#also cap is out because forties

[spider-man-2o99]

this idea that some ppl seem 2 have of miguel being an insanely jealous/possessive person is so funny 2 me because i just cannot even fathom where it came from in the slightest, lol, like... one of his Whole Things is respecting individual autonomy, y/k-? nevermind he also just. canonically doesn't fucking act that way,.,. yeah, obviously people can draw different wrong conclusions from the source material but, like, that Does Require at least skimmin' the source material... .

[mailmango]

One-on-One

Pairing: Professor Henry Cavill x Student Male Reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut, MDNI

Kinks/Warnings/Notes: AMAB Reader; Calling the reader a slut, a whore; Calling the reader a good boy, praise; Slapping and spanking; Age gap; Professor x Student

Length: 5.1k words, Fic

Synopsis: You're one of the lucky few to have ever experienced one of Professor Cavill's lectures. And you are the lucky, singular person to have ever experienced his heart-racing one-on-one session.

A/N: oml hiiii! If you're reading this, then thank you very much! this is my first time writing something over a thousand words (of my own volition) in probably 3 years at least! It's also my first time writing serious smut GAHAHAHAH I would appreciate feedback (totally optional), but most of all, hope you enjoy :D

Credits: @/aquazero for the divider and @/starboye for helping me with formatting and tagging!! ^-^

I picked this one just for you! I hope it’s sweet and juicy…

You’ve always liked your Ancient Mythologies Studies class. It was an easy A, one that came packaged with an interesting topic to boot. Who doesn’t want to hear of the religions and myths of civilizations from thousands and thousands of years ago?

The answer is most people. It was one of the smallest classes–even with a size cap of twenty, it had barely filled out ten slots. It seemed most people simply didn’t take interest in the subject. That meant that most people were poor, unfortunate people, because they didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Professor Cavill. 

Professor Cavill had worked at the university teaching their Ancient Mythologies Studies class for the past several years. He was a graduate of this school and, after having established himself as a prominent archaeologist, he opted to take time and teach a course for two sessions weekly. In his words he, “Wanted to help inspire any young people with a passion for learning about those that came before us.” 

You had found those words so, so interesting. But it was more so about the man saying them. 

Professor Cavill–Henry–was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties. He was kind and considerate to each member of his class, treating them with a warmth and manner you’d read about in an overly unrealistic romance novel. And yet, he was very much real. You had class with him every Monday morning and Friday night. 

Classes which you would sit in, bouncing your leg and hiding a raging boner as you watched the man fiddle with and adjust his tie. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N, are you sure you’d rather not attend the festivities?” 

Ah, just your luck, wasn’t it? Your college had been holding a concert for a handful of its alumni to celebrate their band’s first national tour. The university had decided that, due to the band falling under the alternative genre, they would allow classes to continue should any students or staff be disinterested. 

It just so happened that, as much as you weren’t opposed to them, you also weren’t heavily inclined to actually attend their show. You had figured that at least one of your ten classmates would feel the same. 

Apparently not.

Hence, you now sat alone in a small lecture room, the chairs beside you empty as you stared at your beloved professor, Professor Cavill. 

“Ah, no, professor. Were you looking to attend?” 

“Myself? My personal taste doesn’t align with their music. As much as I love Clive-” 

Clive was the lead singer and, as you recall, one of Professor Cavill’s former students. 

“-we’ll be meeting for a congratulations dinner tomorrow evening. We’ve already discussed.”

He smiled, dimples forming, as he flipped open his files for the night’s lecture. 

Then he had to reach for his stupid tie. 

“Would you mind if I loosened my tie? I’ve been feeling warm as of earlier this evening.” 

His large, somewhat hairy hand was already holding the knot one either side. He did it often; you had come to suspect it was an unconscious habit at times. He would tug at his tie, calling attention to his strong chest or those bulging biceps…

Damn his stupid tie. Today, it was his blue tie, one you knew to be one of his favourites. He wore it at least thrice a month, most often during Friday sessions.

Every time he would touch it, toy with it, it sent shivers down your spine and blood straight to your cock. You almost weren’t sure if you hated or loved that he was almost never without one.

“Ah, not at all, Sir. Go ahead.” 

“Thank you, Y/N.”

God, your name sounded so good out of his mouth. He drew the syllables out, gave it this weight that you hadn’t heard your name spoken with before. You could get addicted to the way he had said it just now. You were tempted to find an excuse to have him say it again. 

That opportunity came as, for the first time, he pushed past absentminded tugs at his tie and now pulled the knot away from his chest. For the first time, you saw his neck without the tie drawing attention. It almost sounded manic to say but… the sight began to draw you in. 

And then he overshot it. The tie came off, knot still done, but it was completely removed now. He stared down at the cloth before using his free hand to undo it, leaving it nice and straight in his hand. 

“Do you mind if I forgo it?”

Eye contact. He made eye contact with those god damn near hypnotising eyes. They really were unique; the man had something called segmental heterochromia. He had mentioned it once before. It meant that his left iris, though mostly blue like his right, had a patch of brown in its upper half. 

It felt mystifying, like a siren whose song you couldn’t ignore. He continued to look at you, and without him breaking eye contact, you were hopelessly unable to do so yourself. Instead, you simply muttered a weak response. 

“Go ahead, Sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Class seemed to fly by. Your hand wrote on its own as your legs bounced, mind and senses completely and utterly hinged on the man’s every word and movement. Though he entranced you each time you sat in on his lectures, tonight was different. You had always blamed his tie. It’s the tie. The playing with the tie, his stature with it, that’s what you blamed for your constant erections. 

But it was difficult to deny it when, as the man orated with his tie discarded, you found your cock throbbing more eagerly than you can remember it having ever done before.

Sweat rolled down your forehead from the heat you were feeling. You cursed yourself, begging that the man would somehow not notice the warmth that afflicted you. But, as you let yourself look at him again, really look at him, you were both relieved and mortified to find that he was under the same circumstances. 

“Is the air conditioning broken?”

His words were breathless as he fanned himself with his papers. He was tugging at his collar now, further exposing his neck, now slick with sweat. It seemed to be bothering him more than it was you, somehow. 

“I-I think so.”

You could barely manage to let the words out. Your breathing had gotten unsteady, mind and body unable to focus as the man groaned from the discomfort. Seemingly without realising, his hand undid the two topmost buttons of his shirt. It exposed his chest–a strong chest covered in wild, dark black hair that you had been completely oblivious to the glorious existence of.

“Y/N? Are you alright? Is something-”

Of course now he notices your stares. It couldn’t have been when it was something that was easily explained away, like you were staring at him due to intent listening. No, it had to be when your gaze, which he followed, led down to his exposed chest. His exposed chest which had, mortifyingly, caused a wet spot to form in your pants. 

“Ah, my apologies. Let me redo my button-” 

“No! I mean-”

Your words came out too eager. Your brain was screaming at your mouth not to speak, to not make an utter fool of yourself. But your mouth chose to go rogue, instead opting to speak like a horned-up teen begging his boyfriend to keep making out with him. 

“Y-you don’t have to. I don’t mind.” 

An eyebrow was cocked in your direction. 

“Is that so, Y/N?” 

Your silence was used to scream, rather than actually think of anything remotely close to damage control. 

“Y-yes Sir. I don’t mind if you keep your buttons undone.”

“If that’s the case, then…” 

Was this… reality? Surely it could be. It was impossible. 

You were sitting there, cock leaking with precum like you were a virgin watching your first porno, as your handsome professor began to undo buttons, one after another. He was exposing himself further and further with each passing second, each button exposing a new section of chiselled, hairy, sweat-covered skin.

His breaths were deep and heavy, sighs and groans of relief sending more and more sensations to your cock. Every vibration of his vocal chords seemed to be felt in full force by your erection, not helping your situation in any way whatsoever. 

Then the man had the gall to take his shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it aside. 

His body truly was magnificent. Plush, thick muscles were a constant, whether you looked at his chest, his abs, his shoulders, or any of his muscles. They radiated strength, covered in that same black hair as on his chest and equally slick with sweat. His body glistened under the dim light of the lights hanging above, almost like a gladiator fresh from battle. 

How the hell were you supposed to react? What the hell were you supposed to do? 

“Y/N, it’s hot, isn’t it? Would you mind if I further… undressed?”

How the hell were you supposed to say no to that? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost pathetic how easily the man got you to fish your cock out of your strained pants. Little more than an offhanded request, actually. 

Now you sat, pants and underwear around your ankles, your own shirt unbuttoned, as you feverishly pumped your erect dick. Your hand glided up and down due to the slickness of your overflowing precum, breathing unstable and desperate. But you were helpless, the possibility of you stopping a distant memory.

Professor Cavill was now nearly nude. He had discarded his elegant brown leather shoes and well-tailored pants, also in a neat pile on his desk. It left him, his statuesque form, completely exposed to you and your horny, unabashedly feral mind. It was a wonder you hadn’t cum yet. 

“Keep pumping for me, Y/N. Be a good boy and keep going.” 

Fuck, you couldn’t stop. Not when he said your name in a gruff, demanding voice. Not when he called you the sweetest pet names. Not when he stared at you, panting and eager, with a hunger that a predator has for its prey. 

Most especially when his cock strained against dark, black fabric, as he rubbed along his clothed shaft as he took in the sight of your desperate form. 

“Prof-” 

“Henry. Call me Henry, Y/N.” 

Shit, you could feel your cum about to well up and burst. 

“Henry!” 

He gave you a curt nod of approval. Your stomach pulsed with excitement. 

“P-please, fuck me-!” 

You looked at him, eyes wide and begging, and desperately awaited a reply. With mercy, he gave you one. 

“Alright, Y/N. I’ll fuck you.” 

You let out a pathetic, strangled mewl as your cum sprayed up and onto your sweaty torso. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henry–gah, you got to call him Henry–had a cock that you couldn’t fully process was actually human. It was too perfect. It was thick, nearly as thick as your wrist though thankfully just short. It was lengthy, having had to be nine or ten inches at full mast. His balls were heavy, full of cum that he was eager to let out, and the base of his shaft was buried in a wild, thick, furry bush. 

It was so close to you. It throbbed in front of you as you sat in your chair, the proximity allowing you to see the thick, pulsing vein that ran from base to near the tip. It let you watch as that fat, mushroom tip leaked a viscous, sticky precum. It lets you inhale that delicious, heady musk, intoxicating your mind and sending it reeling. 

It was almost too much to process. Almost.

You were far, far too eager to begin sucking on the fat shaft. Who could blame you? People would pay good money to get a taste of a cock this perfect. 

Fuck, the taste! A salty, somehow indescribably masculine taste, that flooded and overwhelmed your mind. It felt like you were at risk of addiction. Nothing had ever or would ever taste this damn divine. The copious amounts of thick, even saltier, precum being pumped into your throat was an excellent, equally addictive addition.

Even though it hurt and strained your jaw to stretch that wide and accommodate its length, the activity felt simply euphoric. If Henry would let you, you’d opt to do nothing more and nothing less than worship his cock, day and night. 

“That’s a good, good boy, Y/N. Lube up my cock.”

You always were one to follow Henry’s instructions. Always one to listen, to be a good, obedient puppy. Maybe that’s why you were his favourite. 

And, as he uttered praise and guided your head with a large hand’s firm grip, you certainly weren’t going to start disobeying now. With a hum of acknowledgement, you dutifully continued your task.

Once satisfied, Henry grunted and lightly tapped the back of your head. 

“That’s good, baby. That’s enough. Come, get off my cock now.” 

Part of you wanted to resist. How were you supposed to tear yourself away from his dick? It sounded impossible. But, you were eager for his praise, to hear him call you a good boy again. So, with one last deep dive down, your nose pressed into his hairy bush and your lips to the base of his shaft, you reluctantly pulled your face away and off of his delicious dick. 

“Good fucking boy. You’re a very, very good boy, Y/N.” 

Your cock throbbed with lust-filled need as you nodded with pure excitement. 

“You deserve a reward. Lay on my desk, Y/N, and let me take care of your now.” 

This was somehow the easiest instruction of the night to follow. You found yourself, now nude with your clothes having been folded just like Henry’s, laying on your back on his wooden desk. The surface felt cold and hard, but the feeling of a sturdy base comforted you. You knew that you’d need it. 

As you took deep, steady breaths. The first of the night, actually. Your mind was trained on one thing, one concern rather. 

How would you take his monstrous cock? 

The answer would come soon. Without warning, your legs were lifted by two strong hands. You looked down, seeing as Henry in all his glory set your ankles on his broad shoulders. He began pressing light kisses to your skin, beard tickling your skin, as he maintained unwavering eye contact. It caused you to let out a soft laugh, which he opted to respond to. 

“Your voice is beautiful, Y/N. Save it for me, okay?” 

You felt it then. His fat, throbbing, steaming hot cock was set beside yours, pressed between your dick and your thigh. He was slowly and subtly moving his hips back and forth, groaning at the sensational friction.

“You’ll let me hear you sing tonight, yeah? Let me hear your wonderful voice, Y/N.” 

His words were sweet like honey. It was almost enough to distract you from the prodding of his thick fingers against your tight hole. But, as you felt them push past your tight ring of muscle, your voice came out like the gates had been torn down, a moan resounding through the room. 

“There you go. Good boy… moan for me. Let me hear each and every one, okay?” 

You stared at him, eyes half-lidded, and nodded with an eager need to please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Deep breaths, Y/N. Deep breaths for me now…”

How could someone so sweet cause so much pain? Henry was hunched over, his large, comforting hands on either side of your head as he hovered his face no more than four inches from yours. His heavy breaths fanned against your cheeks as he kept a steady, solid eye contact between you two. It was wondrous how much fire brewed within you from such a mundane act. 

“Are you ready? I’m going to insert the tip, alright?” 

He looked at you with such care and concern that it almost shocked you. He was a big, hulking man with a terrifyingly huge cock, but as it has come to be shown, a larger heart. It was so damn cheesy, wasn’t it? 

But that didn’t matter as you nodded once again, body unable to take the anticipation, the waiting, for him to shove his fat cock inside. 

��Except maybe it had to. His cockhead slipped inside with ease, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t fucking painful. You let out a strangled half-moan half-scream, and within seconds, those large hands were patting the side of your head.

“Y/N? Is it too much? I’ll stop, okay? Should I pull out?”

Henry was kissing your forehead, your cheeks, the sides of your lips. He muttered small praises and comforts, every other kiss targeting a tear that had fallen from the pain. He kept true to his word; his hips remained still, his cock not pushing a millimetre further inside. It was from that moment of calm that, as you adjusted to the burning stretch, you were able to speak. 

“D-don’t. Just- give me a second to-“ 

You huffed out, desperate for air. 

“-adjust!” 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. He tasted, somehow, better than his cock. It wasn’t quite something you could place, to be frank. It was a savoury taste, one with hints of candies you couldn’t identify and a tea whose flavour you couldn’t imagine. But it was entirely and wholly the delicious thing you’ve ever or will ever have. 

That was worth getting addicted to. And if Henry would let you, you’d chase that taste every single moment you can. Something told you that yeah, he would. 

“You’re doing so, so good for me, Y/N. So good, you feel so good…” 

Henry’s voice was low and comforting, just as much, if not more than his calming touches. He spoke in whispers between each kiss, and it led you to slowly, but surely, adjust to the pain. Before you had even realised, all you felt was the desire for him to push even further. 

“H-Henry, you can move now… please…” 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” 

Hearing your name roll off his tongue, so casual by this point, only cemented your enthusiasm. You nodded slowly and weakly, smiling the best you could. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful… Hold on to me, and tell me if I need to stop, okay?” 

Your cock nearly bounced at the praise. You eked out another nod as your hands came up to rest on his shoulders, leading him to return your smile with one of his own. And fuck, it was gorgeous. 

He kept his movement slow. It was torturous, but you could appreciate the time and the caution he took. His face watched yours, now scanning for any sign of pain or discomfort. At every wince or scrunch, he would stop, waiting for a nod or smile as your sign of readiness. 

“You feel excellent, Y/N. Being with you… I could get obsessed with this feeling, you know?” 

He leaned down to kiss you yet again. He kissed you, giving you yet another helping of that impossibly lovely taste: his taste. 

And then… then he brushed against your prostate, his cock like a mallet smashing into a button. Even slow, it sent a shock up your spine and a resulting heat through your nerves. Your loud, vulgar moans were taken with great joy and adoration from Henry, his smile only growing fonder. 

“You sound so good, Y/N. Let it out for me…” 

Perhaps you took it a tad too far as your cock, with the pressure to your prostate, burst with another spray of hot, sticky cum that painted both tour and Henry’s stomachs. Such a reaction was met with a warm laughter. 

“Not what I meant, but I’m not complaining. It’s good to know you feel good, baby.” 

He leaned in for yet another kiss and, in the hypnotising exchange, you just barely processed a large, encapsulating hand taking hold of your cock. Henry began to spread your cum across your own shaft, using it to pump your still-sensitive cock towards unbearable pleasure. 

“I’m gonna keep making you feel good, okay?” 

Sweat had beaded all over your skin now, streams running down your body as Henry’s own dripped down and onto your frame. He was pushing just a bit faster now—you almost couldn’t take the wait any longer. That once painful stretch had evolved into pleasure. It had evolved from a burning heat contained to your ass and spread into this resounding, unending warmth washing through you. In the process, it had devolved you into a writhing, moaning mess.

His cock was large, that was certainly clear. It was the kind of large that made your stomach bulge, the kind that you knew you wouldn’t ever be able to take with ease no matter how many times it had fucked you. And shit, you hoped that it would fuck you so, so many more times. 

But your composure only broke down further when his cock seemed to reach so impossibly deep inside, spreading your insides apart like it was trying to break you. Moan after moan fell out as your back arched involuntarily, only accentuating the bulge in your stomach. 

“Baby? Y/N?” 

You hadn’t even realised it, but Henry had stopped pushing himself deeper. Now, as he buried into what felt like the core of you and sent waves of electrifying heat with even the slightest twitch of his dick, his hips were flush against yours. He had bottomed out. 

“Henry…” 

Words other than the man’s name didn’t seem to be able to form. He, however, had so much to say. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, Y/N. You’re taking me so damn well…” 

The hand not on your cock let go of your face and glided down your body, tracing lines down your shaking body, and stopped just over the bulging portion of your stomach. He brushed it gently, causing yet another crackle of electricity to wrack through you.

“Can… can I start to move?” 

Oh, you could’ve broken your neck with how fast you agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit, shit! You feel so damn good, Y/N.” 

Henry’s calm demeanour had taken a backseat. It was still there, in careful touches to your face and sweet caresses of your body. You could still hear it in every little praise he threw out, and every loving glance he gave your half-lidded eyes. 

His hips, though, had practically lost any form of restraint. 

He withdrew and pushed back in with speed and force, hips slamming with a harsh and sharp slap. Your ass felt sore by this point, but it was a warm, comfortable soreness when paired with the sheer, blinding pleasure of Henry’s cock. 

By the gods, the pleasure was insane. It was driving you mad, your vision going white. His cock, no matter how many times it was thrust into you, remained impossibly large and impossibly deep-reaching. It felt as though it only went deeper and deeper with each push, a result of your fractured state. 

But how could one stay sane when their body was being overwhelmed with such unimaginable pleasure. 

As drool began to spill and your eyes rolled back, Henry was quick to grab you by the chin and lock you into yet another kiss. Unlike the times before, though it carried the same sweetness, it was now heavy with a hunger, a need. He hungered for you, and he needed to fucking ruin you. 

And Henry’s a man who accomplishes his goals, isn’t he? He began thrusting into your harder, harsher than he had before. He thrust over and over and over again, his movements without a single missed beat or second of hesitation. 

His kisses remained constant too. His thick, strong tongue had shoved its way past your pretty lips and began to gnash against your tongue. It was a strange but nonetheless mind numbingly good feeling to have him invade your body even further. 

By now, his grip had transferred to and firmed on your hips. He kept you nice and planted in place on that damn sturdy desk of his, even as each thrust threatened its integrity. His pace was relentless, the wood starting to creak with his forcefulness. 

He drew back, saliva still stringing your mouth and his. 

“Y-you feel good, Y/N?” 

Who knew this man could stutter? But fuck, he made it sound hot. He sounded so lost in the pleasure, and even then, so firm in his every word. 

“Y-yes!” 

He gave a crooked smile at your words. 

“Good! Do you like the way I taste, Y/N? The way my spit tastes?” 

How vulgar was that? And how vulgar was it that, the second you tried to respond with a very clear yes, he decided to drop a fat glob of hot spit onto your cheek? He brought his thumb up to rub it into your skin and, hell, you were about to thank him for it. 

You couldn’t as he cut you off with yet another breathtaking kiss. You were left panting and unable to speak at all when he pulled away.

“You’re a whore, you know? A beautiful, obedient, whore.” 

His words carried no malice, only a heavy lust that he was just barely stopping from pushing him towards ruining your body completely. 

“But you’re my whore, alright? Don’t you ever fucking forget.” 

He slapped your cheek. It wasn’t one of anger, moreso just trying to snap you into focus. He wanted an answer and, as his best and favourite student, he knew he would get a reply out of you. 

“I-I’m your whore, sir!” 

It was a miracle you could speak, really. It was especially miraculous because the second he heard that, with one resounding slam of his hips into yours, you felt it. 

“Fuck, Y/N!”

In the moment, as you arched your back and let your mouth flow with moans at the highest possible volume, Henry’s cock pumped gush after gush of burning hot, viscous, cum. 

It felt like molten steel, an impossible extreme of everything that semen was meant to be. And as such, it brought the pleasure you felt from having your stomach pumped full of it to a high that you could never reach with any drug imaginable. 

And through it, his hips hadn’t chosen to stop. Every thrust was now being punctuated with a new load of cum filling your already full belly, each one followed then with another slap to your ass or lust-driven proclamation of love. 

“God, I love your tight fucking ass-”

You were screaming as you came at the height of the moment’s intensity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t sure when the night ended, exactly. It seemed that the man had fucked you for hours on end, until he had emptied his fat balls’ storage of cum and filled your belly with it. He had fucked you till your cock hurt, and each climax produced a dry orgasm due to empty tanks. 

