“I’m going to bed,” Y/N says and stands up, feels his eyes on her when she rights her dress, “Unless you need me to be your fake fiancée longer,”

Dean smiles as he shakes his head, “No, I’m alright. Have a good night, Y/N. Sam will send you your schedule over,”

“‘K,” She nods, “Good night, Dean,”

 *

 Before she goes into her room, she checks in on Liv, sees the girl sleeping soundly. With a smile, she closes the door to her daughter’s room and makes her way to her own. 

There, she strips off her dress and gets herself ready for bed.

While she lays in bed, though, she can’t help but think about her weird day. If she’d tell Donna, the woman would think that she’s having a fever dream. 

Oh god, Donna.

Y/N grabs at her phone on the nightstand, looks at it for the first time after she has ditched it to go to dinner with Dean’s dad. 

There have been missed calls and texts from Donna, asking her when she’d be back or if she has been fired already because Y/N didn’t return.

Quickly she types in a message, maybe Donna’s asleep already anyway. 

 Y/N: You won’t believe what happened

Donna: OH THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE

Y/N: Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

Donna: I was worried out of my mind

Y/N: What happened after I made my way to the top floor?

Donna: Oh god, you should have seen Raphael. He had to pack his things right away, but he was screaming and thrashing around, refusing to leave so they had to bring in security and had him thrown out of the building.

Y/N: Wow

 Wow, indeed. Dean really fired him. On the fucking spot.

 Donna: The big boss believed you, right?

 She has to chuckle as she types in her next reply.

 Y/N: Well, he has to because I’m his fiancée. He proposed to me in his office.

 It’s a lie, but she has to keep up the illusion, doesn’t she? It’s best if Donna knows it, but only so much to feed into the illusion. She guesses she can explain it later when this will all be over. 

 Donna: WHAT THE FUCK 

Donna: WHAT HAPPENED OH MY GOD TELL ME EVERYTHING

 She can’t help but laugh. 

 Y/N: I’m pretty tired, but let’s just say, I’ll let you know as soon as I can alright? Thought you’d like to know that Dean and I are an item now and that you’ll probably see my face in those glamour magazines.

Donna: FUCK I’M SO JEALOUS

Y/N: Right, I gotta get some shut eye, I’ll be in contact, Donna. Love you

Donna: I love you too, Y/N, even though I’m fucking jealous.

 Still laughing, she places her phone back on the nightstand and curls herself into the soft pillows and comforter and it’s not long before she drifts into sleep.

Ch. 08

A/N: Thank you for reading until now. Your comments make my day. Buckle your seatsbelts. From now on it’s going to be a whirlwind of events and feelings! Hint: We’ll see Dean and Liv’s interaction in the next chapter!

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[yandere-sins]

ÒwÓ may I request your 3rd favorite yandere forcing their darling (male) to wear a maid “uniform” for them??

As we decided via randomizer, Satan it is! Thank you for requesting!

Rated Lime

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

Even with the times changing, the sheer lack of fabric on this particular outfit made you embarrassed.

Perhaps, had it been a regular uniform, it would not have bothered you at all. Hell, who cared about gender constructs that didn’t even exist in Devildom? A maid uniform was cute, frilly, and a bit over the top, but otherwise nothing to be upset about. Yet, with only half of such a uniform, it was quite the extreme opposite of what you had expected.

Satan was one-of-a-kind, eccentric even. Aside from the obvious anger issues he harbored, he also never seemed to run out of ideas to make your life worse by the minute. As if kidnapping and holding you in a magic realm to his liking wasn’t enough, his mischievous side tended to also apply the occasional curse on you or lash out if he was in a bad mood. But this; this was new.

That he’d go so far as to employ the help of his brother just to still his curiosity wasn’t what you expected. However, standing there, pulling and tearing at the small, fluffy skirt which barely even reached your hips, the only explanation for this kind of outfit that came to mind was Asmodeus.

“W-What even is that,” you stammered, feeling the heat prickle on your face. Looking down on yourself, you tried to avoid peering into the mirrors that Satan had made appear all-around to give him a better view. It was unforgivable with what amount of composure the devil managed to lounge in his chair, hands folded before his head as if in prayer while his eyes continued lurking at you from behind them.

“You could have at least gotten it in my size!” Though heard, your complaints fell on deaf ears, Satan being unbothered by the fact you couldn’t even close the damn corset-like structure in your back. It was poorly made anyway, but your back was just too broad to even get the zipper one inch up. Clearly, by the cups sewn into plastic-like material on the front, it wasn’t made for a man’s body, and surely not for yours; the cups didn’t even reach up far enough to cover one of your nipples.

Feeling yourself getting angry about it, you let out a frustrated groan, pulling down the tulle skirt in an attempt to hold it between your legs. The worst part about the whole outfit was the very mismatched, unwearable underwear. Honestly, it probably would have been less embarrassing to not wear anything at all than this poor excuse of a maid uniform.

“I’m taking this off,” you decided as there was barely any reaction from Satan despite your struggles. It had been stupid to believe him when he said he’d fulfill you a wish if you did this for him. Especially after he had been so insistent on you doing it despite your immediate refusal at first. You should have known better than to indulge him. He, who was your worst nightmare and the biggest disaster in your life.

“No,” he - finally - spoke up, even though you wished it had been a different choice of words. There was no way you’d ever get used to how realms worked, their size and form shaping to everything their owner’s imagined. Just before he spoke, Satan had been sitting away with a decent space from you, evaluating you from afar, but his chair suddenly shifted so close, possibly warped, you felt his breath against your exposed thighs.

“I didn’t expect much from it, but I must say... I like it.”

His words felt colder than a stab in the back, and you felt your face scrunch up in disgust. For someone who told you he loved you, you had expected more sympathy for your feelings. “I don’t; I’ll take it off.”

“No, you won’t.”

A surge of magic energy brushed down your arms, pulling them back harshly. Satan’s magic never was tender, but the way your body had to adjust quickly was rough. Immediately, you felt the hold on your wrists, feeling like iron chains pulling your hands towards the ground, but not hard enough to make you fall over. When you looked over your shoulder, instead of the chains you expected, you only saw cuffs around your wrists, fitting the colors and cheapness of the maid uniform.

This, paired with the slight chuckle from before you, confirmed a sinister suspicion you had. Satan was immensely enjoying himself. “Are you serious--” you wanted to ask him, but the sudden feeling of his hand on the back of your thighs cut you off, making you flinch instead. Usually, if it wasn’t punishment, Satan wasn’t one to touch you much. He observed, annoyed, and at most, made you come over to cuddle, but rarely did his hands wander.

Considering the situation you were in, this was more than unpleasant to experience now.

“I am, very much so, serious, Dear. This suits you. I want to see it for a while longer.”

With goosebumps accompanying your displeasure, Satan brought his hand down first, slipping them beneath the band of the socks you put on along with the costume. You supposed they should have been over-knees, but on you, they were barely under-knees, and it was a wonder you got your feet into them considering their size being way too small.

