#but the last thing I want to do is pick sides when all I want is to roleplay with everyone

[rafesangelita]

…BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB AU

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🪵♡

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who owns a small construction company alongside jj and pope. he wakes up for work at four in the morning and doesn’t come back home until the sun is setting, all of the guys sharing a cold twelve pack of beer back at his place afterwards. he’s absolutely jacked, the years of heavy lifting and hard labor clearly showing in his physique. john b sold the chateau and decided to use the money to start up his business, the rest of his funds going towards his own mobile home, gas, and cigarettes. “you need a woman’s touch in here.” pope would walk into john b’s living room, the walls barren, the only furniture being a singular recliner and a small table in which his outdated television sat on. as much as john b wanted to explore that part of his freedom as a single man, he figured his rough and rugged exterior just made him damaged goods. and who would want that?

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who met you on the side of the road when you blew a tire and looked helpless as you tried to get cell service on the outskirts of the island. your pretty getup immediately caught his attention, the way your sundress clung tightly to your body had his tires coming to a screeching halt as you fanned yourself from the blazing heat of the sun. he cursed under his breath when your eyes fell on him, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “hey, there..” he greeted you awkwardly, a teasing smile adorning your lips as you saw the way he fiddled with the tool belt on his waist. “need some help?” in no time, john b had managed to change your tire, his swiftness and ability to make the task look so easy had undoubtedly drawn you in. the way he effortlessly towered over you made your cheeks heat, john b finally gathering up the courage to ask you out on a date.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who got cleaned up real nice just for you. he called pope over to help him choose an outfit, the two of them ransacking his drawers and closet for something decent. “john, all you have is fifty year old jeans, work boots, and raggedy t-shirts..” pope sat back and scanned the wardrobe of what looked like a true hardworking man— maybe a little too hardworking considering there wasn’t not one dress shirt in sight. after settling on a bass pro shop t-shirt, worn out jeans, and well— his work boots, he was quickly making his way over to pick you up from your place. you had still lived with your parents, your mother smiling over at john b as he walked you over to his dingy work truck. ‘mama, go inside!’ you whispered, your cheeks hot as she giggled, watching the way john b opened and closed the door for you. “she’s in good hands!” he reassured her before driving off.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who soon realized he was nervous for nothing once you two made it to the small bar on the cut. your eyes sparkled everytime you gazed up at him, that beautiful smile of yours making his heart skip a beat in his chest. a few beers later and he was looking at you with that knowing look in his eye, sending butterflies to flutter in your tummy as he reached for your hand, softly stroking your skin with his thumb. john b couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel like this. truthfully, neither of you wanted the night to end, a feigned gasp leaving your lips when he proposed you should come back home with him. “what kind of girl do you take me for, john?” he was quick to apologize, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose for suggesting such a thing on the first date. you laughed. “i thought you’d never ask..” john b’s head immediately shot up at your words, both of you scrambling out of the bar.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who’s so strong he fucks you standing up, slamming his hips into your own as you grow more and more delirious with each thrust. he’s reaching a depth that you’ve never felt before, your nails raking down his skin as he leaves a sloppy trail of kisses across your chest. you’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, his grunts and groans bouncing off of his bedroom walls. it isn’t until you’re slipping out of his grip that he pins you down to his bed, your fingers working through his curly hair as he hooks your legs to his waist. orgasm after orgasm, you lose count of the amount of times he has made you come undone. it isn’t until his hips are stuttering and you’re moaning out a ‘please cum inside me!’ that you feel him spilling into you, both of you desperately clinging onto each other as he empties himself into your needy cunt. after that night, for the first time ever, john b woke up to a full lunchbox packed and ready for him for the day.

[six-eyed-samurai]

My eyes narrow. Ah, it appears I am thirsty and I must now go get a glass from the water dispenser despite and therefore closer to this supposed alien killer. Jessica from HR side eyes me, having seen me just finish my cup of coffee; I cough and choke out a little show for her benefit, faking a need for the icy cold water.

The portly man seems oddly familiar in the way all portly men with fedoras, a paintbrush worthy moustache and a pinstripe suit on television are familiar. His loafers, impeccable. His laugh, booming. For all the world he looked like anyone's Uncle Jim, the one who sneaked you a little extra pocket money despite your mother's clear disapproval, drank expensive wine and smoked overlarge cigars. He should not be familiar, however, for this was his first day at my office job.

He's shuffling about, mingling, getting to know the crowd. I have half a mind to warn him not to shake Timothy's hand, not when his statistics were BOOGERS PICKED: 9.5, or to stop him from whispering whatever whisper he was into Annette's ear because RUMOURS SPREAD: 168. But if I go over there....make myself known, a chat or two...no, I don't want him to figure out my secret yet. Not until I figure out his.

Extraterrestrials. It could be a video game thing, I reminded myself as he moved towards the lifts. Or a nickname for a type of new insect pest. Oh, who am I kidding? I must know. I must.

Will you look at the time? It appears I will be late for a meeting with my manager, so excuse me, I think I'll quickly head to level two via the lifts... it's going down?...my bad, Mr. Campbell is waiting in the...parking basement, yes.

We're alone in the elevator now. I'm convinced I know that cough, that ridiculous tie pin, that pig snuffle of a sneeze into an embroidered handkerchief. What was an extraterrestrial hunter like him doing in corporate? Perhaps, like me, we needed mone-

"Why, it's you! I'd recognise that old briefcase anywhere!" He chortles and outstretches his hand. "It's old Watson, old boy! I saw you last at that party at what's her name - Vanessa?"

Ah. Him. I shake his hand vigorously.

"Watson! I almost didn't recognize you without your beard, old chap."

He chortles again and corrects his earlier statement. "Venusia, I meant, that Martian cow who's always got too much to drink."

I nod sagely. Watson was here after all, for the same reasons as me: we needed mone-TR FXX 10073 back at base. I gesture at his statistics. "I see three new additions to your alien elimination score since I saw you last."

"Ah well." He puffs up his chest modestly. "Business as usual."

"Hear, hear." The lift doors ding open and I step out smugly, straightening my coat and shooting him a pleased look. "As long as you remember I'm still one up above you, Cousin, with twenty eight."

You were born with the unique power to see the most interesting "stat" of a person floating over their head. For most, it's stuff like "TIMES WON GAMES OF POKER: 43," or "PROMISES BROKEN: 105." Today, you glance up at someone sitting nearby to see "EXTRATERRESTRIALS KILLED: 27."

[plethorawrites]

TW: Mentions of dub con/non consensual intimacy or coercion. (From his past lovers, not reader) (A/N this is my favorite thing I've ever writtenreader

TW: NSFW content.

2.5k word count

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Okay, this could be a bit of a hot take, but I am a firm believer in soft Jason Todd during sex.

Especially at the beginning of a relationship. He died young and his only sexual experiences were with Talia, who groomed him, Essence, who he believed betrayed him for the longest time and maybe Artemis, (Idk if that's canon? Can someone confirm or deny?) who was probably pretty rough given her arrogant, abrasive, and violent personality.

So, when he dates you, he's more than just hesitant. He's pretty much terrified. But he's used to hiding his feelings because they make him feel vulnerable and weak, which he hates. When you start tearing down his walls, he starts to panic. He likes spending time with you, thinking about you, kissing you. Especially that last part.

But it never goes very far because he always pulls away when things get more heated. Like, you in his lap, him nearly fully hard before quickly picking you up by your hips and moving you to the other side of the couch before standing up, clearing his throat and leaving.

It takes over two months before he feels comfortable enough to even tell you the reason he doesn't want to be intimate and the only reason he did is because you started to feel like he wasn't attracted to you or you had something wrong.

He rushed to reassure you that wasn't the case and finally told you the —partial— truth. He had scars he didn't want you seeing, he had bad prior experiences, he felt like he was being used almost every time he slept with someone and couldn't stand that feeling because it made him physically ill.