He had fucked you till you were left unable to think of anything but his cock and the taste of his sweet, delicious lips.  

And now, he was buried deep inside you still, pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you desperately gasped for air. 

“Did I go too hard? Are you hurt, Y/N?” 

Your body was, in fact, aching. It was this numb, almost muffled pain that was eclipsed—or perhaps even part of—this euphoric pleasure that continued to grasp you. Things no longer felt real, at this point, but a dream you’d rather not wake from. 

But things were very much reality, and that included a high-off-sex and full-of-affection Henry. 

“I apologise for the slaps, they were rather forceful…” 

You managed out a shake of the head to signal a no. The laugh that he gave, boisterous yet quiet, made your heart pound again. 

“I see. I suppose we’ll need ample time to explore what we both enjoy, hm?” 

The idea of more time with Henry, more time doing this, was certainly exciting. He didn’t need more than your dumb little smile, one you couldn’t wipe off your face even if you wanted or tried to, to tell you thought. 

“I can see you like the prospect, hm?” 

Another chuckle and another kiss. What bliss this was. 

“I’m going to pull out now, so that we can both get cleaned up, okay? Just breathe for me, Y/N, just like earlier.” 

You tried to follow, you really did. But as your hole was quickly left empty, gaping and clenching around nothing, you couldn’t help but whine unintelligible mutterings. Henry responded with even more pecks to your lips and caresses to your soft, delicate skin. 

Henry was certainly a gentleman. He had taken some tissues from the box he reserved for students with colds and used then to to clean the outer portion of your sloppy hole. His hands, as large as they were, moved soft and delicate, careful not to press against any overly sensitive parts. 

He had taken to cleaning himself—drying his cock, much to your dismay, with more paper towels. He had noticed your sadness and, with an admittedly smug smirk, said he’d allow you to suck his cock clean next time. It was still strange, even after the night you had had with him, to hear such lewd language uttered from the refined man’s mouth.

By the time he had dressed himself, your breathing had steadied. Your backside was still sore and leaking, but he had promised to help with that back at his apartment. 

Wait.

His apartment? 

“Ah, would you rather not? I can clean you up in the facilities here and-” 

“No, no! I’d-”

You coughed. All the sweat, mixed with what was now cool night air, had left your body just a tad sick. Well, that and the exhaustion from having taken on such an impossible task and cock. 

“-love to. I’d love to go home with you, Henry.” 

He smiled like he hadn’t heard anything quite as lovely before. You smiled back in return. 

He was the eager to tug on your boxers and wrap you in his suit jacket as a means of decency. He lifted you up bridal-style and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The man was strong and, with the ease that was carrying you, he even held your folded clothing in the hand supporting your butt. 

You even found the strength to be humorous in the moment, letting out a joking, “Ooh, strong guy, huh?” 

He graced you yet again with one of those pure, unadulterated laughs.

“I’m glad to have had this one on one session with you, Y/N. Certainly was productive, wasn’t it?”

THANK YOU to my lovely beta readers! There's a shit ton GAHAH

@inhumanshadows @worstwolverinesbf @darlingminjin @alatrysev @starboye @spermeboy @starrykie @sleep-0-deprived @slytherslvt @kurominis

Love you all :D you're all soooo nice and helped me finish this with your kind comments! Hope I didn't let you down with the end :>

[wonderjanga]

Can I Please be Your Friend?

Billy doesn’t have friends. Between being Marvel and working odd jobs, he hasn’t really had the time some. So when he got invited to join the newly formed Justice League. He was ecstatic! Sure, these people were at least a very minimum of 20 years older than him and sure they would probably talk about taxes and stuff, but superhero friends! Meanwhile, the Justice League is like, “wow this guy is so social. I like it!”

Marvel: “You have a lighthouse…?” *sounds so amazed*

Aquaman: “Yeah. My dad was a lighthouse keeper so I got it when he passed.”

Marvel: “That’s so awesome! Can I come over?”

Aquaman: “Oh, okay? Sure?” *a little surprised he asked but eh whatever*

That was how Arthur spent the day showing Cap around the lighthouse. The man was a really good listener and was surprisingly very interested in listening to Arthur talk about how to use the light. You couldn’t even ask Arthur how they both ended up jumping off the railings of the lighthouse of dive into the water. You also couldn’t ask him how they ended up having a water fight, with the Atlantean calling for some sea creatures as back up. You also also couldn’t ask him how shocked a hotdog vendor was when he saw Captain Marvel and Aquaman, both of which who are supposed to be revered heroes, soaked, looking like wet dogs, asking for a couple of hotdogs after they nearly caused a tidal wave.

They got scolded by Batman a little while later for acting like children and almost causing the previously mentioned tidal wave. It was a little funny to see Batman scolding a man a solid two feet taller than him.

Soon after that whole incident, Marvel went to befriend Martian Manhunter next.

Marvel: *staring at J’onn while holding a box of cookies*

MM: *can hear him thinking about how to approach him and looks over to Marvel*

Marvel: *thinks a little too loudly and J’onn hears a nearly deafening “FRIEND”*

MM: *flinches and clutches his head* “Captain. Is something the matter.”

Marvel: “Oh uh…” *walks over and looks between the cookies and J’onn* “I was uh- wondering if you wanted to eat these with me.”

And that’s how J’onn spent the rest of the afternoon eating cookies with Marvel. J’onn had at first thought Marvel was quiet because he was something humans called awkward. But no, every now and then, when J’onn forgot that humans preferred to keep their thoughts private, he’d hear how happy Marvel was that he accepted. He’d also heard a couple other voices which was slightly concerning. He didn’t know if that was normal for humans or not.

Then, the next was Batman. Bruce honestly didn’t even know how they had started talking about this. All he knows is that they were talking about the team’s performance in the field, then that somehow transitioned into talking about superheroes in general, which then somehow led to fictional superheroes, which led to now:

Marvel: “Oh, you like Gray Ghost?”

Batman: “I was… a fan of him when I was a child.” *doesn’t know why he’s telling Marvel this*

Marvel: “Cool! Did you see the movies?”

From there on was a forty minute yapping session about Gray Ghost, his lore, the movies, the comics, the action figures, and so on.

Marvel: “I even had his comics as a kid too.”

Batman: “Really? Reprints or originals?”

Marvel: “I wanna say originals? What do you mean by reprints though?”

Batman: “Reprinting is when they take a comic, and remake it to look a little better, such as brighter colors or slightly tweaked dialogue, so they can sell it again.”

Marvel: “Oh. Then I’d say I probably have originals then.”

Batman: “Interesting. Those are collectors items now. They go for thousands.”

Marvel; “Really?!” *eyes nearly bug out of his skull* “Huh. I had no idea. Which ones did you have?”

Batman: “Mostly reprints. But I do have a couple originals on display.”

So yeah. The two were geeking out and stuff. Bruce honestly has literally no one to talk about this with so he’ll admit he was a little (a lot) happy.

We can’t forget the other JL heroes though.

Flash: “Like, he is so nice, and for what?”

GL: “I know right he let me ramble for like 45 minutes about planes! He was asking questions too!”

Supes: “And he’s always willing to help with anything. I didn’t even get to finish asking if he could cover my monitor shifts before he said yes.” *sounds slightly guiltily (he still feels bad for asking)*

In conclusion, Billy really wants to be friends with these guys, and his methods are definitely working.

[allurilove]

Yandere Manager x singer you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: yandere male manager x gender neutral singer reader, he’s secretly pining after you, your own little stalker, forbidden romance ig, male masturbation, takes pics of you sleeping, non con touching.

You met your yandere manager at the bar. You had been a part of a small band that never really made it big, but you always had shone brighter than the rest. You were magnetic, already having that star potential, and happened to sit right next to the man who worked for one of the best record companies. He just got off work, his sleeves pushed up above his elbow, and his glasses folded neatly next to him. He never really liked to drink, he was a different person when he did, but today was a special occasion. You were here. He already knew who you were, and he used a second low-key instagram account to see your stuff. He glanced at you. Your get-up was cute. He assumed that you came back from a concert or party, as there was a bit of confetti in your hair. You wore minimal and possibly sweat-proof makeup, and your eyes were striking with the black eyeliner.

Your manager sort of fell for you the first time he met you. It wasn’t easy to catch his attention, but you managed to do it. He had slid you his business card, paid for the rest of your drinks, and put on his best speech to convince you to sign with him. You became a solo artist in the blink of an eye, your singles and albums making it to the top forty, and you had the fame you wanted for so long. It just came with the price of having a stalker. As a manager, he had your location at all times. For safety purposes… of course. He threw a cap on, tiptoeing around the city to spy on you and your friends.

Your manager was responsible for your fan club. He would never tell you this, because it was simply embarrassing to admit, but he made a blog to gush about you. ‘A hundred reasons why you should stan y/n’ was the beginning of his secret outlet. He was the one that started the #manager and y/n would be cute hashtag on twitter, uploading a bunch of pictures of you and him having a ‘sweet’ moment. He spent hours scouring the internet to watch countless of edits of you, and he even made some himself. His cold and methodical demeanor would disappear the moment he was in the comfort of his home. He would lay in his bed, giggling and kicking his feet, twirling a piece of his hair as his eyes lit up at the sight of you on his screen.

Your manager acts like a helicopter parent. He’s always on your ass. He never texts you paragraphs or long sentences, so he could spam you and make sure you had definitely seen his messages.

“Where are you?”

“Out drinking again?”

“What happened to being responsible?”

“You have a show in two days.”

“I’ll be disappointed in you if you are drunk.”

“You better be at my house in two seconds.”

“Two seconds or I’m coming to get your ass.”

He liked you being drunk (only when you were around him). You would mumble and whine, his name on your lips constantly as you complained. And he got to be your hero for a while. He also forbids you from having any groupies. If you and him can’t fuck, then you can’t see anyone else. It was as simple as that. He couldn’t stomach the idea of you being with other people, and that’s why he had you at his apartment 24/7. When you were traveling for your shows, you best believe it that he was with you too. To him, it felt like you guys were practically married. Living together on the same bus, cooking together, sleeping near each other in close quarters. He would never cross the line when you were conscious; but when you were sleeping… it was free game.

The yandere manager took pictures of you. You were so worn out after your concerts, that you didn’t feel him moving your body. You trusted him because he gave you zero reasons not to. You trusted him enough that you didn’t expect him to start peeling off your clothes. He wanted his camera roll to be filled with your body. He gently put his hand on your thighs, squeezing the fat as he snapped a picture of you in your underwear. His fingers would sometimes find its way inside your mouth, subtly testing out your gag relax, and filming it for his pleasure. He flipped you onto your stomach, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and had his camera working hard to catch up with his thumb. He rapidly pressed against the button, trying to catch all the angles of your ass and sex.

Your manager touches his dick when you send him raw recordings of your voice. You were a night owl, your brain never shutting down until three a.m. and you sent him new songs you were working on. He plugged in his earbuds, lying back onto his bed, and hit play. He hummed the newest lyrics, his eyes closing as his hand slowly traveled down towards his crotch. He palmed himself, feeling his dick hardening in his grey sweatpants. He wanted you badly.

Your manager thought you were perfect, drop dead gorgeous and fucking hot. You have this sex appeal that makes his knees weak. He imagined you whispering the words to him: the heat of your voice warming the side of his face, your hand feeling up this tip, and wrapping around his long cock. Would you think that his dick was impressive? Would you be happy with how much cum that shoots out? Would you love it so much to gulp all of it down?

“Fuckin’ hell. Take it down your throat.”

“You love this don’t you? My big star.”

Your yandere manager wanted to sleep with you so badly. But he swore to himself to not get involved with another one of his clients. He groaned, his eyes opening to stare at his blank white ceiling, and his desperate cock softened in his hand. He hadn’t gotten any action lately, and he was oh so waiting to find the perfect moment to be with you.

Allure: extra stuff! idk i feel iffy about this fic

this is definitely reader and yandere managers text messages.

[p0orbaby]

I’d Rather Go Blind Than Let You Down

summary: the baby is here, that should calm leah down, right? right?

warnings: hospital setting

a/n: someone asked for some more panicky leah so here it is. first part here but you don’t need to read it if you don’t want to

word count: 1.3k

-

It’s a boy. A boy. Your boy. You can hardly wrap your head around it, the reality of him. He’s only been in the world for forty minutes, and already it feels like he’s upended every law of physics. Six pounds and change, but impossibly heavy in the way he roots you to the earth, demanding you stay present, stay still, stay here. His hair is a downy mess of dark brown fluff, sticking up in little uneven tufts that remind you of how Leah’s fringe used to look after her under-12s matches: matted and wild, all effort and energy. His hands—God, his hands—are the size of fifty-pence pieces, delicate and wrinkled, each finger curled tightly into its own little fist. He’s perfect. Absolutely, inexplicably perfect. And you’re completely terrified.

The hospital room smells like cheap soap and distant disinfectant, undercut by the faint, sticky sweetness of some long-spilled juice no one bothered to properly clean. It’s a symphony of beige: beige walls, beige curtains, beige linoleum. Even the bed looks beige, although it’s probably just worn white, like an old t-shirt washed too many times. Somewhere in the hallway, someone’s shoes squeak with rhythmic persistence, and you vaguely wonder if they’re pacing, as you had earlier, wearing an accidental track into the polished floor.

Leah is sitting in the uncomfortable armchair by the bed, which is upholstered in that scratchy material designed to withstand decades of spills and bad decisions. Her elbows rest on her knees, her fingers steepled against her lips in a half-prayer, half-facepalm, as if she’s mid-negotiation with some higher power. She hasn’t spoken much since the baby was born. Not because she doesn’t want to, you think, but because the enormity of it all has rendered her mute. She looks pale, unsteady, as if someone has shaken her up like a bottle of fizzy water and forgotten to twist the cap back on properly.

The baby makes a soft, snuffling noise against your chest, pulling her attention like a magnet. Her gaze darts to him and then flicks away just as quickly, as if looking directly at him for too long might somehow blind her. She hasn’t held him yet. She hasn’t even really touched him, save for one trembling fingertip brushed against his impossibly tiny foot when the midwife first handed him to you. It wasn’t avoidance, not exactly. More like reverence. Or fear. Maybe both.

You’re exhausted in a way that doesn’t feel real, like your body’s moving on autopilot while your brain drifts somewhere between sleep and shock. Your limbs are heavy, molten, but there’s also an odd lightness to you, a weightless, dizzying awe at what you’ve just done. You gave birth. You. You. Somehow, you survived it—hours of pain, pushing, panting, the raw animalistic chaos of it—and now you’re here, holding this impossibly small, impossibly fragile life in your arms. You’re not sure how you’re even still upright, let alone conscious.

“Do you want to hold him?” you ask, your voice soft, careful, as if you’re coaxing a wild animal out of the brush.

Leah’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and glassy, like a deer caught in headlights. “Hold him?” she echoes, her voice shaky and high-pitched. “Me?

“Yes, you. Who else?”

She blinks, her hands flexing and unflexing against her knees like they’re warming up for a solo on Britain’s Got Talent. “I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea”

“Leah, he’s your son”

“I know,” she says quickly, her voice climbing into that higher, defensive register that comes out when she’s trying to convince herself more than you. “I know he’s my son. But he’s just so… small. And… fragile. What if I—”

“You’re not going to drop him”

“I might!” she says, alarmed by her own hypothetical. “I might drop him. Or…or hold him wrong. What if I hold him wrong and, like, dislocate something? Babies are delicate! Like…like soufflés”

You blink at her. “Did you just compare our child to a soufflé?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know! I’m just saying, I’m not exactly… maternal, am I? I’m not one of those people who looks at a baby and just… knows what to do. I’m more of a… ‘panic and Google it’ kind of person”

“That’s fine,” you say, adjusting the baby slightly in your arms as he makes a soft, snuffling noise. “Most parents are ‘panic and Google it’ people. It’s basically the default”

Leah doesn’t look convinced. She’s rubbing her hands together now, the way she does before a big match, but this isn’t a match. There’s no referee, no whistle, no rules, no second leg if she screws this up. Her gaze darts back to the baby, then to you, then back to the baby, like she’s trying to memorise the mechanics of holding him without actually doing it.

“What if I’m terrible at this?” she blurts out suddenly, the words spilling out of her in a rush. “What if I’m a terrible mum and he grows up hating me and we end up one of those families where no one talks and we all just sit around at Christmas in complete silence, eating dry turkey and resenting each other?”

You stare at her. “That’s… a very specific fear”

She shrugs, her leg bouncing up and down anxiously. “I’ve seen it happen”

“Leah, you’re not going to be a terrible mum”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you. And you love him. That’s pretty much the most important part”

She frowns, her brow furrowed like she’s still not quite buying it. “Love’s not enough. Love doesn’t teach you how to… to… change nappies or… or know what all the different cries mean”

“Love doesn’t teach you that,” you agree, “but practice does. And you’ll get there. We both will”

Leah’s eyes flick back to the baby, who has now fallen into a soft, twitchy sleep against your chest. Her expression softens slightly, but the fear is still there, a tightness around her mouth, a tension in her shoulders.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” she asks quietly.

You laugh, soft and disbelieving. “He’s a newborn, Leah. His likes and dislikes are limited to ‘milk’ and ‘not-milk.’ He’s not going to sit there judging your personality”

She doesn’t laugh. If anything, she looks even more stricken, like she’s just realised she might have to win over this tiny person who doesn’t even have fully developed motor skills yet.

You sigh, reaching out to take her hand. “Leah, listen to me. You’re not going to drop him. You’re not going to dislocate anything. And you’re definitely not going to ruin Christmas twenty years from now. You’re going to be great. I promise”

She hesitates, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “What if I mess up?”

“You will,” you say simply. “We both will. That’s part of it. But messing up doesn’t mean failing. It just means you’re trying”

For a moment, she just looks at you, her eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, absolution, a manual for parenthood that doesn’t exist. Then, slowly, she nods. It’s not a confident nod, not by any stretch, but it’s a start.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I’ll try.”

You smile, holding out the baby toward her. “Then take him”

She hesitates for one last second before leaning forward, her hands trembling slightly as she takes the baby from you. She holds him like he’s made of glass, her arms stiff and awkward, but she’s holding him. She’s doing it.

And then the baby lets out a tiny, contented sigh, and Leah freezes, staring down at him like she’s just witnessed a miracle.

“He…he’s so… little,” she whispers, her voice filled with something like awe. “And warm. Why’s he so warm?”

“Because he’s a baby, not a lizard”

Leah lets out a soft, breathless laugh, her eyes never leaving the baby’s face. For the first time all night, she looks calm. Not completely, but enough. Enough to believe, maybe just for a moment, that she can do this.

That you can do this. Together.

[thedevilrisen]

Sunsets & Daisies

Luke Hughes x Reader Word Count: 2.3k Description: Luke Hughes and his fiancée always have an annual spring photo shoot, this year for their fourth anniversary Luke gets some welcome news.

Every year, when September hits Luke and Y/N venture to some decadently and much fought over location for their annual photo shoot. What once started with the two cramming into a Photo Booth, drunk on Luke’s birthday became somewhat of their tradition.

This year Y/N had practically begged Luke to relinquish all control he had and give it to her, given as of recently a huge surprise - a future altering surprise, was now at play. It had been almost nine months since Luke proposed and with the wedding two days away the couple thought this would be the perfect time to have the shoot before the season starts.

The location was about a forty-five out of Michigan, and was scheduled for the late afternoon in an attempt to achieve some sunset lit pictures. Luke’s sling added to the difficulty of getting ready, being sure not to accidentally aggravate his shoulder while also trying to get the polo shirt on was a massive task.

"You're too tall Lukey, can you bend down a sec?" you murmured, making sure to gently thread the bunched fabric over his injured shoulder first. The swollen, bruised skin making you grimace as Luke hissed through his teeth when you rotated his arm to allow the other one to slip through. "Sorry bub."

"It's alright." Luke whispered, "You're doing your best and their isn't much else we can do for the pain."

"You can have another does of pain killers when we get there, I'll put them in my purse for you to take before we get there.” The girl spoke as she put said medicine in her purse, among other essentials as well as today’s surprise. While she was allowed the liberty of preparing the surprise with the photographer by graciously offering to organise this year's photo shoot, claiming that Luke already does to much. However if Luke told you the story, it would have been told so dramatically the person listening would have assumed you held him at gunpoint. Which was completely untrue. You had used a hot spatula.

"Sounds, good." Luke spoke, grabbing a cap, using it to brush his hair back so it sat perfectly. You could see the one handed struggle he was having as you watched his scrunched up face in the mirror.

With a heavy sigh you crossed your arms, staring at him in the mirror, "Luke, if you think for a second you are wearing that cap during the shoot you have a lot more concerning things to worry about rather then your shoulder."

“I wouldn’t dare, it’s just till we get there so my hair doesn’t get super frizzy.” Luke stated, giving a pointed look as he turned back around and started to walk over to where you sat at the vanity, brushing the last bits of makeup across your face with the brush before turning the light switch and watching the bulbs dim till the room was bathed in darkness.

Exiting down the hallway and plucking the seperate car, house and gate keys off of their designated wall hooks in the entry way, playing them into your purse knowing because of Luke’s arm, even though he would insist on driving you will have to. Walking into the kitchen, hand brushing past the marble countertop, fingers drifting over the bunch of bananas sitting on the stone as you contemplated what you wanted to eat as well as a snack to take.

Luke trotted down the stairs quickly, heavy footsteps sounding out, softened by carpet but still loud enough to contemplate whether or not an elephant was storming throughout your house. “Should I wear my white sneakers? Or my blue ones?”

“I’d wear the blue.. well they are navy actually. There might be red dirt there and it will be easier to get it out of the blue rather than the white.” you said with an analytical tone, thinking best about the circumstances. “Besides, they will work well with your shirt.”

You heard Luke shuffle off down the hallway to the mud room, where you had all the shoes stowed away in little cubby cubes under the coat rack.