Letting go of the band, it flicked back on your skin, the sensation startling as you didn’t expect Satan to tease you with it. That only upset you more, as it brought a grin to his face to see you react like that before his hand wandered up again along your leg. Your body sadly wasn’t a secret anymore to Satan, as much as you commiserated that fact, so you couldn’t help but feel like the show he was putting you on here was much more embarrassing than if he had told you to get naked in front of him.

His nails poked at the skin below your asscheeks before you felt a wave of relief as he continued to tug and arrange the skirt with his next touch instead. If he had gone farther than to touch your bottom, you might have kicked him and risked some punishment instead. Perhaps he was aware of that, looking up at you knowingly as you let out a quiet sigh, and smiling.

“Happy now?” you asked him, out of spite more than sincere curiosity. All that you wanted was for it to be over. You’d rather stay in your prison and sulk in what you assumed was a corner than to humor your demonic watchdog any more than this. However, his answer left your wishes hanging.

“Very much so, but hm, how do I say that...” Bringing his finger to his lips, Satan tapped them thoughtfully, staring at the corset intently. “It will be hard to get it off, right? With your hands bound and all.”

“Then.... just undo the spell,” you hissed slowly back at him.

“I’m afraid it’s not a spell that can be undone that easily.”

You were about to really get angry with him, taking a deep breath through your nose to calm yourself before you looked down at him again. Unexpectedly, you met his gaze, and you wondered for a second why his eyes were shining so full with what you could only believe was malicious intent before he answered your question by himself.

“But if you ask nicely, I could take it off for you?”

[clementinesjourney]

I'll even be a clown.. cause I just wanna amuse ya...

AN: Still stuck on the series's storyline.. And i freaking love Mäneskin.. sooooo i thought i'll bring them into my little universe as well while still keeping our Buck around. Tell me if you like this kind of thing or not. <3

Warnings: none

Words: 1,5 K

Pairing: Bucky x singer!reader

Summary: Reader is a singer who has a great friendship with the band Mäneskin, who are coming to New York for a concert, and would love to have her sing with them on stage. Thats when Bucky realizes why was the girl at the bar so familiar..

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

Wanda liked Mäneskin ever since she saw them in Italy. They were young, sexy, fun and talented as hell. So when she saw the ads of them coming to NY she had to get tickets for the whole gang. Bucky wasn't so happy, but what could he do. He preferred the 40's music still, but might as well give it a go, maybe he will enjoy it.

Soon enough the day of the concert came, the others were all over the place, Bucky was quietly sitting at the bar, playing with his whiskey, swirling it around in the glass.

-Do you usually just play with your drinks, all lonely in bars? - a cheerful voice asked next to him. He looked it's owner up and down. A pair of black Dr. Martens, black stockings, highwaisted black leather shorts, black mesh top, with a lacy burgundy bra underneath, golden chains in her neck, red, naturally wavy hair, a smile to die for, and damn those vibrant green eyes.

-Staring at strangers a little to long as well, i see - you said chuckling, signalling the bartender that you wanna order. - i'll have a gin-soda with lime and one of whatever he's drinking.

He was still just staring at you.

-Thank you it's reallly flattering, but you can close your mouth now. Don't be a creep.. - you winked. - Cheers. - You clinked your glass to his, sipping into it.

- i-im sorry.. - he said absolutely stunned how open you were.

- Hi sorry, i'm sober. - you chuckled, sipping more of your drink, enjoying the taste.

-You're crazy. - he said chuckling, running a hand through his hair.

- Oh shut up everybody is.. C'mon the show's starting. - you said, grabbing his dogtags, making him follow you to the middle of the crowd, dancing around to the beat.

The first few songs went in a blur, he danced with you to all of them. From the corner Wanda and Sam kept an eye on you two.

-He doesn't have a clue who he's dancing with does he? - shouted Wanda into Sam's ear over the music.

-Even i don't have a clue. Why?

Just wait and see. - shouted Wanda while giggling, sipping her wine.

The song ended, when the singer started to scan the crowds with the other musicians while talking.

-We have a dear old friend in the crowd, and we thought we couldn't miss this opportunity to sing and party with her again. The next song is one i always tried to seduce her with, wonder why never did it work.. he said chuckling obviously making a joke, making the women in the front rows melt. - please welcome one of our dearest friend and most amazing singer in NY city with the same warmth.. (Y/N).. come on in here you old hag.. - he said while clapping for you.

Without a word you left Bucky there right in the middle. He couldn't process what was happening.

You hopped on the stage, waving at the people, quickly hugging and kissing the band. You were then facing the crowd, smirking at Bucky, you gave him a wink as the singer came up right into your face from the side as he started to sing.

I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master I wanna make your heart beat Run like rollercoasters I wanna be a good boy I wanna be a gangster 'Cause you can be the beauty And I could be the monster I love you since this morning Not just for aesthetic I wanna touch your body So fucking electric I know you scared of me You said that I'm too eccentric I'm crying all my tears And that's fucking pathetic.

You were now facing him, taking over dancing around him, with him. You were glowing, you were having the time of your life being able to sing with your friends again.

I wanna make you hungry Then I wanna feed ya I wanna paint your face Like you're my Mona Lisa I wanna be a champion I wanna be a loser I'll even be a clown Cause I just wanna amuse ya I wanna be your sex toy I wanna be your teacher I wanna be your sinner I wanna be a preacher I wanna make you love me Then I wanna leave ya 'Cause baby I'm your David And you're my Goliath.

You were putting on a show, just as you used to back when you lived in Italy. When you nearly kissed, Bucky felt a pang in his chest. He just met you yet you had him around your finger from the first minute. In a spare moment you saw how his jaw clenched at how close Adamo was to you. Smirking, you know the handsome stranger will certainly take you home now.

The concert finished, and Bucky found himself drinking at the bar alone again, hoping you'd find him again somehow. And that is what you did.

-(y/n) by the way. - You said holding your hand for him to shake, with the biggest smile on your face.

-Bucky. - He took it, and his hand lingered on yours a little longer. - Can i buy you a drink?

- You can. - you said with a smirk. He was handsome you thought. You wouldn't mind having a bit of fun with him tonight.

The next hour you two were talking, getting to know eachother. It was time that the place closes, so you grabbed your leather jacket and went out.

-Do you wanna talk a bit more? I-i'm sorry if it sound lame. i'm kinda rusted in this department... But i would really like to spend some more time with you.. - He said while running a hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his head. He was nervous and you found it unbearably cute.

-It depends... do you have anything to drink while we're doing the ' talking'? - you tried to hint on having a bit more fun than talking. It wasn't that you were sleeping with every man you could, but you were set on the idea that whatever a man can do without shame so can women. You loved to live freely, doing whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. And if it was a god-like handsome man you met at a concert, then hell so be it.

-I'm sure i can find something.. - He said with a smile. You saw how he calmed knowing that you'll go with him. It was cute that he worried you might not. He tried to mask it with that flirty-masculinity that you loved, but deep down you both know you had the reins.