It took several weeks after that to slowly adapt to that realization and discuss how to make that feeling go away. Taking things slow, making it last, keeping it gentle, seemed to be the best way. And it was somehow perfect and tortuous all at once. He let you ride his thigh, at first. That was the first time he'd ever allowed any form of intimacy between you too. Partially because you looked desperate and he felt bad and partially because he genuinely wanted to see what you looked like while doing that.

Not to mention, he was still too afraid to be the one doing anything. So, it was best if he just helped.

His grip was firm, his eyes glued to you. You whispered more praise in those few minutes than he had heard from anyone in months all together, maybe even the year. He felt good. He was helping you. You appreciated it. You appreciated him. He was attractive. You were thanking him for giving this to you. Practically begging for his help.

And it made his heart clench, not to mention his teeth. There were other forms of physical intimacy after that, still only to you, because he didn't want to risk showing his scars or get that nausea in his stomach again during sex. You'd allow him pretty much anything and everything, if it meant he was more comfortable with you and your body. Sliding his hand under your shirt while you slept over (quite literally just falling asleep after eating dinner together) brushing his knuckles against your breasts, hesitant to touch them, but finding comfort in it all at once.

You assured him three different times—before he did it, when his hand was just barely under your shirt, and when his fingers first tugged at your nipples. It's when he's finally a bit more comfortable, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade that you hum and roll over. Your hair finds his hair, stroking it and he presses his lips to your neck, almost on instinct. You let him kiss lower and lower, gently guiding his head towards your breasts, all while repeating more and more praise, reminding him he's under no obligation to do anything, ever, if he doesn't feel comfortable.

But he does. With you, he does.

It leads to him kissing and sucking at your chest until he loses track of time and you're painfully wet. That was plenty, you promised. He doesn't need to do anymore than that. But he does, because he doesn't want to take his hands off your soft skin. So you gently drag his hand down, keeping the other firmly on his shoulder while you stare into his eyes, as his fingers slide through your slick. A sharp inhale makes him hold his breath. The other women he'd been with only ever wanted the most physical part of sex, never to do something like this. You were so soft and warm, assuring him he was doing fine while guiding his hand until you eventually couldn't keep looking at him and had to close your eyes. He liked that. A lot.

The way your hand moved, letting him do what he wanted while you gripped the sheets. He listened so well, trying to make you happy or just keep making those sounds—his name falling from your lips. If you wanted his fingers to move faster, they would. If you said deeper, they were. If you said to curl them, they'd curl. You were so... captivating, he had found. Usually, he was too in his head, so focused on how long until it was over that he never even considered being able to enjoy it.

But he wasn't rushing with you. He didn't want you to stop saying his name. When you finally came down from the high he'd brought you, your first words were a question, asking if he was alright. When he nodded, you started telling him how perfect he was, how good that felt. He liked that almost as much as your moans.

Yet, you felt guilty, never taking care of him. He never asked. In fact he repeatedly denied the offer until you chose to stop asking rather than upset him.

Until one day, when you were on the couch, leaning against him as he read, your hand perched on his thigh. He didn't know if it was the fact that you were wearing such a low cut tank top or how you'd been absent mindedly rubbing circles around his sweatpants while reading over his shoulder, but he was worked up. It took twice as long to finish a page with your motion making his mind go to places it shouldn't.

He was worried, about you rejecting his desires, or something like that. Something mocking or doing something that was uncomfortable. People had done that before, eliciting physical reactions he didn't want to feel. But he wanted to try, to feel you on him the way he'd felt you.

His hands grabbed yours and when you looked up in confusion, he just gently and silently slid your hand a bit further on his leg, towards his erection. He'd absolutely taken care of himself, and often, because it was a quick stress relief that left him tired before bed. But lately, the more he did it, the more his mind wandered to you and that, for some reason, made him finish a lot harder than usual.

Your hand brushed against it and you asked if he was sure before pressing a kiss to the side of his shoulder and sinking down to the carpet below, on your knees in between his legs. Running your hands up and down his thighs in a soothing sort of gesture both calmed him and felt like torture all at once. But it only lasted a little bit, while you promised him he was in control, because that's what he needed to hear.

That he could say no at any time if he was even the slightest bit uncomfortable. When you slid his boxers down, his heart jumped in panic. Of course you noticed the scars on his thighs instantly. But ignored them, because he still hardly ever showed them aside for occasionally wearing short sleeves. You were silent and he was scared but all you'd said at last, was that he was pretty.

"Pretty."

That word had never been used to describe him. Not before his death and certainly not after. Even the feeling of your gentle kiss on his skin and your thumb swiping over the top had him gripping the pillows, still stressed. Your hand took his, squeezing it when your lips finally enveloped him, his length disappearing into your mouth. His breaths were shaky, his hold on your hand getting painfully tight.

He felt like he was in pure bliss, his mouth falling open to pant as his head fell back against the couch practically begging you to keep going. The feeling of your hums had done him in. And his moans, loud and tough, getting whiny towards the end as the euphoria wore off assured you he was fine. He slid his boxers and sweats up quickly, his cheeks red, from the act not embarrassment (he'd say and lie) but you just laid your head on his knee, staring at him, asking how he was.

Good was an understatement. Great, too. Incredible. Amazing. None of those compliments came out. He couldn't speak, just looked back up at the ceiling as his breathing came back under control.

All you'd done in response was tell him he didn't have to say anything if he didn't want to, climbing back into the couch and wrapping your arms around his midsection, resting your head against him. You stayed like that��silent. The only question you dared to ask was if he'd want that again and his response was a kiss.

He realized after that, how truly deeply he loved you.

A feeling he was so unused to, he couldn't pinpoint it for the longest time. You felt safe. Maybe that's what made him want to finally seal the deal with you. Or maybe it was the way his body physically ached in a way that no amount of help from his own hand or your mouth could fix.

Something about it was missing.

He wanted the lights off. You had accepted that, but told him you'd really rather see him. He caved almost instantly, because as afraid he was of you seeing him, he wanted to see you too bad to care enough. You were undressed first, naturally. He'd seen that before, in bed while touching you, or just as you changed it got in the shower. He wasn't any less smitten, still obsessed with every inch of exposed skin. It took a few deep breaths and reassuring words before he was willing to unbutton his shirt.

In fact, he couldn't. He'd asked you to do it.

That felt oddly more intimate to him. Your fingers moved slowly, undoing them one by one, a bit more of his chest exposed with each button undone. You had seen a lot of his scars, after he got more comfortable wearing shorts or shirts that showed his arms. He still never revealed his chest and when you did, he looked away, his teeth sinking into the inside of his cheek to keep from tears brimming in his eyes as he heard the small gasp leave your lips.

He almost jumped when you touched one, your fingertips feeling light as a feather. Tears kept pricking but he refused to let them fall. He was being vulnerable but he couldn't allow himself to be that weak. Your other hand found his cheek, pulling his face to look at your face, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip as you pursed your own, tightly to keep from any strangled sounds escaping.

Your voice was equally as emotional when you eventually spoke, telling him in a shaky voice that he was still pretty. Those words or perhaps how your voice cracked when you said them, broke him. A tear slipped down his cheek and you were quick to brush it away with your thumb and kissed his cheek softly, confessing that you loved him.

He couldn't stand it anymore.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your neck letting himself breathe for what felt like the first time all over again. A real breath. One without any heaviness attached to it because you'd stolen all the stones from his walls one by one. You repeated it, so he knew it wasn't a mistake or accident and he started peppering short kisses to your neck, all the way to your lips, which he kissed deeply, his bare chest pressed entirely around your own.

Your arms were around his neck, in his hair, pulling him closer and his hands started to wander, desperately craving to have you without any barriers anymore. He stared at you, or at least tried to, when he felt your velvety walls surround him, clenching tightly when his hips were finally flushed with yours. His jaw was locked tightly until you started running your hand up and down his spine, telling him he could take a moment, if he needed it.

He did.

Not because he was nervous, since for once, he wasn't, but because he wanted to stare at you in this state and revel in your feeling for a moment more. He did, until it became painful for both of you and every thrust he made was slow and deep, staring into each other's eyes, taking full breaths in at the same time for several moments until his pace was quick, along with your breathing.