“Can you grab my black ankle boots please?” you requested as you opened the fridge, still in search for snacks you knew you were going to want inevitably. It was remarkable how dense men were sometimes, Luke, who knows you inside and out hasn’t even put a thought as to why you may be eating more or why you wanted one food constantly. Almost like you were craving, something.

“The ones with the little chain?” Luke called back out, you could hear him pulling the weaved baskets in and out.

“No! The ones with the little ribbing down the side of the legs?” You spoke, albeit louder so it carried down the hall into the room Luke was in.

“So the ones with the chain!” Luke’s tone matched yours, his with filtered confusion. He was holding said boots, they were black with a tan, woody coloured block on the heel of them, although it added little height and across the ribbed stitching on the side of the boots was a dainty little gold chain.

From where you were standing, brow creased as you looked into the fridge, eyes darting from the bread to make some toast, to the eggs which you could quickly scramble and maybe put on the toast. Then your eyes locked with the packet of dark chocolate covered almonds. Now they would be good.

“Y/N!” Luke cried, still looking at the boots as he waited for an answer. Looking at the wall with a expression of concern and disbelief.

“They aren’t the same boot Luke! They are different bo-“ Y/N cut herself off as Luke wandered into the kitchen, boots in hand. “Oh. But they are two different boots! I swear they are!”

Slamming the fridge door shut, discarding the loaf of raisin toast and butter container and jar of strawberry jam on to bench, crouching and letting the items fall from your arms onto the bench with a clink from the glass jar. You rounded the counter, using your hand to prevent you from bumping your hip bone on the stone.

Luke watched as you damn near jogged, more of a hop, skip and jump down the hall towards the mud room. It was cute, watching your light anger in being wrong show through your actions. Listening to the manic shuffling of the woven crates as you pulled them out of each of their cubby shelves only to see they weren’t the pair of shoes you thought existed, but clearly didn’t. When you came stomping back down the hall with a heavy pout and furrowed brow, giving the boots which matched the description you gave with disdain.

“You were right.” Your tone was short and sad.

“Yeah.. is that upsetting you?” Luke asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

“It is. It shouldn’t but it is.” You spoke in an incredulous tone. Moving back over to the bench, fingers toying with the plastic covering the bread loaf. You felt as if you wanted to yell, cry and scream all at the same time. Darn mood swings.

Luke just laughed, a rich hearty sound that made your knees wobble as you screwed open the jam jar, placing the raisin toast into the toaster, waiting and ruffling through different packets of chips in the snack drawer picking out two and throwing them in Luke’s direction.

“What flavours do you want?” You asked, still swatting your way through the chip drawer.

“I’m not going to be hungry. I ate before remember?” Luke looked up from his phone.

“Okay the-“ you cut yourself off as the toaster popped up, bringing the raisin toast with it. You grabbed the toast out, flinging it onto the bench after realising it was too hot to just hold onto.

Smearing the butter and jam onto the slices of toast, shoving one into your mouth holding it in your teeth as you turned and placed the bread and condiments back into the fridge. After taking a solid, hearty bite of the toast you placed it back onto the bench, not minding the crumbs that dropped off it. You grabbed the boots from where they sat next to the kitchen island counter and slipped your feet into them, the black tights you were wearing to battle the brisk september air aiding in your pursuit.

"Are you ready to go?" Luke looked up as you asked him this, stretching his none injured arm out, then slotting his phone into his back pocket.

"Whenever you are!" He replied enthusiastically, standing up and holding his hand out for you. He watched as you grabbed your purse, still holding your piece of toast trying not to let the jam dribble down your hand. Luke held the front door open as you stepped out and followed the path to where the car was parked in the driveway. You pressed down on the key fob to unlock the door so you could slide into the driver seat while Luke situated himself in the passenger seat, awkwardly reach across his body to pull the seat belt over and click it into place.

Mirroring Luke, albeit with more ease you strapped yourself in before pulling backwards out of the driveway, checking both ways for traffic. Heading to the stop sign at the end of the street, pulling away from the suburban area and driving away from the city after taking an entry onto the highway to go south. Luke had taken care of the music, connecting his phone to the car via aux cord and playing the majority of his songs, with your input for a song here and there.

"Play that Garth Brooks one.. the country one Jack really likes." you spoke, voice raised slightly to project over the song that was currently playing.

"Why would I play that?" Luke questioned back, his face skeptical.

"Because Callin' Baton Rouge is a fantastic song. Now play it." you responded, looking in the rearview mirror, checking the lanes next to you before merge into the exit turning lane, heading down a rural street where the sides of the road was lined with fences holding cattle in and big tall trees acting as a windbreak.

Even though he had absolutely no idea where the final destination was Luke was staring to catch on that it might have something to do with a field, something very nature-y. He was right, or by the fact that you pulled up next to a white toyota camry near the entrance gate to a field which was bordered with a small forest. Following you and getting out of the car, he watched as you ambled over, shook the young woman's hand.

"Luke, this is Kelly. She will be doing our photos this year." Y/N introduced the photographer, it was obvious that she wasn't a random due to the high quality canon camera she was cradling in one arm.

"Pleasure to meet you." Luke exchanged pleasantries with the woman before the little group of three set off into the field, heading towards the treeline. There was a dirt track that Luke could hear led down toward a creek, he could see why you had told him not to wear his good white shoes, there was a certain chance his shoes would be getting a little dirty.

With all credit to you, he had to admit that the spot was absolutely stunning and he couldn't imagine a more perfect place for the photos. Particularly when the dense foliage thins out and he can see the beautiful architecture of some kind of ruined building. Nature had taken over, vines crawling all up the elegant arches which were bathed in late afternoon sun.

"This is beautiful darlin'" Luke murmured in your ear as he looked up from where he was perched on a rock, this was just one of the many positions and places Kelly had you too stand, sit, hug, kiss, smile or laugh for the photos. He already seemed elated at the fact the photoshoot was happening, he hadn't even gotten the news that was turning your stomach inside out with nerves. Or was it something else?

"Okay, Luke, can you turn and face the creek? I need Y/N behind you, and then you are going to turn around." Kelly asked, setting up for the final shot of the big moment. She winked at you as you pulled the little reel of photos out of your purse. Taking a deep calming breath as you stood behind him, holding the photos that represented your future with Luke, you hands were shaking but you stood. "Okay Luke. Turn around for me."

As Luke did you met his briefly before they locked onto the ultrasound photos you held for him to see. His beaming smile dropped into a gape as he looked at the photos dumbfounded, but it quickly returned as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words he so desperately wanted to say. Instead he scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as the camera clicked. Capturing this moment forever, allowing you to reflect on it and show it to family and friends.

"Your- Your seriously." Luke stammered, placing you down, cradling the side of your head as well as the side of your stomach.

"Yeah.. I am." you smiled back, matching his grin with one just as bright.

He pulled away turning away and pumping the air before shouting into the forest clearing. "I'm going to be a dad!"

Yes you are Luke Hughes, a damn great one.

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Hoodie | Cooper Adams/Abbott x F!Reader

Gif Credit to @billy-crudup

Synopsis: I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this

Warnings: She’s angsty babe, Mentions of Murder, The Butcher Mentions, Mentions of Suicide, Cheating/Infidelity, SWAT, Guns, Reader 100% is down bad for Cooper even with what he did, It’s giving Stockholm Syndrome but the reader isn’t captured by him

Rating: PG

Word Count: 4.6K

Author’s Note: You know, you can thank my manic episode for this. Also I know the song has a totally different meaning but, my brain took over and who am I to stop her?

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You'd probably think I was psychotic (if you knew) / What I still got in my closet (sad but true) / I slip it on over my shoulders / Something I'll never get over / It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

Loss; the fact or process of losing something or someone. No one knows how to properly process loss – though there are no guidelines on the correct way. It comes in various shapes and sizes – not always as transparent as it is expected to be. That’s what makes the human experience so different across vast networks, everyone processes emotions in ways not one human can comprehend. It’s the equivalent to time, there are so many seconds whirling by, impossible it is to grasp how many different processors truly run for one emotion. Some cry, some wither away to nothing, some lash out, some lose their sobriety. A slim majority does not react, because to them – why would anything good stick around? Why do they deserve it? Abandonment is a fickle bitch, and something you got too used to knowing.

Learning that people weren’t a permanent staple point in life was the worst thing for you, because then you started to expect everyone to leave, at one time or another. Maybe that was the countless times it has happened to you talking but, it’s a feeling that never leaves the back of your mind. It sits there, claws at parts of your brain you’re not supposed to use, sinking deeper and deeper into every soft part of flesh until it blackens. The rot taking over, making you feel helpless until pulling away is the only option. It’s a vicious cycle that you can never seem to break, no matter how hard you try. Which sucks, expecting the worst when you more than deserve the best. And the best came in the form of an amazing, well educated, humble man.

I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this

You never anticipated falling in love with Cooper Adams, or Abbott as he is now known. But sometimes you cannot anticipate destiny, but only let her play out. All it took for you was a kitten stuck in the stone foundation of your home, coming to find out four different litters were calling it home. Cooper was the one to find them, rescue all fifteen of them, and even adopt one for the station. He stayed with you as he helped to clear out the deceased bodies, as you cried holding their little forms for feeding, and as you nursed them back to full health. He was never without you, only living two houses over. Never would he lie about where he was, his wife knew all too well – but refused to get in the way of Logan and Riley seeing the kittens. She suspected, but never could find reason.

All it took for you to realize Cooper was your person, was when you were ready to leave for work and found him under your car, jacked up and tire freshly replaced. You didn’t even realize you had a flat, Cooper saw it before he was about to leave for work. He knew that your car was your lifeline, working over forty minutes away. He wouldn’t let you suffer like that, out in the cold and all, freezing your ass off with cold fingers. No, he tossed on a hoodie and cap, put himself to work and was rewarded with the promise of dinner. He held you to that, to the kitchen table, to the kitchen island, to the couch, the stairs, and lastly the bedroom – all in one night. You both knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t lie to himself; What he and Rachel had was over the second Logan turned four. They were coexisting in the same house, playing their parts to a tee without any hesitation. They kept to themselves, saying goodbyes and I love yous in front of the kids – but they knew it was done. It was you who made Cooper feel alive again – made him feel loved. He had lost that so long ago he wondered if it was real for him anymore. You’d do anything for him; Lie, hide, and even believe.

It was obvious from your fourth month into this affair that Cooper was The Butcher – an accidental slip up of coming back to you smelling of cleaning product. It was only obvious from the slight chemical irritation on his forearms, the small hives a clear reaction. It wasn’t a firehouse cleaning product but more of a hospital type – meaning that he got his hands on heavy duty stuff, which he could’ve only gotten without being suspicious through your account. Working in the medical field was a blessing but, in that moment you thought for a second it was a curse. You could see the glimmer he had for you brighten with the inclusion of tears welling, heartbroken you’d have to be his next victim. But that all changed once you held Cooper’s face in your hands, rubbing back and forth on his cheeks as you smile proudly; “I accept you, my love. We can manage, I won’t tell a soul.” If he had been honest, Cooper didn’t trust you at first. But when days turned into weeks, and those turned into months with no one coming after him, he knew he hit the jackpot.

I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts / Still rocking your

Tonight, Cooper was supposed to come home to you after taking Riley to see Lady Raven, something she worked hard for over the course of six months to go. Cooper was so proud of her and the great report card she had gotten, you were proud of her as well. Lady Raven was her idol, someone she found solace in when her preteen angst was acting up. Cooper wanted to do something special for her; A night she would never forget for the rest of her life. You remember Cooper saying he visited the box office at the arena right before they closed, buying the last floor seats – the closest Riley could get to Lady Raven. It was everything he could’ve hoped for and more – though he wished he remembered to remove the receipt from his wallet, hiding it in case Riley found out. You knew he wouldn’t come over automatically, he still needed to keep the façade up, act like he was still a family man even though all he wanted to do once the kids fell asleep, was be with you.

With the concert starting early during the day, you knew Cooper wouldn’t come back to you until later tonight, around ten or eleven depending. But you missed him; The warmth of his body as he hugged you from behind, the weight of his arms against your chest, the soft feel of his stubble scraping along your cheek as he nuzzled your neck. You both were in a completely different world when you were together, at the door was his first life – with you was his second. Cooper was always adamant on the two lives not touching, which you could understand. But sometimes you wished they did, wished you could be involved in his first life without the repercussions, it was a fucked way of thinking but, nothing with Cooper made you feel rational. It made you want to be the only one – though that could never happen. At the end of the day he was coming home to you, not Rachel, and that would have to do.

The brisk October air flowed through the open living room window so quickly you didn’t hesitate to wrap Cooper’s hoodie around your torso, taking in the musky smell of his cologne and the firehouse. Cooper loved seeing you in his clothing, how happy it made you, how the gleam in your eye shone brighter with every second you wore it. When the first feel cold breeze of autumn rolled through your house a few weeks ago, Cooper quickly discarded the hoodie he had recently gotten from the firehouse, marking the eighteenth-year anniversary that he started. No effort was wasted when he came up behind you, sliding it up your arms and zipping it up neatly. For a few seconds he patted the shoulders down over your form, seeing how it hugged you beautifully. In that moment you saw it in his eyes; Love, he was in too deep too. From that day forward, you never stopped wearing it when he wasn’t home, needing to feel closer to him. To be one with him.

I used to put my hand in your pockets (holding on) / The smell of your cologne is still on it (but you're still gone) / I slip it on over my shoulders / Someone I'll never get over / It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

Grabbing at the shoulder of the hoodie, you brought it to your nose for a deep inhale – smiling softly as you smelled Cooper’s cologne, fresh from the other day. Bergamot and pine invaded your nose, causing your eyes to roll back. There was something so intoxicating about his scent, it drove you silently mad in the best way possible – you didn’t want to let that go for anything in the world. It was your way of feeling like he was with you, when he couldn’t be. Your way of grounding yourself in the moment, planning on what you two would do when he came over. Deep into the fantasy you were creating in the moment, you didn’t hear the racing sound of sirens coming down the street – see the bright flashes of red and blue lights flowing through your home, or hear the screaming until it was too late. “Logan, don’t forget to turn in your science project!”

Your ears perked up at the sound of Cooper’s voice, growing giddy at the fact you were going to see him so soon. Opening your eyes you were met with the flashes of police lights coming from the open curtains, your stomach dropping as you heard the garage door close a few houses away. Cooper. Running from the living room to the front door, you slid on your boots quicker than you could have ever guessed, slamming the door open against the wall. With Cooper’s hoodie still wrapped around your body, you walked quickly down the sidewalk where there was a small crowd gathering, seeing a limo, Rachel, Logan, Riley, and even Lady Raven standing outside of the Adams residence, SWAT officers with their guns drawn as they secured the perimeter of the house. You didn’t know what to believe or ask what was going on. But as soon as Riley and Logan ran past you to another woman’s car, you got your answer.

Rachel turned around in slow motion to see Logan and Riley off, in the midst of it all catching your eye in the crowd. Tears were welling in the corners for you, as hers were bloodshot from crying. Her arms wrapped around herself as she let her eyes roam over your torso, seeing the firehouse symbol with the big 18 in yellow font. Her slack face drew up in confusion, then to realization. Your heart was in your throat as you slowly backed away, trying to get a clear angle in the house to see what Cooper was up to. It was only then that everything caught up in your mind. They found out. They all found out Cooper is The Butcher. Your hands grew clammy, starting to shake at what this all meant. If I am ever found out sweetheart, the only way out of it is to kill myself.

I can't keep your love / I can't keep your kiss / Gave you everything and all I got was this / I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts

A sob trickled out of your mouth without you realizing, tears falling heavily as you spun around to face your house. No one was giving you any attention as you cried, all probably thinking someone had died. But to you, he was close to it. With shaky fingers you managed to grab your phone out of the hoodie pocket, unlocking it quickly with your passcode. The first number up in your latest calls was Cooper from earlier today; How excited he was to see Riley so happy, how he was going to make her year with this, how did things go so wrong? Clicking on his name, you brought the phone up to your ear, hearing the three rings before it went to voicemail. “Fuck,” you whimpered, sniffling back a sob you could feel at its crest. Swallowing as you clicked his name again, and again, and again, and again, all until your phone screen went black. “Fuck!” You yelled out as you started to make your way back towards your home, but not before someone caught your arm, spinning you around in place.

You could feel how warm your face was from crying, how the salty tears dried against your cheek uncomfortably. You were shivering but not from the cold, from fear of losing Cooper. Blinking the unshed tears from your eyes, you let your pupils focus on who spun you around, being met with the dull eyes of Rachel Adams, her face stoic, yet scared. “How long?” She whispered, afraid to speak up louder. There was only one right answer, yet you couldn’t muster it out of you. Your mouth fell open to respond but, nothing came out. “Please,” Rachel sighed, her lip in a small pout for a moment as she tried to regulate her emotions. A sad smile came across your lips as you reached forth with your empty hand, holding her hand softly. “I think you know, Rachel.” It was better than giving an exact timeline, and enough to where nosy neighbors didn’t have to know either. Rachel let out the breath she was holding, a fresh wave of tears coating her eyes as she tightened her grasp on your hand. It wasn’t out of malice or anger, but closure. Giving you a smile that matched your own, Rachel rubbed your hand in both of hers, nodding before she walked off to the house.

Still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts / Still rocking your

It was time for you to do the same; Needing to charge your phone in case Cooper called. You were hoping he didn’t do anything stupid; you were hoping he was okay. “There’s a tunnel to the neighbors yard, he’s not here!” That was the last you heard before stepping back inside.

-----

Nightfall was upon you, the darkened sky matching your mood as you laid on the couch, phone on the coffee table as the news silently drones on in the background. Your eyes were fixated on the TV, fresh tears you had not been aware of were falling, covering the pillow under your head. It had been over two hours since Cooper was found out to be The Butcher. Every new channel was running the story, posting the clips from the venue of Cooper with Riley and Lady Raven. Reporters were outside of the Adams residence, covering every new detail that came up. You were sure that was highly illegal since it was active scene by the FBI, but you couldn’t find yourself to care. Not when your whole life had just been turned upside down. Your boyfriend found out to be a murderer, his wife knowing he was having an affair, everything was a mess.

Any little sound you heard coming from your window you jumped at, hoping it was Cooper. But alas, it was just another reporter staking themselves out on your lawn, wanting a hit of the newest story from this scene. You needed to see the house, everything. You needed to know if this was all real or a bad dream. Laying around on the couch was only going to get you so far – this would give you closure if he was captured, or if something else had happened. Standing up from your position on the couch, you felt yourself getting lightheaded for a moment, shaking off the imbalance for a moment before moving. As you stretched upwards to cracked everything in you, a visceral scream could be heard around the neighborhood – one full of rage and fear, one that made your hairs stand on end. You didn’t think before your feet took off, tripping over your coffee table as you scrambled out of the back door, not caring that it was left wide open. You were taking off quickly down a few houses to where a bigger crowd was starting to form, everyone in their bathrobes and jackets, trying to get in on a piece of the action.

From your angle at Cooper’s house, you couldn’t see what was happening inside but could see multiple SWAT officers going in and out. One of them had long chained handcuffs in their hand, the ones that were attached to the waist and ankles of the prisoner. The clanking of the chains was muted now by the chatter over the radios, quiet enough so not everyone could hear but, if you focused hard enough you could make it out. “The Butcher has been captured. He’s being cuffed now.” In a way you were happy to hear Cooper was just captured, and not dead. You knew how good he was on his word of suicide, not thinking twice about it but, you didn’t want to live without him. The whole life you two wanted to build together, it may not come true now but – that was okay. There was nothing stopping you from visiting him in prison, having conjugal visits – you’d do anything for him.

If you want it back / If you want it back / I'm here waiting / Come take it back / Come take it back / If you want it back / If you want it back / I'm here waiting / Come take it back / Come take it back

The large presence of officers coming out of the house caused you to focus back on the front door, pushing your way to the front of the crowd to see what was going on. Wearing a blue and red flannel, was your Cooper. Not the clean-cut Cooper the forehouse saw, that his family saw – the one always put together and smiling. No, this was your Cooper; Disheveled hair, manic look in his eyes, a smirk that could light the whole world on fire. He was in his true form, not the fake mask he put on for his family. Seeing that gleam of rage in his eyes made you smile softly, knowing exactly what he was capable of. As Cooper walked out of his home and down the front steps, he stopped halfway down the path, turning to face where you were standing. The SWAT officers had AK’s trained on him, threatening to shoot if he tried anything, but you knew they wouldn’t.

Cooper’s gaze fell to Riley’s bike on the lawn, tipped over from all the commotion. Needing to right this wrong, Cooper knelt to pick it back up, running his thick, calloused fingers over the tires, knowing he may never see Riley grow up. It killed him to think about it; He wanted to take this moment in for as long as he could. You saw the trepidation in his eyes as he stared at the bike, running his fingers over the spokes. It’s when his gaze shifted up to you, that you saw the darkness layered – the glimmer of sinister intentions, one that made your lower stomach ignite. “I love you,” Cooper silently said, mouthing to you as your eyes caught his. All you could do was smile, biting your lower lip as the tears sprang free again; Your arms wrapping around your shoulders as you hugged his hoodie tighter to your body. “I love you so fucking much, Cooper,” you whispered back, causing his own eyes to glisten with tears.

I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts

Behind you a car pulled up quickly to the scene. Quickly jetting out of the van was a curly, blonde-haired girl – who you knew was Riley. “Daddy!” She sobbed out, running out of the woman’s arms into straight into Cooper’s, his hands chained in front of him. Riley didn’t waste a second to hug Cooper tightly, pressing her tear-stained face into his chest. It was a bittersweet moment; From what Cooper always told you, Riley was his little girl, always valuing his opinion on topics and learning the ways of the world from him. He was wrapped around her finger, and silently it was killing him that this may be the last time he was ever going to see her. Cooper leaned his chin against Riley’s head, kissing the top softly, savoring the moment before it was ripped away. “Riley, come here sweetie,” Rachel called out, causing Riley to pull away as she ran. The SWAT officers hands tightened against Cooper’s arm, he spun around to stare at his family one more time before being loaded into the paddy wagon.