On the way to his apartment you were laughing at some old stories he told you about his past. Dates that go wrong, nights he helped old friends to get home, nights they helped him. There was something about you that made him feel like a little boy trying to get his first date, yet let him be himself at the same time. It confused him, but in a good way. You didn't even realize you were holding hands the most of the way. When you arrived he took his keys out and opened the door, letting you enter before him.

You hopped down on the couch waiting for him to bring you a drink. It was whiskey, which had you make funny faces as it was stronger than what you used to usually drink. Youeyed up his record collection. You always adored the way vinyl made the music sound. It gave you a homey feeling. It was mostly records from the 40-50's, but what stood out is an album of Quentin Tarantino songs. You took it out and put it on while he watched you from the couch, smiling, fascinated by how comfortable you seemed in his place, as if you were living here. His smile grew even bigger when you started to dance around for one of your all time favourite songs that was in a Tarantino movie. Stuck in the middle with you by Stealers Wheel. You jumped around, took his hand, making him stand up and dance with you. You felt like freedom..

When the next song came ( Girl, you'll be a woman soon by Urge overkill) he put his hands on your waist, bringing you closer, you put your hands in his neck, looking deep into his mesmerizing blue eyes and slowdanced. You were smiling at eachother, then he leaned in to kiss you. It was the best damn kiss you've ever had. You wanted to have more, which ended in a heavy makeout session on his couch, him only wearing his jeans now as you admired his well built chest and over all just him... You had to admit he's pretty god-like. One thing led to another and the next morning you found yourself waking up in the handsome strangers bed when the sun just came up.It was around 5 am. His hands around you, legs tangled. Both of you stark naked. You smiled at him, gave him one last peck. By the time he woke up, his bed only had the remains of you. A lingering scent of liqour and peaches, and a note with burgundy kiss mark on it. You must've kissed the paper goodbye instead of him he thought with a sad smile. He would've loved to wake up to the sight of you, to memorize your face, your body.

The note only said: two weeks from now, where the sun emerges from the sea. 5 am.

He smiled at this little note. It's a date he murmured. He went out to make coffee, after all he'll have to deal with his friends asking all kinds of questions. He was sure they won't miss the content look on his face. He had an amazing night, topped it off with amazing sex, and maybe two weeks from now he'll get to meet you again..

[thekadster]

The Newsies Playing Among Us (+ their nicknames)

Jack (Cowboy)

- dark blue; cowboy hat

- really good at lying

- [rolls eyes] "of course the body's in electrical"

- trusts absolutely no one

- keeps those he does trust close to him at all times

- "if anyone kills you I'll kill them"

- screams "NOOOOOOO" whenever Crutchie dies

- really enjoys playing impostor but usually gets crewmate

Davey (David)

- cyan; flat cap

- good at lying

- even if his voice rises a bit when under pressure

- deadly when paired with Katherine as impostor

- very good at deduction

- but also a nervous wreck

- always sus of Race and Spot because they're normally the ones to start throwing accusations

- gets jittery when impostor

- task completionist

- always sus of Katherine just because she's so good

Crutchie (Crutch)

- yellow; cheese hat

- prefers crewmate over impostor

- hates going to electrical

- sometimes can be ruthless as impostor and no one will suspect him

- but normally can't bring himself to kill anyone

- keeps Jack alive (most of the time)

- usually sticks with someone

Katherine (Kit Kat)

- pink; plant hat

- "hey look I'm a peach"

- also sometimes has a mini crewmate and Jack dies from cuteness

- "this is our kid." "yes."

- super observant

- super sus of everyone

- keeps an extra eye on Jack, just because

- dream team with Davey

- gets into heated debates during discussion time

- acts sus even when not impostor (and sometimes gets voted off for it)

Race (ERSTER)

- lime green; toilet paper hat

- "sorry guys I'm new, how do I go in vents like crutchie did?"

- he and Albert do the trick where two people have the same hat and crowd up next to a corner so it only looks like one person

- and it actually worked on Spot

- "SPOT KILLED ALBERT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME"

- "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU FELL FOR THAT" "shut up race"

- he, Albert, Finch, and Specs are the four horsemen of the apocalypse

- deadly when paired with Spot or Jack

Albert (Al)

- black; wet floor sign

- has a voice modifier to make his voice really echo-y when ejected from the ship

- really loud in the ghost chat

- surprisingly good at lying

- "you really think my fat ass could fit through the vents?"

- calls emergency meetings for the dumbest reasons (and sometimes gets voted out for it)

- "STOP FOLLOWING MEEEEE"

Spot (King of Brooklyn)

- red; crown

- y'know, cause he's the king of Brooklyn

- task completionist

- "haha race ded"

- accuses everyone for no reason

- one of the first people to finish tasks

- trigger-happy as impostor

- susses Jack for the meme

- but sometimes he's actually right

General Headcanons:

- they all play over voice call in discord so sometimes you can hear a lot of stuff in the background

- Albert had a loud-ass keyboard and everyone can hear it

- when Les joins: "did you do your homework yet?" "shut up you're not my mom" "I'm telling her" "wAIT NO--"

[bellakitse]

Cooking with Friends 

for @madamewriterofwrongs​ 

(inspired by the bts pic of the trio at Carlos’ place)

“Do you need any help?”

Carlos Reyes looks up from the fish pieces he’s frying to find Marjan looking at him curiously, a glass of the sparkling grape juice he’s taken to having in stock since he and TK officially started dating in her hand.

There is lively laughter and conversation behind them as his boyfriend entertains his other two crew members, Paul and Mateo.

“Sure,” he starts with a smile, getting one back from the girl TK is so fond of. “Can you chop that?” he asks as he points at the herbs on the cutting board. “The rice is almost done and ready for it.”

“Cilantro lime rice?” she questions, placing her glass down to wash her hands before she picks up a knife.

“Mmhmm,” he nods, taking out some finished pieces of fish, placing them on a paper towel to soak up the extra oil.

“And Baja tacos, yum,” Marjan continues, nodding towards the fresh tortillas he’s placed on the dishes before adding the fish.

“With a chickenless southwest salad,” he finishes for her, raising an eyebrow when she chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she says quickly, grin still firmly in place on her pretty face. “It’s just that TK is a shit cook. He gets out of it at work by trading the chore with Paul when it’s his turn, and now he has a boyfriend who is also awesome at cooking, so he doesn’t have to do it when he’s off shift either. It’s kind of hilarious.”

Carlos chuckles at her observation; she’s not wrong. TK has many talents he’s come to learn about in the weeks since they’ve gotten serious. Talents and habits Carlos either finds adorable or hot beyond belief. But his boyfriend is simply not cooking-compatible and would live off takeout and cereal if left up to his own devices.

“He’s only with me for my cooking,” he jokes with a grin, raising an eyebrow when Marjan snorts.

“Yeah, no,” She corrects him. She points at the pot of rice that now sits off the stove; when he nods at her, she starts to fluff the rice with a fork a few times before pouring the lime juice he’d squeezed earlier. “Trust me, if you heard the way he rambles on about you, you would know that while he does mention your cooking, is just one of the million things he goes on and on about when he brings you up.”

