#and i was going to draw something like cake for them to look at but it was midnight and i just wanted to go to sleep lmao

[dawnthefluffyduck]

tell me what you want from me

[neptunym]

@post-it-notes7 's party au (midnight masquerade?) art gave me the inspiration i've been needing :D so here's a dapper little kirby

[koko-loco-urlocalbbgirl]

Happy birthday to our favorite hacker!

"I think you liked strawberry roll cake, so I bought you some. Or was it strawberry shortcake? Anyway, hope you like it. Happy birthday Ren! :)"

Oh, Angel...

14DWY IS AN ADULT VN MINORS DNI. PUT YOUR AGE IN BIO OR YOU'LL BE BLOCKED

[woahajimes]

so my dad didnt spoil me with really expensive gifts but

[nezuscribe]

you’re glad to have a friend like arranged!gojo, it feels good to have somebody to talk to and listen to. you feel nice being able to laugh with somebody and not apologize for the awful jokes or strange things you say. but sometimes you have to stop yourself from getting attached, reminding yourself that he won’t care for you like that.

and though that’s the farthest from the truth, it’s what you’ve convinced yourself. so when your birthday comes around, you decide to celebrate the way you always have, alone.

he’s your friend, not a husband, so you don’t see any need in dragging him into this ordeal.

you bake a little cake for yourself a couple day in advance, just like you used to at your old home. you stash it away for when night rolls around and it’s just yourself, you can enjoy it the way you have for years.

when you were little you would gawk and stare at the lavish parties your father and his wife threw for your sisters, the balls and the presents growing bigger and bigger the more they grew up. you’d mimic their behaviors on your own, dressing up in the best dress you had (a hand me downs from your older sister that never fit quite right) and pretended you too were surrounded by a room of people as they watched you eat cake.

and sure, when you were younger you’d feel embarrassed eating by yourself surrounded by drawings of people you’d prop up on chairs, but it’s become tradition now (not the drawings, you realize now how depressing that must’ve looked).

so the night of your birthday you take the cake you had hidden in the back of the ice den out, bringing it to the corner of the kitchens where the cooks kept the little table for themselves and began cutting into it, cursing yourself for freezing it too long.

you serve yourself a piece, hunching over your plate as you dug in with your fork, eating in silence.

you write a little note for the cooks to enjoy the rest of it as you place it back in the den once you were done, going back to your room for the night.

the following day when you were walking around the library looking for something new you spot gojo talking to one of his advisors, his eyes focused and his tilted slightly as he gave him all of his attention.

you pause, holding back until you were sure they were done with their conversation to reveal yourself from behind one of the looming bookshelves, watching as the advisor bowed his head to you before he left.

the crease between his eyebrows relaxes, his eyes softening when you waved at him, your smile gleaming.

“i didn’t see you for breakfast,” he tells you as he walks over to where you were standing, pushing some of his hair back as you grin apologetically.

“i slept in,” you admit sheepishly, tired from last night as you play with your fingers, “i also might’ve been a little snippy with alina when she tried to wake me up.”

gojo snorts, absentmindedly pulling some books out and putting them back in as he rests his side on the wall of binded pages.

“baking?” he asks simply, knowing you well enough to know that the only reason you’d miss breakfast would be because you spent the majority of the night in the kitchens.

“how’d you know?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest as he tsks, his fingers picking some stray leaves from your head from earlier when you were walking through the gardens.

“i help whisk the butter and sugar when you don’t feel like it. i don’t know why you keep me out of the kitchens,” he murmurs petulantly and you chuckle a little bit, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“it’s for your own sake,” you tell him, a glimmer in your eyes that he’d chase around the world the see, “and besides, i wasn’t baking. i was enjoying the fruits of my previous labor.”

gojo squints a little bit, confused. usually you eat what you make the night of, sometimes bringing a plate by his room if it’s not too late.

“when else did you bake this week without me?” he asks, trying to mask his hurt with a playful grin, trying to recall the times he heard back from one of his guards that you were down in the kitchens.

“only a few days ago, when i trying to assemble the cake.” you say with a shrug. his mouth opens in shock, a pout on his lips as he averts your gaze.

“you had cake? without me?” he almost whines it out and you shove his boot with the point of your shoe, trying to calm him down.

who would’ve thought the most fearsome warrior of the north, hell, the entire kingdom, would have such a sweet-tooth?

“it was small,” you try to reason, “and you wouldn’t have liked the flavors. it’s a recipe from the west.”

gojo groans, stepping closer to you as he gently flick your nose, watching the way you’d scrunch it up in annoyance.

“but you know i love cake,” he murmurs, “and you said you’d only bake it for birthdays…you lied to me,” his pink lips pull into a pout, one that you want to kiss off his gorgeous face, and control yourself from letting the heat get too much in your cheeks.

“well,” you quirk a brow, “if it helps, it was for a birthday.”

gojo looks up from the ground, brows furrowed once again in confusion.

“mine?” he says a little hopefully, as if it was anywhere near his birthday.

you snort, shaking your head as your finger pokes itself in your chest.

“mine…you idiot,” you mutter under your breath, wondering how somebody how his caliber could be so daft.

but he doesn’t seem to find it funny, in fact, his brows seem to meet in the middle, the pout gone form his lips as he frowns.

“what do you mean yours? your birthday isn’t for…? isn’t it in…?” he tries to think, think back to when your birthday was, only to realize he didn’t know, to realize he’d never asked you about it, always assuming it’d be something told to him.

“it’s nothing big,” you try to say quickly to cover up the awkwardness, “i usually just make myself a cake and get it over with.” you say with a chuckle but he’s not finding anything about this humorous.

great, you think bitterly to yourself, said something else and fucked it up. you wince, wishing you’d just stayed quite.

“your birthday was yesterday?” gojo asks, his voice hushed and heavy. he looks like he cares, he looks sad. you find it unnerving.

“i,” you laugh uncomfortably, fidgeting with your ring as you swallow thickly, “i think so...? i eyeball the day every year.”

truth be told you done really know what day you were born. your father never remembered the exact date seeing how the nature of his relationship with your mother was so secretive, and nobody ever found the true date out. so usually you find a date each year that you think matches with what time season you were born with and go with that.

gojo feels like his heart has slowed, watching the way you shrink into yourself the way he notices you’d i when you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“eyeball?” he bites out and you wince at his tone, and he wishes he could take it back and start over again without the bite of a general in his words.

“look gojo it’s nothing, really,” you insist, waving him off as you try to escape, shifting around so you were closer to the doorway, “it’s just a day, it’s nothing important,” you tell him reassuringly.

but he doesn’t believe you, running a hand down his face as he pinches at the bridge of your nose.

“why do you write these things off as if they’re not important?” his voice is deep, echoing around the walls of the vast library as your hold your breath, “why don’t you-”

“because it’s not important,” you say again, your voice a little bit harsher, “it’s just a day.”

his eyes drown in blue, dark and wavering like the shoreline.

“then why bake a cake?” he snaps, not in anger but in genuine questioning, and your face falls a little.

maybe because years ago you thought it was something important. maybe because you want that little girl to feel like she matters.

he gapes, knowing he said something wrong, but can’t speak.

“i…” you open your mouth then close it again, looking away from him as you shrug, “i have to go, i - um, shoko asked for me.” you lie lamely, not caring as you bow your head down slightly to him before you briskly leave.

and maybe if you turned back you could see the way his face fell too.

but with all the maybes you’ve told yourself no to, you’ve grown accustomed to the belief that every maybe wouldn’t have a chance of becoming something.

because maybe if you had actually told him the truth when you wanted to a couple days ago, that you’d like to celebrate with him, he wouldn’t shut you down the way you’d imagined he would and maybe he would’ve said yes.

but for now you convince yourself that this man is a friend who pretends like he cares. because never once have you heard of a man caring so deeply for somebody that he’d shed a tear over the fact that you’d celebrate your birthday alone. but then again, you’ve never met a man like gojo before.

[cllightning81]

Old Married Couple [CL16]

Summary : Working in your old job for some extra cash brings up a familiar face that you didn't expect to see.

Pairing/s: Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Word Count : 5.7k (this was going to be short but I got carried away)

Masterlist

Driver Masterlist

Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

When you were asked to cover a shift at the little cafe where you used to work, who would you say no to? The owner and her daughter had become a third family to you, followed behind your actual family and childhood best friend family. 

Turning around as the door opened, you didn’t expect to be confronted with said childhood best friend. You two still spoke all the time; it was like nothing had ever changed except it had. A lot had changed. He was chasing his dreams worldwide; your older brother had started pursuing his dreams, and your dad's. He’d gotten poorly injured. 

“Y/N?” He asked, drawing you from your thoughts as you rounded the corner, almost running into his arms with a smile on your face

“You weren’t meant to be in Monaco” He frowned, and you shrugged a little 

“It got a little suffocating back home, so I decided to come back here”, you replied, wrapping your arms around him 

“And got a job here again, ice cream girl?” He teased as you pushed him away 

“They asked if I wanted extra cash as some people are ill. There’s a sickness bug going around. I would have popped in to say hello when I returned, but I thought you were in Italy!” You exclaimed, walking back behind the counter 

“I was in Italy. I just got back and decided I wanted a coffee, so here I am” He shrugged, and you turned around, taking a coffee port from the machine and knocking out the previously used grounds from the last coffee you’d made. The young girl you were working with was on her break and poked her head out to ensure it wasn’t too busy. Charles, being the only customer in the shop, you smiled at her, filling the port with ground coffee beans. 

“How’s Mick and your family?” Charles asked, and you shrugged 

“Mick’s living his dream. Gina’s having a baby girl. Dad’s dad and mum. She’s doing okay,” You replied, turning around to fill the milk jug with some milk 

“How’s your family?” You asked, motioning for him to take a seat

 “The same as the last time you asked. Which was two days ago?” He chuckled, and you shrugged, steaming the milk to make his latte. 

“Something major could have happened”, you replied with a shrug of your shoulders before pouring his now-steamed milk into the cup and taking it over to him.

“Do you want any ice cream? Cake?” You asked, and he shook his head 

“Diet says no”, he replied with a slight pout, and you laughed

“So, what are you doing with work now?” He asked, and you sighed 

“I don’t know, Cha. I’ve got this brilliant engineering degree, yet no one wants a Schumacher to work for them,” you sighed. It had always been your dream to work in the same racing team as Mick. Yet every time he got hired. You didn’t. It hurt; of course, it did, but you wouldn’t tell Mick that. 

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places”, Charles offered, and you shrugged. 

“I’ve tried non-racing teams as well” You sighed, looking around before taking the seat opposite him. 

“Mon ami. Have you tried Ferrari?” He asked. You looked at him, shaking your head. You didn’t want to be compared. 

“With Carlos leaving, some team members are leaving to join him. Lewis isn’t bringing many mechanics or engineers. Just a couple” He shrugged as the young girl walked out. 

“Y/N? I’m done with my break. You can take yours.” She smiled while walking behind the counter as she fixed her apron. 

“Thank you, Julie.” You smiled, getting up and squeezing Charles’s hand on the table. Walking into the small back of the shop, you removed your apron and grabbed your phone before walking to the front of the shop.

“Want to take a walk with me?” You asked Charles, who was happy enough to get up to pay for his coffee 

“Yeah. You know I like walks” You smiled. 

“Julie, don't charge him. I’m just going to get my lunch” You smiled as she nodded. 

“Enjoy”, you hummed, walking out of the shop next to Charles 

“How long until your shift ends?” He asked, and you looked at the clock 

“I’m having lunch late, so it's only an hour. They managed to find someone to come in early but couldn’t get someone in the morning,” You responded as you fell into pace next to him, walking to the bakery just along the street 

“I know maman would love to see you if you wanted to catch up in person together” " he offered, and you smiled, turning your head to look at that 

“I’d love that” You smiled as you entered the bakery. The scent of fresh bread fills the air, and the freshly baked cakes and pastries fill the glass cabinets in front of you, their glass shining, obviously just newly cleaned. 

You placed your order with the lovely woman behind the counter as you pulled some cash out of your pocket; however, Charles’ F1 reflexes bet you to pay 

“Cha. I can pay for my lunch” You turned to him, and he shrugged 

“You wouldn’t let me pay for my coffee” He replied

“I don’t like coffee, so you got my free on-shift coffee”, you replied with a hum, thanking the woman for your order before walking out of the shop

“Well, maybe I’m just trying to convince you to reconsider joining Ferrari. Imagine it. Me, you, travelling the world together just like you had planned. You, Max, travelling the world just like both your fathers had planned” You couldn’t help but laugh a little 

“Yeah, Red Bull didn’t want a Schumacher. Horner’s word, not mine” You huffed, and he frowned, stopping in his tracks 

“Oh, wait until I tell Max”, he muttered, and you shook your head

“Max knows. He wasn’t happy, but he got me the interview,” You replied 

“You still speak to Max?” He asked. Something flashed across his face that you couldn’t quite understand or see for long enough 

“Yeah, occasionally. He texted to check in on me and my dad, and when I mentioned I was still looking for a job, he offered to get me an interview,” you replied. Ever since your previous company went bankrupt, you have found it impossible to find a permanent job. 

“He never mentioned it”, Charles frowned, holding open the cafe door for you. Smiling at Julie, you walk over to the table and sit beside Charles again. 

“So, tell me about your life,” You replied, wanting to take the topic off yourself. 

“The season went pretty well. I’m excited about a change of scenery with teammates; however, I will miss having Carlos as my teammate. Something just tells me I won’t have that kind of relationship with Hamilton,” He replied, and you nodded along, eating your food.

“Mercedes kind of didn’t make him do media for social media, so I have a feeling I’ll be doing those alone. Which isn’t the worst, but I enjoyed being competitive with Carlos,” He added as you tilted your head a little 

“Yeah, those C-squared videos were quite good” " you replied with a smile, and he nodded.

“Who would you put in his seat if you had the choice?” You asked him, and he tilted his head a little, thinking about it as he sipped the coffee that Julie had brought 

“Arthur, probably. All drivers work hard to get to Formula One, but I’ve watched Arthur struggle to live in my shadows his whole life. Hell, even Lorenzo lives in my shadows, and he’s older. So, probably Arthur or maybe Ollie. I quite like that kid” He nodded, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little 

“You’ve adopted another driver” " you replied, and he frowned, looking up at you. 

“What? Non!” He exclaimed, and you nodded 

“I know that I avoid your invites to the paddock, but I’m not blind or deaf. The way you talk about Ollie and the way you’re always there for him. He’s your grid kid!” You exclaimed with a broad smile as Charles shook his head, attempting to deny it 

“I’ve already got Oscar!” He exclaimed, and you shrugged 

“You can have multiple kids”, you laughed, getting up to put your rubbish into the bin. Charles shook his head, saying it as you fixed something on the shelf that caught your eyes. You pulled your apron on before helping Julie with the coffee order that had just come in. 

Over the next hour, the shop was pretty quiet, which gave you time to catch up with Charles on the stuff you hadn’t said over text because it either just didn’t feel right or you didn’t want to say it on text. 

You said bye to the two staff members you’d met today before walking out with Charles. The silence was nice and comfortable as you walked through the streets of Monte Carlo to his maman’s hair salon. 

Pascale had always welcomed you into the Leclerc family, even going as far as joking that you’d probably marry one of her sons in the future. You couldn’t help but notice how well the Leclerc genes hit Arthur and Charles in just the right places. 

Eventually, Charles was the first one to speak up.

“If I could get you an interview at Ferrari, would you at least attend the interview?” He asked. You couldn’t help but sigh a little, quickly glancing at him. He was never going to give it up. Charles never gave up. 

“I’ll do the interview, but only because I know you won’t stop until I do it”, you replied, and Charles smiled, wrapping you in a hug. 

“Thank you!” He cheered before you continued walking with a laugh. You were soon on the same street as his maman’s hair salon, and he opened the door, allowing you to walk in first. Pascale looked up from her diary, standing up as quickly as Charles’ reflexes as she rounded the table. 

“Oh, Y/N, look at you!” Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into her arms before pulling back her hands resting on your face 

“Après-midi Pascale” (Afternoon) You smiled, hugging her back. When you finally pulled away, Pascale moved past you to hug her son. 

“Après-midi maman” (Afternoon) Charles smiled, kissing her cheek before ushering you to sit down.

“J'ai trouvé celui-ci dans son ancien café” (I found this one in her old cafe). Charles turned to Pascale, who raised an eyebrow before starting her conversation in French with Charles. While you could understand basic French while it was slow, it wasn’t a primary language, and they were talking too fast. 

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re back here. You should have texted you could have stayed over. You’re getting too skinny,” Pascale fussed, and you smiled. You weren’t home in Germany often, so saying you didn’t enjoy her fussing would be a lie. 

“I’m okay, Pascale” You smiled, holding her hand. 

“Oh, you should join us for dinner tonight. The boys are coming over” She smiled, and you smiled up at her. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, Pascale. It’s your weekly dinner” You frowned 

“Nonsense. Charles talked her into it.” She walked away to speak to the client who had just walked in, and Charles laughed, sitting beside her. 

“She’s as persistent as I am” He shrugged with a smile, pulling you into a hug. You couldn’t help but rest your head on his chest just like you used to when you were a teenager. 