Before that door shut, Cooper held your gaze with a primal glare, causing your heart to quicken. A smirk lined his lips as the door shut, only able to see him through the small window of the wagon. You didn’t feel upset or scared that Cooper was going away, because you knew it was bullshit. That look told you everything you needed to know, and it made you excited. Throwing the hood of Cooper’s jacket over your head, you made your way back to your home, locking the back and front door – closing and locking the windows, heading straight for bed.

I'm still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts

-----

Time ticked away as the lights started to die out; The warmth of your salt lamp omitting off cozy energy. Snuggled beneath the comforter, you watched as the last of the police officers and journalists left. The neighborhood had enough craziness for one day, to hear utter silence put you at peace. Everything felt good again; No animosity lingered in the air. But things still felt off, not having Cooper by your side. Watching him get taken away by the police made you sad – but seeing how he said he loved you, made everything so much better. You would wait for him, no matter how long it was going to be. If you had to wait eternity for him, you’d wait two. Cooper was everything to you, and you knew you’d never find love like him again. Even with abandonment heavy on your mind, this time felt different. It wasn’t a slow pullback like everyone else does. No, this was so much less. The look in Cooper’s eyes was a guarantee that he would be with you soon enough, and you’d wait forever to have that.

You felt yourself drifting off to sleep at the thoughts of him, how the previous night he held you close to his chest, playing with your hair as he hummed softly to you. It put you at great ease, feeling so domestic for the first time. The way his right hand boxed you into him, laying right against your stomach. His left was tucked under his head, his chin perched on your shoulder. It was almost as if you could feel the warmth of him now, holding you tightly, peppering kisses along your hairline. His hand snaking its way under your shirt to touch you, rubbing little hearts into your flesh as you sink deeper into him. His broad chest your safe haven, his lips your solace in this dark world, as they move their way down your cheek, to your bare shoulder. “You’re never getting rid of me that easily, princess.” Cooper whispered into your ear, causing your eyes to fling open.

Cooper could feel you tense at the realization he was here, with you, instead of locked up. The excitement vibrating off of you as he helped you turn around. Even with the low light of the lamp next to your bed, you could make out every single feature of Cooper’s face. The lines around his eyes as he smiled at you, the creases of his mouth as his grin grows wider, the softness in his irises as they track a path over your facial features. “I will never leave you, sweet girl. I am with you forever.” Cooper’s voice cracked with emotion as his tears started to fall, the sob slipping from your lips evident enough. Perching against Cooper, you let your lips collide with his in a heated manner, feeling the ever-growing love between the two of you blossomed. The world was gone, silent compared to the beating of two hearts. The autumn light turning into tendrils of golds, browns, and silver cascading through the air, glittering with every touch Cooper laid upon your body. He was your home, he is your safety. He is your world, and nothing could take him from you. “I’m here to stay.” You knew he meant it too. Cooper Adams was a thing of the past, a monster that the media wanted to portray. Cooper Abbott on the other hand was a family man, who was desperately in love with his girl. Philadelphia is where you two made your home, but your true adventure starts with the move to Minnesota. Your future now getting started.

Still rocking your hoodie / And chewing on the strings / It makes me think about you / So I wear it when I sleep / I kept the broken zipper / And cigarette burns / Still rocking your hoodie / Baby, even though it hurts / Still rocking your hoodie

Tagging Taglist: @rubyfruitjungle @cherryinterlude @lilly3434 @amethystblackkchaos @rosaleelovesdilfs @babygorewhore @dirtylittlefairytales @redpillbluepill @strangererotica @minedofmoria @hibiskooks @fore45fore @lustskitty69

Cooper Adams: @lunaluvsu @rplver @kissofdawn666 @rottenangel

[likeawildthing]

And ode to our family couch on her last day of service.

Thank you, couch, for being my first big post-divorce purchase. I was SO proud when I could finally afford you for my little family. I couldn’t afford the delivery fee so my dad put you in the back of his truck and you rode, ass out, all the way home.

Thank you for serving us faithfully for the last twelve years, through countless movie nights, pillow fights, pillow forts, and dance parties. Also: crying sessions, depression, illnesses, and inadvertent sleepovers when I’d fall asleep to pride and prejudice for the fiftieth time.

You were vomited on at least four times, but your lingering smell is Diet Coke because approximately fifty-seven cans have been knocked over while balancing on your arm. Did I ever learn? No.

You survived two boys, from toddlerhood to young adulthood, definitely worse for the wear but still in tact. You were both the best springboard and floor mat for questionable gymnastics moves.

(I’m sorry for the atrocities committed, both on and around you, in the name of teenage hormones—I really, really try not to think about it but I know you Saw things. And felt them. Ew.)

You supported me through school, all of those late nights, year after year, while I was trying to better our family’s prospects. You were my safe space in the depths of chronic illness, serving as bed and desk and table when I couldn’t climb the stairs. We were best friends when I started working from home.

The scorch mark from the radiator isn’t visible, but the indents are both from our cat. Top left — his second favorite nap spot. Middle right, from my butt because he insists on sleeping between me and your arm, so I get the crack. Crack on crack crime.

I’ve tried to take care of you over the years, performing deep cleanings, surgeries, and multiple restuffings. I sacrificed a foam mattress last year to give you new cushions, and new legs the year before that.

But, and I’m sorry about this, too, you were my faithful craft desk. Shout out to your many hot glue gun burns, paint stains, and exacto holes.

I did, absolutely, cut a few strategically placed holes in you today to see what treasures you have stolen from us over the years. I did vacuum out every month the attachment only went so deep. So, in no particular order, your secrets:

-approximately two handfuls of dirt

-an obscene number of bottle caps (my side) and cosmic brownie wrappers (where my youngest sits)

-twelve buttons

-a roku remote

-three needles (we thought there would be at least forty)

-$1.25 in assorted change

-my Apple Watch which has been missing for four weeks

-three earrings, none matching, but thankfully i always keep my lost halves

-assorted paper scraps

-mini tweezers, one nail file, and three exacto blades

-a marker, four pencils, one pen, and two marker caps

-a lego ninjago sword that my kids fought about for two years, each insisting the other stole it (I have wrapped it in a tiny box as a Christmas gift from you to them. I’ll let them fight over who gets to keep it.)

-two nerf darts

-our missing cat laser toy

-an entire purse chain from my grandma’s vintage coach bag. I didn’t even know it existed.

So, aren’t you a sneaky bitch. But also, thank you for returning my watch.

It’s been real, babe. You were mostly great, very comfortable, and perfectly serviceable. I’m writing this, ironically, on your replacement. She is comfortable, spacious, and heaps more stylish.

But, damn.

Does she have big cushions to fill.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part forty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: semi-public messing around, oral - m+f receiving

The other resorts along the shore were nice, yes, but they were also crowded to all hell. There’s no way you would have been able to relax at any of them. Not just because crowds make you anxious, but because Minho probably wouldn’t be able to show his face anywhere. He’d have to wear a hoodie to the pool or swim with a baseball cap on, and even those weren’t guaranteed to be foolproof. 

There were hardly any people occupying the outdoor spaces so late in the day so it was like you had the place to yourselves. You and Felix continued to play in the pool while Minho grilled steaks and Jisung worked upstairs. You offered to accompany Jisung while he cooked but he assured you that he was fine to do it himself. Sometimes you kept him company at home but you knew he liked to work alone as well. 

The room that you and Jisung were staying in was a standard hotel room but Nikki and Dom had a suite with a kitchenette that he could use to prepare the side dishes. 

You ate gathered around one of the fire pits as the sun sank beneath the waves in the distance. When it got too dark out, Dom lit the fire so that you could all see what you were eating. There were path lights littered around the resort but they weren’t bright enough to illuminate the adjacent sitting areas too. 

“I wish we had marshmallows,” you sighed. “We could roast them and make s’mores.”

“I think the bar sells little kits,” Jisung piped up. “I remember seeing a sign posted on their menu.”

“How convenient!” Nikki exclaimed. 

“Want me to grab some?” Minho offered, already standing from his seat. 

You had once again put yourself on the spot. Everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer. 

“I-I’d feel bad. I’m the only one who wants them, so you don’t have to!”

“Don’t be silly, we’d all eat them,” Jisung assured you with a pat on your knee. 

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try s’mores,” Felix agreed. 

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait, you’ve never had one?”

“They’re an American thing, babe.”

“Does that mean you’re the only other one here who has had a s’more?” you asked Jisung. 

“I might have had one before,” Minho added thoughtfully. 

“Might? You don’t remember?”

“Yeah, well, when we were on the first world tour we had a lot of bonfires and shit but I was pretty drunk at all of them so there could have been s’mores there, there could not have been. I dunno.”

“Anyway,” Nikki swooped in, averting the attention away from her eldest son’s anecdotes of underage drinking. “Minho, why don’t you go grab a few kits from the bar Ji mentioned? I think your father and I would like to try a s’more too.”

“How many do you think we need?” Minho asked. 

“It depends on how many each serves. Why don’t we start with two and if we run out of supplies we can send Felix up to get more.”

Felix made a face. “What, me?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to send Minho up twice,” Dom explained.

“What about Jisung?”

“He cooked dinner.”

“I’ll be right back,” Minho interjected, cutting Felix off before he could protest any further. “Does anyone want anything to drink while I’m over there?”

    He took everyone’s order and then disappeared in the direction of the bar. 

    “Do you think he’ll need help carrying stuff?” you whispered to Jisung after he left. 

“Oh, shit, maybe.”

“Should I go help him? Would that be weird?”

Jisung looked back toward his parents to check that they weren’t paying attention before answering. “No, I don’t think so. No one suspected anything other than me. Do you want me to go with you, though?”

“No, you cooked,” you reminded him, “you should stay and relax. I’ll go help him.”

He nodded. “Okay. Oh, but kiss me before you go.”

-

Minho was still waiting when you joined him at the bar. It was almost as deserted as the rest of the pool area. Only a couple of people were occupying the stools and they seemed to be strangers to each other, drinking in silence apart from the waves crashing on the shore nearby and the occasional sound of the blender.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, grabbing Minho’s attention with an elbow to his side. 

“Hey... did someone forget to ask for something?”

“No, I came to help you. We realized it’s a lot of stuff to carry all by yourself.”

He scoffed. “You doubted me?”

The bartender placed the drinks and s’mores kit down on the counter in front of Minho right at that moment, leaving both of you to size up all there was to bring back to the fire pit. 

“You could have carried all that without spilling anything?”

“Fine, maybe it’s good that you came,” he grumbled. 

“Maybe?”

He set his jaw and took a deep breath. “It is good that you came. Thank you for helping. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

You grabbed two of the drinks while Minho took the rest, holding the plastic bags of s’mores supplies between his teeth. 

Nikki and Dom cheered when you reappeared with everything. The twins looked marginally happier. It was honestly as much as you could ask for from them. 

You spent the rest of the evening teaching the Hans how to make, what was in your opinion, the perfect s’more. There were only a few skewers to go around so everyone had to take turns, but it was nice to be able to take your time with something and relax. There hadn’t been much time to do that on this trip. Jisung had warned you of that in the beginning but you were still way more exhausted than you expected to be at this point. At least it was almost over. 

The thought of the trip ending was one that you had been pushing to the back of your mind for weeks now. Especially now that Jisung knew what had happened, you didn’t want to think about what would happen when you went back home. Would you grow apart? Would he distance himself once he was no longer in forced proximity with you? Would Minho break up with you? It wasn’t just something you could ignore now. There were only a matter of days left. 

When it was over, you would go back to Seoul with the Hans until the summer ended officially. But that would be different too. 

“You’re burning your marshmallow, love,” Nikki said softly, putting her hand on your shoulder to get your attention. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed and pulled your skewer out of the heat. You blew the flame out and transferred it onto a graham cracker. 

“Do you want a new one?” Dom asked. 

“No, that’s okay! I like them burnt, actually. I just didn’t mean to leave it in the fire for so long. It could have made a mess.”

Jisung’s dad shrugged as if to say ‘suit yourself’ before taking the rod from you and reloading it with fresh marshmallows. 

If it was woodburning, the fire would slowly start to dwindle as the kindling turned to ash. Since it wasn’t, it was still burning as brightly as it had been at the start of the evening when Dom finally turned the propane off. Nikki collected the empty cups and dirty skewers to return to the bar. 

“Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late.”

-

Felix was the first out of the four of you to go up to his room, leaving you with your best friend and... Minho. 

The pool area was completely empty by then. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you two,” Jisung said and stood to leave. 

You grabbed his hand to stop him. “Wait, no, you don’t have to go.”

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, a little less convincingly. “You should stay.”

Jisung shook his head. “No thanks, I’d rather not third-wheel.”

“Ji-”

“Take as much time as you need,” he said to you. “Just don’t get fucking caught by anyone else.”

You waited for him to leave before slumping forward and sighing into your hands. 

“I thought you said he forgave you,” Minho whispered. 

“He did. That doesn’t mean he’s okay with it,” you sighed.

Minho leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the loveseat, inviting you to sit with him. You crossed over to his side and joined him, allowing yourself to lean into his side. He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. It felt nice, to do something so domestic with him, even while sitting in complete silence. Still, you worried about someone seeing you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Just you.”

You didn’t want to give him the details and risk ruining the mood so you hoped he was content with that answer. Thankfully, he didn’t ask you to elaborate. 

You shivered suddenly, unintentionally but thankfully changing the subject. 

“Are you cold?” Minho asked. 

“A little.”

“Should I turn the fire pit back on?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s so dark out now. It’ll only draw attention to us.”

“I don’t want you to be cold, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Minho didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t we get in the hot tub? You still have your bathing suit on, right?”

“Are we allowed to?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

You followed Minho over to one of the many hot tubs on the property. It was tucked away behind the now-deserted tiki bar and also totally empty. Minho turned on the jets and ventured down into the water, holding his hand out for you to get in behind him. 

You let out a sigh as you sank into the bubbling water, closing your eyes and resting your head against the pool’s edge.  

“Better?”

“So much better.”

You looked over to see him smile. “Good.”

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you were warm. The chill had seeped through your bathing suit too. You could feel it ebbing out of the fabric as well as your muscles the longer you sat in the water. 

Minho settled next to you and put his hand on your thigh. It was comforting even though his hand was still cold.  

“This is nice,” he said. 

“It is nice,” you agreed. “I like being able to do just nothing with you.”

“We don’t get a lot of time to do that, do we?”

“No, not really.”

“Guess that just means we have to enjoy it while we have it.”

You sat up to look at him, wondering if he meant something more than what was implied when he said that. He met your gaze and gave you a questioning look. 

“What?”    You shook your head and sank further into the bubbles. You were reading way too much into everything. You needed to get a grip. 

“What’s wrong?” Minho repeated. “Talk to me.”

“I’m scared to,” you finally admitted. 

It wasn’t much, but you were finally being honest with Minho instead of skirting around his questions like you usually did. You could tell your answer hurt him but you were afraid that you’d hurt yourself even more if you told him everything. You had a feeling the conversation was going there anyway, though, and there was little you could do to stop it. 

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know... what we are?” You cringed as you said it. “And I don’t want to ruin things by asking, you know, because I like what we have going on and I don’t want it to go away but I also don’t want to get my hopes up by thinking we’re something that we’re not but sometimes you do things that make me think you want something more than... whatever it is we’re already doing but- mph!”

You were cut off with a kiss, like something out of a movie. It was brief, but enough to disrupt your train of thought. You stared at him incredulously, trying to read his expression. 

His face was even but his eyes were warm. You wished you knew what he was thinking. Moonlight and the flickering flames of torches in the distance were just enough to illuminate his features. The quirk of his cupid’s bow, the flutter of his long eyelashes... 

 “What was that for?” you inquired, even though you knew what it was for. 

“You were spiraling.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Minho said softly. “For what it’s worth though, I feel the same way.”

You lifted your head to look at him again, your vision slightly blurred by the water dripping down your face from your wet hands. “What?”

He hesitated. “I feel... what you said. I feel the same way.”

“I don’t even know what I said,” you laughed. 

“Me either, but I got the general vibe of it and I’m in agreement.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I... I thought I was making it kind of obvious that I wanted something serious with you.”

“You never said anything outright, though!”

“Because I didn’t know what you wanted,” he explained. “You never said anything either.”

“Well, you’re the man!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re going there? The feminism just evaporates from your body the moment you’re faced with confrontation?”

“See, you get it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you now, okay? I want you. In all the ways you’re willing to let me have you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning. You didn’t want to start crying and you didn’t want Minho to see you crying so you kissed him again, with more urgency this time. You couldn’t think, hell, you couldn’t breathe, until he pulled away, leaving you wishing and hoping for more.

When your lips met for the third time, he pulled you under with him, just long enough to shock your senses. You gasped for air when you surfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” you scolded, sputtering as you shoved him. 

He stumbled backward onto the bench, falling seated again and pulling you on top of him. 

“You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed. 

“It’s not bullshit! It’s not good for you to put your head under the water in a hot tub!”

“I know people say that but why?”

“I... I don’t know why,” you admitted, “but I know you’re not supposed to.”

“See, you don’t even know!” You gave him a look. “Will you accept an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss?”

“That depends, are you actually sorry?”

He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he kissed you anyway, cradling the back of your head as he slipped his tongue past your lips. He tasted like s’mores and whiskey and chlorine, a combination so strange you couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

One of his arms dropped to your waist, wrapping around your body and pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. You could feel him through his swim trunks, growing harder by the second. You were tempted to take him right there, but you were in public and having sex in a hot tub couldn’t be good either, right? That sounded like an infection waiting to happen.  

“Upstairs?” Minho asked breathlessly, lips only centimeters from yours. Not for the first time you wondered if he could read your mind. 

You nodded. “Yeah, upstairs.”

-

You dripped your way back to his room, shivering despite the thick towel wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Wanna hop in the shower?” Minho asked between kisses as he fumbled with the straps of your bikini. 

“Yeah, don’t want to get your bed all wet,” you replied. 

“That would happen whether or not we had just been in the pool,” he joked. 

“Hilarious.”

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he hissed. “Let’s get these off of you, they’re so cold.”

“Is that the only reason you want them off?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

You knew Minho was expecting to have sex in the shower but you kind of wanted to fuck on the bed so you sucked his dick while he washed your hair and then took turns rinsing off before moving to his bed. You put your hair up in a towel to avoid the aforementioned wetness and wrapped yourself up in one of the hotel’s robes even though you knew it’d be coming right off. 

To your surprise, Minho left your robe on. He just undid the tie around your waist and let it fall open before shouldering himself between your legs. It was kind of like putting a towel down. He was killing two birds with one stone that way: protecting the sheets and keeping you warm. 

It didn’t take long for you to cum in his mouth. Minho knew your body like the back of his hand by now. It had taken him a fraction of the time it took your past lovers to learn what made you tick and he used all of that knowledge to his advantage. 

He kept going after you came the first time, eager to pull another from you, but you pulled him up by the hair to get his attention before he could get too into it. 

“Too much?” he asked. 

“Want you to fuck me,” you urged.

Thankfully, he was receptive to this and moved up so that he could position himself on top of you. He notched himself at your entrance and kissed you as he pushed himself inside, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before pulling away and wiping his face on your shoulder. 

“Ew!” you cried and tried to push him away. 

Minho looked offended. “What do you mean, ‘ew’? It’s you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want me all over what I’m wearing!” 

“Since when?” he joked. “Seems like it’s always all over what you’re wearing when you’re around me.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you begged, suddenly embarrassed and grossed out at the same time. 

Minho laughed and pecked you on the cheek. “What would you rather talk about? The weather?”

You tightened around him as punishment, making him swear and bury his face in your neck. “Fucking hell, you succubus.”

You smiled politely and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Don’t people usually say that if she can talk at all, you’re doing it wrong?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I was just taking it easy on you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, this was for your benefit,” he continued. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“How gracious of you.”

He clenched his jaw as he started fucking you faster, muttering sarcastically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was boring you.”

Ironically, you couldn’t respond right away, too caught up in the feeling of how deep he was inside of you to get any words out. 

“I forgive you,” you choked out finally. 

Your hands fell to his biceps, desperate for something to hold on to. You dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss through his teeth. 

“Harder,” he urged. You squeezed harder and he gasped. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that, baby. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

[pedroshotwifey]

Ahoy Hottie! 💜🥩💜 you know I gotta do it to ‘em…

#9 & chubby!Frankie x f!reader 🥩 or just a plain ol’ fat frankie… I’m not picky.

Beefro👌🥩💜

Hey, Beefro! I can't tell you how excited I was to see this request! Hopefully I did fat Frankie justice 😘

Good 'n' Deep

Pairing: Fat!Frankie x f!reader

Word Count: 2.6k (oops 😅)

Tags/warnings: finger fucking, oral, multiple orgasms, piv sex, slight overstimulation, soft dom frankie, mentions of weigh gain, dirty talk, smut, fluff, idiots in love, manhandling, frankie being a fucking unit

Summary: Fat Frankie can't be sated.

*****

You get home late. And feeling awful. 

It was supposed to be date night with your husband, but the boss kept you in for overtime. You know Frankie doesn’t mind, and reassured you about forty times that it’s not your fault, but you still hate to skip it. But as he says, you always go out on Fridays, and the two of you have plenty of Fridays to make up for this one. 

It’s not much, but you did pick up dinner at Frankie’s favorite fast food place on your way home. He doesn’t know yet, and you’re excited to at least surprise him with that. It’s a bit on the expensive side, but definitely worth it—both in the sense that it’s fucking delicious, but also that you’ll be able to see Frankie excited. 

“Babe,” you call into the dark house as you toe your shoes off. You smile when you hear Frankie’s quick footfall coming right for you. He wraps you in a hug as soon as he gets to you, engulfing you in his warmth and immediately relieving some of your stress. 

He leans down and kisses you gently, but only for a second because he’s suddenly very distracted by a certain smell. 

“Ohhh, baby,” he groans, hands already reaching for the paper bag in your hand. “You’re the fuckin’ best.” 