Marjan gives him a pointed look. “Which is all the time.”

Carlos feels his face go hot, and he knows it has nothing to do with having been in the kitchen for the last hour cooking. “He does not talk about me all the time,” he replies with conviction for a moment before continuing, hesitant. “Does he?”

“We can bring Mateo and Paul into this conversation if you’d like; they’ll back me up,” Marjan answers, opening her mouth again to call for their friends.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he hisses quickly, shooting her a look when she smirks. “You just want to embarrass TK,” he continues with gentle reproach, knowing she doesn’t mean it with malice. Teasing, he’s learned, is the way Marjan and TK show affection towards each other.

Marjan’s smile grows even wider, proving his observation correct.

Carlos shakes his head. “Troublemaker,” he tells her, unable to hide his fondness for her as she throws him a wink. “Here, take these plates to the table.”

Marjan rolls her eyes at him jokingly but does what he says. He calls out to the rest of the guests, calling them to the table as he readies the other plates. Mateo and Paul take their seats along with Marjan, while TK comes to meet him in the kitchen, taking a plate from him.

“This all looks and smells delicious, baby,” TK tells him with a sweet, happy smile on his face. He’s been grinning like this for the last three days since Carlos agreed to host this little get together. The bashful look on TK’s face when he asked him if it would be okay to invite the trio over, and the smile that followed when Carlos said yes, still tugs at his heartstrings. Carlos would do anything to keep that smile on TK’s face.

“Hopefully, it tastes delicious too,” he answers, chuckling when it makes TK roll his eyes.

“When have you ever made something that isn’t delicious?” TK questions teasingly.

“I made a beef wellington so bad once that it would have sent Gordon Ramsay into a rage,” he answers, cringing as he remembers that particular culinary fail.

Gordan Ramsay is always in a rage,” TK answers, eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins. “That’s his shtick, babe.”

“Cute,” Carlos mutters dryly, causing TK to light up.

“I’m glad you think so,” TK answers, turning sideways to keep the plates out of the way as he leans into Carlos’ space.

Carlos tries not to react, but it’s impossible when his boyfriend is this close, his lovely pouty mouth inches from his. He closes the small gap, his stomach doing a somersault as TK’s eyes flutter shut a second before Carlos covers that gorgeous mouth with his. His body sings at the soft sigh TK lets out as he kisses him gently. He can feel himself starting to get lost in the kiss when a loud whistle startles them both. Turning his head towards the table, he sees Paul pulling his hand away from his mouth.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re in love,” he says with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “But we’re waiting and hungry.”

Carlos feels his face go red once more, his heart racing at Paul’s words, but TK, instead, just laughs joyfully.

“No need to be jealous of me and my gorgeous man, Strickland,” TK teases his friend as they come to sit at the table, passing the last of the plates around.

Paul narrows his eyes at TK, but Carlos can see the hint of a smile on the curve of his mouth. “Love makes you obnoxious, brother,” he tells him, wreaking havoc with Carlos’ insides as he casually drops the word love around once more.

“Maybe,” TK agrees easily as he starts to dig into his salad. “But it’s doing amazing things to my complexion, don’t you think?” he asks, batting his eyelashes aggressively at Paul.

Paul rolls his eyes while Marjan and Mateo exchange a grin, obviously used to this simple ribbing between all of them. It makes Carlos happy to witness it, and hopefully, be part of it.

“Okay, you two can continue,” Mateo waves in their direction. “But I’m eating, this smells really good, and I have been living off pop tarts I found in the back of my cupboards for the last week. Pretty sure they were expired.”

Marjan raises an eyebrow at the man next to her, judgingly, before turning back towards the rest of them. “Gee, why can’t probie get a girl?” she asks, drawing a pout from Mateo and laughter from the rest of the table.

Carlos joins into their easy camaraderie, teasing and sharing with the group as they eat. Halfway through the meal, when the trio is busy recalling an incident earlier in the week, TK leans in close to him.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his green eyes soft as he smiles at him shyly. He shrugs when Carlos gives him a questioning look back. “My ex never cared about getting to know my crew, and he sure as hell never made them an amazing dinner to get to know them better. This means a lot to me – ” TK pauses, looking over at his friends, all smiling and enjoying themselves. “They’re – “

“Your family,” Carlos finishes for him. TK looks back at him, eyes now shining, pleased that Carlos gets it. He nods back at him. “Then they’re my family too, Ty.”

TK lets out a soft sound, another beautiful smile on his face. He leans in further, pressing his forehead to Carlos’ temple gently. “You’re my family too, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing over Carlos’ cheek.

Carlos exhales, a little shaky, his heart thundering at TK’s words and the meaning behind them. “And you’re mine.”

[hufflepuffhollander]

spin the bottle: a tom holland imagine

a/n | this is long but it’s so worth it! it was fun to write so it has to be fun to read, right? (right???) *also thinking about starting up a tag list, message me if you want to be included!*

summary: An uneventful party takes a turn when you get dragged into a kissing game with a hot stranger. (the gif will make sense, trust me)

tom x fem reader | contains alcohol use, language, and lotsa kisses | word count: 1.7k lol | enjoy!

You smoothed down your hair with one final run through with your fingers before your best friend reached over to shove your car mirror shut, saying firmly, “You look fine. Stop being so paranoid! It’s just a party.”

Yes, you thought, but you didn’t know anybody at this party, just your friend-  and she had just barely convinced you to go by the time it was starting.

“There’s just this one bump I can’t get to go down,” you grumbled, reluctantly getting out of the car and pulling your dress down to cover more of your thighs. You walked into the house with your friend, smiling blankly at strangers as she floated through friendly faces, giving hugs, and you beelined straight to the drink table. There was a smattering of room temperature seltzers, mostly empty handles of liquor, and some sad looking pints of juice and soda to choose from. How exciting. Your expression at the disappointing array must’ve been more noticeable on your face than you realized, because a guy came up from behind you, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Takes you back to uni, huh?” he said, reaching for a red solo cup, hesitating, and then grabbing another, stretching it in your direction.

“There’s nothing quite like lukewarm alcohol,” you joke, only then looking up at the voice, choking back spit as you took in the beautiful boy’s features, a baby face somehow mature and insanely attractive, his prominent jawbone clenching and relaxing as it moved to speak.

“Can I suggest something? I have a secret recipe that always kills.” he smiled, reaching to take the empty cup back from your hands. You hesitantly let go, curiosity getting the best of your judgement. You watched intently as he went to the kitchen, filled the cup with ice, and came back with a packet of kool-aid powder in his hand. You frowned.

“Hey,” he said, smirking. “Don’t you trust me?” “I just met you.” “Well, trust in the process.” 

He started expertly picking up liquors and mixers, seeming to know the perfect measurements, looking like a chemist in his lab. You couldn’t help but stand in delighted shock at watching the artist work.

“Alright,” he said, handing you the cup, now full of a bright red liquid. “Close your eyes and try it.”