Your praise never stopped, even when it wasn't fully coherent and ended in a moan or whine. His own praise for you wasn't lacking either, telling you how perfect you felt, how badly he wanted you, how much he appreciated you waiting on him because he really was enjoying it, probably more than he'd enjoyed anything in his entire life.

When you're both a mess, panting and quiet from the feelings that washed over you both, his body goes limp, laying on top of you. Your hands rub his shoulders reassuringly, although slowly and his hands hold either side of your head, fingers threaded into your hair as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your breath on him. It was silent, until he eventually lifted his head to admire you, your stray hairs sticking to your face, your puffy lips, your blown pupils.

He said it back, at that moment.

He loved you too and couldn't stand letting you think anything else for a single moment more.

You didn't respond, but your lips curled into a grin and a heavy sigh left your chest, your hands moving from his shoulders to cup his face and lean up to kiss him.

He rolled you over, causing a slight squeal from you, letting you lay on him so he wasn't crushing you any longer. You rested your head against his chest, silently tracing his scars as he messed with your hair, the moonlight streaming in through the window.

His voice eventually broke the comfortable silence when he whispered to you, asking you to "Say it again."

You didn't hesitate to tell him you'd "Say it as many times as he wanted to hear it."

With his lips twitching, the slight wit he always possessed came back, questioning what you'd do if he "Wanted to hear it forever."

Like before, your response was immediate when you replied, telling him you'd "Say it forever, then."

[nozo-muu]

Hello Zero, Could you do a hot David Corenswet scene? the new Superman Something like him feeling jealous of the male reader.By the way, I would like to know if you write for DC too

Thank you so much for the ask! To be honest, I'm not the biggest DC watcher/reader so this might be ooc, but I tried my best. Also, I don't really write for DC since, again, I'm kinda out of the loop, but you can always ask!

YOU'VE CONVINCED ME, SUPERMAN

Pairing: Top!Superman/Clark Kent X Bottom!male reader

CW: Sex, Jealousy, Oral (reader giving), Ass eating (reader receiving), creampie?

Author's note: I don't know how to feel about this...

Metropolis was sunny as always. The sun beamed through the windows of the redaction office. Clark was working on a news article about a mysterious figure spotted multiple times over the last few weeks whenever chaos struck the city. 

He knew who that was, a vigilante he had “worked” with a couple of times to fight off some bad guys. He had to admit, he was talented, his energy manipulation magic was impressive. And the way he fought hand to hand… Gosh, it was a sight for sore eyes. 

“Breaking news!” He turned to watch the TV they had in the office. “An attack has been perpetrated on the intersection between Rowan and Mains Street. The attacker has already destroyed multiple police units.” 

Upon hearing that, Clark made his way towards the stairs that led to the rooftop. He needed to do something. Once he got undressed, revealing his suit, he leaped off the edge of the building and flew towards the place of the incident. 

The area was surrounded by police cars, trying to contain the danger, which honestly wasn't going to accomplish much. 

He flew down, landing on his feet. There wasn't that much mayhem… some upside-down cars, cracks on the ground, and some nearby stores with shattered windows. 

There was a figure though, a big silhouette, almost animal-like. It had shards of some kind of crystal all over its back.

“I would be careful if I was you” 

He looked around, seeing you levitating off to the side. 

“The bastard's got some strength. And those shards… Kryptonite maybe? I wouldn’t touch them if I were you.” You say, approaching the broad man beside you.

“Kryptonite? How is that possible?” 

“Beats me.” You shrugged. “As long as you don't attack his back, we should be good.”

He nodded understandingly, preparing his attack while you immobilized that thing with your magic. You could have gotten rid of the threat on your own perfectly, but you wanted to see him. He was so fine, it was like skipping dessert if you didn't look him up and down after a fight. 

The threat now being eliminated, you walked over to the police cars where a head of police approached you two. 

“That thing shouldn't cause any problems anymore. I've gotten rid of its body. There shouldn't be any more issues, officer.” 

Clark stood silent behind you.

“Thank you, thank you. I don't know what we would have done without you.” 

“You probably could have handled it too, I'm sure of that.” You replied smiling. 

There you were again, making small talk with some random guy. He didn't know why, but he hated it when you did that, always having flirty remarks and comments, and smiling at strangers. 

Some passers-by were shouting your names, and of course, you went and took pictures with them, smiling and being friendly. 

He hated it. 

Once everyone had started to dissipate, you went back to his side. He was silent…

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nothing, I just need to go get my clothes.”

“I'll come with you. We can go watch the sunset later or something.”

He grunted. He didn't want that, he wanted to fuck you then and there. To show you you were not about to go around flirting with everyone. You weren't together or anything, but he wanted you to be only his. 

When you landed on the rooftop of the building, he took his clothes and made his way towards a broom closet where he had been putting his discarded clothes to go pick up at a later date. 

That's when an idea crossed his mind. He quickly took your wrist and locked you both inside the broom closet. 

“What are you -” you get cut off by his lips on yours. He was a surprisingly good kisser. 

“Let me fuck you.”

“What?”

“Let me claim you.” He keeps kissing your neck. 

You moan at the sensation, and seeing that you're not pushing him away, he takes that as a yes.

He starts getting rid of his and your clothes, leaving you as naked as the day you were born in that dark room. 

He starts planting kisses all over your torso and neck, leaving some marks here and there to show that you are his. 

He slightly pushes your shoulders down, enticing you to get on your knees. 

You oblige and kneel in front of him, instinctively taking his member into your mouth. You started licking around the tip, slowly making your way down the shaft. The sensation made him tremble and groan…

You kept sucking his cock until you felt him push you away slightly. It was now all wet and ready, but your hole still needed some prep.

“Turn around for me.” 

You did as he asked, now facing the door separating you from the outside world. Clark got on his knees and spread your cheeks apart. He spat on your hole, slowly massaging the liquid around your entrance. He approached his face and started eating you out. Once he felt you were ready to take him, he got up, embracing you from behind and whispering in your ear.

“Can I fuck you now?” 

“Yes.”

He kissed you one final time before lining himself up with your entrance. He slowly pushed in, making sure to not hurt you. You moan at the feeling of it stretching your hole. He paused for a little so you could get used to the feeling of it.   

“Can I move?”

“Mmhmm” You nod, not being able to form a coherent sentence. 

He started moving slowly, but then sped up, remembering all those fuckers you had flirted with. In a way, fucking you was a win against those nobodies who thought they had a chance with you. 

The pace was perfect, rough but gentle enough to not hurt you. He kept hitting your spot, your cock leaking from the pleasure. For an alien, he sure knew how to fuck a man’s ass well. 

He then pulled away a little, turning you around.

“I want you to face me.”

You nodded, and he took you in his strong arms, pressing you against his muscular torso. You straddled him while being suspended in the air, his member lining up with your hole. He inserted it again, this time hitting deeper because of the position. He started kissing you while you bounced on him. 

He took your cock in his hand, and using the precum he rubbed your tip, before starting to stroke you while fucking you. 

“Clark…” You moaned in his ear.

“I’m also getting close, pretty boy.”

You kept that position until you both hit your climax. You came first, your cum coating his hand and your abs. 

“Can I cum inside?” He asked sultrily. 

You hummed, still kissing his neck and leaving the occasional bite mark from pleasure on his neck and collarbone. 

That’s when you felt it, the warm liquid filling your hole. He pulled out his thick member and rested you on a table as he kissed your forehead. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah. You fuck like a pornstar…Damn.” 

He chuckled softly at the compliment. 

“That means you’ll only flirt with me from now on then? “

“Fine, you've convinced me, Superman.” 

He smiled. He officially had you for himself now. And if you ever started your little games again, he’d jealous fuck you again and again until you understood. 