“Fine. I missed your maman’s cooking anyway. Takeaways aren’t hitting the spot anymore, and I’m losing money buying them,” You replied with a huff, and Charles laughed. His chest vibrated as he did. 

“You know, if you were to dive into your savings accounts, you wouldn’t be losing money”, he replied with a shrug as you pulled away offended. Your hand on your chest 

“Charles Leclerc! How dare you suggest I touch my savings? Those are for emergencies!” You exclaimed, and he laughed 

“Get an interview with Ferrari, and you would never need to touch those savings”, he replied with a smirk as you rolled your eyes. 

“I’ve already told you I’ll do the interview. What more do you want?” You asked, tilting your head as you glanced over at Pasclae, who was talking with a customer

“For you to join us at dinner. I know Arthur and Enzo would love to see you. Arthurs bringing his new girlfriend and Enzo bringing Charlotte,” He replied 

“I’ve already said I’d do that as well. However, your maman is going to have me at every dinner now,” You replied, and he chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst decision she’d ever made.” He smiled, and you rested your head against his chest. 

Later that night, you were walking up to the Leclerc family home. It had been a while since you were last inside; however, you’d run past it almost every day on your run because it was the neighbourhood that you knew, like the back of your hand. 

You were just about to knock on the door when the door was abruptly pulled open by none other than Arthur Leclerc, who, as usual, wasn’t watching what he was doing. Before you realised the door had opened, your hand hit his face. You both gasped at the same time. 

“Scheiße! Arthur! Entschuldigung! Warum versteckst du dich hinter der Tür?” You panicked as Arthur's hand flew to his eye where you had just accidentally punched him. (Shit! Arthur! Sorry! Why are you hiding behind the door?) Charles came running out at the sound of your panicked German and almost doubled over in laughter 

“Putain!” Arthur exclaimed

“Maman, Enzo. Arthur a encore récidivé!” (Mum, Enzo. Arthur did it again!) Charles called into the house as Pascale rushed out of the kitchen, ready to fuss over her boy and give a telling-off to whoever punched him; however, when she saw you, she turned to Arthur with a disapproving look. Lorenzo slowly followed behind, clearly unfazed. 

“Quel garçon idiot. Je vous ai dit d'arrêter d'ouvrir la porte car les invités sont sur le point de frapper. Va mettre de la glace sur tes yeux.” She complained to Arthur. As Arthur retreated back into the house like a dog with its tail between his legs.

“Garçon idiot et idiot" " she muttered to no one in particular as Charles looked at Enzo before they both started laughing again (What a silly boy. I told you to stop pulling the door open as guests are about to knock. Go put some ice on your eye. Silly silly boy)

“Désolé Pascale”, You whispered, looking at the older woman who turned to look at you with a soft look (Sorry) 

“That was Arthur’s fault. He thinks it’s funny. He’s learned his lesson this time. Now, why you were going to knock in the first place is beyond me” She shook her head disapprovingly, and you quickly came up with an excuse. 

“I was just going to use it to announce my presence. In case you were talking about me,” You joked, and Pascale laughed, ushering you into the house. Charles pulled you into his arms, kissing your cheeks before Lorenzo did the same thing. 

“It’s good to see you, Y/N” He smiled before walking back into the house to his fiance as you looked at Charles, who started laughing again. 

“Oh, your face” He laughed as you shook your head, pushing him out of the way.

“Enfant pr��féré” (Favourite Child), Arthur muttered as he walked past you and Charles. You both looked at each other before laughing again. Pascale had a soft spot for you, and if that weren’t shown in her reaction to that incident, you wouldn’t know what would show it. 

Arthur’s new girlfriend walked out of the living room to see what was happening and possibly what her boyfriend was complaining about. You smiled over as Charles took his time to speak up. 

“Ah, Jade. This is Y/N. She’s one of my best friends. Well, I think maman adopted her when we were about nine” He shrugged, and you waved in her direction. 

“Nice to meet you” You smiled. 

“You too. What’s ‘Thur shouting about?” She asked as Charles started laughing all over again. For something so simple, he was easily amused. 

“Oh, I went to knock on the door, and he pulled it open with his head right where I was about to knock”, Jade giggled to herself as she nodded. 

“I’ll go find him” " she giggled, walking into the depths of the house as you followed Charles into the living room. Pascale still had all her favourite photos decorating the house, with a few extra ones added. The one that took pride in the middle of the mantle piece? One of you and Charles smiling at each other on the couch as Arthur slept over both of your legs. You stopped and looked at for a moment before Charles turned to look at you. 

“He hates that picture. Maman loves it. She says it shows our siblingly bond.” He chuckled, resting his arm around your shoulder and talking you through the newer pictures that had been added. 

Within the hour of being at the Leclerc household, it was like you had never left it in the first place. Like you’d been at every family dinner since you went to University and left Monaco to join your family back in Germany. 

Despite the incident with her boyfriend, you and Jade seemed to be getting along well, even if Arthur was still annoyed at the whole incident. Mama Leclerc wasn’t about to let you take the blame for that. 

Your head rested on your hand as you spoke to Charles after almost begging Pascale to let you help her with desserts; however, she refused each time. 

“You should come out with me tomorrow night”, Charles declared as you tilted your head, waiting for more information about this night out. However, he didn’t continue, causing you to roll your eyes slightly.  

“More information, Leclerc” " you prodded, and he hummed before nodding 

“Right, yeah. Some of the grid is going out tomorrow night just to the restaurant, but we wanted to get to know the rookies because some of them have just been thrown in at the deep end, like Ollie,” He finally continued as you nodded along with his words before sitting up straight 

“Does that mean I get to meet your sons?” You asked with a large smile, and he nodded slightly 

“Yeah, I guess so” You smiled, clapping your hands a little 

“I’ll be there then” You hummed. 

Later that night, you were still in the Leclerc household, cuddled into Charles’ side as you watched a movie.

That next night, you weren’t expecting Charles to pick you up in his Ferrari; however, you walked outside the hotel room you were renting for the moment, meeting him at the front. He’d said the dress code was casual, but as always, you felt underdressed next to the Ferrari driver. 

“You ready?” The Ferrari driver smiled, and you nodded, checking everything in your bag: phone, keycard, purse, random bits and bobs. 

“I think so” You hummed and nodded while walking out to the car with you. He couldn’t have been the more perfect gentleman, and you were beginning to think he’d tricked you into a date. He opened the car door for you, helped you with your seatbelt, and even helped you out of the car when you arrived. 

Walking into the restaurant beside him, you were happy to see the other drivers sitting around the table, including some of the rookies, which there was a lot of this year compared to previous years just past. Charles pulled out a seat for you, allowing you to sit down, and you smiled politely at him. 

One seat remained, and you looked around the table, attempting to figure out who would still arrive. Charles leaned over his arm on the back of your chair to steady himself. 

“This is a whole plan. George is the last one to arrive, hence how there's a seat left next to Max,” He whispered with a smirk, and you turned to him with a slight laugh. 

“So you invited me along for World War Three?” You whispered back, turning your head to him, to which he nodded happily 

“I knew you’d want to watch the drama” He chuckled, and you laughed before Charles leaned back a little 

“Ollie?” He asked, and the boy, two seats down, turned around to look at you both. The boy you believed couldn’t be old enough to drive in Formula One also turned around. Two for one, you chuckled to yourself.

“Y/N, this is Ollie. Ollie, this is my childhood best friend, Y/N” He introduced you both, and you smiled at the young boy. 

“Nice to meet you, Ollie. Charles talks about you a lot” You smiled, pleased you finally got to meet one of his grid kids. 

“Oh my god”, Ollie whispered as the other boy sitting next to you just saw with his mouth slightly agape. You couldn’t help but have a little laugh to yourself. 

“Oh, and Y/N, this is Kimi. He’s driving for Mercedes this year” He motioned to the other boy, and you smiled. 

“Nice to meet you as well, Kimi” Kimi looked like he was gonna faint, and you could hear Charles sniggering behind you. 

“You’re like-” Kimi was cut off by a nudge in the ribs from Ollie, who had previously received one from Liam Lawson, who sat beside him. 

“Hey, Y/N” He waved down the table, and you waved back, turning to Charles. 

“You broke them”, you whispered harshly to him, to which he just shrugged in return, watching as everyone's heads slowly turned as George walked in. You bit your lip, waiting for his reaction to the only seat. To everyone’s surprise, after Max said the seat was available, he picked it up and moved it. Hiding your mouth behind your hand, you quietly laughed, noticing the Haas and Mercedes drivers beside you doing the same thing. 

Charles nudged your leg with his foot, and you turned to look at him with a smile, to which he nudged his head in the other direction of the table, which had you turning around to see what he was on about just to see the Red Bull driver attempting to start a conversation with the Mercedes driver. 

The disagreement was one-sided as Max attempted to clear the air between them. Still, you could also clearly see that George wasn’t interested in listening to what Max had to say, and on the following media day, George would be starting rumours. 

Throughout the night, you got to know the two rookies sitting beside you, and you couldn’t lie. You had taken a liking to them. You now understand why Charles was so supportive and why he was always worried about Oliver. You had a feeling that maybe if you got the job at Ferrari, it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Two months later, you’d gone to the job interview with Ferrari mainly for Charles’ sake because you could see that he was getting annoyed with you sleeping in a hotel and not accepting his invitation to stay in his spare bedroom. 

Now, here you were, walking into the Bahrain paddock with Charles at your side, laughing about something he’d just done that shouldn’t have been as funny as it was. You’d accepted the job because the thought of sitting at home any longer stressed you out because, to start with, it wasn’t home, and you were getting bored. 

You’d grown closer to Charles over the past three months, even joining him and some of your shared friends on a skiing trip meant to help him “train”. You just believed it was a pilot thing because whenever you opened Instagram, there was another F1 pilot skiing or snowboarding somewhere. 

“Are you feeling ready?” Charles asked, and you just smiled thinking about it 

“Yeah. I think this is where my dad wants me to be. Even if Mickey isn’t in the paddock anymore, it was our dream” Charles pulled you into his side as you walked. 

“Michael would want you to be here, and you already know that Mick wants you here” He smiled, and you nodded. 

“Yeah, you’re right” You stood up a little taller. 

“That’s it, ice cream girl”, He joked, and you pushed him away with a laugh.

“You know I always thought you’d end up with Arthur”, He hummed, and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“What?” You asked with a laugh 

“It just always looked like you two had a thing for each other. I got slightly jealous at one point,” He confessed, leading you into the hospitality with a hand on the small of your back. 

“You’re joking, right?” You asked, and he shook his head. You were about to respond when you were interrupted by Fred. You couldn’t tell your new boss to fuck off for a moment so you could continue this conversation, so you left them alone and went to make acquaintance with some of the other mechanics. 

An hour later, you were standing outside the Ferrari garage when Oliver walked by, looking stressed. You frown, pushing yourself off the wall and walking over. 

“Ollie”, You called out slightly. 

“Oh, Y/N. Hi” He smiled slightly; however, you could see that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Is everything okay?” You questioned gently 

“My dad was meant to come out for testing, but Thomas has this major competition where he needs a parent to go with him, and you know I’m nineteen. I don’t need a parent,” He informed, and you frowned, opening your arms to take him into your embrace. 

“Everyone needs their parents. What about your mum?” You asked, and he shook his head, and you instantly regretted asking

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise,” You rambled, and he shook his head again with a laugh, moving his head from the crook of your neck. 

“No, it’s not like that” He giggled a little as you breathed.

“Every time she’s come to a race, it’s like she’s bad luck, so she doesn’t come any more,” He explained, and you nodded in understanding. 

“Well, Ferrari might not be exactly happy if I join you in the Haas garage; however, I will be in the Ferrari garage if you need some support. If you need some support regarding the car or driving, Charles will be more than happy to help you if he can,” You assure him, and he nods, pulling out of your arms. 

“Thank you. That helped a little,” He mumbles, and you nod 

“I might not be your mum or dad, but if you or Kimi need anything, I’ll always be willing to help if I can” You smiled, and he nodded 

“Thank you. I’ll tell him because he’s scared of you,” He confessed, and you chuckled 

“I’m not scary. I get my surname makes people scared, though” He nodded 

“He doesn’t want to say anything wrong even though he’s worked with Mick for years.” He laughed, and you could see that it was a genuine laugh. He wasn’t as stressed as he was when you started this conversation. 

“I’m better looking than Mick and Gina, though” You joked, and he laughed. You turned your head as your name was called.

“You know where to find me if you need me.” You smiled while walking over to the group of mechanics who were discussing. 

About an hour later, Charles was walking along to hospitality with you, and he bumped your shoulder with his own 

“And you talk about me having grid kids. It’s your first day here, and you’ve already got two” He chuckled, and you looked at him. 

“What, no, I don’t.” You frowned, and he nudged his head towards Andrea and Oliver, sitting outside the Ferrari hospitality. 

“It’s not my fault my motherly instincts kicked in! They’re just kids!” You exclaimed, and he nodded 

“I know they are. It’s a brutal world here as well” You sighed with a nod. You’d seen it from your side when Mick was going through it. You never really got to see your dad's race in person, and it’s something you wish you could change, but you can’t change your age.

“I think we need to talk tonight” You started looking up at him as you walked, to which he nodded. 

“I think so, too” He nodded with a smile. You separated from him, walking over to the young drivers. 

“You two are quite far from your garages and hospitalities”, you joked, and Ollie looked up with a smile. 

“Y/N!” He smiled, almost jumping out of his seat from seeing you

“Kimi and I were wondering if you’d be free tomorrow after testing.” You raised an eyebrow while looking between the two rookies.

“It’s not for anything bad!” Kimi adds, looking up at you

“We were joining some of the grid for drinks after testing and were kind of scared”, He whispered, and you nodded. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there, but you know there's nothing to fear. Most drivers are lovely, but I can give you insight on who to avoid when there’s alcohol on the go.” You winked while sitting down next to them to give them the gossip. 

Later that night, you cuddled Charles in his hotel bed with your head on his shoulder.

“I think we should talk about earlier before Fred interrupted”, you whispered, and he nodded slightly. Shifting so that he could see your face 

“Yeah, I think I confessed something I shouldn’t have?” He whispered, and you giggled a little 

“Want to repeat that confession?” You asked, and he frowned 

“Not really, non” He shook his head, and you couldn’t help but pout slightly

“Okay, fine. I said I got jealous when I thought you and Arthur liked each other” He sighed as you rested your chin on his chest. 

“And why would that be?” You asked with a slight smirk, and he pushed you away jokingly and with an eye roll. 

“Maybe because I also liked you?” He confessed in a whisper, and your eyes widened, not expecting him to admit that. 

“What?” You asked quietly, and he looked out the window 

“Don’t worry about it. I won’t let it change anything between us. It never has, and it never will” He shrugged, and you pushed yourself so you were sitting up next to him. Your hand reaches out to hold his jaw and turn his head to face you. Charles’ eyes avoided your own as you leaned down and pressed a kiss against his lips. 

It took him a moment before he finally kissed you back; your hand dropped from his jaw to his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. After a few moments, you had to pull away, your forehead resting against the Ferrari driver. 

“I don’t have the same lung capacity as you”, you joked, allowing your breathing to calm down as he laughed a little. 

“Now, if I knew that all I had to do was confess that I was jealous, I would have done it a long time ago” He smiled, and you hummed, laying your head on his chest again. 

“We had kids before we even got together”, you joked, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, that is only a few years off our actual age” You shrugged in response, looking up at him as you kissed his jaw. Charles pulled you closer to his side.

When you and Charles finally returned to Monaco, you both decided to tell Pascale. Needless to say, the older woman was more than ecstatic about the situation, her dreams finally coming true for her son and now her daughter-in-law (well, almost. She didn’t care, though) 

Pascale had decided it was a reason to celebrate, so now you, Mick and the Leclerc family were out at a fancy restaurant she had picked. Charles’ warm hand was settled on your knee as he spoke to his brothers, and you talked to your own with your hand rested over his. 

“I wish Gina could have flown out for this. She would have loved to see you two” Mick smiled, a teasing tone hidden in his voice. 

“I wish she were here as well, but she’s giving us a niece, so can’t complain”, you replied with a slight shrug. 

“Your turn next,” Mick teased, and you rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

“You and Laila have been together a lot longer than we have”, you replied 

“Yeah, but you two have been friends since we started karting. You lived with him for some time. You’re basically a married couple.” He argued, and you shook your head 

“You and Laila are a married couple!” You exclaimed 

“Den Mund halten! Wir sind noch nicht verheiratet! Versuchen Sie, niemandem zu erzählen, dass der Verlobungsring in meiner Schublade liegt, oder?” He exclaimed (Shut up! We're not married yet! Try not to tell anyone the engagement ring is in my drawer. Will you?) as Charles turned his head to look at you both 

“Everything okay?” Charles asked 

“Mick’s just getting a little excited.” You smiled, pressing a kiss on his lips, to which he nodded, content with the answer. 

Later that night, you and Charles were cuddled in his bed. His hands threaded through your hair as one of your hands rested on his chest. 

“Can’t believe I get to call you mine, mon amour” He smiled, pressing a kiss into your hair as you looked up at him with a smile. 