You took the cup, your fingers brushing his, and you felt your nerves awaken. You closed your eyes lightly and brought the cup to your lips, letting the cool liquid slip down your throat. It was...delicious. You opened your eyes and he smiled at your clear reaction.

“How did you manage to pull that out of the world’s most miserable array of drinks??” you asked, taking another generous sip.

He just chuckled, stuck his hand out and said, “I’m Tom.”

“y/n.” you said back, shaking his hand, nerves piping up again. He gave you one last smile, wiped his hands on his jeans, and walked away. You watched him leave and felt a twinge of disappointment that your brief interaction had come to an end. Your friend came out of the noise, putting a hand on your shoulder and looking at your cup.

“Where in the hell did you find that? All I’ve gotten is flat lime seltzer, which is obviously the worst one,” she groaned, glancing at the disgrace of a booze display.

“Bartender made it,” you said smirking, left in Tom’s invisible trail, taking a sip of your drink and floating away to another side of the room. Your friend looked after you, puzzled. “Where the fuck is there a bartender?” 

Later, after having a handful of meaningless conversations with forgettable people, you had made eye contact with Tom too many times to count and couldn’t stop thinking about him. You wanted to go up and talk to him, but you couldn’t work up the nerve. If he was as interested as his eyes told you, why couldn’t he just make the first move?

Your friend found you, taking your hand and bringing you into a smaller adjacent room, full of fruity smelling vape smoke and a few less people. “What are we doing in someone’s office?” you asked.

“Spin the bottle!” your friend grinned at you.

“Seriously? I haven’t played that since middle school, and nobody was ever bold enough to actually kiss anybody anyway,” you sighed. Honestly, you would’ve been happy to play- but Tom was nowhere to be found, and nobody else in the forming circle on the floor seemed worth your time. Your friend saw you hesitate to sit down. 

“Ugh, come on, y/n, you’re suddenly not up for making out with strangers?” she poked at you like you had a long-standing habit of doing just that. You shrugged, wishing you had stayed home. Your drink was long gone along with your interest in this party.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” your friend muttered. “Hold on.” she left the room, and you stood awkwardly in the corner, pretending to be interested in a boring painting on the wall.

She came back in, followed by a boy in a baseball hat, Tom trailing meagerly behind. You both made eye contact, making the same realization at the same time: you were suddenly very interested in playing spin the bottle. Your friend caught your eye and winked, mouthing ‘you owe me one’.

12 or so people sat in a tightly packed group, some a little buzzed, some completely faded. The girl next to you fidgets as you feel someone hover over you. “I’m gonna- just...squeeze in here-“ Tom shoves his way into the circle and sits down next to you, both of you looking straight ahead, smiling and silently acknowledging each other.

“You looked thirsty,” he says keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, handing over a new red cup filled with the same magical liquid as before. You graciously accepted it and nudged your elbow into his. “Thanks.”

Someone put on a grungy party playlist and the game began. The boy in the baseball cap spun the bottle in the middle and kissed the girl Tom had taken the place of. Your friend ended up kissing a girl with sleek black hair and too much eye makeup, but didn’t seem to mind. Then came Tom’s turn, and he glanced at you, back to the glass bottle, and gave it a spin. It felt like an hour went by as it rotated around the group, eventually coming to a slow halt...and your vodka-soaked heart fell a few inches in your chest. It was pointing directly at a girl across the circle, smile shining brightly at her newly decided fate. She was objectively pretty, hair tied up in a ponytail with bright blue eyes. Tom cleared his throat, and she began to fuss with the hem of her skirt as she leaned slightly forward towards him. You brought your drink up to your mouth so you could focus on something, anything, other than Tom about to lock lips with the girl across from you.

But a hand pulled your cup away, and you turned to notice it just as you felt two hands cup your face, arms attached to Tom, who turned his whole body to face you. This all happened in an instant, and suddenly he pulled you into a heavy kiss as your eyes fluttered shut. You heard the girl grunt as she sat back down, but it was just background noise now- all you could focus on was the kiss you were currently melting into, Tom’s palms searing into your cheeks. You moved closer to him, wrapping both arms around his neck and kissed him back even harder. You only noticed it had been too long when someone lowly muttered “Guys, come on.”

You pulled away and remembered that there were still other people in the room.

Tom looked into your eyes, then down to your lips. He ran his tongue across his own. “You taste like Kool-Aid,” he said, lips curling into a smile.

You still had your hands grasping at the nape of his neck, bodies pulled into each other as the game continued.

“You know, that’s not how the game works,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I decided to change the rules.” You couldn’t stop staring into each other’s eyes.

The song that was playing changed suddenly to one with a loud raging beat, and it broke you out of the trance you’d been in. You pulled away from Tom and glanced over at your friend, who was looking at you wide-eyed with pride. The girl across the room was shooting you daggers. Luckily, the alcohol warming your system helped you to not give a fuck.

It was time for your turn, and you decided to make up for all those times in middle school you couldn’t work up the courage to kiss the cute boy that you’d wanted to. So you picked up the bottle, let it spin around once, and stopped it as it pointed at Tom. He laughed along with a couple others. Someone else grumbled something like “get a room.”

Neither of you caring about the group anymore, Tom pulled you into his lap, this time snaking his arms around your waist, and leaned you back as he kissed you. It felt warm and familiar. The flavor of his tongue mixed with the vodka mixed with synthetic fruit punch filled your stomach with butterflies. Maybe the group gave up on the rest of the game, maybe not. You had no idea. You and Tom had synchronously tuned them out, eventually finding yourselves huddled up on a couch and wasting the rest of the evening away drinking your magic drinks and sneaking kisses in between sips. It seemed like the party was dying down, but neither of you wanted the night to end.

“Hmm, what should we do now?” you said, and Tom had a lightbulb moment, grabbing your hand and moving to stand up.

“How about another game?” he gave you a suggestive look.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Have you heard of seven minutes in heaven?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, then squeezed his hand in return. You both looked around, hearts leaping with anticipation. Where were all the damn closets in this place?

[supersizemeplz]

Designated Command Strips

Erik Stevens x Black PlusSized Reader

Another #supersizedfic mini short. For @goddessofthundathighs. Inspired by this video. Enjoy!

Two story homes lined the street with different varieties of cars sitting in their driveways. Children played in the yard with each other as some littered into the street. Moving aside once they seen your car about to pass through. You waved back to the two little girls that happened to be Erik’s neighbors, smiling at how cute they were.

Speaking of Erik, he stood on the porch as you pulled up. He took a step forward into the first wooden step with both hands in the pockets of his sweats. The dri-fit shirt he wore hugged his torso, showing off those toned arms of his. His smile appeared once you stepped from the car, locking your car doors behind you out of habit.

“Waiting outside for me to pull up?” You smirked, adjusting your overnight bag on your shoulder. “Oh you like me, like me.” He chuckled, catching your hand as you attempted to pass him to get in the house.