He plants a kiss on your head as you giggle. “You’re welcome, baby.”  

You both walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table, pulling your food out of the bags. Frankie looks excited, just as you’d hoped he would be. He looks so good right now, wearing his gray sweatpants, his standard oil cap (which you swear he has separation anxiety with), and an old, white tank. There’s a ketchup stain on the front from about a year ago that just never came out in the wash. You also notice that it’s gotten a good bit tighter since then—definitely one of those shirts that Frankie keeps trying to convince himself that fits. 

You won’t burst his bubble or anything, but he’ll need to try a bit harder, because there’s no way he’s fooling anyone. A sliver of his pudgy tummy peeks out from the bottom of the tank that used to cover him completely. The fabric hugs him tightly, probably just on the side of not being painful even though it’s being stretched to its limit. It used to hang loosely on him, but he’s gained a good bit of weight since the two of you have been together. You smile to yourself at that, glad to see him looking so happy and taken care of. 

He groans as he takes the first bite of his burger. 

“Fuck, thank you again, baby,” he says through a mouthful of food. You nod at him, mouth full as well. 

The two of you talk about your days as you devour your food, you finishing quicker than Frankie but staying at the table while he finishes his other burger and large fry. He tells you that his day went pretty good. All the guys showed up at work and there wasn’t an issue to keep them on the job for longer than necessary. 

You wait until he finishes his last fry before you start to pick up the trash. You take his cap off of his head as you walk by him so you can brush his hair back and place a gentle kiss on top of his head. He smiles warmly at you when you put his cap back on and move to throw the trash away. You glance at the clock, biting your lip as you decide there’s probably a bit of time to do something before you go to sleep. 

“You want to watch a movie, Frank?” 

He hms thoughtfully as you walk back toward him. “Maybe, " he says. 

You move to pass where he’s still sitting at the table, but you’re quickly stopped and pulled into his lap, both of your legs draped over his thighs. You yelp and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. 

“Think I’d rather have a snack though,” he says through a grin as he rubs the side of his face against yours. He then rotates your body so that you’re leaning against his back.  

“Frankie, honey,” you giggle despite catching his meaning. “You just ate!” 

You turn and poke his full stomach to prove your point, but he only grunts and holds you tighter.

“I’m feeling greedy,” he rasps into your ear as he grinds his hardening length into your ass. “Need my dessert.” 

You shiver, lust staring to cloud your head. Leave it to this man to want to fuck you after a huge meal. He doesn’t wait for you to respond as he lifts your shirt up and you raise your arms for him to tug it off. Your bra is next, discarded on the floor next to you within seconds. 

You give in—which isn’t very hard—and let yourself relax into him. You moan and he leans down to lick up the side of your neck, his beefy hand traveling even lower to worm itself beneath the band of your panties. He finds your clit quickly and immediately starts to rub circles just the way you like. Your hips buck a bit as you crane your neck to devour his plush lips with yours. 

“Mm-Frankie,” you whimper against him as your thighs begin to tremble. You feel him smirk against you in return but say nothing. All you can focus on is the building of your orgasm, that addicting feeling tugging deep inside of you with a promise for more. 

He lets his fingers slip down to your hole and gather the slick there before bringing it back up to create a smooth movement atop your bud, his hand moving faster and faster until the coil snaps and you’re crying out and convulsing on top of him. His other hand wraps around you to stop your thighs from closing, forcing you to prolong your pleasure as he keeps up his slowing movements.

You’re panting when you come down to your high, practically drooling with the back of your head planted on Frankie’s shoulder. You’re not sure when that happened, you leaning back and clutching his forearms so tightly that there’ll be nail marks when you let him go. 

He chuckles darkly as you release him from your clawing grip, trying to calm your breathing. You’re only slightly aware of him helping you off of his lap to stand. He takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. You must only be in there for a half-second before he’s pushing you down on your back and dragging you until your ass is basically hanging off the edge of the bed. 

“Frankie!” You screech his name at all the movement, the way he’s man-handling you. He only smiles cheekily through the grunt he lets out as he gets down on his knees in front of your cunt to kiss the inside of your thigh. 

“Sorry, hermosa,” he coos. Though he’s very obviously not that sorry because he goes right to practically ripping your pants and underwear down your legs. You don’t even bother yelping or reprimanding him this time. You know that he’s determined now, and Frankie Morales doesn’t relent until he gets what he wants.

He’s back at your cunt—in your cunt—before you can blink. You scream as he burrows the entire lower half of his face into your soaked folds and grasps your legs over his shoulders. Your hands fly to his hair, knocking his cap off in the process of getting to his thick, soft curls between your fingers. He moans sharply as you tug, unintentionally forcing him closer to you. You don’t worry too much, you know he loves it. He once told you that he would die a happy man if you ever got tired of him and chose to suffocate him in your sweet pussy. 

He licks and sucks at a furious pace, completely skipping a buildup and going right to the action. It’s unbelievable to you how quickly he manages to make you come sometimes. You yell his name as he eats you out like he’s mad at you. It’s so fucking good, this blinding pleasure making your entire body shake and your blood run firey hot. And you know he loves it just as much as you do.

You start to fall limp again, sweat covering your entire body as he keeps drinking you up. You hiss, your body bucking as you pull on his hair again to try to get him off of you. You’re about to tell him you need a break, but then he suddenly has a finger gliding into your hole, and then two, and you don’t get the chance as your second orgasm melds into your third. He finger-fucks you at an inhuman pace, almost hurting your poor pussy with how hard he shoves them into you as he sucks harshly on your clit. The sounds are obscene even through the blood you hear pumping in your ears. 

He starts to slow after you ride out your third high, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s taking pity on you or if he genuinely just can’t handle not being inside you for another second. You assume it’s the latter as you listen to the sound of his clothes being tugged off, one arm thrown over your eyes as you try to collect yourself. 

“God, you look fucking gorgeous, baby,” Frankie groans as he admires your limp, sweat-slicked body. 

You lift your arm to find him between your messy thighs again, this time standing over you. Despite the three fucking orgasms he just gifted you, you feel your cunt clench at the sight of him standing so imposingly in front of you. He’s so fucking big and intimidating. He’s stripped all the way, as naked as you now, letting you see every inch of his gorgeous damn body. 

He watches you with a gaze that tells you he’s in the mood to pound you through the damn mattress. You find yourself excited, despite already being sore, as he takes a step forward and lines up his blunt tip with your slippery hole. You whimper and grip the sheets as he starts to make shallow thrusts to push in, stretching you despite your excessive preparation and the amount of times he’s had you before. 

He moans right along with you, gripping your hips and pulling you onto him. Your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open once he’s fully seated and breathing heavily above you. 

“Fucking christ, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” he accentuates the last word by pulling out slightly and thrusting hard back into you, making your back arch when he slams into that spot deep inside of you. 

He starts at a slow but forceful pace, making you see stars every time he pushes himself in. You watch him with hooded eyes, admiring how gorgeous he looks when his own eyes close and his lips part. His pelvis comes flush with your ass each time and he uses the opportunity to grind into you, rubbing your walls in a way that makes you want to cry. Actually, you think you are. It’s only now that you feel tears start to leak down your ruddy cheeks.

Frankie must have opened his eyes at some point while you were lost in your head, because he’s suddenly letting out a breathy laugh and using one hand to thumb away the tears. Your toes curl at the gentle touch compared with the brutal treatment of your cunt.

“I know, sweetheart,” he coos. “I know it’s a lot.” 

God, he feels so good leaning over you. You want him closer—need him closer. 

“F-Frankie,” you manage to get out. “N-Need you closer.” 

He smirks at you and thrusts a bit faster, pushing you up the bed and leaning over you to kiss you deeply. One hand stays on your hip as the other cradles your face, keeping you where he wants as he devours your lips in a messy kiss. You wrap your arms and legs around his broad body, smiling a bit when they don’t wrap around him all the way. You love when he overwhelms you like this, completely trapping you under him as he pummels into you. He’s barely even pulling out now, just slapping his hips to yours as fast as he can as he whines and moans into your mouth. The grip he has on your hip is crushing, but it feels good because it’s him. 

The coil is tightening once again within you, making everything go hazy as you focus solely on how he edges you closer and closer with every slam of his cockhead against your cervix. 

He’s getting frantic, too. You can tell by the way he loses control of the kiss and his thrusts get even shorter. 

“F-Frankie,” you mumble into his lips. “M-More.” 

He picks up the pace yet again, making you scream when he hits a spot that you didn’t even know existed. You jolt against him, startled but the burst of pleasure that sparks through you. 

“M-More,” you beg him again, panting so hard you think you might pass out. You need more. More of him inside you, on top of you. You need everything to be filled with him until there’s no room for anything else. 

“‘M so close, baby,” he whines to you. 

“Frankie, please!” 

He growls against you and tugs back, slipping out of you with a lewd squelch. You don’t have time to cry out from the loss though, because he’s back in an instant to grab you and flip you over on your stomach. Then he’s over you again, slamming back into you with a single thrust. You’re forced to stay flat, your hands scrambling for purchase in front of you until he drapes himself completely over you, threading your fingers through his so he can use them as leverage to fuck deep into you. 

“Better?” He grunts out, almost angrily. He’s so heavy above you, using all of the force he has to nail you into the bed in furious ruts, the entire thing moving with each pound into you. You can’t respond though, finding your voice trapped in your throat as you convulse around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, even with him. It’s what you wished for—to be so overwhelmed that everything else is purely pushed from you. It’s all static right now, your brain, your body. You think you may scream his name, but it might have been a bunch of gibberish.

“This what you need?” he asks as he fucks furiously down into you. To be fucked good—hmng—good an’ deep?” 

You use what’s left of your fried brain to nod beneath him, practically drooling onto the bed sheets. 

“F’kn deep,” you slur, half-delirious. 

You let him continue to pound into you until grunts loudly beside your ear and you feel his cum spurting into you. It makes you moan again, the way he keeps fucking it deeper and deeper into you. You quiver and he groans as he starts to come down himself, joining you once again in the real world. Your ears are still ringing and your entire body feels like you got tossed off of a mountain and possibly into a bit of lava, but you find yourself laughing once Frankie untagles your fingers and rolls to the side, taking you with him. 

He starts to laugh with you, neither of you saying a word but knowing exactly what the other is thinking. Which is something along the lines of ‘holy shit’. Despite your sweaty bodies, you sink back into him and let him hold you close, both of you stuck in giggling fits and sharing little kisses until you fall asleep a minute later.

*****

Want to read more requests or submit your own? Check this out!

[solangelotus]

seven devils (part one)

luke castellan x reader (gender neutral)

my mind (now)

summary: capture the flag brings injuries plus shared feelings and memories between you and luke. you once loved him and try your hardest to understand where you went wrong, all while trying to change his fate. (lovers to enemies series)

word count: 4.2k

warnings: starts right before tlt, apollo!reader, lots of angst, graphic fighting, injury + healing descriptions, fluffy memories, mentions of character deaths (thalia) - also mentions alison, the new character being introduced in s2 of the show and using her as a plot point worked out well

author's note: lovers to enemies fic for luke is just too perfect 🤌 also it’s great because it’s therapeutic for me after going through my own lovers to enemies!

masterlist | series masterlist

there’s a chill in the air that makes it feel like the dead of winter instead of a friday in late may. you suppose you can blame it on the fact that your perch in which you sat during each capture the flag game was high up in the treetops. it was a perfect spot; forty feet above zeus’s fist, and you could see zephyros creek, the boundary.

the flag was wedged into the top of the rock pile, but the game had started over an hour ago and no one was to be seen yet aside from your teammates. sweat beads on your forehead from the red-plumed helmet, but you know if you take it off it will only increase the chill in your bones.

a crunch echoes across the woods, and you spy your brothers, will solace and lee fletcher, hastily grabbing their bows from opposite sides of the woods. you knew michael yew was nearby in a treetop much like you, but you had yet to spot him. he was backup for little will; the eleven-year-old was proving to be an exceptional medic, but he had not inherited great aim like most of your siblings.

you spot a pair of blue plumes by the boundary, one much shorter than the other. annabeth is the shorter one, you can tell from the careful, calculated steps. the only other person who always searches for the flag that would be so careless with his steps is chris rodriguez. but if he was with annabeth, then where was luke?

“fuck,” you mutter and start scaling down the tree as quickly as you can, pulling your bow from over your shoulder. crouching on a branch halfway down the tree, you load a sonic bow and watch the muddy ground. it had rained the day before, which attributed to the chill in the air. you spot the footprints and let the arrow fly before you can think twice.

annabeth wasn’t wearing her cap which meant someone was, and you hear a groan over the loud blast of music that affected the empty ground. will begins to run towards the area, and once you make it to the forest floor, you sprint towards the pile of rocks. will’s small legs fail to carry him as fast as yours and he yells, “y/n, what’s happening?!”

“castellan is,” you yell back and ready another arrow, trying your best to abide by the ten-yard rule. you watch carefully; lee intercepts will and tells him to find michael to distract the others, and then makes his way to your side.

“where is he?” your brother asks and you shake your head. scanning the ground where the footsteps end, you pull another arrow out of your quiver. unfortunately, even after years you still knew his body like the back of your hand. 

you had been his doctor from the day he arrived until he was seventeen, but it would be superficial to say that’s why you knew his body so well. a tattoo lay on the inside of his left ankle from when you were fifteen and took fake ids to a sketchy parlor ten miles from camp. a crooked line scarred his upper thigh from one of the first times he gave you sword fighting lessons. just above the mole you used to adore on his right forearm lays a burn mark from the time you attempted to make cookies together.

you sigh and look at a tree behind the spot to confirm the right height you need before you let the arrow fly. worse comes to worse, it just flies over his head. but you knew better, and the arrow did exactly what you planned; it knocked the hat off of his head and into the mud beside him. “always good with a bow, but never with the sword.”

you just shake your head and reach for your dagger-lined belt. lee knocks an arrow but you put your hand out to him. “it’s a diversion, lee. he’s here to distract us so annabeth and chris can swoop in. i’ll fight him off and you stay on guard.”

“still thinking highly of yourself, i see,” luke grumbles. you were both popular at camp to say the least, both for your welcoming personalities but also for your ongoing rivalry. popular for the worst reasons, seeing as you two being anywhere near each other usually leads to chaos.

“i literally heard you and chris talking about it at the campfire last night.”

“it’s kind of old news at this point,” lee shrugs, and you hate that he’s always a voice of reason, “you two always seek each other out, even if it’s not explicitly planned.”

“lee,” you plead, and gesture to the flag. he nods and you turn back to face the son of hermes, taking small strides to him.

“did you hear who’s coming back this summer?” luke asks with a smirk. you start to think throwing one of your daggers at his face might be worth the loss of dessert privileges. 

“i’m not here to talk, castellan.”

“alison’s coming back,” he informs, a boyish grin spreads across his face but doesn’t reach his hungry eyes. you gulp and suddenly you feel like you are sixteen again; a joy in the silent pain he can see in you. he knows you see him more clearly than anyone else has.

you feel the dagger in your hand start to shake. love and hate feel too similar; your pulse speeds the longer he looks at you. you hate yourself for the way he can still get under your skin after so many years. “why would i care?” you try your best to sound stern, but the tone of your voice betrays you.

“why wouldn’t you?”

“she’s not my friend.”

“we’re all well aware,” he spits out, his eyes drifting to where lee stands in earshot of you both. “you spoke so highly of her just to abandon her at a time of need. that’s why no one trusts you now.”

“i never did anything to her! you know this! the two of you lied to me, and lied to everyone about me!” you yell at him and tighten your grip on your dagger. he draws his sword and you contemplate pulling your own, but he was right about one thing: you were never good with your sword. you wished you could go back in time and relish the moment you sliced his upper thigh instead of feeling bad for it back then.

“i can’t believe it’s been three years and you’re still so delusional,” he laughs, and you throw your first dagger at the hand that holds his sword. he was caught off guard, but he was relying on the old mindset you had where you hated hurting people. the fact of the matter was you did, and you knew that was why the dagger flew just a few inches from the target. “still can’t aim for shit either.”

“shut up,” you breathe out, and pull your sword from its scabbard at your waist. the bow and daggers had been a gift from your father, and truthfully, you had extremely good aim. you never would have received two gifts from him without such a talent. deep down you were still a medic, and people were so different from bloodthirsty monsters who gave you no choice.

your attempts to deflect luke’s swings are futile, he’s always been quicker, better, and more efficient with a sword. your bow was no match in close-up combat. as a child of apollo, you were born for the outskirts of battle, not for the frontline. but you hated looking like a fool.

like other demigods, your restlessness helped you in battle. sure it helped the children of the war deities more, you had seen the flip switch in clarisse, silena, and annabeth, especially. their godly power filling them has always been fascinating, even when you’re on the receiving end. no one strategized like annabeth, her intelligence with the field and for all weapons was scary. clarisse was passionate, stronger than most, and she was a force just like her father. silena, and all of her siblings, got teased for their bright pink armor and for the vanity that people assumed of them. but you had seen the rage that filled silena’s eyes when she was challenged, the rage that came with being the daughter of the love goddess who was also a war goddess. aphrodite and her children were discounted for their skills, but there’s a reason the team that included cabin 10 usually won. you were thankful the aphrodite cabin adorned the red plumes today.

there was no switch in your siblings. predictability was a blessing and a curse; prophetic thoughts and visions could be hard to interpret. overthinking during a battle affected many of the children of apollo; there was no changing fate.

no one – not even lee who had the best intuition out of anyone – could have predicted your next move as you successfully ducked under luke’s sword as he swung it at your helmeted head. he was the greatest swordsman in 300 years, but he was playing dirty right now. who were you to make that easier?

you realize the scream you hear is luke’s as a dagger in your non-dominant hand stabs into his thigh. when did you grab the blade? when did the flip you didn’t know existed inside you switch? 

his sword fell to the ground when he clasped his thigh and you dive to grab for it. you hear lee yell your name, but for once you have the upper hand on luke and you refuse to let it go. “no!”

luke’s voice echoes in your mind as you grab his sword, and he grabs the back of your armor in an attempt to pull you away. he uses his free hand to yank off your helmet, and he pushes you back to the ground. the breath is knocked from your lungs and you roll over onto your back to look at him. the impact had released his sword from your grip and your head swam as he held his sword out towards your face. fear swims within you. how far would he go?

the conch sounds breaks through the camp and you can hear cheering, but you know it’s from your team. will and michael successfully kept chris and annabeth distracted. luke is furious, you can tell from the way his nose crinkles and the furrow between his brows. he stabs his sword into the ground right beside you and you flinch. “we would have fucking won if it wasn’t for you!”

“it’s just a game, luke,” you groan out, your chest and lungs still burning. you try to sit up but you feel so delirious, you knew your head had hit the ground but you didn’t realize you had hit it so hard. where was the adrenaline you had just a few moments ago?

“if it’s just a game, then why would you stab me?!”

“you swung your sword at my head!” you yell, wincing at your volume. you hear footsteps and silently pray that it’s lee coming to intercept after the announcement of your team’s victory.

“because you messed me up, you fucked me over! how dare you?!” he yells at you, the tears begin to well up in your eyes. his narrow at you and you notice him clench his fists; this isn’t about the game.

“how dare i? how dare fucking you?!” you scream back until you feel a hand grab yours. you swear your vision briefly goes out as you quickly turn your head to face your brother. lee is at your side and shushing you as he pushes your hair from your face.

“luke, go,” lee demands, earning himself a scoff and eye roll from the older boy. you close your eyes, trying to steady your persistent, uneven breaths. stomping fills your ears as lee helps you to your feet until your siblings find you and help get you to the infirmary.

the cabins involved on the blue team sulk at the campfire and chris notes the bandage wrapped around luke’s thigh. annabeth is pissed; her hat is muddy and her team lost. “i’m sorry, beth.”

“it’s your fault we lost,” she reminds him, using a rag to get the mud off of the gift from her mother.

“you got distracted too!”

“no,” she narrows her eyes at him, “you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to act like it’s my fault too when you have this ridiculous vendetta against y/n. you need to get over whatever happened years ago with them. you suck at games, you are weaker than you used to be, and your only motivation is to get back at them. what happened to glory? to pride?”

“you don’t understand.”

“then make me,” she grits her teeth, shoving the towel and hat into his lap, “and clean my hat. you should have picked it up the second it fell.”

“they cornered me!”

“the best swordsman in centuries supposedly got cornered and failed to defend himself and retrieve his little sister’s most prized possession? if y/n is as horrible at battling as you make everyone believe then you wouldn’t have gotten your butt kicked. get over yourself, luke.”

annabeth rushes away from the fire and towards the infirmary. when the bad blood began between you and luke, annabeth told you both she would never pick sides. she and you grew close after her first night at camp when she was mean and you still showed her nothing but kindness. you filled the older sibling void that she had lost with thalia.

when she enters the infirmary, she sees you laughing while laying in a bed with lee. she smiles at the joy in your face, at the crinkles by your eyes when you laugh. she loves the wide grin the children of apollo have, and how it strikes happiness in all those who experience it. without even looking at the door, you could sense her presence; something you and lee seemed to experience was being able to sense those nearby.  you wonder if it’s a gift from your father to be able to sense someone before they can approach you. maybe it’s a gift to prevent the healer from injury in a battle.

annabeth slides into the chair at your bedside and she accepts the hand you stick out for her, “how are you?”

“i’m fine now, much better after some ambrosia and a snack.”

“what happened?”

“nothing, it’s alright.” a sinking feeling fills annabeth’s stomach with your reassurance and forced smile. something is wrong. luke was quick to blame you, to say you tricked him and hurt him without a second glance, but you were the one in the infirmary. he had a singular bandage on his thigh. his anger was getting worse, he wasn’t pulling punches with anyone as he used to. “annabeth, what’s wrong?”

“i’m worried,” her voice trembles and you practically push lee out of bed. he accepts the hint and goes to the office to finish the paperwork that comes each friday night after capture the flag. you pull annabeth’s hand and she crawls into the creaky infirmary bed. “there’s something wrong.”

you wrap your arms around the small girl and press your lips to her hairline. annabeth is strong, both physically and emotionally, but she always holds it in. she guards herself heavily, but you have always been someone she needs not to protect herself against. “i…i know.”