“Well, you better believe it because you’re stuck with me twenty-four seven Schatz.” You hummed, kissing his jaw as your hand moved from his chest to his face, cupping his face. 

“To think that we started off racing together, and look at us now” He rested his head back on his pillow as you watched his face turn into his thinking face. After a moment, you spoke up. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly 

“Just our journey getting to this point in life” He smiled 

“We did follow the best friends to lover troupe”, you joked, and he looked at you with a frown 

“The what?” He asked 

“Don’t worry about it, Schatz” You smiled 

Tag List

@thewannabewriter , @lozzamez3 , @barcelonaloverf1life , @hiireadstuff , @mxdi0 , @f1kenzzz , @evie-119 , @ahgase99 , @velocesainz , @talksoprettyjjx , @scarletwidow3000 , @thegrapejuiceblues1982 , @jasons-little-princess , @tellybearryyyy

@zabwlky1999 , @callsignwidow , @chocolatepoetryfun , @lwstuff ,

@destinyg237 , @glitzyditsy , @sltwins , @myloverjk , @rqlstefanny , @alex-wotton , @tpwkstiles , @maymustdie , @formula1-motogpfan , @genuisalpaca (i love this username btw :) ) , @sophiacalabrese , @alice-went-away , @luvr4miya , @norstappenvibes , @somerandomf1fan (beautiful profile picture) , @teti-menchon0604 , @themazerunnerobsession

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[fortunxa]

Jinx’s take on birthdays

H E A D C A N O N S

「 ✦ Jinx x birthday girl!reader (ft. Isha!) ✦ 」

author’s note: this is my birthday gift to myself, so happy 21st to me! a day late, but the energy is here 🍰 it’s a hefty “birthdays by Jinx” guide, trust. everybody’s included

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

── .✦ in general

⭑.ᐟ Jinx is unpredictable and spontaneous, but she’d put a lot of effort into making you feel special. It wouldn’t necessarily be traditional, but it would scream Jinx’s personal touch. Expect creative, maybe even over-the-top plans.

⭑.ᐟ She’d probably start scheming weeks in advance. She would try to keep it a secret but might accidentally drop hints—giggling to herself or testing out her surprise explosives in the middle of the night.

⭑.ᐟ On the day of, she’d be buzzing with energy, maybe even more excited than you. She’d be jumping around, barely able to contain herself, and constantly checking to make sure everything’s “just right”.

⭑.ᐟ Chaotic wake-up call. Jinx wouldn’t just wake you up—she’d startle you awake. Maybe it’s a mini firework going off, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” screamed at the top of her lungs, or her jumping onto the bed while tossing confetti in the air. She’d think it’s hilarious.

⭑.ᐟ She would wake up early to attempt to make breakfast in bed, and it’d be a mess. The pancakes might come out misshapen, the eggs might be slightly burnt, and the kitchen might look like a warzone, but she’d serve the meal with the biggest, proudest grin, sticking sparklers in it.

– “Chef Jinx, at your service! Presentation’s… optional.”

⭑.ᐟ She would tease you all day with “hints” about what’s coming—big dramatic gestures, mysterious grins, and exaggerated secrecy.

⭑.ᐟ Alternatively, she’d pretend to forget about the birthday at first, just to make the reveal more dramatic.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx might attempt to bake a cake—or something resembling one. It’d probably have lopsided layers, mismatched decorations, and way too much frosting, but she’d remind you it was baked with love. Surprisingly, it ends up tasting quite good, all things considered. She insists on lighting so many candles that it becomes a literal bonfire.

– “Make a BIG wish!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would pour her heart out into making a gift. Maybe it’s a painted gadget, a weapon engraved with your initials, or a music box that hums your favorite tune. / She would try her hand at crafting something wearable—a necklace made from colorful wires and gears or a bracelet with tiny charms representing your relationship. / She might secretly collect mementos from your time together—photos, doodles, or little objects from your dates. She’d throw them into a scrapbook and complete it with her graffiti-style art.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would work on a small handmade gift for you as well—a simple drawing or a decorated trinket like a painted stone or a flower crown. She’d try to give it to you directly but hesitate, clinging to Jinx’s sleeve.

– “What are you waiting for, kid? Go give it to her!” And Isha would finally step forward, holding out the gift with both hands and a bashful smile.

⭑.ᐟ The birthday card would be a mix of chaotic doodles and messy handwriting. Jinx might overthink the message, so she’d stick with keeping it short and sweet.

“I suck at words, but you make me feel lucky. Thanks for sticking around, you weirdo. ꨄ︎ Love you. — Jinx :Þ”

⭑.ᐟ She would secretly paint an enormous mural on a wall in Zaun or Piltover, featuring your likeness surrounded by bold, neon colors and chaotic designs. It’d say something cheeky like, “the best girlfriend in Zaun (and Piltover—fight me)”.

⭑.ᐟ If someone tries to upstage her efforts—whether with gifts or plans—she would get hilariously pouty and competitive.

– “Oh, that’s cute, but did they make you a flamethrower? Didn’t think so.”

⭑.ᐟ If anyone else tries to monopolize your attention for too long (even for innocent birthday wishes), she might get possessive and interrupt, playing it off as a joke.

– “Okay, okay, enough. She’s MY birthday girl.”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be extra overprotective on your special day, constantly holding your hand or slinging an arm around your shoulders. She’s not only protecting you but your “birthday vibes” as well (her words). She scowls if anyone so much as looks at you funny.

– “You want a birthday beatdown, huh?”

⭑.ᐟ She would absolutely wear a birthday hat all day, and she’d insist you wear one too.

⭑.ᐟ She would write a chaotic, nonsensical birthday song and perform it with full dramatic flair, banging on random objects to create a “beat.”

– “This song’s copyrighted—only for you, babe!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would stick to you like glue, constantly poking you, dragging you to see surprises, and showering you with compliments.

– “Wow, your face is so birthday today. Like, insanely cute. Unfair, really.”

– “You’re so perfect, it’s disgusting.”

⭑.ᐟ She might hijack a Piltover broadcast or Zaun’s speakers to publicly shout out your birthday.

⭑.ᐟ She would watch your reactions to everything she planned, grinning like a proud kid.

– “Do you like it? Tell me you like it! C’mon—smile for me!”

⭑.ᐟ She keeps shouting, “IT’S HER BIRTHDAY!” every time someone enters the room, even if it’s someone who already knows.

⭑.ᐟ No matter how chaotic the day is, Jinx would genuinely want you to feel loved and appreciated. She’d get quiet for a moment at the end of the day, letting her vulnerability show.

– “I don’t always get things right, but… you’re my favorite person. So, yeah. Happy birthday, babe.”

⭑.ᐟ As long as there’s leftover cake, she’ll keep celebrating.

– “What do you mean your birthday is over? How am I eating a birthday cake slice, then?”

── .✦ Jinx planning a surprise birthday party

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would throw a chaotic but fun party with a theme that makes sense only to her. Think: “sharks with birthday hats”.

⭑.ᐟ Or, she’d mix everything you like to make a big, nonsensical theme. Think: your favorite animals/colors/anything relating to your interests in one big concoction. (thanks bunny!!<3)

⭑.ᐟ She would talk a mile a minute about her ideas, constantly glancing at Isha to see if she’s keeping up. Isha, sitting cross-legged on the floor, would enthusiastically point to certain parts of Jinx’s sketches or mimic explosions with her hands to signal she loves the idea of fireworks.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would be Jinx’s undercover operative, spying on your preferences.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would drag Isha into a crafting frenzy. They’d make mismatched decorations like paper chains and confetti cannons. Isha would quietly fold a bunch of origami animals to scatter around as subtle decorations, which Jinx would “improve” by adding googly eyes to practically all of them. Can’t forget the banner that says “YOU’RE THE BOMB” (because of course).

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would initially want to handle everything herself, believing that only she could make the party perfect. She’d get flustered when things went wrong but stubbornly refuse to admit she needed assistance.

⭑.ᐟ If things got overwhelming, she might swallow her pride and reluctantly ask for help in last-minute desperation, though it’d come out dramatically.

– “Okay, fine! I need backup.”

⭑.ᐟ To keep the party secret, she would assign ridiculous code names to everything.

the party = “Operation Boom Bash���

the cake = “Project Frosty Delight”

you = “Target Hot Stuff”

⭑.ᐟ She would treat it like a mission briefing, but she’d be annoyingly cryptic with her instructions.

– “Okay, so I need, like, three gallons of paint, a live shark—just for a minute!—and maybe some cupcakes.”

– “How is the live shark a must-have for a birthday party, but cupcakes are a ‘maybe’?”

– “No questions!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be offended if anyone tried to suggest a different idea. She was your girlfriend, after all, and she only wanted the best for you. But she quickly realizes that her demands are nearly impossible to meet, so she tones them down to avoid making the party a disaster. Accepting the help is her way of showing she’s trying to be a better person for you. She wants to show she can do something right.

– “I just want her to be happy, you know? I need this to be right.”

⭑.ᐟ DIY invitations. Jinx would hand-make wild, artistic invitations for the party, even if it’s just for you. They’d be chaotic masterpieces—probably involving glitter and graffiti-like design, with Isha sneaking a doodle of you, Jinx, and herself on the back. Jinx would only invite people she knows you like, even if it means threatening them to RSVP with notes like, “Show up or get kaboomed. <3 Jinx.”

⭑.ᐟ The day of the celebration, she might hand out “party favors” for any friends who join—small, colorful explosives or confetti grenades.

– “Take one! They’re mostly harmless!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly check in with you because she’d be genuinely worried about messing things up despite her confidence.

– “You havin’ fun? You like it? How ‘bout now?”

– “You’re smiling, so I guess that means I didn’t screw this up, right?”

⭑.ᐟ She’d pull Isha aside occasionally to ask her to “spy” on guests to make sure no one was causing trouble.

– “Okay, short stack, go check on the snack table and make sure no one’s hogging the chips.”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would quietly insist on getting a slice of cake to give you herself, practically shoving it into your hands with a big smile.

⭑.ᐟ During a toast for you, Isha would quietly raise her glass (even if it’s just juice) and look at you with a shy smile, gesturing a little “cheers” with her cup.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would be in charge of keeping guests entertained while Jinx set up bigger surprises. She would direct people with expressive gestures, and they would end up following her lead because she’s so animated and endearing. She’d shoo them away to the dance floor or hand out drinks with glow-stick stirrers.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly circle back to you to check if you need anything.

– “You still good, babe? Need more cake? A drink? Someone thrown out?”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would trail after you for a bit, helping out in small ways, like passing you a drink or brushing confetti off your shoulder, subtly showing her affection.

⭑.ᐟ If anyone tried to make the party about themselves or annoyed you, Jinx would intervene immediately.

– “Go eat some cake and zip it.”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would stick close to you during parts of the party, mirroring Jinx’s protective instincts. If someone approached who looked suspicious (in her eyes), she would cross her arms, glare, and shake her head like a little bodyguard. Jinx calls it “the Isha test”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would rope Isha into playful pranks, like sneaking up behind guests and tossing glitter at them.

⭑.ᐟ She would start spontaneous dance-offs, grabbing you and spinning you around just to hear you laugh.

– “Dance with me, birthday girl! Don’t make me embarrass myself alone!”

⭑.ᐟ She would be darting around and hyping up the crowd, while Isha acted as her silent shadow, handing out sparklers or checking up on the games.

– “Ladies and gentlemen, step right up! And by step up, I mean do what the kid tells you—she’s in charge of this one!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would stick to traditional party games and activities but add her own twist to them each time, no matter how trivial.

“bomb pong” ➪ her version of beer pong, where she’d paint the ping pong balls to look like mini bombs.

“truth or chaos” ➪ self-explanatory. She would make sure you only got fun or flattering dares, even being flirty and teasing with them.

– “Oh no, you chose chaos? That means you have to kiss the coolest person at this party.” And you both know it’s her.

trivia game ➪ Jinx would want to show off how much she knows about you. The catch? Half the trivia questions would also be about herself just to test you, too.

– “Okay, bonus round—what’s my favorite thing to blow up?!”

Glow-in-the-dark darts and lit up board just because she could. If you point out the dangerous side of the game—especially with little Isha running around—she’d groan loudly but relent, setting up a glow-in-the-dark ring toss instead.

She’d hang a homemade piñata filled with tiny trinkets and candy. Everyone would take turns blindfolded, with Jinx calling out unhelpful directions like: “Swing left! No, your other left!”. She’d make sure you got the first and last swing.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be cheering you on during every activity and heckling the opponents, while Isha would root for you by miming cheers and clapping her hands. If you won a round, Isha would leap into the air and give you a medal she crafted beforehand.

⭑.ᐟ Like the mini-Jinx she is, she would periodically check on you, giving you a thumbs-up or tapping your shoulder to make sure you’re having fun.

⭑.ᐟ If you seemed overwhelmed, Isha would grab Jinx’s arm and point to you, miming a timeout gesture. She would sit quietly nearby, offering her company without being intrusive.

⭑.ᐟ After the chaos of the party, Jinx would unwind next to you on the couch, resting her head on your shoulder while little Isha napped, curled up in your side, making you both grin.

– “Looks like you’ve got another fan, huh?”

── .✦ birthday girl!reader who wants a low-key celebration

⭑.ᐟ If you didn’t want a big party or over-the-top surprises for your birthday, it would definitely take Jinx a moment to recalibrate.

⭑.ᐟ She might struggle to understand why you don’t want a big celebration. She’d look genuinely puzzled, her mind racing to adjust her usual plans.

⭑.ᐟ Once she accepts that you prefer a low-key celebration, she would throw herself into making a quiet day special. It might take some effort for her to tone down her usual chaotic energy, but she’d do it because it’s what you want for your special day.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly ask questions to figure out what you consider “too much.”

– “Okay, so like, if I draw a heart on the wall in paint, is that over-the-top? No? Cool. What if I set the heart ablaze? …Too far? Got it.”

– “Would it be too much if I put your name in lights? Or not enough?”

⭑.ᐟ She’d be extra gentle and overly concerned at times, to the point of being funny. She’d fidget nervously, constantly checking in. She’s worried about getting it too wrong.

– “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean it’s cool, it’s chill, but like… you’re sure?”

⭑.ᐟ Super simplified decorations. After easing her anxieties, Jinx would decorate with a single balloon or one small banner just because she thinks it’s hilarious. She’d point at it dramatically, bragging about how she’s “reinventing minimalism”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would leave funny little notes in random spots to quietly show you she’s thinking about you.

inside your favorite book: “Reading? On your birthday? Wow, nerd alert. (Just kidding, keep being the smartest, cutest, book-loving babe ever.)”

by the light switch: “Every time you turn this light on, think about how you light up my life. Too cheesy? Deal with it, it’s your birthday!”

on a snack bag: “Munch away, birthday girl! Each bite makes you 10x more adorable. SCIENCE FACT.”

on the bathroom door: “Birthday bathroom breaks are scientifically proven to be 20% better than regular ones. FACT. Don’t ask how I know.”

The scientist behind the studies? None other than Jinx herself.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would give you small gifts throughout the day instead of all at once. She’d say it’s a “drip-feed of love” to “keep the birthday vibes alive”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would plan something like an art date. She would take you to a hidden spot where you could graffiti together. She’d bring spray paints and help you come up with a tag that matches her monkey one.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx might quietly admire you during the day, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with her feelings for you.

– “Y’know, I like this. Just us. You’re kinda… everything.”

⭑.ᐟ If you wanted to stay in, she wouldn’t mind just spending the day relaxing together in her hideout. She’d insist on building a “birthday pillow fort” and filling it with snacks, blankets, and fairy lights, creating a cozy little haven.

– “Just you, me, and some snacks. It’s a date. A birthday date!”

⭑.ᐟ Well, it was a date until Isha felt left out and peeked her head out from the entrance, which made you promptly pull her into the pillow fort.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would focus on spending uninterrupted time with you—talking, laughing, and just enjoying the day together. She’d cherish the calm moments, even if it’s not her usual speed. She might actually enjoy the slower pace, realizing it gives her more time to focus on you.

– “This is nice. I don’t gotta share you with anyone else today. Well, except short stack over here.”

⭑.ᐟ Since you don’t want anything big, Jinx would ditch the giant cake and instead stick a candle in a cupcake, donut, or even a sandwich.

⭑.ᐟ If you’re worried about Jinx not having fun with a quiet birthday, she would quickly shut that down.

– “What, me? Bored? Nah, babe. I’d sit in total silence if it meant hanging out with you.”

⭑.ᐟ By the end of the day, Jinx would be extra soft and sentimental, realizing she doesn’t need a big party to make you happy.

– “I don’t care what we do, as long as it’s with you.”

── .✦ birthday girl!reader who hates birthdays

⭑.ᐟ Initially, Jinx would be thrown off guard—she would be baffled. Expect a lot of teasing questions and remarks to test your boundaries or to try to make you laugh, diffusing the tension of the day.

– “What did birthdays ever do to you? Did a balloon pop in your face as a kid? Was there a cake betrayal I need to know about?”

– “If you hate birthdays, does that mean I don’t get to wear a party hat? Because I look really good in a party hat.”