You went back to him as he pulled you closer, watching the grin he had widen. “Damn right. I be missing my baby.” He lifted your chin gently with his finger, pressing two kisses to your lips before a real one. Ugh, he has the softest kisses. “Fine ass.. come on.” His head motioned to the door before he led your half-dazed body into the house.

The aroma is what woke you from your trance. “Ooo, what’s that smell?” You looked to the kitchen, slipping your hand from his to follow your nose. The soft thud of your bag hitting the seat of the dining room chair was barely heard beneath his laugh. Reaching the stove, you peeked into the oven. Moaning at the smell that hit you full force. “My favorite? Maybe I should taste test it..”

He chuckled, moving you from the stove. Ignoring your faux pout, no matter how cute it was. “Dinner will be done soon, baby. But first...” He brought you to the dining room again, moving aside to reveal the surprise on the table. A large shopping bag from some new black owned luxury store you’d brought up a few times over the past weeks. It was lime green with a darker green ribbon as straps. The name of the brand was written in a pretty, gold calligraphy font across the front.

You squinted at the gift, wondering what could be inside the large bag. He read the look with ease since you’d always do it when he surprised you with a gift. Dismissing when you told him that he was going to spoil you rotten. “I know, I know. But I looked into it and I thought you’d be fly in it.” He picked up the bag, holding it out to you. Excited to see your reaction.

You couldn’t fight the smile that tainted your lips, opening the bag and moving the gift paper that hid the purchases inside. “Hold on.. Erik!” The squeal surprised him, making him laugh once you did a little dance. “I love it! How did you know I wanted this set? And you got them in different colors? With matching bags?” You held up the outfits, putting them against you to look at it.

He smiled, feeling warm inside from your happiness. You always made him feel warm and fuzzy which might explain why he liked being around you. “I might have got me some too so we can match.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he gave a chuckle. You laughed, walking up to him once you sat your outfits aside.

“Thank you, baby.” You wrapped your arms around him, looking up to him through your lashes. His hands instinctively went to your backside as he mumbled a ‘anything for my baby’. “How long you been hiding this? Was it here last night?”

He nodded to that, licking his lips. “It came in yesterday morning, but I packed it last night before you came through. I was going to give it to you then but we got a little occupied.” You almost hummed at the flashback. “..then I thought about after breakfast, but you rushed outta here so fast.”

You let out a cackle. “Because you was about to have me late for work with your breakfast. I barely made it on time.” Making your way back to the gift on the table, you heard him reply ‘breakfast is the most important meal of the day’. “Of course it is, Stevens.. Imma go put these up and be back down in five.”

He nodded again, holding up five fingers. “Five minutes, thickems. You get to six and imma be up there to get you myself.” You grinned, assuring him that you’d be down in the time you’d given. He disappeared into the kitchen after another quick peck to your lips.

You jogged up the steps, making it down the hallway to his room. Nudging the door open with your foot, your duffel bag went to its designated spot on the gaming chair in the corner of the room. The air smelled faintly of him and you took a deep breath. That man always smelt good.

Your bare feet padded across the floor to his closet. Deciding to sit your bag at the top of the walk in. Without looking, you flipped on the light and took another look into the bag to admire the fabric of the outfits. A smile graced your lips for what felt like the hundredth time before you looked up. You halted, looking up to the sight before you.

"Erik Stevens. I know good and damn well.." Your laughter erupted from the bedroom, catching his attention. He perked at the sound of your voice before he left the food he was checking on to come to you. Moments later he entered into the room with a confused raise of his brow. Standing on your tip toes, you reached up to grab your wig from its new designated command strip. "With your hats? Really?"

He leaned against the door frame, shrugging shyly. "I take care of my hats, and I didn't mind keeping yours safe with my collection."

_________________

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[magalidragon]

n°2 - “Have I already told you how cute you look?”

Thank you fluff Queen!💕

Eeeee! Let us return them to all the world’s a stage with these sweet beans and our favorite douchy Uncle Viserys! Bonus points because I included supportive brother Vis!

2. “Have I already told you how cute you look?”

Romantic One Liner Prompts

There were many things Jon Snow had been able to escape, but this was not one of them. He could get out of red carpet events, interviews, and galas. He could weasel himself out of parent-teacher conferences, playdates, and other various responsibilities that he just felt like at the time were contrary to his mood, his muse, and his creative drive.

This was not one of them.

Dany knew he didn't want to escape the event itself, but the way in which he had to attend the event, that was something he couldn't get out of. He made a fuss, wanting to know how come he couldn't just go as a side character, as the supportive husband, what have you, but nope.

"Have I told you how cute you look?"

He scowled, tugging down the very tight white vest, with its shimmery silver thread, the white pants tucked into tall boots, and accompanying plastic sword. "Not in the last five minutes."

"Well you look so cute. My perfect Prince Charming."

"Mummy!"

She glanced down at her daughter, who was wearing the dragon costume, a bright jade and lime green creation, toddling towards her. She chuckled, kneeling and lifted her baby dragon into her arms, kissing Lyella's sticky cheek. She frowned, taking the lollipop from her. "Where did you get this?"

"Vizzy!"

Ugh, my brother. The villain himself, Sorcerer Dread the Night King-- redundant name-- happened to be hiding away, because he didn't want to be seen in the campy black and red costume of the villain from Princess Periwinkle. She plucked the lollipop from her three-year-old, wagging it at her. "No candy."

Lyella pouted, sticking her tongue out. "Mummy, not Charming."

Jon burst out laughing. "You're not charming!"

"No, you are not Charming." Her words were thick and she pointed, scowling at her father. "Prince Kit."

Dany's brows arched, countering her husband, whose mouth fell slightly. "Ha! She knows your character. You aren't Prince Charming, you're Prince Kit of Catesby. Get it right."

"He's a complete buffoon!"

"He's the comic relief."

Jon huffed, tugging at the tight pants, which conformed very nice to his shapely thighs and his even better arse. He'd forgone the codpiece, although she suggested it for later. He plucked at the spandex fabric, wincing. "Dany! They're going up my arse!"

"It's such a lovely arse."

"It's a children's hospital!"

She laughed. "Don't worry, I'm the only one looking at that bum." She walked by, smacking it and he jumped, but his pupils dilated, a low growl caught in his throat. Her voice dropped, whispering. "And if anyone else does they have me to deal with."

"Yes my Queen."

"Princess!"

Lyella was not wrong there; she was indeed Princess Periwinkle, in the lilac costume, with its yards of sparkling tulle, ribbons, and accessories, making her resemble a disco ball. She had gone all out this time, for the children's hospital's annual fundraising event, a worthy cause to return to Princess Periwinkle. And she managed to convince her husband, child-- that was not difficult at all-- and her brother.

She furrowed her brow. "Where is my brother?"

"Do we really care?" Jon wondered, taking Lyella from her. He sighed at his reflection in the floor-length mirror. "Best get on with it."

"The children thank you for your sacrifice, Prince Kit of Catesby," she laughed, pinching his bum on the way out the door and down the stairs.