[meazalykov]

car girl

jill roord x reader

the dutch needs her car fixed, and luckily she found the perfect person to do it for her

warnings: there might be incorrect information about cars on here, since I am not a mechanic. I had to do some research for this one <3

the air smells of oil and warm rubber, the scent of your garage always lingering on your skin no matter how many showers you take. 

the radio hums in the background, some soft rock playing through the speakers as you apply a smooth layer of tint onto a customer’s car windows, your movements precise and careful. 

your blue levi overalls are already stained with grease from an earlier job, but you do not care. it is part of the work, part of who you are. its come with the job i guess.   

your hair is tied up in a sleek ponytail, keeping it out of your face as you concentrate. your hands, skilled and steady, press the tint firmly onto the glass, smoothing out any bubbles with practiced ease. 

just as you are finishing up, the sound of a car pulling into the lot catches your attention. you glance up, wiping your hands on a rag, and immediately recognize the blue-gray mercedes. 

vivianne.  

she steps out of the driver’s seat, stretching slightly before shutting the door. the footballer’s blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she is dressed in a simple hoodie and jeans. 

it is not vivianne who captures your attention…it is the brunette stepping out of the passenger seat.  

she is tall, with piercing eyes that sweep over your garage like she is taking it all in. the woman’s posture is relaxed but confident, and she carries herself with the kind of ease that tells you she knows she is attractive. this could be a good or a bad thing but you do not know yet.

your eyes briefly drop to her toned arms, the way her fitted top clings to her, before you look away.  

vivianne smirks, immediately picking up on where your attention went.  

“y/n,” she calls, walking over. 

“this is jill.”  

you wipe your hands on your overalls again before offering jill a nod. 

“nice to meet you.”  

jill’s lips curve into a smirk. 

“i’ve heard about you,” she says, voice smooth. 

“didn’t expect you to be this—” she pauses, her eyes dragging over you shamelessly, “—fine.”  

vivianne groans. 

“jill, for fuck’s sake!”  

you let out a small chuckle, raising an eyebrow. 

“this how you always introduce yourself?”  

“only when the person is worth it.” jill grins.  

vivianne rolls her eyes. 

“anyway, we came here to you because jill’s got some issues with her car. i figured i’d bring her to the best.”  

you tilt your head, glancing toward the sleek black audi parked next to vivianne’s car. 

“what’s the issue?”  

“been overheating like crazy,” jill says. 

“i barely made it to training yesterday without it acting up.”  

you nod, already suspecting the problem. 

“bring it into the garage. i’ll take a look.”  

jill drives it in while you grab your tools, pulling on a pair of gloves before popping the hood open. steam hisses out, confirming your suspicions. vivianne and jill stand off to the side, watching as you move with confidence, checking each component. 

jill’s eyes never leave you.  

“it’s your radiator,” you finally say, pulling off your gloves. 

“it’s in bad shape. you’ll need a replacement.”  

jill sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

“great. how long’s that gonna take?”  

“a few hours,” you answer. 

“depends on how cooperative your car wants to be.”  

vivianne groans dramatically. 

“i was hoping we could go somewhere.”  

“you still can,” you tell her. 

“i’ve got this.”  

jill smirks. 

“you sure? wouldn’t want to leave you here all alone.”  

you huff a laugh, shaking your head. 

“i’ll be fine. go grab some food or something.”  

vivianne and jill exchange a look before jill shrugs. 

“guess we’ll be back later, then.”  

as they leave, jill casts one last glance over her shoulder, her smirk widening when she catches you looking. you shake your head, turning back to the car, but you cannot help the small smile that tugs at your lips. 

a few hours later, just as you are tightening the last bolt, the sound of footsteps echoes through the garage. you glance up, expecting to see vivianne and jill together, but it is just jill.  

“viv went home,” the dutch woman says, leaning against the nearby tool bench. 

“said she was tired. figured i’d come pick up my car myself.”  

“convenient,” you muse, wiping your hands again.  

jill grins. 

“very.”  

you pull off your gloves, tossing them onto the workbench. 

“your car’s good to go. radiator’s replaced, and i checked your coolant levels too. shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”  

jill nods, taking out her wallet. she pays without hesitation, but instead of just handing you the money, she also slides a small card across the counter.  

you pick it up, frowning slightly. 

“what’s this?”  

“my number,” jill says simply.  

you blink, glancing at the card, then back at her. 

“you need me to check your car again or…?”  

jill laughs, shaking her head. 

“no. i want you to take me out.”  

your eyebrows shoot up. 

“oh.”  

“yeah,” she continues, crossing her arms. 

“figured since you’re single and all, i should take my chance.”  

you huff a small laugh, shaking your head. 

“oh my days…vivianne told you, huh?”  

“yup.”  

you exhale, staring at the card for a moment before slipping it into your pocket. 

“alright, jill.” you meet her gaze, a smirk playing on your lips. 

“guess i’ll be seeing you soon.”  

jill grins. 

“can’t wait.”  

with that, she gets into her car, starts the engine, and pulls out of the garage.

you let out a breath, running a hand through your hair as you watch her leave. 

maybe working late was not such a bad thing after all.

masterlist

[leyavo]

| I am my father's daughter |

💖 Dad!Price x Daughter!reader

PART TWO: Agreeing to let Toff check you over, you make the decision of whether not you want to stay with your dad or just take off, which would be so much easier.

TW: Hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/comfort/ some TF141 too. [Part one] [Series masterlist] 3026words

Toff lived up to her nickname, no letters dropped at the end of her words like the team your dad had around him. No she was posh, well spoken and had the accent of someone that came from old money.

The gold designer watch on her wrist and the rock of an engagement ring, also telling enough. Her fingers prodded the yellowing bruise on your rib cage, the rock dazzling under the light, blinding you each time she moved.

She doesn't fit in, too put together compared to the likes of your father. He's still wearing some sort of hat, whether its the ridiculous army bucket hat or a snug knitted fisherman one, if he's not it's stuffed in his back pocket. You're convinced he's still got the same Levi jeans, a few added scrapes and as he says, they wear well. There's an array of plaid and flannel shirts in varying colours hanging in his wardrobe, like another uniform he wears on his downtime instead of his camo gear.

Your dad had slipped that she went to some prestigious medical school before working in the military. Not that it mattered it to you, you'd see a vet if it meant they wouldn't talk to your dad.

Thankfully she made your dad wait in the hall, her office door shut as she assessed you. If you got this over with, you could leave and not have to speak of it ever again. You could just imagine him pacing the hallway, halting to greet the soldiers calling him captain and then resuming his pacing.

Being the Captain’s daughter also meant you had a shared family health plan with him. One you’d never heard of before. He did use to remind you to go for dental and medical check ups, but moving around when you were younger made it difficult. Your mother reluctant to fill out forms to sign you up to a new doctor’s surgery because she wasn’t sure if the new home was long term. Shocker, they never were.

"You won't, uh tell my dad?" You asked as you rolled the layers of clothing back down.

Toff tipped your chin up with her finger, "all patient records are confidential, even if your dad's Captain Price." She pushed her chair back wheeling it to the desk and picking up a pair of tweezers, sliding back to you.

She peered over her thick framed glasses at you, turning your face side to side inspecting the gash above your brow. The metal of the tweezer cool against your skin, she prodded the tape drawing back with a nod of satisfaction.

"Soap patched you up well," Toff said handing you a plastic cup of water and some painkillers.

"Sorry, what," you blurted out, choking on the water.

Humming Toff nodded, "he's good with light touch, probably why your dad got him to fix you up whilst you were out cold." She managed to get hold of some of your medical records, which she requested last night. No doubt your dad had called as soon as you fell asleep in the car and asked her for a favour.

You muttered a string of curse words under your breath, did the whole bloody army base know what happened last night? Toff was too busy reading your record, brows scrunching as she double clicked the mouse.

"You broke your wrist six years ago, but never had surgery," she said, turning the computer screen for you to see the x-ray. "The follow up on here, shows your bone moved during it was in a cast, but your guardian refused surgery." Her pen circling the area of the screen for you.

"We were moving and it felt fine," you shrugged, looking down at your wrist. You wondered if your dad knew about that one.

"Does it bother you now?" Toff said, returning to you and picking up your right wrist, pushing your sleeve up. "Huh, there's a lump there, does that hurt? Any regular pain? Does it restrict you from doing certain things, this is your dominant hand?" Her hazel eyes snapped up to yours as you snatched your wrist back and shoved the sleeve back down.