– “What do you call someone who hates birthdays? You! Wait, no, seriously—is there a word for that? Birth-a-phobic? Cake-averse? Anti-balloonian?”

– “What do you want to do on your birthday? Oh wait—you probably want to boycott it. My bad.”

– “Can I still blow up balloons? Asking for a very sneaky clown.”

– “So, if we can’t celebrate your birthday, can I just celebrate mine again?”

– “What’s worse: hating birthdays or admitting it to someone like me? I mean, now I have to mess with you.”

⭑.ᐟ If you opened up about why you hated birthdays, she would actually listen and try to understand. She would struggle at first but ultimately stick to your wishes. She will try to come up with other ideas to make you feel cared about regardless.

⭑.ᐟ She would leave a card that says: “This is NOT a birthday card. It’s just me reminding you that you’re the coolest person ever. Luv, Jinx.”

⭑.ᐟ Subtle “not birthday” gestures. Jinx would sneak in small, low-key things to make you smile without drawing attention to the day. She would spend the entire day being extra affectionate without outright acknowledging your birthday.

Random hugs.

Leaving little flowers on the table without saying a word.

Bringing you your favorite drinks or snacks, then casually walking away like it’s no big deal.

Leaving a tiny, heartfelt note that says, “I love you every day, not just today.”

⭑.ᐟ However, it would be hard for her not to be suspicious at times. She would quietly slip a thoughtful little gift into your bag with a note that says, “Not a birthday present. Just because.”

⭑.ᐟ Accidental overstepping happens. Jinx might slip up and do something mildly celebratory out of habit, like throwing confetti or humming the birthday tune. If you got upset, she would immediately backtrack.

– “Wait, wait, wait—don’t be mad! It’s not a birthday thing! It’s just… a ‘you’ thing!”

⭑.ᐟ While you cuddle in bed at the end of the day, Jinx can’t help herself from wishing you a happy birthday but in a safe way.

– “You hate birthdays, but I love you. So, thanks for being born. Even if you hate me saying it.”

[iateyourparents]

hello! could you write johnnie guilbert fluff? maybe a scenario where him and fem!reader are spending a day together (filming a video, doing random stuff) just being two people in love and jake and tara tease them and call them a married couple

deaf, mute and blind | j.g.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x fem!reader

summary: you, johnnie and jake are recording a new challenge video.

warnings: use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language)

an: hi, thank you <33 hope you like it!

pictures are from pinterest :)

“Hi guys, it’s me, Tara, and today I’m here with Jake, y/n and Johnnie.” Tara introduced you and you all waved to the camera.

“Hi!” you greeted her viewers.

“Today I’m gonna torture my guests… No, but I wish.” she pouted and you all laughed “Today, my guests will be playing into deaf, mute and blind but…they will have many challenges and quests to do throughout the day. But they main goal is to do shopping and bake me cookies! Any words guys?”

“I hope I get deaf, cause I don’t think I can go much longer with them talking.” you rolled your eyes looking at Jake and your boyfriend.

“Hey!” Johnnie gasped pretending to be offended, placing hand on his chest “That hurt love.”

You only rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that was forcing its way onto your face.

“Alright, so now they will draw sticks and get to know what senses will be taken from them!” Tara showed her viewers three sticks and then she turned to you “Ladies first.”

You took the one in the middle and immediately looked at written words.

“Yeah! I’m deaf today!” You did a little winning dance. Next one choosing stick was Johnnie and he got mute.

“Oh, so I will be blind.” Jake stated “That’s good actually, at least I don’t have to look at your ugly faces.” he smirked and you laughed.

Tara handed you all your things - blindfold for Jake, duck tape for Johnnie and earphones for you.

“Let me also add, that the person who won’t do the most of their mini challenges, has to take a cold shower on the street!” Tara smiled mischievously.

“Is this enough to charge her with domestic abuse?” Jake asked kind of scared.

When everyone was ready Tara started talking to the camera and you could only guess she was explaining to people what you gonna do and not long later Johnnie took your hand to let you know you were going out. You both helped blindfolded Jake to the car and Tara drove you to the nearest store.

She turned on the camera and pointed it at you and Johnnie. You didn’t see anyone talking so you decided to speak “I think Tara already told you guys but we’re making cookies so now we have to find all of the needed ingredients.” you informed and Tara pointed the camera to Johnnie who was gesturing towards some alley. He took your hand and started dragging you there with Tara going behind you but you suddenly stopped, remembering something.

You quickly turned around and jogged to Jake to walk him to Johnnie and Tara. He said something that made Tara laugh and Johnnie’s arms shudder in a silent laugh.

You really started to regret wanting to be deaf one, because not hearing anything yet seeing it, made you frustrated. Also, not hearing Johnnie made you kinda sad. But atleast you listened to your favorite songs.

You all went to grocery alley where Jake gave you his phone so you and Johnnie could find all ingredients for cookies.

Tara was pointing the camera on you all the time and you decided to speak from time to time in case she and Jake weren’t saying anything.

“So we will be doing chocolate chip cookies. Or rather we will be trying to instruct Jake to do it without hurting himself or poisoning us.” you felt a light push on your shoulder and you laughed seeing how Jake was struggling with trying to not miss your form while hitting.

Johnnie swatted Jake’s hand when he tried to hit your shoulder again and side hugged you while looking for flour.

“Johnnie, we need flour for cakes, this one is for bread.” you told him and he gave you a ‘what the hell’ face and you knew that if he could talk and you hear, he would be asking about the difference.

“Alright, I think we got everything.” you stated when you found everything and you all went to cashier’s stands where everyone was looking at you like at idiots, but that wasn’t anything new with Johnnie and Jake.

Tara quickly paid when it was yours turn and you and Johnnie walked Jake to the car.

When you were at home you quickly started to prepare kitchen for your baking.

Suddenly, you felt someone tugging gently at your arm and you saw Johnnie pointing ahead of you. You saw Tara pointing the camera at you all and you took it as a clue to start talking.

“Alright, so now we will be trying to instruct Jake how to make cookie dough, wish us luck!” you smiled sarcastically.

You somehow were cooperating well, Johnnie was showing you the recipe and you were reading it for Jake who then with your and yours boyfriend help were making most of the work.

When cookies were in the oven you didn’t have anything better to do so you sat on the floor in front of the oven and you were just looking at the cookies.

Some time later Johnnie joined you, sitting next to you and placing his head on your shoulder. You hugged him into your side and he gladly snuggled into you, kissing your shoulder.

You sat there for a few minutes, when Tara came to you with a camera and some bowl and told something to Johnnie and then showed you her phone, where she wrote in the notes that now you will be doing random challenges before you could take the cookies out from the oven. It would decide who is the loser of the video.

You all stood in the living room and Tara came to you with the bowl and you took one piece of paper.

“I’ve got ‘activity without your sense’” you read it for them and viewers out loud and then showed the piece of paper to the camera.

Moment later Tara gave you another paper, which turned out to be an instruction what your activity was.

“So I have to call a random contact and try to have normal conversation with that person. That will be hard.” you sighed “Can Johnnie and Jake help me? Like by gesturing?” You looked at Tara and she only nodded.

You looked at the camera and smiled “I’m actually kinda scared that they will gesturing wrong things and I will make a fool of myself.” you laughed and you could see Tara snorting.

Your challenges were done, it wasn’t that bad or at least you were hoping so.

Then you took the cookies out of the oven and tried them when they weren’t hot. They were really good.

“Teamwork makes a dream work, i guess.” you smiled at the camera.

Then you could finally take off the earphones and you were never as grateful for hearing Jake and Johnnie as now.

“God, it’s so good to hear people again. I missed your voice.” you told Johnnie who smiled widely at you and kissed your cheek.

“I’m glad to see again, but I’m scared of how many bruises I’ve got today.” Jake laughed while still trying to get use to the light in the room.

“Alright guys, they made it.” Tara smiled at the camera “I can’t with how cute y/n and Johnnie were today. Literally goals. You were like and old married couple.” she giggled and you smiled.

“So, who’s the loser?” Jake asked after few minutes.

“You Jake.” You laughed “You didn’t do any of your challenges correctly.”

“That’s true.” Tara smirked “You will do your punishment later.”

You stopped recording for some time so Tara could get all of the needed things for Jake’s punishment, so you and Johnnie went to sit on the couch while hugging.

“I really missed your voice today.” you admitted again quietly.

“And I missed talking to you.” he smiled “And kissing you.” he kissed you.

[feyhunter78]

Three Times Buck Wanted to Sleep with You (and the One Time He Did)

Description: Three times Buck had to hold himself back and the one time he didn't, (but it's not what he thinks, and somehow maybe better?)

Part 2!

Buck is pretty sure if he ever slept with you, Maddie would kill him, though she’d have to dig him up first because Hen would put him six feet under before he could even blink. So, he tries very hard to not sleep with you, and he’ll admit as the year has gone by and the two of you have gotten closer it’s gotten easier. He finds himself craving the sound of you laughing at his dumb jokes, your comforting presence next to him in the kitchen, or even just you bossing him around, more than he craves the feeling of your skin against his.

More than the idea of how good you’d look lying in his sheets, wearing nothing but his jacket. But then you do something. Squeeze his thigh in an innocent, friendly way. Groan his name in annoyance, or pout up at him when you’re trying to get your way, and the urges return full force, leaving him wondering if he can claw himself out of the grave Hen will put him in.

One: It’s only been a few months into his job, he's bouncing back from Bobby's second warning and forgivenss, riding high on the adrenaline. He’s only known you for six months and honestly Buck thinks he might be cursed, or maybe you’re secretly trying to make him suffer.

It's one of the two because he's pulled away from picking the perfect song to start his drive with by you banging on the driver’s side window of his jeep wearing nothing but a bikini top and incredibly short shorts. He rolls down the window, swallowing hard as you cross your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your breasts up.

“Buck, are you serious? You can’t just drive off without me.” You huff, adjusting the beach bag on your shoulder. You’re standing on the sidestep of his jeep, and it puts him face to chest with you.

“Oh I, uh, I thought you were going with Hen?” Buck says, trying not to stumble over his words like an idiot.

You look so good, it’s unfair, and that bathing suit top is cute, too cute for the way it makes his mouth water. It’s pink with white hearts all over it, your hair is pulled back, oversized sunglasses rest on your nose, your beach bag has some cartoon drawing of a margarita wearing sunglasses on it. But the worst part, the worst, are the light wash denim shorts clinging to your thighs. Fuck, he just wants to grab them, wear them like earmuffs until you’re trembling in his grip, and he’s drank his fill.

You shake your head, and lean on his windowsill, the scent of your perfume, or maybe that’s just what your skin smells like, suddenly overwhelming his senses, scattering any coherent thought he might have had. “She said there wasn’t enough room, Danny wanted to bring a friend with him. Didn’t she text you?”

Hen probably had, but he’s been so focused on psyching himself up to go to the beach with everyone, including you—without begging you to let him fuck you in a changing room—that he hasn’t even checked his messages.

“Yeah, probably, just been busy. Hop in.” He unlocks the passenger side door, giving into his impulses just enough to watch as you round the car, his dark sunglasses hiding the way he traces your every curve with his eyes.

You smile as you slide into the seat and buckle yourself in. “Okay, let’s go, beach time!” Your voice has a singsong tone, and it makes his heart melt.

“Beach time.” He echoes, turning the radio on to drown out the voice in his head urging him to ask if you want to take a detour to his backseat.

Two: It’s his birthday, and while the crew has made a big deal out of it, he doesn’t expect you to. Doesn’t expect you to be at his door with a cake, singing happy birthday, surprisingly well. The candles are lighting up your face in such a way that he feels like he’s in a movie, and everything is zooming in on you, only you, like he’s got tunnel vision, and you’re at the end of it.

“Make a wish!” You cheer, leaning on his kitchen counter, the cake between you two.

He bends down and blows, watching the flames flicker out in an instance, small whips of smoke rising then dissipating into the air.

“Twenty-six, it’s a big number, feel any different?” You ask, looking at him over the cake with your stupidly beautiful eyes that shine with genuine curiosity.

He cuts a slice of cake for you and then himself, putting them on paper plates and sliding yours across to you.

You catch it, and thank him, waiting for him to take a bite, or answer, probably answer.

“Not at all.” He says, taking a bite of the cake for good measure.

You laugh, “I doubt I’ll feel any different on my birthday either.”

“It’s in a few months, right?”

You nod, and take a bite of your own, moaning softly. “Oh, wow, okay, this cake is really good.”

Your moan goes straight to his cock, and he’s glad the island is between you two, blocking your view.

“Yeah, yeah it’s great, thanks again, you really didn’t have to get me anything.”

You lean on your elbow, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I did, it’s your birthday and come on you’re like the first real friend—no wait that’s Hen, the first person to look out for—no that’s Athena, you’re a nice gu—wait that sounds bad.” You cover your face with your hands, laughing embarrassedly. “Let me start over.”

He laughs and takes another bite of his cake; it is pretty good. “Go for it.”

“Of course I did, Buck, not just because it’s your birthday, but because I wanted to. I wanted to celebrate you, and thank you for going out of your way for me when I first moved here and for changing the batteries in my smoke alarm and making me laugh when my dates end up sucking, and just being a good guy, that I can trust and count on.”

His heart is pounding in his chest, and his pants are growing tight. You haven’t said anything he hasn’t heard before more or less; you haven’t even said anything technically hot, but somehow, it’s different, it means more, has more layers when you say it. He pinches himself and tries to think about safe, nonsexual things, old books, his grandma, cleaning mud off the truck, white bread, cake, your little moan when you tasted the cake—nope, nope something else, think of something else.

You peek at him through your hands when he doesn’t say anything. “Sorry, that was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

He wants to say, no it was perfect, can you say it again while you ride me? Also, I think I do need to see a therapist because I’m pretty sure I’m getting turned on by emotional intimacy and that’s a new revelation for me. But he doesn’t, instead he skewers another bite of cake on his fork and gives you a teasing smile. “Yeah, a little bit.”

You pout up at him. “Rude.”

He bites his tongue to keep from bending to your will and bending you over the island, instead pointing out with a shrug. “You asked.”

You roll your eyes and take another bite of cake. "I take back every nice thing I said."

Three: He’s tasked with driving over to Athena’s precinct to pick you up. It’s not something he’s ever done before, but Hen slaps him on the shoulder and tells him to get there ASAP before someone gets hurt. He’s not worried about you, Hen made it clear you’re not in any danger, just that it was going to take more than Athena’s stern words to get you to stand down. He’s actually curious, you’re not one to cause a scene or argue with Athena unless you really thought she was wrong, and he’s seen that happen maybe twice?

Buck hates to admit it, but the scene he walks in on…turns him on.

“You know what? You’re just a greedy hack who preys on the hopes and fears of poor, innocent people. You want my professional opinion? You can go fuck yourself.” You snarl, holding your head high as you glare at some white dude with a tarot card tattoo crawling up his forearm, and a feather earring.

“Dr. Y/L/N, please, I have to ask you and Mr. Chester to leave.” Athena says calmly, jerking her head towards you when she sees Buck.

“No, I’m sorry, Sergeant Grant, but I can’t walk away when this conman is trying to ply your victims with false hope.” Your arms down by your side, fingers flexing ever so slightly, and you’re tense like you’re going to lunge at the dude.

“Conman? You’re a psychologist, we all know psychology is fake,” Chester scoffs.

Buck rolls his shoulders back; this is not going to be good.

You laugh, high-pitched and mocking. “Fake? Fake? You’re the fake. Fake as that earring, and your claims of studying with shamans in the desert. Newsflash asshole, I looked you up. All you’ve got is a clip-on earring and an arrest for public intoxication from when you and your little business major buddies did ayahuasca on the Santa Monica pier.”

Buck stifles a laugh, and Athena glares at him, urging him forward. He does as she silently asks and makes his way to you, raising an eyebrow when his eyes meet yours.

“You can't understand my vision quest, you weren’t there,” Chester shoots back.

You laugh again, and Buck thinks maybe it’ll be okay, but then you snatch Chester’s earring from his ear and throw it to the floor, the plastic clip breaking off and skittering across the floor. “This man is a fraud, ladies and gentlem—”

“Yeah, okay, time to go y/n.” Buck says, as he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder, large hands keeping you secure as you try to wriggle out of his hold.

“Don’t listen to this charlatan, trust the good men and women of the LAPD they will help you, not some hack psychic!” You continue, and Buck can all but feel your eyes burning a hole in Chester as he carries you out of the station.

“Charlatan? What is this, the eighteen hundreds?” Buck snorts, his hands warm where they hold you, his skin tingling at the points of contact. You weigh nothing to him; it’s like holding a pillow, and the thought of how easy it would be to toss you onto his bed makes him bite down on his tongue.

“Shut up. That guy comes in all the time and promises the world, but he never delivers. I hate people like him, who take advantage of the vulnerable, it’s just not right.” You grumble, as he keeps one arm pressed against your legs while opening his car door for you with his free hand.

He gently sets you in the seat and buckles you in. “It’s not, but you can’t just try to fistfight him in the middle of a police station.”

You roll your eyes and smooth down your hair in the visor mirror. “I wasn’t going to fistfight him, I’m not crazy.”

“Sure, you weren’t.”

“Just drive.” You snap, turning away from him to look out the window.