At the base of the staircase, near the open door, Davos was waiting with Missandei. She posed for a few candid shots that her best friend took, laughing at the silliness of it all. She hopped off the bottom step, turning and hollered up, hands cupped over her mouth to magnify her voice. "Oi! Get your skinny arse down here Vis!"

"No! Not until I'm high enough!"

"I will come up there and drag you out myself and we both know who the real dragon is in this family!"

A door slammed somewhere in Vis's Wing of Darkness, where no one ventured unless they had all their shots and a death wish. He emerged from the shadows, glowering, his silver hair cut off and sweeping over his forehead in a new style that he'd only gotten because Leylla had found bubblegum and decided to play with it while he'd been passed out. Sadly, the silver tresses had had to go.

It suited him, the short hair, she thought, laughing as he descended in the red and black caped costume, resembling a magician rather than an actual villain. Lyella reached for him. "Vizzy!" she shouted. She simpered. "I love you."

"Ugh," he complained, but it was all for show. He shook his head, disgusted. "I cannot believe I am doing this!"

"Think of the happiness you will be providing to the children," Jon said. He closed his eyes, sighing. "Never mind, that would require you to have a heart."

Not that her brother heard him, as Viserys's eyes had glazed over, dollar signs obviously pulsing from them. He glanced between them both, salivating. "Oh, yes....I like this...I understand now...You both are going to do this on camera, right?"

"No!" they shouted.

Dany punched his shoulder. "It's for charity Vis, not attention. The hospital will put out a press release and some choice photos, but that is not the point of this. It's to provide these children a break from the fact they are locked in a hospital fighting for their lives." She grabbed his arm, pulling him to the door. "Even you can spare the single cell in your heart for that. Now come on, we'll be late."

They got to the hospital, which had already prepared a large room for the children, and she swept in, in full Princess Periwinkle, keeping her emotions at bay. Each time she saw the children, so many of them with visible signs of their illnesses and conditions, it broke her heart. It made her grateful every second for her healthy child and simultaneously guilty too, because her baby was healthy and these parents were going through her worst nightmare.

She pressed it down, taking in their gleeful faces, all of them forgetting where they were, because Princess Periwinkle had decided to visit. They were delighted to see her little dragon with her along with Prince Kit of Catesby, the two of them taking seats at the front, and she began to weave a tale, dramatically beginning: "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess, who only ever wanted to live a normal life, but alas, she could not, because this princess, well she was different..."

It was a childish telling of her story with Jon, one she'd come up with for the event, and she caught his sight, when he realized it, and beamed. He began to weave in his own story-- he was the true storyteller of them both-- forgetting that he hated actors and became one himself. Even Lyella joined in, crawling across the floor and pretending to 'rawr' when necessary.

And then Viserys jumped in, the villain, and everyone shouted and with the plastic swords they'd been given, attacked him and beat him back-- she failed to tell him that part-- concluding the harrowing tale with Princess Periwinkle donning the crown and wielding the Sword of Truth, vowing to always be herself, no matter what anyone thought.

"Because being yourself is the best happiness you can have at all," she ended, sweeping into a curtsey.

One of the children waved their hands, shouting. "But what about prince Kit? And the Princess?"

Jon swept her into his arms, placing a kiss lightly to her lips, half the crowd (mostly girls) cooing and the other half (mostly boys) gagging at the display of affection. His smile radiated pure joy at her. "And they lived..."

"Happily ever after!" everyone exclaimed.

Dany chuckled, accepting the second kiss her husband-- and her true prince-- dropped to her mouth. She picked up Lyella, handing her off so Jon could sign autographs as "Prince Kit" and caught sight of Vis, who was fussing with a makeup mirror in the corner. She furrowed her brow, concerned, and went to him, voice soft. "VIs? You alright?"

"Allergies," he said airily.

Her eyes widened, recognizing the shine in his lilac irises. He ducked his head away, sniffing and dusted his nose with powder. "Vis are you..." This has never happened before, what do I do? "Are you crying?"

"No!"

She laughed, reaching up and hugged him, ignoring his stiff posture until he relaxed into her. She kissed his cheek, murmuring. "You like to be the villain, dear brother, but you're really not. Maybe in another story, but not this one." She broke away, just in time for a photographer to come by and take a snap, of Vis still holding his arms around her shoulders briefly, the two silver-haired Targaryens smiling at each other.

That evening, after they had returned home, with Lyella fast asleep in her Uncle Vizzy's arms-- and photos taken to prove to Viserys that he did love his niece contrary to his protests-- Dany left them on the couch where they'd fallen, and journeyed up to her wing of the townhouse, discovering her prince was still in his costume, playing with the plastic sword.

She watched him a moment, until he saw her reflection in the mirror by the bathroom, and froze. "HOw long have you been standing there?" he demanded.

"Long enough."

He spun on his heel, smirking. He fiddled with the sword. "Been awhile since I actually wielded Longclaw, I was practicing."

She laughed, closing the door, and on a whim, flicked the lock. He arched his brow, a smile curving up slyly. "What are you doing Princess Periwinkle?"

"I seem to have lost my sword, perhaps you can help me find it."

"Hmm....I don't know where it possibly could be."

She tugged him by the belt, towards the bed, and laughed, falling backwards into the voluminous tulle skirts. "I think I have an idea, for your pants are so tight, my prince."

"I knew there had to be a reason for it."

"Let me help you with them."

"Oh thank you princess, I am most grateful."

Dany nipped his lower lip, giggling. "So show me."

[harrypotter-imaginess]

A/N: So this is kind of like the prologue to a Fred and George Weasley story I wrote several years ago, that I am currently rewriting. I think I actually prefer doing the “Would Include’s” over regular imagines, they’re a bit less pressure, and I can always expand them into an imagine if I (or you the reader) want.

The lovely @youreanangelbaby​ made a playlist for this series for her follower celebration: Spotify I Tidal

Imagines Series Based on this post:  Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!/ Part 3 here!

- You’re probably not from their house. You’re most likely either from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw

- You’re a year younger than them, and a year older than the golden trio.

- It’s probably George that notices you first.

- You’re just this painfully shy, beautiful little thing.

- He feels this rush of affection, and his heart swell. He feels like he has to protect and guide you.

- So he ends up talking to you inside class first.

- “Snape’s a bit of a git ain’t he.”

- You just look at him with wide eyes, nod slightly and look back at your work.

- And then George tries to talk to you about your interests.

- “You like quidditch?”

- “Yeah”

- It’s the first word he’s heard from you.

- “Have you thought about trying out for your house’s team, I heard they’re looking for a Keeper.

- George thinks the friendship is pretty one sided until Snape calls on him in class one day

- “Mr. Weasley, what is a standard ingredient in Swelling potion?”

- “O-oh um-“ he hadn’t been paying attention to be honest.

- From the corner of his eye he notices you furiously tapping on the word “Puffer fish” written on your parchment.

- “Puffer fish.” He says without a second of doubt. And you almost smile, granted he probably didn’t have anything else, but no one has ever trusted you like that before.