All of her questions spun around in your head, you hadn't even thought about the pain when there was other things to worry about.

Toff stood from her chair, palms raised as if you were going to bolt out of the room, you wanted to.

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry. Is that all you need me to take a look at?"

"Yes, thanks,” you snapped, flinging your hoody back on and zipping it up.

You're ready to bid your dad goodbye and never look back, but as you swung the door open you crashed into the back of someone else.

Soap's light touch kept you upright, you're trying not to think of him patching you up whilst you slept. The thought alone making you feel pathetic, small in his presence. Like you can't even look after yourself.

“Captain got called in,” Soap said, as if that’s supposed to mean anything to you. You’re used to him coming and going, more focused on his job than you.

More interested in his team, how he so easily referred to Soap as son. You haven’t even been there for a day and he’s found another family, leaving you to feel like a spare part. You want to hate Soap, but you don’t know him. Don’t know your dad the way they do.

The walls began to press in and you took off down the narrow corridor, your sight on the world outside. You needed fresh air, needed to catch your breath and not fall apart in front of Soap.

"Hey, woah," Soap called after you, his boots stomping as he tried to catch up. "dammit slow down would ya, like a fuckin’ greyhound."

You forced the door open with a bit too much force and they slammed against the stairs railing as you rushed down the steps.

"I am not a dog!" You spun around, jabbing his chest with your finger. The cool air swept your hair across your face, drawing a deep breath from you. You watched Soap's chest rise and fall as if he was coaching your breathing.

He tucked the curtain of hair shielding your eyes behind your ear, "feel better now?"

“I’d feel a whole lot better if you signed me out right now.” You raised your brow, wincing at the tape pulling it tight.

Soap shook his head, falling into step beside you. He waved, signalling for the guard to let you both through the gate back into the residential area “Your dad’s a good man, why don’t you give him a chance?”

“Because I’m not a soldier, he had his chance six years ago.” The three years he didn’t reach out, didn’t bother checking in on you. Only to find out he had another kid, another family.

You didn’t miss the tic of his jaw or the gulp he took. All the little signs you looked for when you said the wrong thing, you were good at noticing the change in people. Knew how even the nicest ones could change like a flick of a switch.

Soap leant down, face close to yours that you could feel his hot breath fanning the curve of your nose. “Look, if you’re only here to piss off your dad, I’ll sign you out right now. Hell I’ll even take the blame for you leaving, just don’t go asking him about six years ago.”

“Got it,” you said, voice low but good enough for him to hear. The tension in your body kept you in place, breath trembling as he backed off and started walking ahead.

You trailed after him, keeping your distance incase he turned around again. The beating of your heart drummed against your chest, palms sweating as you balled them up inside your pockets.

Why were you so pathetic when confronted? You could just hear your dad’s voice in the back of your head telling you to knee him in the groin. Take up some space so they can’t take all of yours.

Space, exactly what you needed after being stuck in house with a team of men. You slipped through the front door, not glancing at Soap as you rushed to the safety of your dad’s room.

Shutting the door, you pressed your back against the wood panel. The lock sliding into place, your body slumping to the floor and arms wrapping around your legs as you brought them into your chest.

Your small area of safety calming you. After a moment of silence, you picked yourself up and climbed under the duvet. The memory foam mattress too hard on your back that you flipped over on your stomach, closing your eyes.

-

The constant buzzing of your phone drew you out of your sleep, your eyes heavy as you squinted at the window. You don't know why your dad opened the blinds, the sun making it harder for you to focus. His half of the bed smooth and tucked underneath the mattress, not a crease in sight till you tugged the duvet.

Numb tingles danced across your upper back, you groaned into your pillow and attempted to roll your shoulder. Searing pain stopping you before you could rise from the bed.

Eying the alarm clock, you stumbled out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. You're glad the others are training this afternoon and you can sort this out yourself. It can't be that bad.

You pulled your hoody over your head, wincing at the pull of your arm stretching the skin across your shoulder blade.

Peering over your shoulder, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and your fingers pressing into the red skin. A weeping wound oozed yellow pus just right of your back below your neck. You'd forgotten about the graze, too distracted by Toff questioning your broken wrist.

You added a little more pressure and clutched the edge of the sink, black dots lining your vision. You heard the thud before you felt your body fall to the floor.

Sweat ran down your forehead, the cool tiles beneath you a welcome addition against the heat of your skin. Since when were you so hot? your breaths quickened as you tried to focus on your phone across the bathroom. Your hand aching to reach for it.

Maybe if you just rested for a little.

John couldn't wait to sit outside and have a cigar. The day had knocked him, your call in the early hours of the morning throwing him off track and his duties as a captain, a father. He hated how he got called away whilst he waited for Toff to check you over, hoping to catch you before you went on another stroll around the base to get away from his questioning.

He pulled his boots off and added them to the shoes lined up by the door, the living room and kitchen were clear. The mumbled tones of his teammates drew his attention to the hallway. He dragged a hand down his face, hoping he wouldn't have to readjust yet another bathroom schedule.

John joined the guys huddled by the closed bathroom door, looking around Soap for a clue of what the hell they were doing. "I mean we could shimmy the door open, pop it out of the frame with a bit of force," Ghost said, his calloused hand tracing the wood.

They’re all covered in sweat from their training session. Thinking they’d revert back to their bathroom schedules like normal, but they’re locked out. Only the new recruits use the communal showers.

"I don't think kickin’ the door in, is gonna make the lass feel safe." Soap said, arm shooting across the guys before they could move. The warped door's been wreaking havoc since they were assigned the house, but they haven't been bothered about taking it off and shaving it down or replacing the temperamental lock. That or wait on the long list of maintenance services.

“What the hell are you boneheads going on about?” John grumbled, their heads snapping towards him as they finally realised he was there. He glanced to the lock picking device in Ghost’s hand and the dagger wedged into the crack of the door.

“The doors locked, she was talking a second ago…” Gaz winced as the captain’s fist banged against the door shaking the whole wall.

John held his hand over his shoulder silencing them all behind him, his head titling as he tried to listen for any movement. Another knock on the door, "hey kiddo, you alright in there? If you can hear me give me something, anything."

A light tap bounced back, the tension in the captains shoulders easing at the sound.

"Can't kick the door in, there ain’t enough room in there for it to fall. Could hurt her," Gaz said, he yanked the dagger out of the door and shoved it back into Soap's hand.

"Could take the window out and go in that way." Ghost added, as if they were planning to scale a building and ambush a rogue team.

Their mumbled voices merged together in the cramped hallway.

"Window it is."

Gaz volunteered to climb through the second floor window and break the lock from the inside. John holding his breath as he waited on the other side, his chest stung at the sight of you in Gaz's arms. The ringing in his ear and the hands pushing him forwards kept him in tow behind Gaz. You were so pale, words slurred and hand dropping over his arm like a dead weight.

John was no stranger to the infirmary, he'd been sat either at someone's bedside or the unconscious one receiving aid. What he wasn't used to though, was his daughter strung up with an IV and sleeping off the medication Toff had given her.

Nurses flitted back and forth from the bed, herding John to the side as they assessed you. Gaz and Soap had gone back to the house to sleep, Ghost fixed the door and the lock and stopped by to give the captain a strong flask of coffee leaving straight after.

The constant questions, ones he didn't know since he'd never been asked before. How could he not know if you were allergic to anything or if there were any underlying health issues? It hadn't even been two days since you'd come back into his life and he didn't know you at all.

Hours had passed since Gaz had carried you through the house and to the infirmary. Your skin pale and clammy, hair sticking to your forehead. He'd never seen you like that, lost for words as he trailed after them.

The marks of another man's grasp circled your bicep, green bruise fading, but visible as you laid in the bed. John thought the split lip and gashes on your head and brow were bad, the wound on your back much worse. Couldn't understand how you carried the pain so well, as if you'd mastered putting up with it. That scared him.

He nodded to the nurse as she finished her shift, the clipboard at the end of your bed falling to the floor. He picked it up flicking through the pages and shuffling them back into the file. His hands hesitating as he read your name, Marston not Price. Was he that detached from your life that you'd dropped his last name? He'd even put his surname for you when he'd signed you into the base and you hadn't said anything when you looked at the visitor pass.