“Someone’s a little bossy.” He jokes, putting his jeep into reverse.

You turn away from the window, fire in your eyes. “You wanna see bossy, I’ll show you bossy.”

Fuck, he wishes you would. He’d love to see you riled up and demanding, your nails scraping against his scalp as you yank his head forward.

“Maybe later.” He says, switching gears and driving away from the station.

The one time:  Buck rubs his eyes, groaning as he blindly reaches for his vibrating phone, it’s two in the morning, he just got home from a double shift, somebody better be dead or dying. He winces at the brightness of his screen and scans the multitude of messages, but it’s the most recent one that catches his attention.

Y/N: Need yuo come over?????!!??

He rubs his eyes harder, there’s no way you texted him that. No damn way.

Y/N: Buck

Y/N: Buck

Y/N: Evan Bucckely

Y/N: Come obrr

He sits up, dragging a hand down his face. Maybe you’re drunk? You’re usually a stickler for proper spelling and grammar. He goes to text back asking that very question when a voice message pops up. He turns up his sound and presses play.

“Buck please, you gotta come here, I need your help, I can’t do it by myself.” You whine, and all his blood runs south.

“Fuck.” He groans, trying to force himself to think about anything but what you might have looked like as you recorded that message.

“I need your skilled hands, mine just aren’t working.” You continue, and he bites down on his fist, all exhaustion banished. You sound so pretty, so desperate, so adorably needy, how can he ignore you, ignore your request?

He sends a quick text swearing he’ll be over in two minutes.

As he pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants, he remembers how he thought it was a curse that you two lived in the same apartment complex. But now as he walks over, swinging his keys around his finger, he’s unbelievably glad.

Buck knocks on your door, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Hey, he gave it a good run, a solid year of holding himself back and not sleeping with you. But when you’re asking him directly, he's not going to say no. It would be rude to deny you something you so clearly need.

You pull the door open and grab him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him to the couch and plopping down before placing your high-heeled feet in his lap.

“Well, hello to you too.” He says, resting his hand on your shin, admiring the smoothness of your skin. You definitely went out, the heels, the tight black dress, the makeup, you look stunning, and he’s practically salivating.

“I can’t get them off.” You pout, tugging uselessly at the straps of your heels.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He purrs, unbuckling one heel then the other before caressing your skin, his hands sliding higher until he grips your thighs.

Your eyes are slightly glassy, and you’re wearing the biggest, most adoring smile he’s ever seen as you sway in your spot. “You’re amazing, my hero.”

“How much you have to drink tonight, Y/N?” Buck asks, his training kicking in despite the lust that rages beneath his skin.

You clamor into his lap, looping your arms around his neck, the fabric of your dress riding up your plush thighs as you straddle him. “Buck, I thought you were a firefighter, not a cop.”

He chuckles and smoothes his hands down your side. “I am a firefighter, but I can also see you’ve been drinking.”

“Just a little bit.” You say, holding up one hand and pinching your fingers to show him how little you’ve had to drink. It would maybe be believable if you didn’t nearly lose your balance in the process.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your breath audibly catches in your throat, and you nod, “yeah.”

“Well, that’s too bad because I feel like you maybe had a lot to drink.”

You pout at him, and he bites his tongue to keep himself steady. You’re drunk, way too drunk, he’s not that kind of guy, he’s not going to take advantage of you no matter how badly he’s wanted this.

“Maybe a bit more than a little, but we were celebrating, and I haven’t gone out drinking in forever.” You stretch out the word forever, giving Buck a bright smile when he pats your outer thigh.

“Why don’t I help you get into bed, huh?”

You start to nod but stop yourself, the light dimming in your eyes as you begin to mumble to yourself.

Buck thinks he catches the words, but Maddie and places his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey, just to sleep, nothing else. You need to rest and let your body process all that alcohol.”

You nod, slide off him and onto the couch, laying back onto the cushions, your eyes already closing.

“Whoa, hey, not here, and not with your makeup still on.” He says, gently trying to get you to your feet.

“Too tired, carry me?” You ask so sweetly, he’s pretty sure he’d spend the rest of his life carrying you if you asked him to.

“Alright, come on, but you have to keep your eyes open, okay?” Buck says, slipping his arms underneath your form and lifting you from the couch.

“Okay, I promise…I will try.” You say, curling into him, resting your head on his chest.

That’s the best he’s going to get, judging by the way your breathing begins to even out, and your grip on his shirt loosens.

Now, if he spends some time gently cleaning the makeup from your face and waking you briefly so you can change into pajamas before carrying you to your bed, then no one needs to know that.

And if he stays by your side definitely because he’s worried about how hungover you’ll be tomorrow and definitely not because you sleepily insist, and he can’t resist you, that’s no one’s business.

And if he falls asleep in your bed with your head on his chest and his arm around your waist, his chest feeling weird, like he’s got butterflies or heartburn, then no one needs to know that either. He’ll just take the best sleep he’s had in a long time and deal with the consequences later.

No lie I have a whole /reader profile created for this man, just waiting to be unleashed

[pomefioredove]

So people use Kalim, right? Like pretend to be his friend because he has money-

What if Kalim's crush is just like "Yeah I grew up poor....anyways! I bought you this gold bracelet! Probably not real gold, but I thought it'd fit your style." And is just always pulling up with gifts and little trinkets and just refuses to let Kalim spend any money 😭 I also imagine if Kalim gave them a gift, they'd just start bawling because they don't know how to accept gifts-

:3c I love a little kalim posting

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the mystery of the magi

type of post: short fic characters: kalim additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, realizing now that I went a liytle off-prompt, sorry u-u

You gave Kalim one rule.

One rule. You had no expectations, no requirements, no shopping list.

Just one rule... that happened to be impossible for him to follow.

"No money?" Jamil asks, watching Kalim pace the room. "You can't spend any money? So no clothes, no jewelry, no games?"

It's far past curfew, but even Jamil had long forgotten about that. That's how strange this whole thing is.

Kalim has never looked so worried. "Not a thaumark. They said so!"

"Did they...?"

Of course. Jamil has thought you were weird from the day Kalim started coming home with plastic toys and friendship bracelets, "gifts" of yours. But this is just absurd.

The heir to one of the richest families in the world has days to find you the perfect birthday gift, and he can't spend any money.

Kalim's eyes are wide with thought, which is a strange look on him. "They say that my presence is enough..."

"But it's not," Jamil finishes the thought for him. Kalim had always given gifts as love- handing out gold and jewels like they were candy- which made him a treat for... well, most of NRC. But not you.

"Well... there's plenty you can do without spending," Jamil says. "You could... cook something, or plan a nice date..."

Kalim pouts. "It's not enough! Everything they get me is so... perfect... I want to do the same!"

Perfect, meaning the cheap toys from claw machines, drawings, handmade jewelry, half-edible cookies... Kalim keeps everything you give him. Everything. His room is beginning to look like the prize shelf at an arcade.

"This is quite the conundrum, isn't it..." Jamil mutters. "Are you sure I can't-"

"No! I need to come up with it on my own! They're just... so good at gift-giving. I wonder how they do it..." Kalim sighs. Jamil rolls his eyes.

"Then... perhaps I can offer some advice. The sort of gift you're looking to give doesn't come from here," Jamil says, pointing to his head. He trails his finger down to his chest.

"...It comes from here."

Though that was complete nonsense, Kalim lights up. "I-I think I understand! Thanks, Jamil!"

And then he's gone.

.

Trapped in a circle of friends and Scarabia students, you awkwardly smile at their birthday wishes.

Grim's greedy little paws dig into the homemade cake before the candles are out, getting icing all over himself. You chuckle, a warm, loving sound that makes Kalim beam. Good so far.

"Time for gifts. We do have a curfew to mind," Jamil says, and Grim laughs maniacally, reaching out for the first box.

"Actually," Kalim says, smiling as if it were his own birthday. "I was hoping I'd get to give my gift first!"

You chuckle. "I don't see why not,"

Kalim returns the gesture, and he stands on the table, drawing everyone's attention to him. Jamil raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not seeing a box!" Grim shouts, and you shush him. Kalim clears his throat.

"I'm usually not so bad at this, but I had a lot of trouble thinking of the perfect present for you... until Jamil said I was thinking too much here... and not here," he says, pointing first to his head, and then lower, to his throat.

You give Jamil a confused look, but he looks just as lost.

"So... that's what I'm going to do. Happy birthday!"

Everyone watches in some mix of amusement and horror as Kalim begins to sing... in your honor.

Without any accompanying music, he performs, in front of everyone you know, a song about everything he loves about you. Even Jamil looks horrified.

When it's over, the room is quiet. Everyone is staring at Kalim as if his head had fallen off.

Then, slowly, you stand. And you clap.

You're beaming. "That was amazing! Again! Again!"

Kalim grins, unphased by the weird looks everyone is giving you two, and he hops off the table to pull you into a hug.

"I'm so glad you liked it!"

"Liked it!? That was..." you laugh, hugging him back. "That was perfect."

"I can sing it as much as you want! Every night, if it makes you happy!"

"Sevens help me..." Jamil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Trey gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika idea? Modern AU. Sevika and Reader (mostly reader because Sevika just grumbles about it) decide to take Jinx and Isha to an amusement park for the first time. Sevika is..... okay with it? But it's not her thing..

..That is until they get there and Sevika goes into full dad mode when she rides a rollercoaster with the two and now she can't stop because she wants to ride everything with them.

GOD GOD GOD i love fluffy fluffy fluff like this omg

men and minors dni

the girls sit you down one evening, both of them wearing determined looks and wearing one of sevika's old ties around their neck. jinx does most of the talking while isha hands out brochures and drawings.

"ladies, thank you for coming to this meeting." she greets. sevika rolls her eyes.

"you both forced us to come sit on the couch."

"shush." jinx flips sevika off quickly, before clearing her throat and continuing. "you may be wondering why we've asked you here today--"

"dragged." sevika corrects.

"hush!" jinx stomps her foot. isha glares at sevika. you elbow her. she sighs.

"fine, go."

"we have a business proposition for you." jinx announces. "in exchange for a month's allowance, we'd like you to take us to, drum roll please..."

isha pats her lap, giggling as you join in.

"randy's rollercoasters!" isha does a little twirl for emphasis.

sevika groans. you chuckle. isha hands you two brochures for randy's rollercoasters.

"now, hold on a second." you cut in. "we give you an allowance in exchange for your chores. you're telling me you'll clean the toilets without any pay? all month?" you ask.

jinx and isha nod, and isha crosses over her heart as a promise.

sevika grunts beside you. "and what are we supposed to do there while you two go on all the rides? stand in the hot sun and wait around all day?"

"oh, come on, sev! you can ride with us!"

"fuck no!"

"they sell beer." you mutter under your breath, pointing to the drinks and food section of your brochure. "we could just get tipsy and make out in dark corners while the kids ride."

jinx sticks her tongue out at the suggestion, but sevika seems intrigued. isha's blinking up at both of you with her hands folded under her chin, her gold eyes wide and watery as she waits for an answer.

sevika sighs, then groans. "fine."

the girls burst into cheers.

that's what you think will happen-- that the girls will have a great time and you and sevika will make the most of your day loitering around the park.

but then you get there, and isha gets spooked seeing how big the rollercoasters really are, and you and sevika promise to go on her first ride with her to show her it's safe.

but something about the thrill and watching her girls squeal with fear and excitement makes sevika all giddy and excited after the first ride.

it's adorable.

"have you never been on a roller coaster before, babe?"

"it's been almost twenty years!" she laughs, hoisting isha onto her shoulders. "okay, which one are we hitting next?" she asks jinx. isha squeals with excitement. you pout.

"we!? what about me?! i'll get sick if i go on another one of those rides."

sevika turns to you with a pout. your heart swells in your chest.

"c'mon, baby, please? just a few more rides, and i'm yours for the day. i just wanna do the log flume. and maybe the one with the loops."

"and the death dropper." jinx adds on. sevika nods.

"yeah, and the death dropper."

you examine your wife, laughter bubbling up in your lungs as you take in the excited, childlike glimmer in her eye. she's just as excited as isha and jinx. "you kids go have fun. if you need me, i'll be by the funnel cakes and beer." you say, shooing your family away toward the rides.

sevika grins, kissing your cheek and taking off with jinx at her side, isha cackling as they run toward the next ride.

so, you don't get to make out with your wife much. but you get a whole bunch of fun pictures of your family on the rides, a lot of cotton candy, and three million watt smiles from your girls and wife every time they come off a ride.

when the day winds down and the girls get tired, you walk around the carnival booths on the park grounds, letting isha and jinx play games and win bears.

sevika's got an arm slung around your shoulders, a smile on her lips. "'m sorry i abandoned you today." she says. you laugh.

"are you kidding? i had a blast today. getting to watch you three have all that fun, snacking and drinking to my heart's content-- we should do this every weekend." you suggest.

isha and jinx both perk up at that. sevika cackles. "no! no, we can not afford that. but, we can come back for isha's birthday." she suggests.

isha wins you a teddy bear with one of the darts games, then sevika gets jealous and tries to win you one of the strength testers. only, she hits the hammer so hard it's handle snaps in half, and the attendant has to close the stand for the night.

you buy the girls slushies then pile into the ferris wheel.

the sun is setting on the horizon, lighting up the little cart the four of you sit in. isha and jinx are chattering to themselves with their faces pressed against the glass, giving you and sevika some semblance of privacy on your little seat.

"you really had fun today?" sevika asks. you smile and nod.

"it was amazing. i love hearing you all laugh like that. especially you." you say.

sevika grins and swoops in to kiss you, just as your cart reaches the top of the wheel.

the girls 'ooh' and 'aah' and the height and the sights, and then they both groan when they turn around and find you two kissing.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

[paxtito]

birthday girl

pairings: wednesday x reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: none really, kissing and swearing here and there.

summary: wednesday was born november 13th, 2006, it’s her birthday soon so enid- being overly invested in your relationship- convinces you to plan a birthday surprise. you steal a very expensive book and put together an addams family themed escape room.

a/n: i’ve written quite a few fics since august so i’m just doing a little clear out of my drafts. apologies in advance for any mistakes. i’m no edgar allan poe expert, don’t come for me if the price is wrong.

MASTERLIST

It’s officially November. Wednesday’s birth month. You wasn’t planning on doing anything for it out of respect to her boundaries but Enid’s constant yapping in your ear brought you to the brink of insanity.

“Jesus! Fine, Enid… We’ll plan something, okay? Stop talking my ear off.”

Enid squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. "Oh my gosh, yes! This is going to be so much fun!"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. Enid's enthusiasm was infectious, even if her ideas were sometimes a bit... much.

"Alright, let's brainstorm," Enid said, plopping down onto your bed next to you. "What does Wednesday like? Besides death and darkness, I mean."

You chuckled. "Well, she seems to enjoy solving mysteries and puzzles. And she has a thing for creepy crawlies… Dead things…”

Enid wrinkled her nose in distaste but nodded. "Okay, so maybe not a spa day then. How about a murder mystery party? We could invite everyone and have them dress up in costume!"

You shook your head. "Wednesday doesn't really do 'parties' or 'people'. She'd probably just end up killing someone for real."

"Good point," Enid sighed. "Hmm… What about a private escape room experience? Just the two of you, working together to solve some kind of creepy puzzle. That way it's intimate but still fits her interests."

You considered it. That actually didn't sound half bad. "Yeah, I could see her getting into that. Let me look into it."

Enid beamed. "Perfect! Oh, and don't forget her favorite foods - bugs and gross stuff. You could make her a special birthday cake with... I don't know, worms or something?"

You made a face. "I have to draw the line somewhere, Enid. I may love her, but I'm not putting actual worms in a cake… I’m not touching worms.” You grimace, a shiver running down your spine at the thought.

Enid pouted but nodded in understanding. "Fair enough. I guess you could always just make it look like there are worms in it. You know, like those chocolate bugs they sell online? That might be more her speed anyway.”

You shake your head firmly. "No food. Definitely no bugs or anything gross. I'm drawing the line there."

Enid sighs. "Alright, alright. No bugs in the food. But we need to get her something, right? Like a present?"

You nod, considering Enid's suggestion. "Yeah, a present is a good idea. But what do you get for the girl who has everything? Especially when 'everything' is basically just death-related shit."

Enid taps her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... Maybe something personalized? Like a custom-made necklace with a little vial pendant that holds a drop of your blood or something."

You cringe. "Uh, no. Definitely not going to give her bloody jewelry. That's just weird."

"Okay, okay," Enid says, holding up her hands in surrender. "How about a book then? Like a rare edition of some creepy classic literature?"

You mull it over. Wednesday does love to read. "That's not a bad idea actually. I could look for a first edition copy of one of her favorite Edgar Allan Poe stories or something.“

Enid claps her hands together. "Yes! Oh, and you could inscribe it with a little personal message inside the cover. Something like 'To my darling Wednesday, may your days be as dark as your soul.' "

“Where would I get the money though?”

Enid smiles slyly, leaning in closer. "Well, you could always ask your parents for some birthday money. Or... you could sell some of your old junk online. I bet there are a ton of weirdos out there who would pay top dollar for your crusty gym socks or used toothbrushes."