- “Puffer fish eyes, Mr. Weasley.” Snape drawls. But George looks to you and grins

- You’re both closer after that. You help George with homework, and he helps you with quidditch

- Fred noticed the friendship, and half to support his brother and take interests in his interests, and half from curiosity, ends up befriending you through quidditch as well.

- “No you can’t stay in just one spot (Y/N),” He tells you, moving you a bit to the side.

- “But it feels like it’s risky to move in this kind of situation.”

- “If you don’t move goals you’ll lose.”

- Somehow, quidditch practice turns to sneaking out on weekends with the marauders map.

- “Where’d you get that thing anyway?” You ask

- George shrugs

- “Found it in Dad’s things.” Fred says.

- “So we’re going to Zonko’s?” You ask, and they both exchange a look before asking:

- “Where do you want to go?” In unison

- You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and onto your face.

- You’ve never had this much attention before.

- “I want to get fireworks from Zonko’s.” And then a quieter voice you admit, “I’ve never been.”

- At that George grabs your hand pulling you forward, while Fred pushes you from behind

- “Well now we really have to go to Zonko’s”

- Getting into lots of trouble.

- “Fred you’ve got to hurry up!” You mutter, looking around the corner as George stands on the other end of the hall looking over that corner, and Fred rummages through the potions closet.

- “And be careful! Snape’ll notice if anything’s out of order.” George hisses.

- Helping them brew love potion

- “So uh,” And you feel sweat form as you sit in the back of the empty corner of the greenhouse. “Who is this for?”

- Coming to Hogwarts, you’ve never had all that many friends. So the thought that one of your two closest friends may leave you to spend all their time with someone else, makes you a little sad.

- But you want to be happy in their happiness, even if drinking a love potion probably isn’t the best way to do it, so you put on a brave face and smile.

- “Mrs. Norris.” They say in unison

- “Excuse me.”

- And then they tell you their elaborate plan to get Filch’s cat to fall in love with Fang, and how it’ll drive him crazy.

-Despite yourself, you’re a little relived. And a little disapointed in yourself, you should know better by now.

- Knocking on their dorm window, as you float on your broom, just to tell them that you made it onto the quidditch team.

- “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you. I was just so happy when I found out and I wanted to tell you righ-“

- They both pull you inside the dorm and give you a big hug

- “We knew you could do it”

- “I’m so proud of you.”

- The next week, you wake up and there’s this poorly wrapped pair of brand new quidditch gloves from them on your nightstand

- And you just start to tear up, because you know that they’re not rich or anything, and that they could spent their allowance on candy or pranks from Zonko’s.

- But instead they got you these gloves.

- So when you see them in the corridor, you grab them both into a hug.

- “I love you guys.”

- They’ve never really heard those words from anyone outside their family. They don’t really know when it started, but somewhere along the way, you started to make a great big home in their hearts.

- “I love you too.” George says it first, and gives you a squeeze back. Before he gets shoved by Fred.

- “Oi, why are you making me look bad?” Fred glares at him as his twin laughs.

- “You don’t have to say it back Fred, I ju-“

- “I love you too.” He says, the words roll out in a rush, and his face flush’s bright red. George can’t seem to stop laughing.

- “Let’s just go to class, we’re already late!” He mumbles, his face is lobster red at this point, and George and you move to keep up with him.

- “Since when do you care about class?” George jokes.

- “Since today!”

- Hanging out with them means your public profile has increased significantly as well.

- “Hey, who’s the (guy/girl) always around Fred and George?”

- “I don’t know, but they’re cute aren’t they?”

- It’s true, you’re adorable, especially when you’re laughing at something Fred said

- “Who’s the (Girl/Boy), who you’re always with you?” Angelina asks, and Fred shrugs

- “Thats (Y/N).”

- “They’re f*cking adorable.”

- Fred’s a little taken aback and just laughs. Yeah you are pretty cute. But it’s more like how he see’s Ginny than actual attraction.

- “That person you’re always with the new keeper for (Y/H)?” Oliver Wood asks casually as they’re changing for quidditch practice.

- “Yeah, they’re good aren’t they?” George says with a grin, he’s awful proud you made it on, especially since he and Fred basically coached you.

- “They’ve certainly got a pretty face.” Oliver says with a hum, and that makes George stutter to a stop. He feels a mild twinge of jealousy but brushes it off.

- “You fancy them mate?” He asks, a teasing grin spreading across his face. And he doesn’t miss how Oliver’s ears turn red.

- “You want me to put in a good word for you?” He says between howls of laughter and Oliver just rolls his eyes and shoves him away.

- “I’m just glad you’re in love with something other quidditch!” George shouts as Oliver begins to walk away.

- You probably have a small crush on Oliver as well. He’s older for one, and the other being that he’s very good at quidditch.

- Oliver doesn’t share emotions very well, even though the feelings are reciprocated.

- “You should quit quidditch.” He tells you after a match.

- And your heart plummets as he abruptly walks away.

- He meant that you should quit quidditch because you might end up getting hurt, or getting scars on your face.

- You took it as if you were a terrible player, and should quit while you’re ahead.

- Afterwards Fred and George probably comfort you in your dorm.

- “Oliver’s a prat, doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” George says.

- “Want me to turn his hair pink?” Fred asks and you laugh.

- The next week Oliver’s hair is lime green and he’s chasing Fred and George on his broom.

- “Sorry we couldn’t make it pink.” Fred says later, and you just laugh.

- The fact that they did anything at all is more than enough.

- You can tell them apart, it’s something you don’t even realize until the moment comes.

-You’re walking out of potions class, Fred ran to the bathroom, and you manage to catch up to George.

_”Hey George, did you manage to catch what pages we’re supposed to read, my ink got smudged.” You say, holding up your ink stained hand.

- George grins, thinking he’ll have a bit of fun.

- “George? I’m Fred.” He shakes his head, biting back a smile. “And you call yourself our best friend.”

- You look at him for several long seconds, and George can already feel the hairs on the back of his neck start to stand.

-”No, you’re George.” You tell him, looking back down at the parchment. “So did you get the page numbers or not?” You ask, and the entire moment’s so casual for you. 

- You miss the significance of it completely, finally waving down another classmate and asking them for the page numbers.

- George can’t hide his dumb struck expression. George, by all accounts, is identical to Fred. No one can tell them apart. 

- To be honest, since he was a small boy, he didn’t really see the similarity. Fred was so much bolder than he was, more charismatic and charming. 

- Where he saw himself as more diplomatic, a bit quieter, and more sensitive as well. 

- Since their childhood, the two could only notice differences between them. Though they shared some interests, they were very different people. 

- George smiles, of course you would be able to tell them apart. 

- They talk a lot about their family, and you find yourself a little nostalgic for a place you’ve never even been.

- When Christmas comes around, you get a sweater from Molly Weasley herself.

- “Yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing.” Fred starts

- “You don’t have to wear it-“ George is about to say, when he see’s you hug the sweater to your chest.

- “It smells like you.” You tell them, like honeysuckle and sunshine.

- “I love it.” You say with a giant smile on your face.

- Endless amounts of mischief

- And endless adventures.