“does lee know his fate?” annabeth questions. she continues to identify the distance in her brother, how he sneaks away alone at night. she used to believe it was to be with someone, but he was too good to cheat on alison; they had been together for three years. annabeth knows lee is the closest camp has to a prophet outside of the oracle.

“no,” you answer truthfully. you hope your expression stays balanced, that she will not see what you omit. that instead of lee, it’s you who sees his fate.

back at the campfire, luke eyes get lost in the flames. his hands move the towel absentmindedly against the gift from athena, and he silently prays to kronos to wish that his weakness can disappear. the warm flicker of light reminds him of sunlight, of the light that everyone sees in you. the light is his weakness, the hurt in your eyes fills him with guilt. but you are too good.

he has always known you were too good. the trust you have in the divine fills him with disgust. he hates that you convinced him to get that stupid wing tattooed on his ankle, and he hates that he convinced you to get a sun on your own. his naivete as a child was blinding. 

you fought tooth and nail to convince him of being loved, of being good, and he accepted it. he believed it too. the lord of time could never change his fate, only hasten it with the vow he has taken. 

he heard everything you told him, but maybe if he had truly listened then he could be good like you. maybe he could have ended up as kind and loving as the first night you met.

you had snuck away from the campfire when you could sense some commotion. team blue had won capture the flag, but your camp hoodie had gotten dingy – you wanted nothing more than to shower. the big house was just a short walk from the campfire, and inside were extra toiletries that you were going to need.

a commotion at the top of half-blood hill steered your attention away from the prospect of showering. you could see a few shadows in the moonlight and began sprinting towards the hill, pulling your sword from its sheath in the process. you would be the first to admit you were shit with a sword, but your bow and arrows were back in your cabin so you had to make due.

luke was leading a limping annabeth over the border when you arrived on the hill, and he couldn’t focus on anything other than your face. he didn’t care about the beaten-up sweater or the jeans caked in mud; he didn’t even care to draw his weapon when you pointed your sword at him. he saw nothing but you, your essence, and the concern firm in your eyes. there was no malice in the face threatening him with a sword; he knew you could never hurt them.

the moonlight created a soft glow around your face, bouncing off the snowflakes that began littering your hair. he saw your mouth move, but everything was quiet, everything was still. he was sure you were a child of aphrodite; no one could look so perfect and disheveled. his fourteen-year-old self was sure he would never meet anyone so beautiful ever again. “hello?”

“hi,” he breathed out as you walked closer to him. your voice was firm, but the weapon in your hand was beginning to shake. the fearlessness you tried to present yourself with was fading fast, and he was trying hard not to break down at the thought of thalia and grover not being beside him.

“are you okay?”

“did you seriously just ask that?” the small girl beside him asked as tears streamed down her face. your heart hurt for her, she couldn’t have been any older than eight you guessed. you put your sword back in its sheath while she tried her best to keep a stern expression. her stare was harsh but you could tell she was deflecting from something.

“s-sorry. i, uh, mean are you hurt? we have an infirmary.”

“no.”

“yes,” luke corrected, and you gestured toward the building beside the big house. bleating sounds fill the air, and before you can comprehend it, a young satyr runs quickly through the barrier and nearly topples into you. he’s hyperventilating and his face is covered in tears and grime.

“grover?!”

“y/n!” he exclaimed and wrapped you in a hug. he’s still deeply upset and in shock, it doesn’t take a genius to see it.

“grover, are-” you’re cut off with a deafening scream. it wasn’t until later on that you realized it had been your own. lightning struck the ground right at the barrier, and a tree slowly erupted into form and took shape. fear filled your body. you had never been at the scene of new arrivals, let alone at such an event. capture the flag was the extent of the danger you faced – this was beyond it. grover wrapped his arms around you, and you looked at him. 

the fear that filled your body was dissipating. it was useless in a time when two demigods were in need right beside you – sobs wracked both of their bodies as they held each other. the girl’s ankle was visibly swollen, and the boy had many gashes all over his body. you and lee had been training for this; this was your moment to put your parentage to use. “grover, if you’re not hurt then go find chiron. tell him what’s happened while i get these two to the infirmary.”

grover trots off in the direction of the campfire, and the boy picks the girl up as you hastily walk toward the infirmary. it was unlocked, thankfully, but you knew your sister, val, was at the campfire. until she, the main healer, came back you were on your own. you introduced yourself, and got both of them onto a bed together.

“i’m luke. luke castellan,” he told you as you inspected the small girl’s ankle. purple bruises began to litter her deep skin and she winced as you pressed lightly on the skin. you grabbed the bandage roll and started to wrap and secure it tightly on her ankle to stabilize it. she held her hand out and you placed a square of ambrosia in it. “this is annabeth chase.”

“you’re brave, annabeth. your ankle is definitely broken but it’ll heal too fast for a cast. the first few days at camp are overwhelming as it is, so i imagine you are going to be forced to take it easy anyway with this injury,” you explained to her, but she continued to glare at you.

luke was a much easier patient. he was silent, only whispering a response to your questioning here and there. you figured it was easier to stay silent while being stitched up anyway, so you gave him some slack for it. you finished stitching a deeper cut on his arm, and moved to a gash on his leg. it was so infected you nearly gagged, so you grabbed a canteen of nectar and began to flush the wound. he sighed in relief and looked down at you. “how old are you?”

“thirteen,” you answered and grabbed a new needle and more surgical thread, “how old are the both of you?”

“she’s seven, and i’m fourteen,” he grimaced as you embedded the needle into his skin. you assumed he was your age, but you were glad your guess was right for the both of them. “how do you know what to do?”

“my dad is apollo.”

“oh, mine is hermes.”

“who’s yours, annabeth?”

“thalia’s was zeus,” she said instead, and your brows furrowed at the both of them.

“who’s thalia?”

“the tree that made you scream,” annabeth huffed and rolled her eyes.

“daughter of athena?”

“how did you know?” she asked and finally her facade fell. she looked startled and like she was ready to start fighting again.

“my best friend is a daughter of athena, so your sister. she’s a lot like you. her name is alison,” she smiled at you. chiron walked in through the infirmary doors with val, lee, and grover hot on his hooves. val quickly started to inspect your work and gave you a high five once she saw how well you had done.

luke watched the smile on your face grow and he felt his heart constrict. he should have known from the second he saw you that you were the child of apollo; it explained the glow and warmth you gave off upon seeing you. he was grateful it was you who stumbled upon them; you were a great distraction from the grief that began to fill him.

“do you still love him?” you think about her words. about the little luke, you knew when you were just thirteen and fourteen, about the luke you met that first night. 

annabeth stares at your vacant, slack face with hooded eyes, the tears slowly streaming as she tries to choke back the anxieties that fill her. she’s wisdom’s daughter, yet she feels like she has no idea how to get the answer to this problem. returning your stare to her, you release yourself of the reverie you found yourself in. “i believe it’s my fate.”

↬ next

[andavs]

Nope, still thinking about it.

Shannon comes back around Halloween and Eddie says they haven’t seen her in “almost two years”. The show timeline generally lines up with real life, so Eddie would’ve started at the 118 like early September? He’d been working there for about two months by then.

LAFD training is 22 weeks (or it was, apparently they shortened it a few years ago) which is like five months. Looks like there are academy classes starting in January and April, and April is the latest he could start to finish by September, and that’s basically graduating one day and starting work the next.

But April is a weird time to up and move a seven year old to a new school, just a couple months before the year ends. I don’t know if he would’ve moved in January for Chris to start at the new semester, but he probably moved prior to April to get him enrolled and get their new place somewhat set up before he started at the academy. (Unless they lived with Isabel at first, which I love the idea of, actually.)

All that right there is almost a year. So that leaves about a year before he moved to LA where he was back in El Paso alone after Shannon left.

Adding a cut because this got long.

Whether his parents helped him out financially for part of it or not, that’s just one year they gave him to not only adjust to suddenly being a single parent, but to try to cobble together the equivalent of his military salary with a high school diploma, alone. While also readjusting to civilian life and employment. And probably still recovering physically from getting shot three times. And losing the insurance he had through the army that was covering Chris. With untreated PTSD to cap it off.

And who knows what Shannon was doing in LA. It seems like her mom died at some point and she was too paralyzed to come home after (grieving, guilt, etc.), but I assume she had a job? If she inherited enough from her mom to be able to live on it for over a year, and she didn’t send any of it back home, that would be a serious dick move. But they were still legally married! I don’t know how it works when your spouse is in another state, cut off but also working, but I’m assuming that factors into things if Eddie tried to file for any kind of government programs or assistance.

That’s one year they gave him to navigate all of that alone before his parents tried to take Chris away.

Eddie was doing everything “right” before he got shot. He had a solid job, he was providing, they had two cars and a mortgage, he had insurance for Chris, Shannon could be a stay at home mom—she didn’t want to be but financially, she could be. As far as we know, that was all on Eddie. It seemed like Helena helped with Chris (even when Shannon didn’t want it) but it didn’t sound like his parents were contributing financially. Eddie was doing what he thought was his part and providing all of that.

And then he got shot. He got discharged from the military. Shannon left. And the five years it took to build all of that fell apart within a few months.

And instead of helping him get back on his feet by giving him a minute to breathe and get his bearings, his parents watched him struggle for a year and then tried to take his son.

It sounded like Helena was caring for Chris quite a bit while Eddie was working, but Ramon was a petroleum engineer at the same company for forty years. He made enough to raise three kids on one salary and send (presumably) all three to Catholic school. He was still working well after Eddie moved to LA. They couldn’t have helped him out financially during that year so he could actually spend time raising his own son? Maybe only work two jobs while he tried to figure everything out?

Nope. “Don’t drag him down with you,” Helena said, while she watched Eddie drown, only caring that Chris was safe with her.

[aurumacadicus]

110 for the ask meme!

To be clear, Steve is still pre-serum size, all the serum did was make him healthy/super-strong. The Propaganda Cap was a hired actor so it wasn't exposed that he's tiny until after the war.

--

Peggy had said she'd find a place for him at SHIELD, but Steve had to wonder what, exactly, that place would be. He felt out of place as he followed her down the halls, like he was taking up space he hadn't earned. He was still smarting from the ring on Peggy's finger, and he couldn't help but feel she was putting him elsewhere because she knew it. 'Once your therapist has given the all clear, we'll reevaluate your position,' she'd said, kindly and compassionately, and clasped her hands on the desk in a way it hid her wedding ring from his eyes.

"So, this... protection detail," Steve tried, slanting her a questioning glance as he finally stepped up beside her.

"Protection detail is the term we're using," Peggy answered, and then, before he could get rankled at the idea that he was being shoehorned into a dummy job, she continued, "Of course, attempts have been made on Anthony's life, but at this point, he's... more of a danger to himself."

Steve scowled, and he leaned forward to make sure she saw it. "So I'm a glorified babysitter."

Peggy coughed, clearly in a way to cover a laugh. "He'll be good for you. He won't pull any of his punches for you like anyone else might because you're Captain America. In fact, he'll probably go out of his way to try and push your buttons."

"You're already harassing me with one of those," Steve grumbled. Clint was friendly enough, but he was also prone to falling out of the vent into Steve's room.

"Anthony is one of a kind," Peggy assured him as they finally approached a door labeled WORKSHOP IV. She swiped her badge, and the doors slid open.

Steve followed her through, already scanning the room. It was wide, filled with tables laden with half-finished equipment, a few weapons. There was a man sitting in a spinning chair and slowly going in circles, who quickly stood up as soon as he realized they had entered. He suspected the man was Anthony. He certainly looked like a scientist, with his crisp white lab coat and askew glasses.

Peggy sighed, loudly. "Where is he, Dr. Banner?"

"I'm certain I have no idea," the man, Dr. Banner apparently, answered promptly. "I've been waiting for him myself. In fact, maybe he actually went to meet me in my lab. We should go check." He began toward the door quickly.

"Where is he, Dr. Banner," Peggy repeated, voice flat, expression sharp, and Steve couldn't help a sympathetic wince as Dr. Banner drew up short and sort of... sagged in defeat.

Dr. Banner turned, somehow trudging those two small steps, and let out a sigh of his own. "I did tell him to wait until I could get a crash mat."

Steve and Peggy immediately looked up. There was a man on the ceiling. It looked like he had plungers on his hands and knees. There was a stack of three forty-five pound weights hanging from a harness he was wearing.

"This isn't what it looks like," the man said after a brief pause. "You can't tell my dad. If you do, I'll tell him state secrets."

"Anthony, you get down from there this instant," Peggy barked, and Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Anthony scowled down at her. "No! I need to make sure these grippers can hold up to four hundred pounds. So far they only handle three-fifty."

"You're over two hundred pounds?" Steve asked skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. Anthony looked one-eighty at most.

Anthony swiveled his head, not unlike a bird, to turn his scowl on Steve. "I'm svelte. Who the fuck are you?"

Steve sighed, turning his gaze back to Peggy. "It really feels like I'm being punished," he said flatly, but he knew he couldn't quite keep the smile from playing at his lips.

Peggy narrowed her eyes at Anthony. "Well, it's not a great first impression to show that you're not babysitting," she reluctantly agreed. "Anthony, come down, or I'll have Steve get you down."

Anthony looked, somehow, even angrier. "I don't need a babysitter and I was only slightly kidnapped last time so I don't need a bodyguard either."

"How are you only slightly kidnapped," Steve asked, but was drowned out by both Peggy and Dr. Banner shouting at him that he'd also somehow glued himself to the wall so maybe yes he did need a babysitter. He also wanted to know how Anthony glued himself to a wall, but he got the feeling that was something he'd have to get from Clint the next time he fell through his vent instead of from anyone in the room with him currently.

"Steve," Peggy sighed, waving her hand up at him. She glanced at her watch, looking irritated. "I have a meeting with the DOD."

"I'll get him down," Steve assured her.

"Hah!" Anthony crowed. "You're like, five feet tall. How you gonna reach me, shortie?"

"I'm leaving," Peggy said, and then she grabbed Dr. Banner by the arm to lead him out. He didn't look like he needed much encouragement.

Steve turned to the room again, considering, then finally walked over to one of the tables, where it looked like Anthony had been working on a replica of his shield.

"Hey, that's still in trials," Anthony barked.

Steve flipped the shield between his fingers, getting used to the weight, then turned, using the momentum from the spin to fling it full force at Anthony. It bounced off of the row of weights, and they swung wildly to one side, then the other, rocking Anthony and his sticky plungers side to side as he squawked in offense and alarm. Steve walked over to stand below him just as the hand plungers popped free.

"ACK," Anthony squawked as he somersaulted down, knee plungers popping free under the combined weight of Anthony, the weights, and gravity.

Steve caught the strap the weights were attached to as they dropped past him, then lifted his other arm, so Anthony dropped into them neatly. When Anthony only blinked up at him, wide-eyed and hands still held up awkwardly, Steve couldn't help a smirk. "Just because I'm short doesn't mean I'm helpless."

Anthony blinked at him one more time, then scowled again. "Just because you're hot doesn't mean I'm not going to be annoying as hell."

"...What," Steve began, but then Anthony was rolling out of his arms and hefting the stack of weights up so he could stalk off like an offended cat. "What?!" he tried again, but Anthony was muttering about ultimate tensile strength and other ductile materials.

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan’s Crash Course in Becoming Trump

After a long tour of duty in the Marvel universe, the Romanian-born actor is conquering the festival circuit, with starring roles in “The Apprentice” and “A Different Man.”

Illustration by João Fazenda

By Alex Barasch

The actor Sebastian Stan glanced approvingly at the neon signage and old-school menus at the Pearl Diner, in the financial district, the other day. He’s lived in and near New York since he was twelve—around the time Donald Trump swapped his first wife, Ivana, for Marla Maples—and has watched the city evolve. “It’s funny. It’s changed, but it’s also the same buildings,” he said. “And then you’re, like, ‘The buildings are there, but you are not the same.’ ”

Stan took off a white ball cap and ordered coffee with cream; he was jet-lagged, fresh from the Deauville American Film Festival, where he’d received the Hollywood Rising-Star Award. “Rising” is a stretch for the forty-two-year-old, who’s appeared in a dozen Marvel projects, but Stan has lately reached a different echelon. In May, he went to Cannes for “The Apprentice,” in which he plays seventies-era Trump. In Berlin, he’d won the Silver Bear, an award whose previous recipients include Denzel Washington and Paul Newman. “Everyone was, like, ‘Oh, the Silver Bear!’ ” Stan said. “Then you go back and you’re, like, ‘Do we know what the Silver Bear is in America?’ ”

The prize was for his role in “A Different Man,” Aaron Schimberg’s surreal black comedy, which nods to “Cyrano de Bergerac.” Stan stars as a man whose lifelong disfigurement is miraculously reversed; the shoot included a grisly three-and-a-half-hour session spent peeling off chunks of his face.

“The Apprentice” demanded a transformation of a different sort. At the diner, Stan pulled out his phone and swiped through an album labelled “DT physicality”—a hundred and thirty videos of Trump, which capture his tiniest gestures and his over-all mien. Marinating in Trump content was, Stan said cheerfully, “a psychotic experience.” He watched the clips so many times that when the director, Ali Abbasi, asked him to improvise in a scene about marketing Trump Tower, he could rattle off the stats: sixty-eight stories of marble in a peachy hue chosen by Ivana, because, as the real Trump put it in a promo, “people feel they look better in the pink.” (It turned out that he’d also memorized Trump’s lie: the tower is actually fifty-eight floors.)

Growing up in Communist Romania, Stan had just an hour of TV news each night; New Year’s Eve was an event because it meant twelve hours of programming. His instinct for mimicry—he had a habit of imitating family members and neighbors—was the earliest tell that he might be an actor. After he and his mother fled to Vienna, in 1989, Stan got his first credit, in a Michael Haneke film—an experience that nearly put him off show business. “I stood in line with, like, a thousand kids, for I don’t know how many hours—which I hated,” he said. “If I could fucking meet Haneke now, it would be amazing!”

When the family moved again, to America, he experienced pop-culture shock. He binged every movie he’d missed—from “Back to the Future” to “Ace Ventura”—in a pal’s basement. Another friend roped him into the school play. “My high school was really, really small, so I didn’t have a lot of competition,” Stan said. “They were, like, ‘Please be in the play!’ ” Soon he was playing Cyrano himself.

After stints on Broadway, and on “Gossip Girl,” Stan was scooped up by Marvel. “I’ve been lucky to play a character for fifteen years,” he said. The blockbuster paychecks freed him up to explore edgier material. “I, Tonya,” in which he played the ice-skater Tonya Harding’s dirtbag husband, was a turning point. “It allowed me to see that a good director will bring out more in you than you can,” Stan said. It was also his first time portraying a real person—a feat that he repeated in “Pam & Tommy,” as the Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee, and now in “The Apprentice.”

“It’s like learning a piece of music,” Stan said, of nailing an impression. “You’ve got to start out slow—it requires practice. Suddenly, you’re getting it more. You’re still making mistakes—but you’re playing the music. You’re playing the music every day until you can do it in your sleep. That’s when the fun starts.” He sliced the air for emphasis, then caught himself and grinned. “And sometimes it’s months later at a diner, and you’re, like, ‘Why am I doing that with my hands?’ ”

[twstfanblog]

*~500 Followers Fic: WaterPark Episode PT 2/Vignettes~*

A/N: Ignore me taking so long to get this out, AGAIN. I've been fighting to write for the past few weeks for no reason. That's a lie, it's because I wanna write things that are so far in my canon they'd make no sense if I did post them XD I was also consumed trying to finish my Halloween fic Word Count: 8K Warnings: They/She OC, headcanons on the sexuality of the characters Main Pairings: Malleus/Yuu/Jamil/Azul, Alluded-Riddle/Floyd, Jade/Trey, Leona/Ruggie, Cater/Idia, Vil/Rook, Sebek/Silver, Firstie Poly

Part 1

Now that Yuu was free from their duty of making sure the other students were checked into the park, they were able to meet up with the other first-years. They all sat huddled around, turning their lounge chairs into a circle as they planned out their day.

Yuu hummed, looking at the small map of the park Ace had managed to find, “Damn this park is big. There’s like forty slides in this place…”

Epel smirked, eyes roaming over the map and already planning out his route, “Ah’m gonna ride everythin’.”

Ortho had already scanned the map, making sure he noted every location of bathrooms and the park's first-aid station, “That could be detrimental to your health if you ride all forty in a span of our six-hour stay…”

“No pain, no gain.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, tucking his ears into the water cap he had pulled from his bag, “What are you trying to gain…?”

Leaping into Yuu’s lap, Grim smiled at the map while Yuu tucked his own ears into a water cap, “I'm gonna ride everything! And try all the food at every restaurant and stall! And-”

Yuu gripped Grim around his middle, holding him in the air and maneuvering him so that they could stare at the excited monster, “You will die. I need you to know this. If you do all that shit, you will die.”

Ace snickers, “Let him try. Maybe he’ll actually learn a lesson in gluttony for once.”

Deuce raised an eyebrow, glaring at the other Heartslabyul solider, “He’ll learn his lesson in death…?”

Huffing, Jack crossed his arms, “Alright, but seriously. Do we plan on sticking together for the day or are we splitting off until lunch?”

“Hmmm…” Yuu points to the largest slide closest to their rest area, “How about we all do this big slide together just to get used to the water temperature? And we can go on more rides together until we find other stuff we’d rather do. Because, Epel, I adore you. I’m not riding forty slides for you.”

“Fair.”

Deuce nods, “Sounds like a plan. We can still meet up for lunch and touch base, maybe go on more slides together.” He looked to his side, opening his mouth to ask Sebek if he had a slide he wanted to try only to see the serious expression on the half-fae’s face, “Sebek? You ok?”

“...” Sebek sighed, closing his eyes before looking to the side, “I don’t think I can spend much time with you all today…”

The others all whine a bit, even Yuu and Grim, asking Sebek why he couldn’t spend one day not directly attached to Malleus.