You make a disgusted face. "Ew, Enid! That's gross. I'm not selling my dirty laundry to some freaks on the internet."

"Suit yourself," Enid shrugs. "But if you change your mind, I know a guy who runs a pretty lucrative online market for this kind of thing. He's always looking for new... supplies."

—

A week later, you and Enid are hunched over your laptop, scouring online bookstores for the perfect rare edition for Wednesday.

"Ooh, look at this one!" Enid exclaims, pointing at the screen. "It's a first edition of 'The Tell-Tale Heart' published in 1843. And it comes with a handwritten note from Poe himself!"

You lean in to take a closer look. The book does look impressive, with its aged leather binding and yellowed pages. But the price tag makes your eyes bulge. "$25,000?! Are you insane?"

Enid pouts. "C'mon, it's a collector's item! And it's not every day you find something this rare. Wednesday would love it!"

You shake your head. "I can't afford that, Enid. I'm just a high school student… I’ll steal it.. Where’s the store located?”

You lean back in your chair, rubbing your temples. Stealing a rare book from a specialized antique store sounds like a terrible idea, but you're desperate to impress Wednesday. Plus, you've always been pretty good at breaking and entering.

"The store is downtown, near the old theater district," Enid says, squinting at the screen. "It's called 'The Raven's Nest' - fitting, right? They specialize in rare horror literature and occult artifacts."

You smirk. "The Raven's Nest... I like it. Okay, here's the plan: we'll case the joint tonight, figure out their security system. Then tomorrow night, I'll break in and grab the book while you keep watch outside."

Enid looks nervous. "Are you sure about this? I mean, what if you get caught? What if there's some kind of magical protection on the book?"

You roll your eyes. "There's no such thing as magic, Enid. And I won't get caught - I'm the fucking master thief of Nevermore Academy.”

—

As you and Enid walk down the darkened streets of downtown, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. The anticipation of pulling off this heist and surprising Wednesday with the perfect gift is almost too much to bear.

"Alright, here's the plan," you whisper to Enid as you approach the old brick building that houses The Raven's Nest. "I'm gonna scope out the back entrance while you check out the front. See if you can spot any security cameras or alarm systems."

Enid nods nervously, clutching her jacket tight around herself. "Got it. But be careful, okay? I don't want you ending up in jail or worse..."

You flash her a cocky grin. "Relax, Enid. I've got this. Nothing can stop me once I set my mind to something."

With that, you split up, each of you slipping into the shadows to survey the store. The back alley is dimly lit, with only a single flickering bulb casting a weak glow. You notice a rusty fire escape leading up to a second-story window - the perfect entry point.

Enid shivers, pulling her collar up against the chill night air. She scans the front of the building, noting the ornate iron gate and the dim lights from inside. There seem to be cameras positioned above the door, but no obvious alarms.

You quietly ascend the fire escape, each step sending a faint creak echoing through the alley. At the window, you peer inside, spotting rows of shelves packed with dusty tomes and strange artifacts. In the center of the room, a glass case catches your eye - and inside it, the priceless first edition of "The Tell-Tale Heart".

You carefully pry open the window, wincing as the old hinges let out a soft groan. With a deep breath, you hoist yourself inside, landing softly on the creaky wooden floorboards. The musty smell of old books and mothballs fills your nostrils as you creep through the shadowy aisles, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you approach the glass case, you can't help but marvel at the beauty of the ancient tome. The leather cover is worn and cracked with age, but the gold lettering still glints in the dim light. You reach out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brush against the cool glass.

Just then, a sudden noise from the front of the store makes you freeze. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, growing louder with each passing second. You glance around frantically, searching for a place to hide, but the open layout of the shop offers little cover.

Panic rising in your throat, you duck behind a nearby shelf, praying that whoever it is won't spot you. The footsteps grow closer, accompanied by the jingle of keys and the click of a lock being undone.

You hold your breath, pressing your back against the wall as the footsteps draw nearer. Your heart hammers in your chest, threatening to give away your position. The shop door creaks open, and a beam of light slices through the darkness, illuminating a section of the floor just inches from where you're hiding.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice calls out. "I know someone's in here!"

You remain perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. The light from the doorway sweeps across the room, and you shrink further into the shadows, praying that your black clothes will camouflage you against the dimness.

The footsteps move closer, the owner of the shop clearly searching for the intruder. You consider making a run for it, but the thought of being caught red-handed with the stolen book makes you hesitate.

The owner's footsteps pause just outside the aisle where you're hiding. Your palms are slick with sweat as you grip the edge of the shelf, preparing to bolt if necessary. The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly, each one feeling like an eternity.

Suddenly, a hand reaches around the corner, grasping at the air mere inches from your face. You flinch instinctively, but manage to hold your ground, not daring to make a sound. The owner steps into view, his thick-rimmed glasses reflecting the dim light as he scans the area.

"I've got you now, you little thief," he growls, his breath hot and rank as it washes over you. "Come on out, hands where I can see them!"

Your mind races, desperately trying to formulate an escape plan. You could try to overpower him, but he's significantly larger than you, and the risk of him calling the police is too high. No, you need to be smart about this.

As the owner takes another step forward, you make your move. Ducking low, you sprint past him, heading straight for the back of the shop.

The owner bellows in anger, his heavy footsteps thundering after you. "Stop, thief! I'm calling the cops!"

You don't dare look back, pouring every ounce of speed into your desperate flight. Your lungs burn as you race through the cramped aisles, dodging past stacks of books and leaping over precariously balanced piles of occult trinkets.

Just as you're certain the owner is about to catch you, you spot the back door. With a burst of adrenaline, you lunge for it, your fingers scrabbling at the handle. The door swings open, revealing the darkened alley beyond.

You tumble out into the night, the cool air hitting your face like a slap. Behind you, the owner's furious shouts echo from the shop, followed by the shrill ring of a phone - no doubt calling the police.

You don't stop running until you're several blocks away, your chest heaving and your legs burning with exertion. Only then do you allow yourself a moment to catch your breath, leaning heavily against a brick wall as you gasp for air.

You turn to Enid who’d been running after you, “you’re an amazing lookout..” You mumble sarcastically.

Enid looks absolutely terrified, her eyes wide and her face pale in the moonlight. She's breathing hard, her chest heaving with each ragged gasp. "I... I tried to warn you," she stutters, her voice trembling. "I saw him coming in and I ran to find you, but... but you were already gone."

You push off the wall, your legs still shaky from the adrenaline rush. "It's okay," you say, trying to sound calmer than you feel. "We got away, that's what matters… I got the book.”

You pull the book from your jacket, holding it up in the moonlight. The leather cover glistens, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride at your successful heist.

Enid's eyes widen as she takes in the ancient tome. "Wow," she breathes, "you actually did it. You stole a first edition Poe book!"

You grin, tucking the book safely back into your jacket. "Of course I did. I told you, I'm the best thief in town."

Enid shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you just broke into a store and stole something. That's so... so..."

"Cool?" you suggest, raising an eyebrow.

Enid laughs nervously. "No, not cool. Crazy! You could have gotten in serious trouble."

You wave a dismissive hand. "But I didn't. And now Wednesday is going to have the most amazing birthday present ever."

Enid bites her lip, looking uncertain. "Are you sure about this? I mean, what if she finds out you stole it? She might be mad."

“She won’t. Trust me.”

—

After weeks of planning and anticipation, the day has finally arrived. You've managed to lure Wednesday out of the house under the pretense of a "special surprise", blindfolding her before she could ask too many questions. Now, as you guide her down the street towards the escape room, your heart is pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Where are we going?" Wednesday asks, her voice muffled by the blindfold. "This better not be some kind of lame party or something."

You can't help but chuckle at her grumpy tone. "Relax, Wednesday. It's nothing like that. Just trust me, okay? I promise you're going to love it."

Wednesday huffs but doesn't protest further, allowing you to lead her onwards. As you approach the escape room, you can feel a sense of anticipation building in your gut. You've put so much thought into this surprise, and you're determined to make it perfect.

The door to the escape room looms ahead, and you take a deep breath before pushing it open.

As you guide Wednesday inside, the blindfold is removed, revealing a dimly lit room decorated with eerie candles and macabre artwork. Wednesday blinks, her eyes adjusting to the gloom as she takes in her surroundings.

"What is this place?" she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Some kind of gothic-themed restaurant?"

You grin, shaking your head. "Nope. It's an escape room. And it's all for you, Wednesday. Happy early birthday."

Wednesday's eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing her usually stoic features. "An escape room? Seriously? You know I hate those tourist trap things."

You place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I know, but this one is different. It's tailored specifically to your interests. Mysteries, puzzles, all that creepy stuff you love. Plus, it's just the two of us. No annoying strangers to deal with."

Wednesday narrows her eyes, studying you intently. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the catch? There's no way you'd actually think I'd enjoy some dumb escape room."

You can't help but smile at her skepticism. It's one of the things you love about Wednesday - her sharp mind and unwillingness to be fooled by empty gestures.

"No catch," you assure her, holding up your hands in a gesture of sincerity. "I know how much you love a good mystery, and I thought this would be a fun way to celebrate your birthday. Plus, I may have mentioned to the owners that you're a bit of an expert in this kind of thing. They're really excited to have you try it out."

Wednesday's expression softens slightly, a hint of curiosity sparking in her dark eyes. "They know about me? How?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "I may have dropped a few hints about your... unique skill set. But they were sworn to secrecy. This whole thing is just between us."

As you and Wednesday enter the dimly lit escape room, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement. The space is decorated with an eerie attention to detail, filled with cryptic symbols, antique furniture, and a general atmosphere of macabre intrigue.

Wednesday's eyes dart around the room, taking in every detail with a keen curiosity. "Looks like they did their research," she murmurs, running a finger along the spine of an ancient-looking book resting on a nearby table.

You nod, grinning with pride. "I told you, I made sure it was the perfect fit for you. And trust me, the best part is yet to come."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, but before she can respond, a low, ominous voice echoes through the room. "Welcome, dear guests," it intones, "to the Addams Family Escape Room Experience."

Wednesday's head snaps up, her eyes widening with surprise. "Wait, what?"

The voice continues, "In this immersive adventure, you'll navigate the twisted world of the Addams family, solving puzzles and unraveling secrets.”

The voice pauses dramatically before continuing, "Your objective is simple: escape the room before the clock strikes midnight, or risk being trapped forever in the Addams family's morbid mansion."

A sinister laugh echoes through the speakers, sending a shiver down your spine. Wednesday, meanwhile, seems entirely unfazed, her expression one of intense focus as she begins to examine the room more closely.

"Impressive," she admits grudgingly, running her fingers along the intricate carvings on a nearby bookshelf. "They've really captured the my family’s aesthetic."

Wednesday's eyes narrow as she takes in the details of the room, her mind already working to piece together the clues. The walls are adorned with eerie paintings and strange artifacts, each one seemingly hiding a hidden meaning or secret.

"Okay, let's start with the basics," Wednesday mutters, more to herself than to you. She begins to methodically search the room, her movements precise and purposeful.

As she works, you can't help but marvel at her incredible focus and deduction skills. It's like watching a predator stalk its prey, every action calculated and deliberate.

Wednesday pulls a dusty old book from the shelf, its pages yellowed and brittle. As she flips through the pages, her eyes widen. "Found something," she says, showing you a page filled with cryptic symbols and riddles.

You lean in closer, trying to decipher the message, but it's like reading a foreign language. "What does it say?" you ask, feeling a bit lost in the face of Wednesday's brilliance.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile as she traces her finger over the cryptic symbols. "It's a riddle," she explains, her voice low and conspiratorial. "A challenge, of sorts."

She reads the words aloud, her tone almost reverent:

"Seek the key that lies within

The heart of darkness, where the shadows begin."

Wednesday closes the book, her gaze sweeping the room once more. "Darkness, shadows... I wonder if that's literal or metaphorical."

She strides over to a large, ornate mirror hanging on the far wall. As she approaches, you notice a faint glow emanating from the frame, pulsing in time with some unseen heartbeat.

Wednesday reaches out, her fingers hovering just above the surface. "Interesting," she murmurs, her breath fogging the glass. "This could be it. The 'heart' of the room."

She turns to you, her eyes glinting with a newfound intensity. "I'm going to need you to do something for me," she says, her voice steady and commanding.

"I need you to stand behind me," Wednesday instructs, her voice low and authoritative. "And when I give the signal, I want you to push me against the mirror as hard as you can."

You blink, taken aback by her request. "What? Are you sure that's safe? I don't want to break it or hurt you."

Wednesday's eyes narrow, a hint of impatience flashing across her face. "Trust me, Y/N. I've done my research. This mirror is reinforced, designed to withstand pressure. It's part of the puzzle."

Still uncertain, you nevertheless comply, moving to stand behind her. Wednesday positions herself in front of the mirror, her stance wide and her muscles tensed. She nods once, a silent signal for you to proceed.

Taking a deep breath, you place your hands on her shoulders, feeling the firmness of her muscles beneath your palms. With a grunt of effort, you push, propelling Wednesday forward into the mirror.

As Wednesday collides with the mirror, there's a blinding flash of light and a crackling sound, like electricity surging through the glass. For a moment, you're blinded, your vision swallowed by the brightness. But as the glow fades, you blink rapidly, trying to clear your eyes.

When your vision returns, Wednesday is gone. Vanished. In her place, the mirror reflects an image of a dark, shadowy hallway stretching into the distance.

For a heart-stopping moment, you're frozen in shock, your mind struggling to process what just happened. Then, as panic starts to set in, you hear a voice echoing down the hallway, distant but unmistakably Wednesday's.

"Y/N! I'm in here!"

You lean closer to the mirror, your breath fogging the glass as you peer into the shadowy depths. "Wednesday?" you call out, your voice sounding small and uncertain. "Where are you?"

There's a pause, and then Wednesday's voice returns, sounding strained and urgent. "I'm stuck, Y/N. I need you to follow me. Quickly!"

"Hurry, Y/N!" Wednesday calls out, her voice echoing strangely in the shadowy hallway beyond the mirror. "I think I found the key, but I can't get it out."

Your heart pounds as you lean closer to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you from the darkened glass. The image of the hallway wavers and shifts, as if the shadows themselves are alive and moving.

Taking a deep breath, you reach out and press your palm flat against the mirror's surface. The glass is cold and smooth beneath your fingers, but as you apply pressure, you feel it beginning to give way, like a door yielding to a firm push.

With a grunt of effort, you step forward, feeling the resistance of the mirror against your body. For a moment, it's as if you're being pressed between two planes of existence - the real world behind you, and the shadowy realm ahead. Then, with a final heave, you stumble through, tumbling into the darkness beyond.

You land on your hands and knees, the floor beneath you cold and damp. As you push yourself upright, you see Wednesday standing a few feet away.

She's standing in a shadowy corridor, her face illuminated by the faint, eerie glow emanating from the walls. Wednesday's eyes widen as she sees you emerge from the mirror, relief and urgency flashing across her features.

"Thank god you're here," she breathes, her voice trembling slightly. "I was starting to think I might be trapped in here forever."

You take a moment to orient yourself, taking in the strange, otherworldly environment surrounding you. The walls seem to pulse with an inner light, casting shifting shadows across the floor. The air is thick and heavy, carrying an unsettling scent of decay and old secrets.

"What is this place?" you whisper, your voice sounding too loud in the oppressive silence.

Wednesday shakes her head, her eyes never leaving the object clutched in her hand. "I'm not entirely sure," she admits, her tone uncharacteristically uncertain. "But I think it's part of the escape room's final challenge."

She holds out the object for you to see - a small, ornate key, its metal surface etched with strange, twisting symbols.

Wednesday holds the key up to the flickering light, examining its intricate design. "The inscription... it matches the symbols from the riddle in the book. I think this is what we've been searching for."

She glances around, her eyes scanning the shadowy corridor. "But there's no lock here. We need to find where this key belongs."

You nod, following Wednesday's gaze as she begins to move down the hallway, her steps cautious and deliberate. The walls seem to shift and sway as you pass, the air growing colder with each step.

Wednesday stops suddenly, her head tilting to the side as she listens to a distant sound. "Do you hear that?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the oppressive silence.

You strain your ears, trying to pick up on any noise. At first, there's nothing, but then you catch it - a faint, rhythmic thumping, like a heartbeat echoing through the darkness.

"It's coming from that way," Wednesday says, pointing down a side passage branching off from the main corridor. "We need to follow it."

As you and Wednesday move deeper into the shadowy realm behind the mirror, the atmosphere grows heavier and more oppressive with each step. The thumping sound grows louder, more insistent, echoing through the dark corridors like a macabre heartbeat.

Wednesday's brow furrows in concentration, her eyes scanning the walls for any clue or hidden passage. She moves with a predatory grace, her steps silent and purposeful as she navigates the twisting labyrinth.

Suddenly, she stops, her hand shooting out to grab your arm. "Look," she hisses, her breath hot against your ear.

You follow her gaze to where the wall seems to ripple and shift, like water disturbed by an unseen hand. As you watch, a shape begins to emerge from the shadows - the outline of a door, its surface covered in the same eerie symbols that adorn the key in Wednesday's hand.