A hand smoothed across his back, chair scraping along the floor beside him. “Lucky girl, Cap. Mild case of sepsis, good that you caught on to it early and brought her in," Toff said, she leant her elbows on her knees and ducked her head to catch John's gaze.

He couldn't glance at her though, his gaze on his hand on top of yours. "You were supposed to check her over," he snarled, more angry at himself for not paying enough attention than at Toff.

"She didn't show me the wound on her back, just some bruising and the marks on her face that were visible. If I'd have known John..." Her words cut off by John's hand patting her knee.

"How she looking?"

"You caught it in the early stages, could be a few days or a week or more. She'll need to be monitored here and make sure the infection has gone. A wound like that though with the placement, would have made it difficult for her to tend to herself." Toff flicked through the medical chart, eyes flitting to the heart monitor as she walked around the bed.

John didn't want to think about you alone, isolated from people that could help and care for you. How you lacked a family and friends to lean on during those times. His mind consumed with finding whoever did this to you. Ghost had already asked him if he wanted him to look into it.

Toff hooked up another bag of IV, silently bidding him goodbye and returning to her office over the other side of the infirmary. Door ajar incase she was needed.

A twitch of your finger tapped against John's, followed by the hurried beat of the heart monitor. You whimpered in to the pillow, rapid movement fluttering under your eyelids.

“You’re okay, kid. Just relax, your old man’s right here,” he said, adjusting your pillow and smoothing your hair out of the way.

“Captain,” you slurred, lazy smile tugging your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you clutched his pointer finger like you used to as a kid.

You’d called him Captain as a kid, your mother’s doing as she used to tell you stories about daddy becoming one, one day. Playing soldiers whenever he came home and he’d always let you be the captain, your little voice commanding him to play.

"I've got you kid, you're safe."

- thank you for all your lovely comments on the first part!! :) more parts to come soon! Hope you liked it - Leya

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 5

Hey guys!! Here we have the next part of this lovely fic. I've been steadily working on it, just not on WIP Wednesdays because... well... it's getting really spoiler-y and I don't want to ruin your fun.

In this we Chrissy acting suspicious and Steve deals with a couple of Fey. Yep. Fey.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

Steve decided that he was going to do his own errands this morning, as he had been using the kids after the attack on Bav to make sure she was going to be okay. But she nudged him out the door today with a basket full of his medicines.

His nosy curious nature brought him to the Munson’s door first, Wayne’s arthritis medicine in hand.

He knocked on the door and wasn’t surprised when Chrissy came out of it when it opened. He nodded. “Miss Cunningham.”

“Oh!” she cried, blushing bright red. “Hello, Steve! Wayne isn’t in right now, but I can take that for him.”

Steve stepped back, clutching the basket to his chest. “I’ve got other errands to run, I’ll just come back.”

She reached out for the basket and he took another step back. “It’s fine, Steve. I’ll make sure he gets them.”

Steve shook his head. He didn’t trust her. He tried scrying on her after Robin’s pronouncement that she was visiting Eddie and couldn’t. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to find out.

“I’ll come back,” he said, firmly. “Have a good a day!” He turned on his heel and hurried down the path, careful not to look back. His heart was going a mile a minute and his lungs tightened around his quickening breaths.

Behind him he heard Eddie’s voice call out, “Who was that?”

“No one,” was the unsettling response and then the sound of the door closing, echoed in his ears.

Steve hurried down the path. He didn’t know what her reasoning for lying was, but it sent a chill down his spine. There was something rotting in this town, but to be fair, that was why his mother sent him here in the first place. It was too closed off for a town of it’s side to be normal.

He quickly finished his errands, with the head of the watch’s house last. Jim Hopper was a good man who had left Hawkins to start a new life, but had come back after the death of his daughter and his wife subsequent descent into madness.

Wayne wasn’t the only one to use his arthritis medicine, Jim used it often too. Especially after a long day out in the rain.

Steve enjoyed visiting Jim for another reason.

“Steve!” a voice cried out and suddenly he had a armful.

Steve wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “Good afternoon, Elinor, is your dad home?”

The little girl looked up at him with a big grin. “Yes, he’s home. But so is Father and Mother...”

Ah. That would explain how gleeful she was.

Elinor Hopper was a changeling. She had been swapped with another child like they always were, but what they didn’t count on was the baby being dropped off at a way station and picked up by Jim Hopper. He, still grieving the loss of his own daughter, Sara, nursed the changeling back to health and properly took care of her.

And when the fae came to take back the stump they had used to swap create her, they found a happy, healthy child instead. A child they could not take back to the faerie lands without Hopper’s permission. One he refused to give.

Steve had managed to intervene in time before the sidhe got upset enough to raze the whole town. He got them all to agree to terms that Jim would raise Elinor as his own and she would return to the faerie lands when she was grown and could make her own decisions and they would pay for her upbringing.

After all, it was their fault she was created in the first place. It did make for some awkward moments over the years. Most when the fae got tired of paying for her upkeep and would show up to demand her back.

Honestly though, Steve thought it was the funniest thing because try as they might they could never get his name to bend him to their will. Because he would go by Jim or Hopper, never James. Steve didn’t think there was a single soul anywhere who knew it was for sure, James.

“I’ll go smooth things out again,” he promised kissing her forehead.

Steve walked into the house and there stood the most graceful, elegant beings you had ever seen. Both were tall and thin, but in an uncanny valley kind of way. Their hair was long and blond, coming to the middle of his back and her waist. Their eyes were a bright, unnatural blue and their clothing screamed wealth in ways no human could match.

“Lord Eanethreal, Lady Melisande,” he said bowing, “it is good to see you again.”

Both pairs of blue eyes and a third more natural pair of blue eyes turned to him. Steve looked unassuming most days, but not in that moment. Not then.

He stood up straight and his clothes that were a warm, olive green most of the time, had shifted from an earthy tone, to a glittering emerald green and on his head was a matching pointed hat that denoted his profession and rank. The change made the green in his own eyes stand out, making them more hazel than brown.

“Steven,” Lady Melisande said with a nod, though Lord Eanethreal just ignored him with a sniff. “We have come to take the child you call Elinor. She is missing vital teachings as she wastes away up here in the mortal realm.”

“That was not the bargain, my lady,” Steve said with a gentle smile, “as you well know. Would you really go back on our deal?”

That was when Lord Eanethreal took notice of him, spitting in anger. “It was a trick! A low down dirty trick and I refused to let it stand!”

Jim chuckled. “Don’t like it when it’s you on the receiving end, huh?” He shook his head in amusement.

“To break your word,” Steve warned, “once it freely given will bring a curse upon you for one hundred years. Is that really what you would like happen here today? Because you could take her, but there is no prison strong enough or deep enough to stop her from clawing her way back to Jim. So not only will you be cursed as the deal states, Elinor will have wrecked havoc on the faerie lands that will be felt for centuries and all because you doubt the love of this human man for that little girl.”

He pointed at Jim who glared at them, daring them to refute Steve’s statement.

Steve held Eanethreal’s gaze for a long moment before the fae lord broke contact first. He snarled something feral and dark, but suddenly pantry was full and the coffer overflowing. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, the smell of lightning crackling behind him in his wake.

Melisande shook her head. “My apologies, yet again. It is a sore spot for my husband to be bound to the mortal realm thusly.”

Steve bowed his head respectfully. “I understand, but the usual laws don’t apply here. He not the person you sought to punish by swapping out their baby for the changeling, and Elinor did not die as most do. So it created an unique situation that must have unusual rules.”

“There is wisdom in that,” she murmured. “I will try harder to convince him of such wisdom.” She nodded to Steve and swept out the door without so much as a backward glance to Jim.

Then Steve was back to his normal every day self. His head began to pound and he swayed on his feet.

Then everything thing went black.

~

When Steve woke up, he wasn’t surprised to see that he was laid out on Jim’s bed. No, what was surprising was that Eddie was there at the bedside looking concerned.

Steve blinked up at him in confusion. “Did I hit my head on the way down?”