Yuu huffs, rolling her eyes, “I’m pretty sure Malleus asked you to just enjoy the park away from him today-”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about!”

Jack leaned closer to Sebek, his hand pressing to the other’s forehead with a worried expression, “Are you having a heat stroke.”

Ace quickly passed over his water bottle, “Here, have a sip.”

Sebek blushed, smacking both of his boyfriends’ hands away, “Enough! I’m concerned about Silver’s enjoyment in the park…”

…

The group as a whole looked over to another cluster of lounge chairs. Silver and Lilia were under an umbrella, Lilia applying a heavy layer of sunscreen to both himself and an already half-asleep Silver.

Sighing again, Sebek called the other’s attention, “Lilia-sama doesn’t do well in high heat nor direct sunlight. He was happy to come along even though he wouldn’t be able to do much. But, because Lilia isn’t able to enjoy the park, Silver doesn’t want to leave his father alone for the day. Plus…the sleeping…”

Epel groaned, seeming to finally make the connection, “Oh yeah…sleep disorders and water ain't a good mix to try…”

“I know we all planned on spending as much time together today as possible, but…I will most likely spend my time with Silver to make sure he can enjoy the park and not potentially drown.”

Yuu nods, “Fair and valid.” She smiles, slinging an arm around Sebek’s neck and ignoring the half-fae scowling at her, “So, the plan is to do the big slide together to break the ice so to speak. Then you can ask Silver if he wants to go on a few slides with us before we all start to break off until lunch.”

“...” Sebek huffed, “I like this plan.”

Floyd had instantly dragged Riddle toward the wave pool, a number of students already being swirled in the man-made current. The mer had been quick to assume his other form, his swimshorts snapping open from the inner seem to allow his tail minimal constriction, “Come on, Goldfishie! I wanna swim with you~!”

Riddle had agreed at first. He planned on swimming, riding the slides and simply enjoying this new experience. But as he walked deeper into the chilly water, his stomach started to roll. His reflection stared back at him as he had an embarrassing epiphany.

Swimming in a lazy circle, Floyd floated closer to a still Riddle, “Goldfishie~? Come deeper in the water, swimming in shallow water is annoying…”

“I can't swim.”

…

Floyd flipped himself over, his back in the water as he drifted to be in Riddle's line of sight. He almost asked if he was joking, only to see Riddle's cheeks flushed and brows creased in what Floyd coined his ‘thinking face’, “Wait are you serious?”

Riddle huffed, turning his head away, “I…I just realized…”

“How do you not know how to swim?”

“I never needed to learn!”

“You're seventeen?”

Riddle huffed and nearly stomped his foot, thankfully realizing it was a bad idea to do in thigh deep water, “Don't you judge me-”

A buzzer sounds, both Riddle and Floyd's attention being called to the far wall of the pool. Symbols eched into the wall start glowing, causing the waves to swell suddenly and easily sweep numerous others into the current and higher into the air. The wave hit Riddle hard, sending him tumbling back into the water as a prisoner with Floyd diving after him. Luckily, the waves calmed quickly, allowing Floyd to lift Riddle out of the water to take a desperate series of breaths.

Riddle hacked and coughed, hands gripping onto the clawed arms holding him up, “UNHAND ME, I'M GETTING OUT!”

Floyd cooed but still swam Riddle to the edge of the pool, letting him grip at the stone and pull himself out, “Aw~ poor Goldfishie…I really wanted to relax in the water with you though…” He thinks, looking at the map of the water park before smiling to Riddle, “I have an idea~!”

“Just help me out of this hell pool!”

Jade and Floyd quickly rushed off once their trio had found a comfortable spot to set as a rest space. Each twin having plans to find their respective Heartslabyul lover, leaving Azul to sit under the shade alone. And while he could enjoy the warm weather, maybe people watch or use his phone to review the past sales reports of the lounge. Instead, his eyes caught the bold numbers along a sign. For a few seconds he felt his brain stall once he fully understood what the numbers said. Now he sat on the lounge chair, staring unblinking at the price sign of a small ice cream stand.

Soon, Yuu walked up to Azul with a smile and holding something behind their back. They moved to speak only to stop at seeing the blank look on Azul's face, “Um…baby, you doing okay? Can you hear me-”

Azul reached out, grabbing Yuu by the underside of their swim top and yanking them down to his eye level, “ My pearl, what does that sign say?” He pointed across the way, his other hand leaving Yuu's top and gripping them by the face to make sure they were looking in the correct direction.

Yuu blinked, raising an eyebrow at the price “...Oh. Nice seeing park prices are the same even in other worlds.” They laughed lightly, smiling at Azul's expression.

“How are they getting away with charging $15 for a single scoop of ice cream?”

Giggling, Yuu leaned more into Azul's hand, “Maybe it's got gold leaf or diamonds in it.”

Azul growled lightly, turning Yuu's face to look at them directly, “You know very well that gold leaf costs basically nothing! Plus that diamond would have to be practically worthless in quality or size! Why even bother!?”

Yuu doesn't reply past making a kissy face to Azul, smiling when the second-year sighed and leaned forward to press their lips together.

Pulling away, Azul made the mental note to look more into the pricing practices for such parks, “Well, that blatant theft aside, how may I-why do you have a gun?”

Azul had finally taken notice of the brightly colored water rifle in Yuu's possession. While a water gun was clearly better than an actual gun, that didn't make him feel any safer.

Yuu smiles, holding the toy up and shaking it so that Azul could hear it was full, “I borrowed it from Vil.”

“Why does Vil have a gun?”

“Oh calm down, it's filled with sunscreen.” Yuu leaned over and pressed another kiss to Azul's cheek. Pulling away they pumped the water gun once, an ominous click sounding, “Now run.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

Trey sighed, closing his eyes and adjusting his glasses, “Jade, I'm not getting in the water.”

Jade pouted heavily, a clear expression of disappointment so exaggerated it was almost believable, “Trey-san…so heartless, so cruel. To deny me the chance to swim with someone I hold so dear…boo…boohoo.”

Pointing to the shallower end of the pool, the few other mers and students keeping a wide distance from Jade, Trey spoke with a smile, “And the fact you've been bullying everyone who goes past the 6ft mark?”

“I'm not making anyone stay in the shallow end.” Jade fluttered his eyelashes, swimming in a small loop and having his tail flip in a teasing motion, “But if you were to…come in the water, I may be a bit friendly.”

“Jade, I'm not going to let you drown me a little just so you can give me CPR.”

Jade keeps his smile, but looks off to the side from Trey's eyes, “Oh, I could…never-”

“Do you want to come with me to the lazy river? Kalim told Cater that this park has a rather extensive one.”

“...” Jade huffed, glaring at the other students cowering on the other side of the pool, “I suppose…this pool isn't as entertaining as I had hoped.”

“Did you try the wave pool?”

“It was already packed when I looked…” sighing, Jade moves to pull himself from the waters, “Just give me a moment to change back into my human form. It takes a bit longer when wet-”

An arm loops around Jade’s waist, suddenly pulling him from the waters and over Trey's bare shoulder. The second year was stunned, eyes wide while Trey maneuvered him into a comfortable position for them both. Trey lets out a huff of air, his free hand picking up Jade’s slack tail before he starts to walk.

“Hm. Only a bit of my Unique Magic and you're pretty comfortable to carry. Are you eating enough?”

“How many children do you want?”

Trey's response was to laugh, leaving a flustered Jade’s question unanswered. An atmosphere that was easily switched once they reached the lazy river. It was as big as Cater said it was, multiple waterways and a number of functional manmade grottos to splash water onto those in the river. A few other students were in the current, but what gave them pause was Riddle and Floyd.

While Riddle was in one of the park's single-person inflatable tubes, Floyd was behind him, swimming at a breakneck pace to zip around the water. Riddle was screaming, struggling to keep a hold of the tube while demanding Floyd ‘STOP’.

Jade laughed, placing a hand over his mouth, “Oh, that looks delightful. Trey-san, we should try it.”

Trey kept his smile, gently tossing Jade into the shallow water and moving to grab his own tube, “Well, I guess this is what my day is gonna be…”

Leona had no plans to get in any type of water today. A fact that made Ruggie deflate, yet respect his wishes to not join him in exploring the park. And, sadly, instead of going with him, Cheka decided he wanted to stay with his dearly beloved uncle.

Sighing, Leona stretched himself on the lounge chair he had claimed as his own, the surrounding area completely empty since everyone knew to stay away from a sleeping lion.

Well…most everyone.

Leona groaned hearing Cheka perk up in excitement, his little tail whacking his uncle in the face from where he was sitting.

Cheka waved, smiling wide as he recognized the tall blonde walking over to their area, “Hi Mr.Vil! Hi! I haven't seen you in forever!”

Vil smiled from behind his shades, placing his bag in a chair beside Leona before he kneels to Cheka’s level. He quickly pulls out a bottle of sunscreen, pouring a bit of the liquid into his palm before he started to rub it onto Cheka’s cheeks, “Hello, Cheka. It's very nice to see you, too. You've grown much taller.”

Giggling, Cheka let Vil smooth the pleasant-smelling liquid onto his face and exposed arms, “Thank you, I ate all my veggies last month, even though they tasted bad. Do you and my uncle still kiss?”

Malleus, who had followed Vil and placed himself on Leona's other side, snorted. Catching the one-eyed glare the beastman threw his way, the fae prince simply laid on his front to sunbathe.

Vil sighed, opening the umbrella closest to their group before sitting in the shaded area, “No, Cheka. We don't do that anymore. We don't like each other like that now.”

Cheka hummed before nodding his head, as though Vil had delivered news from on high, “That's good. You shouldn’t kiss people you don't like…” He looked past Vil, climbing over his lap and sitting on Leona’s back to point directly in Malleus’s face, “Who’s this?”

Leona snickers, speaking before Malleus could, “A lizard.”

Cheka gasps loudly, staring at Malleus with a new sense of wonder, “Really! You’re a really big lizard! I like lizards! There’s a bunch around the castle in the middle of the day because it’s so sunny! They run really fast because I chase and roar and them like this- RAWR!!!”

…

Malleus blinks, the sound of Vil and Leona struggling to hold in their laughter as he stared into the beaming face of an innocent child. A child that just roared in his face, “...That was a very impressive roar for one of your size…”

“Thank you!” Cheka spread himself out on Leona’s back, his chin resting right between the older beastman’s ears, “I practiced.”

Walking the park was somehow the worst thing to ever happen to him. Not his overblot, not being nearly sucked dry of magic, not even being almost smooched to death by a very desperate ghost. But the combo of a blasting hot sun, open toed footwear, and the fact he was forced to use every braincell he had to take the ‘most camable shots’ of Cater taking his selfies, Idia wondered if the universe was getting back at him for attempting global genocide. He wondered if it had to be so cruel…

He knew he couldn't complain. He helped Cater with his blog a lot since they officially started dating; editing, getting him access to music for videos, taking photos with his freakish height stat.

A collection of yells, whooping, and splashes calls his attention. Idia grimaces at the group of students being launched into a pool from a slide. Loud extroverts, jovial casuals. A water park was such an attribute difference than his cozy room with his set up. Even under his coat, past the layers or sunscreen he put on before even leaving his room, Idia could feel his skin cells burning under the unforgiving sun.

Cater’s fiery curls and smile could only enchant him for so long. The fear, the dread building. He's seen the videos, people filming their trips on waterslides. The very fact Cater was using him as another POV camera for B-Roll only pointed to the fact his boyfriend was going to make him get on a slide at some point. He just hasn't said when or which.

Biting his lip, Idia made the choice to just bite the bullet and stop in his tracks, “Can the slide we go on please not be too high? Or have any crazy turns? I know you'll probably want different angles but, I really don't do well all wet and this jacket will only go from the weight of one byte to a kilobyte if I get dunked so-”

“Idia, what are you talking about?”

Cater had stopped, looking at Idia with a sense of mild bewilderment. He blinked, his phone still held up to capture the perfect angle for a selfie.

“Um…” Idia fidgets, looking to the side before pulling his phone out, tapping on it with quick fingers before his text-to-audio voice calls out, “I thought you’d want to go on a slide for ‘camable’ shots. I'm just begging it’s not too wild a slide…”

“...” Cater nearly topples over, bending forward and cackling so loud multiple people had turned and stared at the duo. Calming, Cater stepped closer to cup Idia’s chin and bringing him down to press their lips together. Pulling away he laughed again, “Idia, I’m not getting in the water. I spent two hours just on my hair for today. I’m not getting all messed up and going up a bunch of stairs for a single shot that might not look good. Maybe at the end of the day…but not anytime soon.”

Idia stuttered, being dragged behind Cater while the other junior raised his phone up to line his selfie back up.

“Now, come on. There’s an ivy wall somewhere in this park and I will find it…”

Leona groans, his brow twitching in annoyance as Cheka whined and pulled on his ears.

“Unca! Unca! UUUUUUUNCAAAAAAAAAA!”

Vil spoke up, turning the page of his book from under his parasol, “Leona, I believe your nephew requests your attention.”

“No? Really?” Leona let out a deep sigh, rolling over on the lounge chair and managing to catch the falling child with one arm, “What? It's been an hour.”

“Ouji-Tan! I wanna go play! Come play with me!” Cheka pouted, slapping his open palms against Leona's chest.

“Go play then…” Leona tried to roll back over, gently slipping Cheka to the pavement only to groan when Cheka started to yank at his hair.

“Noooooooooo! I wanna go in the water with Unca! Unca! Uncaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-!”

Cheka had devolved into simply yelling, taking deep breaths before continuing to shout and tug at one of Leona's braids.

Malleus hummed, cracking an eye open to the scene only a foot away from him, “Beastmen child rearing is rather odd…”

Leona growled, pushing up from the lounge chair and scooping the child up in one fluid motion before he started to walk away from the lounge area. Cheka squirmed around, Leona piecing together that his nephew was not only bored but overheating. A quick dip was the easiest solution. Since the wave pool was out of the question and the normal pool was packed, all that was left was the lazy river.

He stood at the edge of the water, watching as a group of students floated closer. Rosehearts and Clover both lounging on innertubes, their respective Leeches circling around them in full forms.

Riddle perked up, seeing his fellow housewarden standing at the side of the river, “Ah! Leona, how can I-”

Leona barely moved, tossing Cheka into the air with his one arm and letting the child arch to splash into the water.

A moment of silence passed, the river group staring wide eyed as they watched a child disappear under the water. When Cheka doesn't resurface instantly, Trey called out to Leona concerned.

“Can he swim!?”

…

Leona glances down at the water, waiting silently while the two Heartslabyul students start panicking. Luckily, the bright orange ball at the bottom of the river started to swim up and break through the surface. Cheka paddled around making over exaggerated shivering sounds.

“It's cold!”

“Yeah, he knows.” Leona turned on his heel, the unspoken task of watching his nephew hung in the air as he walked away.

“Thanks for carrying the tube, Jack!”

“It's not even that heavy…”

Sebek scoffed under his breath, still mad the large tube had unbalanced him and made him fall, “It's ridiculous how big a four person tube is! Could this even fit in the slide!?”

Yuu hummed, looking at the large pipe of the slide beside them as they climbed the stairs to the top, “I would think so. Since that's kinda the whole point you know.”

Sebek had opened his mouth, either to actually respond or rise to Yuu's small jab, Jack didn't let him speak, “Why did you two want to ride this slide with us specifically? Didn't Ace and Deuce get in line before us since we had to wait for a four person tube?”

Epel mumbled, waving his boyfriend's question off as he and Yuu quickly raced up the stairs. At the top, positioning into the small pool before the mouth of the slide, the attendant looked…concerned when Yuu and Epel instructed them to sit on the opposite side of the tube from them.

Holding onto one of the handrails of the tube, the attendant gave both Jack and Sebek worried glances, “You um…you guys sure about this seating arrangement?”

“Just release us already, human!”

“Alright…your funeral…”

Only as he and Sebek descended into the mouth of the slide did Jack realize a few key things. One, physics was a subject he was decent at. Two, this slide had a large bulb filled with water half-way through after a drop. Three, he and Sebek were on one side of this tube and they both weighed much more than Epel and Yuu combined, “...Fuck.”

The resulting screams reached the three lounging juniors. Only Leona perked up at hearing the sudden increased intensity of the four very familiar voices before silence seemed to ring out. 

Vil spoke, not looking up from his book, “Were those ours?”

“...Yep.”

“Were those ‘broken bone’ screams?”

Malleus hummed, tilting his head but not moving elseway, “I don't believe so…”

Vil turned the page of his book, grabbing his bottle of ice water to sip, “They're fine then…”

A few minutes later, Sebek and Jack had walked over still dripping wet. The two taller boys had Epel and Yuu over their respective shoulders. While Jack had sat Epel down beside Vil, the cackling freshman having to lean against his housewarden’s chair. Sebek dropped a laughing, sopping-wet Yuu onto Malleus’s back before walking away without a word.

Leona raised his head, looking at the two still laughing freshman, “What did you two even do?”

Yuu all but cried into Malleus’s hair from how loud they were laughing, “We…we did a flip…”

Lilia sighed, waving a hand in front of his face as he sat in the shallow water opening of the lazy river, “Such a fun place…it's a shame it has to be so hot…”

It was nearly lunchtime, so it was only right to gather his charges and make sure they all managed to have a meal before the food area was overwhelmed. Malleus was easy to find, a large black mass lounging around in the sun. The real challenge was finding Silver and Sebek. While he was happy that his boy wasn't stuck lazing around with him, he could only worry not able to find him In the water park.

Luckily, Lilia had ran into Kalim, the Asim hier carrying the youngest Savanna prince on his shoulders after somehow gaining responsibility for him. Kalim had gleefully told him where he last saw Silver and Sebek, and that they were most likely still there. Parting ways, Kalim had invited Lilia to join them in the children's area after lunch.

He didn't have to wait long, chuckling lightly at the two underclassmen floating in the river.

Silver was asleep, but safely floating on a tube in a comfortable position. Sebek floated behind him completely face down in the water, hands lazily resting on Silver's shoulders. Lilia walked deeper into the river, standing in the path of the two guards. Seeing how neither moved nor noticed him, he could only giggle a bit more.

“Oh, dear…well…I have no choice then…” clearing his throat, Lilia narrowed his eyes and yelled, “SILVER! SEBEK!”

Silver shot up, nearly headbutting Lilia only to fall face first into the water as the general dodged. At the same time, Sebek had jerked and flailed in the water. A cloud of bubbles broke through the water as he jolted upright and saluted.

“SIR!”

Silver stood up in the water after getting his bearings, saluting as well, “Sir!”

Lilia laughed, “I’m happy to see you boys are relaxing on this lovely day. Now come out of the water, it's almost time for lunch!”

Yuu walked around the park, taking in the sights and sounds. They had made a quick stop to where the teachers were all gathered, asking if what Azul had told them earlier that day was true or not. Crewel had been too excited to explain what the numerous advancements in potions and chemistry had done in only a few decades. Allowing rapid growth and processing plants to be used as natural filters in real time. Making such clean and non-chlorine filled waters that were safe for every species.

For nearly five minutes they were trapped in Crewel's too happy gaze before Sam had distracted him with a bottle of suspiciously already opened scotch. Trein had shooed them away while Crewel tried to yank the bottle out of Sam's hands, telling them to drink plenty of water and to get out of the sun when they could. So walking around the park it was, sipping on a blue raspberry slushie and seeing who they could find to bother.

They had to do a double take as they spotted a messy braided bun. Calling out his name they rushed over before they could lose him in the crowd.

Jamil turned, raising an eyebrow as his datemate ran over and stared at him in astonishment. He glanced over to the side, waiting for her to speak, but seeing how they weren't he tilted his head, “Yes?”

“Where the fuck have you been!? I don't think I've seen you since you checked in?”

“I've been enjoying the park, hayati. That was the whole point of the trip wasnt it?”

“Well…yeah. But I haven't seen you, in like…hours… are you good?”

Jamil smiles, raising a fist to his mouth to laugh before leaning over to peck Yuu on the cheek, “I'm fine. I really have been enjoying myself. This day turned out to be more relaxing than I thought it'd be.”

Yuu blushes from his kiss, PDA from Jamil was rare and treasured. They press their slushie to their cheek, “Kalim hasn't been…well, Kalim? His top stay on so far?”

“Don't know, I only saw him briefly in another lunch line. But, he seemed to be doing ok.”

“...” Yuu pressed the slushie to Jamil's neck, ignoring the viper hissing and trying to escape the cold touch, “Are you fucking dying of heat stroke? Who are you!?”

Taking the drink from Yuu's hand, Jamil glared, “That's cold. Yuu, this park was already vetted by the Asims; a second look is only more thorough than the first with Kalim’s family. Since Kalim, the heir, is here, no doubt they sent much more security detail than normal. Just because most of the other students can't see them doesn't mean they aren’t there. And lastly, Cheka is here. Kalim actually engages all his brain cells to keep children both entertained and safe in his care. He's literally more safe and functional than normal so long as Cheka remains attached to him”

He hands the drink back, taking the time to flick Yuu directly in the center of their forehead, ignoring their whining as he speaks, “I'm having fun, don't worry about me. Just be sure to reapply sunscreen.” Jamil hugs them, one-armed and brief before he turns to walk away.

Yuu mumbles under their breath, speaking around the straw of their icy, “I don't need sunscreen-”

Though it was mumbled, Jamil heard them and whipped around to sprint toward them. Yuu screamed, the shriek sliding into a burst of hysterical laughter as they ran from the vice warden.

Deuce hummed, brows creasing as he and Ruggie walked over the multi-colored stone bridge that led to a new area of the park, “Isn't this…trespassing?”

Ruggie snorted, looking over his shoulder at the Heartslabyul first year, “I mean, Kalim’s family bought the park for the day; we can go wherever we want.”

“Really…?”