Wednesday's grip on your arm tightens, her nails digging into your skin. "This is it," she breathes, her voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "The final challenge."

Wednesday's hand trembles slightly as she raises the key, the metal glinting in the eerie light emanating from the walls. With a deep breath, she fits the key into the lock, the symbols aligning with a satisfying click.

As the lock disengages, the door creaks open, revealing the room they’d started in.

"That was... impressive," she says, turning to face you. "I mean, it was still an escape room, but at least it had some real challenges. Whoever designed this clearly knows their stuff."

You step forward, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of your mouth. "You're welcome," you say, pulling the carefully wrapped package from behind your back. "Happy birthday, Wednesday."

Wednesday's eyes widen as she takes in the small, rectangular shape of the gift. She reaches out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the smooth paper. "What is it?"

"Open it and see," you encourage, handing her the package.

Wednesday tears into the wrapping paper with gusto, revealing the pristine leather cover of the book underneath. Her eyes widen as she reads the title embossed in gold lettering: "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe.

"Is this...?" she breathes, running her fingers reverently over the ancient binding. "A first edition? Y/N… How much did you spend-“ She begins, ready to scold you.

“-I stole it.”

Wednesday's eyes snap up to meet yours, her expression a mix of shock and awe. "You... you stole this for me?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but there's an undercurrent of something else beneath the surface - something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"That's right," you confirm, stepping closer to her. "I knew how much you loved Poe, and I wanted to give you something truly special for your birthday. Something no one else could ever give you."

Wednesday's gaze drops back to the book, her fingers caressing the leather cover with a reverence that borders on obsessive. "This is... incredible," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I can't believe you'd go to such lengths for me."

You reach out, gently tilting her chin up to meet your eyes once more. "Of course I would," you say softly, your voice low and intimate. "You're worth it, Wednesday. More than worth it."

Wednesday's breath hitches as your fingers brush against her skin, her dark eyes searching yours for any sign of deception or ulterior motive. But all she sees is sincerity, and maybe something deeper - a longing that mirrors her own.

"Why?" she asks, her voice barely audible. "Why would you do this for me?"

You lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing against her ear. "Because I care about you, Wednesday," you murmur, your breath warm against her skin. "More than I've ever cared about anyone else. And I wanted to prove it to you, in a way that no one else could."

Wednesday's heart pounds in her chest, her body responding to your proximity in ways she didn't know were possible. She's always prided herself on her emotional detachment, her ability to remain unaffected by the whims and fancies of others. But with you, she feels herself crumbling, her carefully constructed walls beginning to fall away.

Wednesday's breath catches in her throat as your lips brush against her ear, your whispered confession sending a jolt of electricity through her body. For a moment, she's frozen, her mind reeling as she tries to process the intensity of the moment.

But then, slowly, she raises her hand, her fingers coming to rest gently against your chest. She can feel the steady thrum of your heartbeat beneath her palm, a reminder of the life and warmth that lies beneath your skin.

"Y/N," she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I don't know what to say."

You pull back just enough to meet her gaze, your eyes dark with desire and something deeper, more profound. "You don't have to say anything," you murmur, your hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Just let me show you."

And then, before she can react, you're leaning in, your lips capturing hers in a kiss that steals the breath from her lungs. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, her body melting into yours as she surrenders to the sensation of your mouth moving against hers.

Wednesday's mind reels as the kiss deepens, her senses overwhelmed by the taste and feel of your lips against hers. She's kissed you before, of course - quick, furtive pecks stolen in the dark corners of school. But nothing like this. Nothing that makes her feel so alive, so utterly consumed by the other person.

Your hand moves from her cheek to the back of her neck, your fingers tangling in the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday lets out a soft moan, her body arching into yours as her hands come up to grip your shoulders. She's never felt so wanted, so desired, and it's both thrilling and terrifying all at once.

For a long moment, Wednesday is lost in the sensation of your kiss, her mind going blank as she succumbs to the heat of your touch. But then, with a sudden surge of willpower, she pulls away, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath.

Wednesday's eyes snap open, her gaze locked with yours as she tries to regain her composure. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss, and she can feel a warmth spreading through her body that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment.

—

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (the holiday special) r.cameron

[Warnings]soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, NONCON, dd/lg, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, heavy on the somnophilia, ittle editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 1.6k

In which it's your first Christmas Eve with your Daddy, you don't know what you want but Rafe surely does.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You could think of three things that you wanted for Christmas. Colored pencils, glitter lipgloss, and a small stuffed animal for Bunny. You don’t need any more clothes. You’d been with Rafe for over a month, and there were still clothes in your wardrobe that you had not worn yet. Your room was heaven, with the softest sheets and pillows, and Rafe bought you even more playthings each week. 

Your last gift was a diamond bracelet Rafe gave you because of how well you behaved in front of his friend, Barry. He didn’t punish you for sneaking around downstairs. All you had to do was bring him a slice of cake and sit down on Rafe’s lap while the two of them talked about “getting rid of their problem.” 

There were several trees around the house, but the biggest one was in the living room, by the fireplace, and it was at least two times your height. There were at least twenty presents underneath the tree already, wrapped neatly in paper that was decorated with pink snowflakes. In cozy reindeer pajamas, ones Rafe had also purchased, you sat near the tree checking over your letter to Santa. Although you had a feeling Rafe might secretly be Santa, you let a small part of you believe it was real magic. 

Lana helped you write the letter, and now you were adding a few drawings and stickers to really jazz it up. It took you longer to write it than Rafe preferred, it was already Christmas Eve, but if Santa could somehow bring you exactly what you wanted tomorrow, you’d really believe in him. 

“You almost finished, baby?” 

You looked up to see Rafe entering the living room, most likely finished with his work day, “I couldn’t think of anything else to ask for,” You said quietly, remembering how much Rafe encouraged you to ask for absolutely anything. The truth was you never had anything so you didn’t know what to ask for, “I don’t think I need anything else. But I wrote a nice letter for Santa and I thanked him for everything he does. And I made it sparkly.”

Rafe made himself comfortable on the couch and you brought over your letter, “C’mere,” He said, pulling your legs over his lap before wrapping one arm around you, “This is beautiful work, kid. Santa is going to love it.”

You looked up at him, a smile on his face as he read the words over, “What did you ask Santa for, Daddy?”

“Well, since I already have you,” He squeezed you, making your heart leap in your chest, “I asked Santa to make sure that you have the best Christmas. That you’ll love every gift you get and we’ll have a nice, Christmas dinner.”

You smiled back at him, “I wish I could buy you something, Daddy.”

“No need,” Rafe leaned in to kiss the side of your forehead, “I like giving to you, and I have plenty of money for the both of us. Besides, you’re way too little.” 

When Rafe looked at you, he really looked at you. He held your face in his hands, not tight enough to bruise, so you wouldn’t look away. You were still learning not to feel shy under his gaze. You started to understand that you were just like the gifts sitting under the tree. You were Rafe’s gift to himself. He showed his possession of you through his gaze. 

“Your bows are a nice touch,” He complimented, taking notice of the red ribbons tied around your pigtails. Every morning you spent time doing your hair, and you were slowly learning how to do your makeup. When he noticed your efforts, you felt you were fulfilling your purpose, “And I already knew you’d look cute in your pajamas.”

Rafe liked it when you presented yourself a certain way. He liked things to be dainty and soft. He preferred small jewelry over statement pieces. Pastel colors over bright ones. And you should never have on too much makeup. Lipgloss was better than lipstick and concealer over foundation. He wanted you muted but pretty, just like your personality. 

“Thank you,” You batted your lashes. 

Rafe and you continued your cozy evening in the living room. You’d made it through the first two Home Alone movies and were now in the middle of watching The Polar Express. Rafe excused himself to the kitchen for a moment, taking the chance to prepare some hot cocoa for the two of you. 

When Rafe returned to the couch, you were sound asleep, your arms wrapped around Bunny. Quietly, he set down the cups of cocoa on the coffee table, and the thought of waking you up crossed his mind. After all, your drink would get cold, but you seemed like you were resting deeply. 

Gently, Rafe laid down next to you. You didn’t wake; you moaned softly as you turned your head, nuzzling your face into Rafe’s neck. Rafe stayed with you like this, having found a new love in sleeping next to you. He never really enjoyed next to sleeping next to anyone, until you, and he began to designate certain nights of the week where you’d stay with him in his bed. 

Watching you sleep made him think back to when he first brought you home. You still looked as innocent as ever, but there was something else Rafe liked about watching you sleep – he loved seeing you vulnerable. Obviously, you were in a constant state of being vulnerable to Rafe’s every whim and want, but this was different. 

He tested just how deeply you were sleeping, slowly taking the doll from your grasp When you stirred only slightly, Rafe continued, first touching you above your pajamas. Large, ringed fingers felt over your chest. He massaged them, kneading them, and you reacted by pressing yourself closer to him. 

Lips parted, and holding in heavy breathing, Rafe continued his exploration. He was growing harder in his briefs, imagining the look on your face when you fully opened your eyes. He licked one of his fingers and reached into your pajama bottoms and then into your panties. This was exactly why he never wanted you to wear panties to bed; they only got in his way. 

He stroked fingers up and down, feeling between your folds. Feeling the moisture there, he wondered what exactly you’d been dreaming about, “Rafe,” He heard you whisper, although when he looked down at you, your eyes were still closed. Although the stimulation was waking you, Rafe knew you were too tired to fully realize what he was doing. 

Rafe shushed you, still playing between your legs, “Is bed … time?” You mumbled as Rafe pulled his hands from your underwear, bringing his fingers to his lips. 

“Yes, sweet girl,” Rafe whispered, “Keep relaxing, Daddy’s got you.”

Rafe pulled his body from yours, moving off the couch before he gently started to pull down your reindeer bottoms.  Carefully, he removed them from around your ankles before slowly lowering himself down on top of you, “Cold … please,” You mumbled, “Daddyyy.”

“I’ve got you,” Rafe said in response to your whining; as he settled on top of you, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in like your dolly or a pillow. Meanwhile, Rafe was trying as carefully as he could to free himself from his briefs. He didn’t have to touch himself at all, he was already aching for you.

He didn’t resist anymore, pushing your underwear to the side and then pushing inside of you, his sweet girl. You were tighter, somehow, causing Rafe’s eyes to roll in pleasure, “Rafe,” He heard you, knowing you in a daze. Currently, he felt quite dazed himself. He knew with his size that he’d wake you but he didn’t account for the fact that your body might try to resist, to push him out. It just motivated him to push deeper, “Rafe. Rafe.”

Your voice was sharper now, scared almost, “You’re okay,” He cooed, “You’re …so so good, sweet girl.”

You loosened your grasp on him, and Rafe took the opportunity to see your face. You were adorable in those red bows, he noticed them first, but then he saw your scrunched-up features, a cute wince on your face. It would feel good soon, he knew that, but he certainly enjoyed seeing you resist. 

“What a fussy little girl, huh?” Rafe thrusted slowly, “Acting like you don’t like Daddy’s cock.”

With each thrust, you were trying to gain your composure, but Rafe was relentless. 

One hand, beside your head, he pressed into the couch to hold himself up, and the other, he reached down to play with your clit, “Cum one time for me,” Rafe commanded, although it was the last thing you wanted. He would give it to you anyway, wanting to see it in your face when your own body betrayed you, “One time, and you can go back to sleep.”

Rafe’s thrust was slow but consistently deep. He switched back and forth from focusing on your pleasure and his. It was difficult for him, he could finish so easily with you, but he held out; Rafe knew when you were getting closer just by the look on your face. Your head tilted back as your orgasm spread through you, and Rafe was quickly behind you. 

Rafe caught his breath, still inside of you, and moved his chest closer to yours, “You okay? You did good, Bambi.”

You nodded calmly, “Did I …Did I miss the whole movie?”

Rafe stared, bewildered for a moment, “Uh … no. We can just rewind it, baby,” He grinned, pecking your lips, “And I can just heat up the hot chocolate again.” 

Your eyes widened, “Hot chocolate like in the movie?”

“Just like the movie, my love,” Rafe’s forehead pressed to yours.

He was grateful for the fact that he could give you the perfect first Christmas tomorrow. He was even more grateful for how perfect you were.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

[puck-luck]

a new birthday tradition | jack hughes

warnings: extreme domination, spanking, spit kink, cockwarming, hair pulling, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, degradation (a bit), established!relationship pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: fem!reader proposes a new birthday tradition to jack (based on the request: "jack hughes spanking and spit kink pls") wc: 2787

“Birthday boy,” you sing-song, tracing Jack’s nose. 

Your touch rouses Jack from his nap. He was sleeping on the couch, waiting for you to come home from work, having fallen asleep from boredom. It’s normal for Jack to fall asleep in the middle of the day, so this little touch has become part of your everyday routine. 

“Hi, babydoll,” you greet when Jack blinks his way awake. 

He finds you in his eyeline and sighs, the corners of his lips turning up. “Hi,” he says, voice thick with drowsiness. 

“You know what I was thinking about today?” You ask, smoothing back Jack’s hair. He nuzzles his face into your palm, dropping a kiss onto your skin.

“What?”

“There’s a birthday tradition that I thought you might like.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “I was thinking we’d put a little twist on it.”

Jack cocks his head to the side. “What is it?” He asks, voice wary. He immediately thinks of the first time Quinn told him that his birthday cake smelled like something but he couldn’t figure out what, and Jack leaned down to take a sniff, and Quinn shoved his head into the frosting. He’d rather eat a birthday cake than shove his face into it.

You drop your head so you’re whispering in his ear. “Birthday spankings.”

Jack pulls away from you, looking affronted. “You’re not spanking me.”

You roll your eyes. “Duh, dummy,” you drawl. “When have I ever been the one to spank you? Obviously, you get to spank me. One for every year you’ve been alive, plus one for luck.”

“Oh,” Jack replies. “Yeah, that could be fun.”

You roll your eyes for a second time. “Could you be less enthusiastic about it? You love my ass. You love spanking me. ‘Yeah, that could be fun?’”

Jack shrugs. “I prefer to spank you when you’re being a brat. This is, like, a gift.”

You blanch. You stare at him. Jack stares back. You blink at him slowly and set your jaw, your mouth straightening into an annoyed line. Wordlessly, you rise from the couch and pull your blouse over your head, drawing Jack’s eyes to your lacy red bra and the swell of your breasts. His hands twitch in his lap and he raises one to set it on your hip, to pull you back down to him, but you step out of reach.

“Where’s your sling?” You ask, toeing off your shoes and kicking them away.

“In the bedroom where I left it,” Jack says, snarky. He hates the sling. The angle causes his arm to fall asleep and he hates the numbness. It’s not like he’s moving his shoulder or hurting it any more– he’s going to rehab and PT, working with the best trainers in the NHL. He doesn’t want to wear his dreaded sling on his birthday.

You take off to the bedroom, returning shortly after with Jack’s sling. You hold it out to him with an expectant look on your face. 

Jack groans, but puts it on nonetheless. He glares at you once his arm is properly situated in his sling, his arm already prickling with discomfort. “You know I only have to wear this thing for like two more weeks,” he points out begrudgingly. “And the doctors said I don’t have to wear it all the time.”

You unbutton your pants and lower them, again drawing Jack’s eyes to the matching red thong you wore today, planning for him to see you like this. “That doesn’t mean you can take it off whenever you want,” you tell him. “We decided that you’d wear it when you weren’t doing anything. You’re sitting on the couch. You’re not doing anything.”

“I was napping.”

“‘I was napping,’” you repeat, mocking him. “What if you had laid on your arm wrong and set yourself back a few weeks?”

Jack’s nostrils flare at your words. “I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but you could have rolled over in your sleep. I don’t want you to have to miss out on pre-season stuff because you were reckless with your shoulder, Jack.”

“I don’t want that either, Y/N. But I’m also not a child, I know when I’m pushing myself too much. You’re being overbearing.”

“I’m trying to take care of you.”

“You’re acting like I’m helpless. I’m not fucking helpless just because I had surgery.”

You rejoin Jack on the couch and his eyes find your cleavage again, but he tears his gaze away from your breasts in order to continue this argument.

“You’re the one who pouts about your shoulder whenever I’m around to try and get attention from me. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too,” you argue.

With each one of your statements, you play Jack like a fiddle. He said it was easier to spank you when you were acting like a brat, so act like a brat you will.

“Yeah, but you know when I’m just trying to get attention. You play into it every time, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

Jack glares at you. “You only say that because you’re losing this argument.”

You lean forward, “accidentally” pushing your breasts together for Jack to see. He gulps, eyes flickering down then back up to your face. He tries to steel his face, but doesn’t do a great job.

“I’m not losing this argument,” you scoff. “You know I’m right. You’re just being difficult because you hate the sling. If I called your doctors right now, they’d tell us that you need to wear the sling more often.”

You move forward again, this time crawling over Jack’s lap until you’re sprawled over him completely, ass up for him to see.

Jack’s free hand palms one of your cheeks, resting on the skin. His thumb barely touches the lace of your thong where the fabric disappears.

You throw a glance over your shoulder and offer Jack a dazzling, smug smile. “Was that bratty enough for you?”

It dawns on Jack that you’ve goaded him into this, his hand itching to teach you a lesson still, even though it was a fake argument. He grins, letting out a little laugh. His head drops with the laugh and he pats your ass, frustratingly gentle.