Jim chuckled from behind Eddie. “No, kid. I caught you in time. Eddie was passing by when he saw our visitors and was curious as to the nature of our little get together.”

“That’s a whole story for someone other than me to tell,” Steve huffed, staying lying down. He knew his limits and he had blown past them. “Short version. I make the fae pay child support.”

Jim chuckled. “Steve just used too much of his power forcing the bastards to back down.”

“Why the hell would you need to use your powers to tell them to fuck off?” Eddie asked, frowning.

The room stopped spinning so he carefully sat up as Jim passed a plate of food over Eddie’s head. Steve took it with a grateful smile.

“Because they would only negotiate with those they deem equals,” Elinor said grimly. “If his power wasn’t half the level it should be, he wouldn't need to be using glamour to make himself look bigger to them.”

“Well, Miss Thing,” Steve teased, “unless you have a solution about unlocking my full potential that isn’t finding my soulmate, shush!”

Elinor giggled. “Nope, pretty sure that’s the only way.”

Eddie looked over his shoulder at her and then back at Steve. “I thought you didn’t hold to the notion that you were that ultra rare super witch or whatever you called it was.”

Steve sighed around a piece of bread and cheese, putting down the piece he had in his hand. “That’s what everyone thought were I grew up. That I just wasn’t as powerful as my mother because I’m a male witch, but...”

“Well that’s sexist,” Eddie huffed. “And I’m guessing that every soul powered super witch were lesbians?”

Steve burst out laughing. “Well no. A lot of male/female pairings in the centennial sorcerers as my Auntie Muriel liked to call them, a handful of lesbians, too. But the reason they didn’t–um... think it was me because there’s never been a male/male pairing in any record. Granted there hasn’t been that many because it’s once every hundred years...”

Eddie smiled. “Still out say the last ten or so, it’s never happened?”

Steve nodded. Not many people in the village knew that he was gay. In fact with the current mayor, it was a safe bet that no one outside his very intimate circle knew that fact.

“Still sexist, Steve,” he said softly. “You just said that about of a third of the most power witches were men if there were heterosexual powerful prestidigitators in the past. So your family just dismissed as being male without cause.”

Steve opened his mouth in shock. “Oh shit. I never thought of it that way. You’re right, that was pretty awful of them.”

Eddie smiled at him and then got to his feet. “Well, now that I know you didn’t kill yourself protecting the little miss, I’ll be on my way.”

“Since you’re here,” Steve said, pointing to the basket on the table, “you might as well take your uncle’s medicine with you. He was going to be my last stop.”

Eddie picked up the basket and one of the packets, frowning at them. He picked up the rest of the packets and tucked them into the safety of his inner pocket of vest.

“I’ll make sure he gets them,” he murmured. “Seriously though, you need to stop using up all your power to protect others, or you might just burn out before you meet your soulmate.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “I’ll probably never meet them here, this town isn’t very friendly for people like me.” He tilted the head to side. “The witch thing doesn’t help either.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “You really are something else, Harrington. Take care of yourself. you hear?”

“Will do,” Steve murmured softly. “Say hello to Wayne for me.”

Eddie nodded and then slipped out of the house. Both Jim and Elinor turned to Steve.

“He didn’t touch you or Dad,” Elinor said succinctly, tilting her head to the side. “But he rustled my hair, why?”

Jim huffed a breath through his nose. “Probably for the same reason Steve here doesn’t touch men. He knows his soulmate is a man and it would be pitchforks and torches if happened to be the wrong man.”

She nodded sagely. “I’m sorry you were forced to use your powers so soon after the incident with the Carver boy. I hope you find your soulmate quickly. I fear there is a storm coming that will alter this town forever.”

Then she smiled and skipped out of the house as if nothing had happened.

Jim and Steve looked at each other in concern.

“Well,” Jim said darkly, “that was fucking ominous.”

Steve could only agree.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @watermelonmite @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @cryptid-system @kultiras @kimsnooks

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight

10- @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1

[awrkive]

[TEASER] CATCH YOUR WAVE (m) — JJK.

the last thing you expected when you strolled into your new school is to become the favorite project of the 5’11” tatted-up overly enthusiastic, golden-retriever-in-human-form PE teacher, jeon jungkook. he’s all goofy grins, bad math puns, and relentless charm, while you’re busy pretending you’re immune to his antics... spoiler alert: you’re not. and that infuriates you. 

alternatively, jungkook tries to prove that opposites don’t just attract — they collide. a classic case of one plus one equals: “oh, no. i like him.”

PAIRING jeon jungkook x (female) reader

GENRE r18+ (fuff, slight angst, mature content) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WORD COUNT ~15k (still working around the final wc)

TEASER WORD COUNT 1.8k words

WARNINGS/MISC teachers!au, pe teacher!jk, math teacher!reader, seven!jungkook, himbo!jk, coworkers!au (works in the same school), oc gets kinda mean sometimes but jungkook likes it lmfao, extremely corny pick up lines.. he tries 💔 2000s romcoms references (sorry) warnings for this teaser: nothing major. just bad math puns delivered by himbo jungkook :')

NOTES inspired by the whole “can she gaf me💔” vibes in the seven mv (by jungkook) and ultimately the click five’s song, catch your wave (hence the title🥸 pls listen to the song for the whole vibes hehe <3). ive been wanting to write himbo jk for awhile bcs all my jks are like … smart so far so i thought wait we need to change that. gahhhh im so so freaking excited ive been thinking about writing this ever ever since i wrote that one himbo jk drabble 💃🏼

[ CYW MOODBOARD ] • [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

RELEASE DATE 2025, FEBRUARY 15TH | 01:00 AM KOREAN STANDARD TIME (GMT+9)

They say life is a balance of good and bad days, and you’re not a pessimistic person, but sometimes enough is enough. How is your week already this bad when it’s just barely started? 

Sunday morning, when you picked up your laundry from the shop, you were too late to realize that you mixed not just one but two white underwear with the colored loads. You’d blame it on the fact that they were too tiny, too flimsy for you to notice. But you know you should’ve double-checked before putting them in the machine. And now you have lost two panties. And in this economy? That shit cost a ton. 

When Monday came and the head of the Math Department informed you there was a sudden shift in your schedule for the semester, it meant that instead of teaching three Algebra classes for tenth graders, you’re also teaching pre-Algebra for eighth graders, meaning you’re gonna have to cross the long walk from the high school building to the middle school one, the latter being all the way to the left wing, completely the opposite side of the right wing where the faculty room and your initial classes are. 

Today, you’ve woken up with your WiFi not connected to the internet (something you have to talk to your landlord about when you come back home) and just two minutes ago, you realized you forgot to take your coffee order with you from the cafe across your school building, the sad garlic bread you bought along with it staring right at you without its beloved beverage pair. 

Truthfully, it might be your last straw. How the hell is this happening to you out of all people? The semester is just starting, for god’s sake, and you’re already hanging on by a thread. 

You take a deep breath on your seat before standing up from your cubicle, heading to the coffee machine by the snack bar.

You hate the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep on stocking the pantry with, it’s too naturally sweet – and you don’t like your coffee with sugar. 

But you have no choice but to make do. The cafe’s too far out and your first class starts in about twenty minutes. 

“Good morning, Ms. Math Genius – ready to crunch some numbers today?” 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, you shut your eyes close for a moment when you hear the familiar voice. 

You stir your coffee with downturned lips.

“Only if you promise to flex those brain muscles—” You say, turning to look to the side. Much to your expectation, it’s Jeon Jungkook, leaning casually against the wall with that usual faux suave he keeps on around you – which you can’t take seriously because his big doe eyes tell you a completely different story. He’s wearing some Nike dri fit shirt, one that’s too tight around his chest and accentuates a comparatively tiny waist that you have to force your eyes upwards. But as they do, they land on the biceps that are straining against the poor material. It wasn’t lost on you though that one second after, they’re suddenly flexing. You arch your brow as you glance a look on his face. “—as much as you flex those biceps.” 

Jungkook’s lips curl into a huge grin, expecting the jab. 