Sighing, Ruggie pats deuce on the back as they walk through the brightly colored gate of the park's kiddie area, “Don't think too hard about it. Kalim sure didn't when he boltcut the locks off…”

Kalim had almost gleefully explained to anyone who asked how he had magiced up a pair of bolt cutters to break the chains and locks of the park's kiddie area. It was only logical in his mind, since he plucked Cheka from Riddle and Trey's care in the lazy river, he had to take the five-year-old to the age-appropriate area.

The park was big in its own right, and while the children's area was smaller it still had the size to hold a hundred or so people comfortably. The area was whimsical, water spouts shaped as various aquatic and tropical items. Bright colors of every hue at every corner, making it almost an eye strain to both Ruggie and Deuce.

Deuce oo-ed, looking around the space and laughing at a rotating fish that squirted water into the air, “This is a lot, but really cute. I can see how kids love it here…”

Ruggie snickered, looking over at Kalim, Cheka, and Lilia playing on the massive jungle gym and spraying each other with stationary water guns, “Money really buys a plethora of experiences. The kids back home would never believe this place, just from the amount of water alone.”

“Ah…water is scarce in your town?”

“Not so much ‘scarce’. But we have other ways of staying cool than using fresh clean water; that's for cooking and cleaning.”

Nodding, Deuce looked around the space, “I guess when you put it that way…a water park does feel like a waste. But it has been pretty fun, right, Bucchi-senpai? I've never been to one before so I've been trying to go on everything.”

Ruggie hummed, turning a wheel and then sputtering when a ring overhead turned in tandum and dropped water on his head, “Yeah, it's fun. Just really reminds me how many rich people I've been around. I've only gone on a few slides because I've been…a little overwhelmed.”

Deuce nodded, closing his eyes, “I know what you mean. The queendom doesn't get that hot and even when it did mom and I were able to cool down with just ice lollies. But, thinking about how valuable a resource water is for some people…a water park seems kinda wasteful.”

They both sigh, Ruggie muttering good naturally under his breath, “Rich people-”

A loud buzzer made both of them jump. Deuce was well aware of the wave pools buzzer, an auditory warning to the incoming currents.  But looking around, neither could see what was coming. Only the gleeful squealing of Cheka makes them look up. The other three guests on the jungle gym all smiling and pointing upward. Deuce and Ruggie both look at the top of the gym, only now noticing the large bucket witht he park’s logo on it tipping over. The rush of water hit both boys hard and fast. Deuce was able to keep himself standing, sputtering and shaking his head to get the water out of his face. Ruggie wasn’t so lucky. The Savanaclaw boy having been knocked down and nearly waterboarded before the onslaught was over.

Ruggie coughs, sitting up and flicking his ears and brushing his hair out of his face, “This place is for the kids!?”

Cater tapped at his phone, screening through his photos and deleting ones that weren’t up to his standards immediately. Beside him, Idia was crouched before an electric keypad with his own phone connected to it via a cable. A few minutes passed before the previously red light turned green, a pleasant ding sounding as the door's lock disengaged, “Got it…”

Humming, Cater pockets his phone and holds the now unlocked door open for both of them, “Awesome, babes! That felt like it took longer than normal though…”

Idia shook his head, putting his phone back into his pocket as he followed Cater through the restricted area, “I was kinda impressed honestly; security was no real end-game event in difficulty, but it was pretty interesting how they structured it…” he smiled, his face looking smug, “Wanted to play with it a little…”

Cater snickered, bumping shoulders with the other third-year, “Bully.”

The two walk down the stone hallway, finally entering a large area of shallow waterways brimming with faintly glowing plants. The large foliage growing out of the troughs and interlocking under steel grate walkways. It was peaceful, the sound of water gently trickling through the park's systems. Small fireflies flew lazily through the air, repeatedly blinking as they went.

Ooh-ing, his phone already recording the area as he walked deeper into the room, “OM7, this place is amazing! The other influencers are gonna be #somadcraycraywithjel-layforcaycay!”

Idia sighed from his spot, inching away as a number of fireflies mistook his hair as a beacon, “Have I ever given you my opinion on your hashtags…?”

“Sorry~. Can't hear you over the sound of all the cute pictures I'm taking~.” Cater smiled, winking toward Idia as he held his phone high to take another 30 selfies in rapid succession. But, he blinks, his expression turning into one of surprise before he turned his phone camera toward Idia, “Babes, take your jacket off a bit?”

The other third-year instantly tried to hide in his jacket. Even fully covered he briefly brought his arms up to shield his chest from Cater’s focused eyes, “Why?”

“Ah. No, wait. Yeah, keep the jacket on; it's good since the background is so dull compared to you.” Cater moved around his shy boyfriend, the audible click of his camera going off only making Idia squirm more, “Don't move so much.”

“Why are you taking my picture…?” Idia blushed, trying to hide in his hair and hood as Cater teasingly pushed the phone directly into his face, “C-Cater!”

Cater chuckles, finally pulling away to look over the newest batch of photos while he twirls a strand of hair, “Sorry~. I couldn't help it. You look really good in this lighting…”

“...” Idia glared softly from behind his hair, “Don't post those…”

“Don't worry…” Cater leaned into Idia, pulling the other third-year down to whisper against his lips, “You know any pic of you is #MINE…”

Idia hair had flared for a brief moment, the electric blue overtaken by a soft bubblegum pink before it faded to his edges. He laughed nervously, looking away from Cater, “Wh-What kinda game plan are you even playing at…?”

“Well~...Since you were such a good sport today and helped me get all the Magicam shots I wanted. I thought we could chill out here, away from everyone else. Maybe makeout a little-”

“Yes, please.”

Waiting in lines was a factor Epel hadn't accounted for when he said he was going to get on every slide. He sighed, resting his palm against his face as he looked over the park from the tall walk up tower, the people below slowly growing smaller and smaller as he and Rook climbed higher.

“Monsieur Pom, the line is moving. Come along.”

Epel turned to Rook, walking behind the third-year, “Thanks for hold the tube for us, Rook. Those things get annoyingly heavy after a few hours…”

Rook chuckled, the two person tube looped over his shoulder, “It is no issue. I want to thank you for agreeing to ride this slide with me. Trey was my original target, but his beau would not allow him out of the river without him…”

“Yeah, the Leech twins are…really aggressive in the water Ah’m learning…” Epel had simply tried to ask Riddle if he had more sunscreen he had passed out among his dorm and where to find it. Deuce lost his tube, Ace needed an extra coating, and Epel honestly wanted a tube just to avoid Vil sniping him on the back of the neck with his ice cold sunscreen potion. He had barely walked into the lazy river before he was being round house slapped by a beefy eel tail.

“Ah…Oui. At least you landed further into the river and not on the pavement like moi…”

Epel turned to his senior, opening his mouth to make another comment only to stop and then hum, “Ah. Rook-senpai, hold still you have something on your back.”

“Oh?”

“Ah’ll get it.” Epel brushes at the center of Rook’s back, trying to remove the collection of spots that seemed to suddenly appear on his skin. But seeing they weren’t moved, Epel rubbed at the skin harder only to lean in, “What is on yur back…?”

Rook looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in an expression of surprise, “My back? I don’t remember laying down anywhere.”

“Yeah, It’s like a bunch of dots…wait.” Epel leaned in closer, squinting his eyes as he noticed even more darken speckles, “Are those…Are those freckles? You have freckles?” Epel leaned back in surprise, staring in almost horror at Rook’s back.

The third-year only laughs, tilting his head back, “Oh! Is that all? Yes, I freckle when in the sun too long these days. Though when I was younger you’d confuse me for one big freckle. The sun is a creature of wonder, life, and mystery. It’s light nourishes the soil and the flora, giving food to the beasts of man and the night. But its same light can set fire to the savana, burn and boil the skin of those who need it to survive.”

Epel could only stand and listen as Rook continued on and on about about the dangers of the sun while also waxing poetic about it. The longer Epel studied his senpai did he start to see more and more freckles along the third-year’s body. He mumbles under his breath, brows creasing as he thought aloud, “Wait, did you even put sunscreen on?”

Screaming in a more frantic frequency suddenly rings out. A two-person tube from above them flying far off course of the waterslide and sailing through the air until it landed with a massive splash into the wave pool. Epel nearly fell off as he slammed into the railing, screaming at the familiar two people who just flew off the slide, “THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YA TWO!? ACE, DEUCE, AH’M TELLIN’ RIDDLE ABOUT THIS YOU FUCKIN’ DUMBASSES. YA COULDA DIED!”

Rook leans over a screaming Epel, smiling and waving to the two still shell shocked freshmen, “BEAUTIFUL FORM! 100 POINTS!”

Azul looked up as a shadow fell over him. Blocking out the sun stood a dripping Jamil, his fellow second-year staring down at him with his normal expression of unenthused, a bright red slushie in one hand. Azul had remained seated, silent as he gripped his cell phone and wrote down a few ideas on a clean napkin.

Looking to the side, Azul cleared his throat, moving his arm away as Jamil’s hair sent down three drops of water in quick succession, “Hello, dear. Did you need me for something?”

Jamil continues to stare, bringing his straw up to his mouth and slurping loudly. Tilting his head to the side and letting his hair drip across Azul’s still-clothed arm. He smirked, watching Azul cringing his arm to his chest. He decided to be kind, flipping his hair over his shoulder, “Have you been sitting here the whole day?”

“Not…the whole day. I moved after lunch. But, Jamil!” Azul had gripped Jamil by the arm, pulling the other sophomore onto the lunch table bench he held up the napkins, “Look at these calculations, this park is performing theft in broad daylight! The markup is absurd. A single slice of pizza and a bag of chips is almost $20!” Azul turned away, one hand tapping at his phone and the other writing more numbers along the napkins, “That's a single slice and a small bag of chips, not a drink. The pizza wasn’t even good. Could you imagine how much more I could make at the lounge with actual decent cuisine?”

Jamil raised an eyebrow, sipping his slushie before speaking, “I could imagine the riot that’ll break out once you even think of raising your prices. It may have been last year, but people still haven’t forgiven you for the whole ‘School-wide Slavery’ plot.”

Azul stopped tapping on his phone, turning to glare at Jamil’s blank-faced inquiry, “As I’ve told you all multiple times, it wasn’t slavery; everyone signed a legally binding contract that was fully explained and outlined to them. They knew what they were-Stop trying to drip water on me!” 

Laughing, Jamil moves his hair back over his shoulder and away from dripping onto Azul’s arm, “You really don’t want to risk anyone seeing your true form that bad?”

“You know I’m…sensitive, about it…”

“Yuu says you look cute.”

“Yuu’s never seen me in my mer form, they’ve only seen what I looked like in overblot. And let’s not sit here and pretend Yuu is the authority on appearances. If I remember correctly, they saw your overblot form as very attractive-JAMIL! PLEASE GO DRY YOUR HAIR!”

Deuce blinked up at Ortho sitting on the pool's edge, “You don’t know how to swim?”

Ace floated behind Deuce, arms lazily waving around the water but he raised an eyebrow at the automation, “Can’t you just download how to do it?”

Deuce splashes him, glaring at the sputtering redhead, “Ace, that's rude!”

Ortho giggled, kicking his legs lightly in the water, “It’s not Deuce Spade. But, thank you. It’s not that I don’t know how to swim, I’m asking you to help me me figure out a way to swim.”

“Is there…a difference?”

Holding up a finger, Ortho stood up from the edge of the pool. Once he was sure the two other freshmen were watching him, he took a step over the edge and allowed himself to fall into the water. Ace and Deuce both stare as the still-shining blue flame sank lower and lower into the water until Ortho landed on the pool bottom. The robot tilting his head up and waving toward them.

“Oh…”

“Do… do we help him back up?”

“Deuce, what the fuck. How are we gonna-”

Trein looked at the teacher beside him. Crewel leaned back in his chair with his mouth hung open. He could only sneer as the bicolored man let out a loud, guttural snore. He plucked the empty bottle of scotch from the man's hands, recapping it and putting it back in his bag before looking over the rest of the faculty that came.

Oster was reclining in a lounge chair, a trifold in her hands to direct as much sunlight to herself as possible. An empty slushie cup half hidden under her chair with the actual drink poured into a deep margarita glass with a colorful paper umbrella in it.

Hui-Yan was covered head to toe, an ornate swim cover hiding all skin from view as she peacefully read under an umbrella. He at least thinks she's reading. She had on stylish shades, borrowed either from Crewel or Oster, that completely hid her eyes. And while she hadn't put her tablet down, he's also certain she hadn't actually moved…

Rohdri was doing…something. The stoic man had brought some compact contraption with him and he had been fiddling with it since they arrived at the park. He stood in his shorts, button-up short sleeve shirt, and a fisherman's hat, looking over the machine as it gave beeps. He would widen his eye a fraction of an inch every now and again, humming loudly and typing at his tablet.

Dubhghall was Seven knows where. What had started as him accompanying a few students that didn't meet the weight requirement for a ride, quickly turned into the massive teacher simply not returning to the teacher's table and running around the park as if he was a student himself.

And Vargas…

Trein's eyes trailed over, watching the shorter man drag Crowley away kicking and screaming. He laughed loudly, Sam locked under his other arm, stating that the ride he was taking them to would put hair on their chest. Crowley howled and wailed, ridiculous gold tipped claw rings digging into the pavement as he cried out he didn't WANT hair on his chest. Sam seemed to be resigned to his fate.

Looking back toward Crewel, he sighed. Even with Crowley's whining the other man hadn't woken up from his drunken stupor. Pulling out his phone, he could only frown at the text message his daughters had sent him. The both of them more than willing to cat sit Lucious for the day. At the image of his darling boy, tongue sticking out as he slept the day away belly up he could only sigh again.

“I miss my cat…”

Leona glared at his nephew, the five-year-old kicking and screaming on the ground after being told it was time to go home. Cheka was having far too much fun at the water park, not to mention the fact his uncle hadn't even gone on a single ride or swam in the water.

Rolling his eyes, Leona kneels down and scoops the wailing child under his arms, “Stop your yelping. We're leaving.”

“NOOOOOOOOO! UNCA! I DON'T WANNA LEAVE YET! YOU SAID WE'D PLAY IN THE WATER TODAY!” Cheka devolved back into simply screaming and flailing his arms around, climbing up Leona to clutch onto his back.

Leona stood still, glaring into the air as Cheka’s legs kicked against his collar and he screamed into his ears. The only time Cheka wasn’t screaming was when the five-year-old would lean over and try to sink his still dullish baby teeth into Leona’s ears.

Vil scoffed, his bag already packed and his sunhat back on, “Really? Are you going to just let him throw a tantrum?” Shaking his head, Vil leaned forward hands up to pluck Cheka from Leona’s shoulders, “Come here Cheka, you can ride back to the school with me-AH! MY HAIR, MY HAIR!”

Cheka didn’t detach from Leona’s ear as he gripped onto Vil’s hair and pulled at the locks, ruining his hairstyle and knocking his hat off of his head. Malleus even tried to help, if only to try to release Vil from the angry toddler’s hold. Instead, one of his horns were also gripped in a tiny hand.

Leona raises an eyebrow at Malleus, the large fae keeping bent over and doing his best to not move far from Cheka’s range, “You know damn well you can move out of his hold…”

Malleus looked away, pouting lightly but letting Cheka shake his head around from his horn, “I don’t wish to hurt him trying to remove him…”

“...” Only when Cheka takes a deep breath, unlatching from biting at Leona’s ear to let out another piercing scream, Leona speaks up, “FINE! FINE! Pick a damn ride and we’ll go on it!”

Cheka stopped screaming almost instantly, but kept his grip on both Vil and Malleus, “Really?”

“Yes. By the Seven, just stop your shrieking…”

Cheka spent only two seconds thinking over his choices before scrambling off of his uncle, tugging on his swim trunks as to say ‘Follow me’. Beaming and jumping up and down.

Leona stood under the bucket, glaring at the crowd of people all watching him with rapt attention. As the buzzer sounds, he closed his eyes feeling the rush of freezing cold water hitting him hard from the top of his head. It felt like a full minute before the water stops and he’s left soaking wet with a giggling Cheka still gripping onto his swim trunks.

Ruggie looked all too pleased with the current events, eyes just too low to be eye level, “Was the water nice?”

“Everyone get back on the fucking bus.”

“UNCA!”

[judysxnd]

Hi, could we get an imagine where Pedro gets self conscious of the age gap with y/n and had been weird distant with you. Maybe he read an ugly article that said that he was too old for her and didn't really say positive things.

Once you fount out you reassured him and made him feel really love, Idk something fluffy.

Thanks love your writing

I know it’s been little more than a week since I published anything! I’m trying my best! It’s a busy period. And thank you! I hope you like it 😋

——————————————————————————————

You knew that making your relationship go public would be risky. It always is. Living in this world where you are being watched almost 24/7 doesn’t help hiding or keeping anything private. That’s actually what happened with Pedro. You were both seen on the beach one weekend, holding hands and kissing. At first you were both upset, it was a private beach, you were alone, at least you thought you were, but somehow, people knew.

Since this day, it has been tough. Paparazzi were already following both of you before, but now, they are way more, and it’s getting difficult to leave the house. As they are more, they are also very aggressive verbally as they are trying to get any information, especially on the age cap. Yep, this is their main goal, they want to know everything. You are in your late twenties, Pedro in his late forties.

You both knew what would happen, it can be pretty shocking, a big age gap like that. You tried not to think about it, just focusing on your careers and yourselves. But it wasn’t easy denying this part.

Unfortunately, it was harder for Pedro than for you. He has been working very hard to get where he is now, and he doesn’t want anything to jeopardize that. He doesn’t think it will ruin his career or yours, this is the last thing he thought, but it can have consequences psychologically. The harassment, the articles, it’s all they can talk about. Maybe it’s because it’s new, in a few months they will forget about it, but until now, you had to go through it all.

Pedro was on his computer, scrolling through the news when he saw an article about both of you. “Is star Pedro Pascal having a midlife crisis by dating celebrity Y/n L/n?”. He felt a knot in his stomach. He couldn’t stop reading the title. He knew he shouldn’t be reading this, but he couldn’t help. He had to know what they were saying. So he read the article. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard or seen before, but it was being repeated so much that he was starting to believe it. Was he really too old for Y/n? Was he just distracting himself? Did he deserve you? He suddenly got overwhelmed with thousands of questions, but was interrupted when you got home.

“Hi baby” you joyfully said as you entered the kitchen where Pedro was. He quickly closed his computer, putting a small smile on his face.

“Hey” he simply said. You started to walk towards him, but he got up, holding his computer to put it on the table in the living room. You were confused. You waited a few seconds for him to come back, but when he didn’t, you went in the living room.

“Are you okay?” He was sitting on the couch, going through his jacket to find his cigarettes.

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little tired. I’m smoking one and I think I’ll go lay down”

“Do you need anything? I can make you some tea, if you need medication I have some” you said, getting closer to him, touching his arm.

“I’m good thank you” he said, barely looking at you as he stepped outside, lighting his cigarette. He sat down on the couch, arms crossed, wondering what was going on with him.

You decided to let go for the day, maybe he was just really tired. Unfortunately, next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, even an empty house. He simply texted you that he had to go to set really early this morning, and that he will probably be home late too. There was definitely something going on. Even during the night, he didn’t stay close to you as he usually does.

That’s when you remembered. His computer. He closed it very quickly and tried to put it away from you as soon as you got home. You need to find it. You went to the living room where you last saw it, nothing, there was only yours. You checked all the drawers in the bedroom, nothing. He wouldn’t have taken it with him, he never takes his computer on set with him. You checked all the places in the house, even in the bathroom.

“Come on!” You yelled, getting very upset. You had some emails to check on your own computer, so you grabbed yours that was in the living room. When you opened it, there was a page open. It was an article about you. “What the hell?”

You didn’t remember looking at anything on internet, but it was possible you did. When you opened your mail, you realized that it wasn’t your computer, it was Pedro’s. Ironically, you both have the same computer, and he must have grabbed yours instead of his. You went back to the article, and read it. You felt awful. How could people say that about him? There is so much more about him, and about your relationship. They don’t know anything. More upset than before, you closed the computer, grabbed your keys and left the house.

A few hours later, you arrived on the set where Pedro was filming these days. After being guided by an assistant, you arrived to the latest room where they were filming. You saw Pedro on his phone, sitting in his chair, focused. He was alone, except from a few people re arranging the set.

“Pedro” you called him, as you were behind him. He got a little bit scared, and quickly turned around.

“Y/n? What are you doing here so late?”

“Well, you texted that you were finishing late, so I thought you might not have time to eat, so.. I grabbed your favorite food” you said, showing the big brown bag you were holding in your right hand. You could tell that he was nervous. “Also, I wanted to talk to you” he simply looked at you and nodded.

“Let’s go to my trailer” you smiled and followed him.

After setting the food the table, Pedro started to eat, but you didn’t.

“You know I love you right?” You simply said out of the blue. His mouth full, Pedro looked at you, nodding. “I saw the article on your computer” you said grabbing some fries. Now he was confused, and frowned. “You took my computer instead of yours” you smiled. “I know we basically agreed not to be official, but it happened without our consent, but now it’s done, and.. and we knew what would happen.. we don’t have the choice to live with it, but we have the choice to ignore it” you stared at him “it’s not true what they say, and we both know it”

“I know” he said “but it’s just.. they say it so much, so many people are saying it, there has to be some truth in it if so many people think the same thing” you hold his hand

“No! They just don’t understand. That’s their job to say shit like that. It doesn’t mean it’s true. Don’t doubt yourself, us, we are real, this is true” you said putting your right hand on his cheek, still holding his left hand.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. It’s completely normal. Remember how I felt when the article about me being pregnant got published a year ago? Just because I gained a little?” You both laughed “it’s not true. They only see two people with different ages loving each other and it’s scaring the shit out of them”

“I love you so much” you both smiled. Pedro started to lean in to kiss you. “I don’t know what I would do without you” he whispered right before kissing you passionately.

“And I love you more” you said after you parted “but now let’s eat because I’m starving and it’s getting cold” you both laughed and went back to your food.

You finished eating, and stayed with Pedro as he finished filming what he had to for the day, and got home with him. You both slept better, cuddled up, like you usually do.