“You got me, huh?” He asks. 

“You’re so easy,” You reply, giggling. 

Jack slaps your ass for that, barely a spank.

“That's one,” you tease. “Twenty two more.”

Jack closes his eyes and tries to bite back a smile. He tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa. “Plus one for luck,” he adds. “Don’t forget that one.”

“Oh, how could I forget,” you say. You raise your hips and wiggle them invitingly, drawing Jack’s eyes. “You should punish me for it.”

Jack brings his hand down on your ass again, harder this time. “So annoying.”

“That’s two.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack laughs, bringing his hand down again. 

You don’t– you continue to count and moan and each time you make noise, Jack spanks you again. His hand moves more harshly with each drop. Your skin slowly grows more and more red, starting to match your red underwear. It grows sore, but Jack doesn’t stop spanking you until he reaches the 24th. You’re a moaning mess, whining and squirming in Jack’s lap, eyes wet with unshed tears by the time Jack blows cool air over your skin. All of your wiggling over his lap caused him to grow hard while administering his birthday spankings, and he knows that if he brought his fingers down to your cunt, he’d find that you’re soaking through your panties.

Jack pulls you up but the straps of your bra, the elastic snapping back against your skin when he lets go. You arch your back and whimper, climbing onto Jack’s lap to straddle him. 

Jack smiles, wiping the wetness from your eyes with his thumb. “How do you feel, pretty girl?” He asks, bringing his thumb down to toy with your bottom lip. He moves it and, like a puppeteer, mimics your voice to speak for you. “So good, you always give me exactly what I need, I love you soooo much, Jacky.”

You laugh wetly, pushing his hand away. “You’re such a loser.”

Jack furrows his brow, humming in a disapproving way. “Now that’s just mean. Maybe I should spank you some more.”

You pout, glaring at Jack. “Yeah, and make me bleed? I don't think so.”

“How about this,” Jack muses. “Wanna give me another present?”

You nod, fingers tracing his clavicle. 

“Get on your knees.”

Jack helps you down, kneeling prettily between his legs. You sit back on your heels and look up at your boyfriend, waiting for his next move.

“Go ahead and take me out, honey,” Jack encourages, lifting his hips so you can work his shorts and underwear down his legs. His cock springs up and bounces back, pretty and weeping from his arousal. You go to take him in your mouth, but Jack stops you. “No, no. Warm me. I'm gonna watch a little TV and if you’re good, I’ll fuck your throat.”

You melt, feeling yourself grow so warm and wet that you might honestly drip onto the floor if you get any more turned on. You go to take Jack’s cock in your mouth, but he stops you again, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You look into his gaze for a moment before his eyes drop to your mouth. You open your mouth, waiting for Jack to feed you his cock instead of taking it yourself. 

Instead, he drops a line of spit onto your tongue and closes your mouth. You swallow, eyes wide and blinking up at him. It’s humiliating and so good, making your head a little foggy and your knees spread a little wider. 

Jack’s eyes find your knees against the floor, your wet cunt. He purses his lips, smiling with his tongue against his front teeth, looking devilish. He knocks a pillow to the floor with his slinged arm, eyes hooded and daring.

“Pick that up,” he tells you.

You move like a machine, grabbing the pillow and ready to put it back up on the couch, to cushion his injured arm. Jack uses said arm to block you.

“Why don’t you put that between your legs,” Jack suggests, voice bored. When your eyes go wide and you freeze, staring up at him, Jack smirks. His voice drops, low and seductive. “I see how wet you are, baby. I’m giving you something to grind against while you warm me. It might not be my cock, but it’ll be good enough, right?”

You could come on the spot, feeling lost. With aborted movements, you place the pillow between your knees and press down on it, eyes fluttering at the friction.

“Good girl,” Jack praises. He fists his cock and taps the head of it against your lips. “Open up, baby. Let me take that dirty mouth.”

He thrusts his cock into your mouth, waiting until your throat adjusts around him to grab the remote and flick on the TV. 

You stare up at him, breathing through your nose. You rest your head on his thigh, the downy hair of his legs tickling your skin. You crinkle your nose, but keep your mouth fastened around Jack’s cock. Jack smiles down at you before turning his attention to the TV, placing a hand on your head and running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

He knows what happens when he tangles his hands in your hair, especially when his cock is in your mouth. It drives you to start moving your hips against the pillow, eyes fluttering when the seam of the pillow catches against your clit. You’re trying to keep your head still around his cock, but it’s hard to do when you’re chasing your own release.

Jack’s fingers tighten around your hair, tugging at the roots. You moan around him, the vibrations traveling up his cock.

“You can’t even last five minutes before you move, huh, baby?” Jack asks. He puts on a mask of disappointment, spurring you on when you open your eyes and plead with him. 

Your hips move faster, the pillow good but not quite enough to satisfy you. You whine, blinking up at Jack. Still trying not to move your mouth, you flex your tongue against him. 

Jack licks his lips, eyes trailing up and down your body. He’s taking you in, the way your cheeks are flushed and your hands are grasping the pillow beneath you, the way your hips are dragging in tilted bursts, trying to maintain the pleasure of your clit hitting the item between your legs. Jack bites his lip as he looks at the wet stain that you’ve left on the pillow.

He gathers your hair into a ponytail, twisting the locks in his hand and pulling. You let out a cry of pleasure, losing track of your volume, too overcome with pleasure. Jack’s pull tips you toward orgasm, your hole flexing around nothing and feeling neglected and empty.

“Jack,” you moan, his name garbled around his cock.

The uninterested look in Jack’s eyes contrasts the slight smile on his lips as he pushes his hips forward into your mouth, then pulls back. He starts to fuck you slowly, but quickly loses his control when you bring one of your hands up to his thigh, fingernails digging into his skin. 

His lip curls with a hiss, his pace increasing. You’re a mess, completely desperate beneath him. Your eyes are shining with tears as Jack uses your throat, his thrusts harsh and completely self-indulgent. You gag around him, your throat constricting, and Jack growls. He pushes your head down, your nose brushing against his pelvis and he releases into your mouth with a groan. His come paints your throat with white spurts and Jack uses his grip on your hair to pull you off of him.

A line of spit connects your mouth to his tip and Jack watches your eyes grow heavy, sated, when you swallow his come. 

“Gonna come for me?” Jack asks.

Your eyes find his and you nod. 

Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weigh next to nothing. 

The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs. You’re boneless, quivering between Jack’s legs. He pulls you up onto his lap and coos at you, snaking a hand between your legs to rub over your clit with a teasing finger.

“Think you can give me another?”

“Jack,” You whimper out, shying away from his insistent fingers, but they just follow you and press into you wherever you go. 

Jack moves yout thong to the side, burying his middle and ring finger into your pussy and flexing his fingers until you’re squealing from the contact. He pushes his thumb into your clit and you grind down, wincing from the overstimulation but unable to stop chasing the pleasure.

“Look at my baby,” Jack marvels. “So pretty, so perfect. So slutty, huh, baby? You beg me to spank you, you fuck against a pillow until you come, and now you’re taking my fingers. So greedy. I’ve spoiled you.” He curls his fingers inside of you, relishing at the whimper that he steals from your lips with each of his movements.

You come again, the heat of it washing over you. You’re helpless to it, feeling like the orgasm is just rushing through you. You shudder on Jack’s lap, your wetness dripping down his skin and onto the fabric of the couch below you. Jack draws his fingers out slowly, not to overstimulate you even further, and kisses you softly.

“Happy birthday to me, huh?” Jack asks against your lips.

You nod, voice soft. You can barely move, so comfortable on his lap, feeling his skin against yours. “Happy birthday, darling,” You agree, and kiss him again.

“Is this going to become a real birthday tradition?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows, a smug look on his face. “Me spanking you?”

You hum, considering it. “Maybe not when we’re seventy-five and wrinkly.”

“This ass?” Jack reaches behind you and squeezes. “This ass isn’t ever getting wrinkly, not on my watch.”

“Okay, Jacky,” you snort with laughter. “Whatever you say.”

notes: *in a marilyn monroe voice* happy birthday... mr. president <3

this was meant to be a blurb. a short one. for jack's birthday. it did not STAY a blurb. that's my bad. i have a tendency to go overboard. hoping y'all enjoyed!

[inmyheaddd]

coffee sweetener — grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: the way i have like 6 other fics i'm working on, this was so cute though I had to write it asap!! thank u sm for the req! wc: 1.8k summary: one of your regulars at your café, grayson— who happens to be insanely handsome, comes in today like usual. but strangely enough, things go a tad further than the surface level small talk you usually have.

a familiar suit clad blonde walked in the near empty cafe you worked in. there was a soft hum of some chatter, but not much, as the early morning sun filtered through the large windows.

some people glanced up from their tables for a second, and some people glanced up at him for a lot more than a small second. could you blame them? no, not really. 

his eyes immediately found yours as he walked up to the cash register which you stood behind, and you found yourself averting your gaze involuntarily. 7:14 AM the time read. there was only one thing that made the early morning shift worth it, and it seemed to be standing right infront of you now. 

today his suit was gray, you noticed. it made his eyes stand out so much more, you nearly stumbled over your words. “you again,” you said, narrowing your eyes jokingly and biting back a smile.

he smiled the tiniest smile, shrugging as if to say ‘what can i say’ before pretending to look up at the menu to order.

“what would you recommend today?” he spoke smoothly, a stark contrast to some of the other people that would come in and simply shout at you.

“why does that matter?” you teased, tilting your head to the side before you looked down at the cash register for a moment and realised you’d already started putting in his usual order. “you get the same thing every time.” 

“'there seem to be no specials, but I'm in the mood for a change.'' he said, his grey eyes doing a once over on you. god, how you wish you weren’t wearing that horrible work apron right now. ''I can be a man full of surprises.”

you let out a small chuckle, “i find that hard to believe.”

everything about him screamed precise and orderly. that was partly what intrigued you so much when you first met him. the fact that he was incredibly gorgeous wasn’t so bad either. 

you expected him to get a black coffee, maybe a croissant if he was feeling extra adventurous that day, but no a large americano and a muffin. he would also get a blueberry scone or two some days, but always get it to go, and never eat it himself.

you almost wondered if he was ordering for someone else, maybe a girlfriend. but again, no. he sat alone with just his work laptop, having his americano and muffin. 

“is that so?” he countered, a slight raise of one of his brows and an amused smile playing on his lips. 

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling yourself. “very much so.” 

you were thankful there weren’t any customers in line behind him that would yell at you for taking too long. but even if there was a rude customer, you doubted they yell.

grayson had one of those sort of intimidating presences that made you think he was born to be a ceo or something. now that he’d been a regular for a couple months, that intimidation mostly wore off on you. you just thought he was a pretty cute guy with an obsession for suits. 

“i suppose i’ll have to prove you wrong then,” he said that in a way that made you think he proves people wrong very often. he adjusted one of his suits lapels, inadvertently drawing your eyes to his arms. “so i ask again, what do you recommend?” 

tearing your eyes away from his arms and back to his face, you asked, “you’re really going with this? okay, fine.” you raised your eyebrows like he had challenged you, but you still couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off your face. 

you rested your hands on the counter, “uhm,” you thought, humming slightly, “well, i usually get a refresher— like the strawberry or dragon fruit ones, or i get a hot chocolate.” you said, then a thought sparked in your mind. “oh! and a chocolate chip cookie. and a cake pop.” 

you bit back a grin— you did not get cake pops or chocolate chip cookies regularly, but the image of grayson with a cake pop or cookie made you want to laugh for some reason. 

“alright then,” he said, ''may i get a medium strawberry refresher, and a,'' he paused, saying the words like they almost pained him, ''two... two chocolate chip cookies, please.''

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

grayson left with his drink and cookie, sitting down at a table a bit further in the back, but he was still conveniently in your eyeline. he opened his briefcase, which you hadn't even realised he was holding. it seemed so natural for him to hold, you hadn't looked twice. you caught yourself looking at him frequently, and sometimes he would glance up from his laptop and lock eyes with you for a moment.

he came up to the counter a few minutes later, his drink finished and thrown away, and a cookie and a half left, adjusting his suit jacket with one hand, briefcase in the other. you fake sighed in annoyance as if his very presence was pestering you-- quite the contrary, really.

he only smiled in response.

''well?'' you said, wiping imaginary dust off of your apron, ''how was it? you sticking to the muffins?''

''I have to say, the refresher wasn't horrible. it was quite nice, actually.'' he said, and you gave him a teasing look that was like, 'told you so!' before he continued. ''however, the cookies were far too sweet. i’m sorry, you seem to have terrible culinary taste.''

you fake scoffed, painting the picture of being truly offended. ''okay, can i tell you a secret?'' you leaned forward, and he entertained you by doing the same, motioning for you to continue. ''yes, you're right. these cookies are absolutely horrible, i agree. but i make much better ones.''

amusement flashed across his eyes, like he guessed you had picked out the not-so-good snacks for him on purpose. “really?” he prompted, a dimple flashing in one of his cheeks as he smiled.

“yes,” you swore seriously with a smile that contrasted that no-nonsense tone, “really.” 

“i’d like to be the judge of that.” he said, his voice low and teasing and- god, you could listen to it forever.

“trust me, i’m not lying. i’ll bring some to work tomorrow, just remind me to actually bake them. i have such bad memory.” 

“and how exactly would i be able to remind you?” he tilted his head to one side slightly, a teasing glint in his eye like he could see where you were getting at, and was entertaining it. 

your heart was beating crazy fast, but it was time to finally make a move on this guy. the cash register flirting was simply not enough anymore. you hoped he felt whatever chemistry you were feeling too-- and that you weren't misreading things. then again, you almost failed the subject, so it wouldn't be surprising if you were still getting it wrong.

“why don’t i give you my number," you started, feeling your hands get clammy, ''and you could text me after my shift?” 

his dimples flashed a second time, his eyes doing another once over on you. okay, surely you couldn't misread that one.

you felt your cheeks get hot as he spoke once again, his voice so smooth and low that it fit perfectly with the serenity of the morning and café. “i think i’d like that very much, and that i'll be looking forward to tomorrow.” 

biting back a smile and ignoring the way your stomach erupted with seemingly a million butterflies , you somehow managed to say, “alright, then. i think i'd like it too.''

you wrote down your number on his receipt, ignoring the way your hands trembled with excitement and nervousness, drawing a little smiley face next to it.

holy shit, you were never like this. your heart raced as you watched his eyes find the bottom of the receipt and give you a tiny smile. you watched him sit down an his work laptop, then pull out his phone, type something in, and put it back in his suit's pocket.

ugh, you would break every rule and look at your phone right now, except you were on your last strike for using your phone in the middle of shifts, and you did not want to get fired from this little coffee shop for the sole reason of seeing that one blonde man every morning and having your usual banter. 

''wait,'' you called out, ''what are you going to do with the rest of the cookies? you said, ''don't tell me you'll throw those absolute delicacies away.'' you added jokingly, and grayson simply shook his head, looking down with a slight laugh with a single blonde strand of hair falling into his face.

''I'm keeping them for my younger brother,'' he replied, a fondness in his voice, ''he's quite something, with his extreme love for baked goods.''

you hummed in thought, suddenly realising this was the first time you'd heard about him having brothers. this was really the first conversation about anything that didn't involve small talk and café related things, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to continue learning more about him. getting to know eachother.

''I think those atrocious cookies will change that love he has,'' you mumbled under your breath without thinking as you shook your head.

you heard grayson chuckle, ''what was that?'' he teased.

''god, i'm gonna get myself fired. forget i said anything.'' you groaned as you covered your face with your hands, already feeling your cheeks heat up again.

''that would prove very difficult,'' he replied smoothly as you put your hands back down. ''I find it near impossible to forget anything you say to me.''

if you thought your cheeks were heated a few seconds ago, they were blazing now. you averted your gaze for a quick second, but his gaze didn't leave yours.

chuckling slightly, you managed to speak without stumbling. "should i start worrying about all my bad jokes being permanently filed away?"

"bad jokes?" he quipped, "i've yet to hear one from you.'' he did not let up on his charm for a single moment, a laugh escaping your lips before he resumed. ''but if you insist, i’ll let you know when you make your first."

'''I'll see you tomorrow, then?''

you nodded, muttering a small 'bye' as you watched grayson step out of the café, the sound of the door chiming behind him.

the anticipation was unbearable, and despite knowing you were on thin ice with your manager, your hand inched toward your phone on the counter.

a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed no one was watching. you unlocked your phone, heart racing as you checked your notifications.

there it was—a new text, well, one from about 10 minutes ago.

Unknown Number:

Already counting down to tomorrow. 🙃 Don’t forget those cookies you talk of, I'm holding you to it.

you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you quickly saved the number, your hands trembling slightly. you almost let out a snort as his emoji choice before typing, glancing again to make sure the coast was clear.

you

i definitely won’t be forgetting now that you've texted I just may be looking forward to tomorrow too 🫣

you were thankful the place was practically empty, because surely you looked like a crazy person, smiling to yourself. you set the phone back down, trying to suppress the giddy warmth spreading through you. the day suddenly didn’t feel quite so long anymore.

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3