“You know it!” He chuckles, running his fingers through his bangs. “I’m all about solving problems, and I’d say my favorite equation is you plus me equals a perfect start to the day.” 

You fight a loud groan from escaping your lips as soon as he says that, giving him a certain look before shaking your head and going back to your coffee. 

But you should’ve known better by now, because Jungkook – aside from being a PE teacher extraordinaire and every student’s favorite at that, Thee Football Coach, 5’11” tatted brunette with a long, fluffy hair paired with an objectively, annoyingly attractive face – is persistent. 

Most especially when it comes to annoying you. 

A few steps, and then you feel him getting closer to you. 

“Did you know that—” 

You roll your eyes. That’s it. If it’s another one of his corny math pick-up lines again you swear to god— 

“Jungkook, you don’t have to keep doing this everyda—” 

“—we’re like parallel lines?” 

“What.”

“Did you know that we’re like parallel lines?” Jungkook repeats earnestly, just like he always does. When he’s up in your personal space like this, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and your annoyance could’ve been justified if he smelled like shit but somehow, even though he looks like he just got back from a run judging by his running shoes and gym bag, he still smells… okay. 

Just okay. As in, you don’t care how good he smells like or how he smells at all.

You make sure to keep that thought at the back of your head. 

“No.” You say, hoping to dismiss the conversation right there as you pick up the cup of coffee from the machine, ready to turn on your heel, but then Jungkook laughs ever so slightly and gives your arm a barely-there poke.

“Come on, entertain me a little.” 

You squint your eyes at him. He challenges your stare with a growing smile on his face. Scoffing, you roll your eyes again before you put the paper cup back on the table. With a sigh, you cross your arms and look at Jungkook. For a split second, his eyes cast downwards to your chest level but he quickly snaps out of it. 

“Okay… we’re like parallel lines… why? Because we’ll never meet?” You say in response to his little request, keeping your tone impassive. 

Jungkook’s eyes slowly widen at your words, smile slowly dropping – as if the logic of your words have ruined one of his million pick-up lines again. 

“I– no! What? I meant, we’re like, always running to each other! Side by side. Parallel lines.”

“Okay… so still never meeting?” You ask impatiently, brows furrowing. 

Jungkook mirrors your confusion. Then, he raises a hand, one finger up. “One second. I’ll fix this–” he takes his phone out from his pocket, types on it quickly, lip jutting out as he reads whatever he’s looking up, and then, “Ohh, I might have meant asymptote lines. We’re like asymptote lines.” 

Your face contorts into even deeper confusion. Holy shit, you’re not dealing with this very early on in the morning, especially not after the circumstances of the past hours.

“Asymptote lines are more depressing than parallel lines if we’re talking metaphorically.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“I would hope I know my lines, Jungkook. I teach them everyday.” 

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners cutely, and you hate how that tugs something at your heartstrings. 

You catch yourself right at that moment.

Jeon Jungkook is not cute. You keep in mind. He’s not cute. 

Jungkook thinks you’re so cute. Gorgeous, most of all, and unbelievably so. You and your signature furrowed brows and pink pouty lips.

As usual, you have your hair up in a clean bun today, and Jungkook can smell the lace of sweet vanilla from you as he takes a step closer to get a cup for himself. 

He loves the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep stocking the pantry with, it’s sweet as fuck. Just like how Jungkook likes his caffeine dose. Kind of like you, he thinks. 

Jungkook casts a quick glance at you again, can't really help himself when you're so pretty, although he makes sure to be subtle about it.

You’re wearing another one of your pencil skirts, one that he has to avoid staring at for longer than three seconds lest his mind takes him too far – but the upper view is even more of a torture, unfortunaly for him. Because as much as you wear the same outfit every single day and it should mean that Jungkook should get used to it by now, he can never be immune to your silk long sleeves, where you keep the top three buttons open – and as much as Jungkook tries to pry his gaze away from the exposed skin down from your neck, it’s like there’s a strange force in the universe that keeps him on it. Doesn’t really help that you like crossing your arms under your chest, too, making his mind run a mile per minute at the thoughts that form inside his head when a very apparent cleavage shows—

Alright. Damn. It’s like 8 am. 

And you were saying something about lines…

“Yeah? I hope you can teach me too, I need to—” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jeon.” You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, taking your coffee with you as you head to the direction of your cubicle. 

The nickname makes Jungkook’s lips curl up. He probably shouldn’t smile, given that you only ever call him that when you want to cut the conversation with him short. But he can’t help it, it sounds sweet coming from your pretty lips. 

In an attempt to not look like a fool, Jungkook bites his lip as he watches your disappearing figure, your heels clicking on the floor as you walk away. Your legs look so long in that grey pencil skirt, and it really should be criminal how you look like that even when you’re just showing your back. 

In his trance, he forgets about the brewing coffee in his cup and absentmindedly takes it out while the machine is still running, the hot liquid pouring from the nozzle quickly burning the skin on his finger. 

“Oh, shit!” He hisses, jumping from the shock, almost knocking his coffee out but thankfully he manages to catch it on time, just as when another member of the faculty walks by the snack bar. 

With an awkward smile, Jungkook raises a thumbs up to Mrs. Lee. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. Looking rad as always.” He cheerfully greets, and Mrs. Lee’s confusion from seeing him fumble with his cup earlier quickly turns into a coo. 

“Oh, Mr. Jeon, you charming kid. I was just gonna get my cup of coffee.” She says, walking towards his direction. 

Jungkook adjusts the strap of his gym bag to his shoulder and takes a cup for Mrs. Lee with a grin, making her smile. 

She thanks him and with a playful salute, Jungkook goes toward the general direction of his cubicle, and because the PE department and Math department are just across from each other, he walks past you, typing something on your iPad before you look around and catch his gaze.

Jungkook automatically waves, smiling brightly, but you only frown, shutting your iPad close and ignoring him.

Amused, Jungkook tries to fight off a huge grin, taking a few long strides to get to his own cubicle. 

His day is already off to a good start.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐕𝐄 2025. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and/or translating any of my works are not allowed.

[beef-brisket]

Adam smiled: You don't owe me anything, Charlie. I know what it's like to want your father to show how much he cares. Picking you was the right option-.

Adam jumped as Charlie wrapped her arms around him. He quickly returned the favour and rubbed her back once he heard her crying.

He was never angry at Charlie. Her parents were together a lot longer than any human child could fathom. It was only right she'd want them together again. She wanted normalcy and to feel loved.

Adam understood that all too well.

There was a chime that rang throughout Hell, indicating the extermination was coming to an end.

Charlie stood back, expecting Adam to return to Heaven. But when her dad came over and hugged him, she noticed more and more exorcists fly through the portal.

Charlie: Uh- Adam. The portal's closing soon.

Adam smiled: Thanks, Charlie. But I'm not going back to Heaven. And I have a feeling they all know it, to.

Looking out the window, they watched as angels flew up, leaving anarchy and chaos on the streets.

Lucifer: A-Are you sure, dove? I don't- you deserve- Addy-.

Leaning down, Adam kissed him: I know what I'm doing, Lu. And what I want. Besides, I think being a fallen angel would suit me better. It's too bright up there.

Charlie and Lucifer laughed before they watched the last exorcist fly up and out of Hell, the portal closing.

Charlie smiled: I'll uh... catch up with you later this week, dad.

Lucifer: Brunch?

Charlie went over and hugged her father tightly: Brunch.

With one-step wave to both Adam and Lucifer, Charlie left the room.

Adam: ...So.

Lucifer: God, I love it when you wear tight clothes~.

Adam laughed and blushed as Lucifer gripped his hips and pulled his uniform even tighter, showing off his curves.

Lucifer: I'm so glad you kept this sinful body~.

With Adam's wi g's fluffing up, he squeaked as Lucifer picked him up, and spun him around.

Once he stopped, Lucifer pulled him with a kiss.

Lucifer: I can't believe you did this... for me.

Adam cupped Lucifer's cheek: You saved my life, Lu. Showed me things I'd only dreamed of. Given me love when I was so sure I didn't deserve it. I'd do anything for you, anything.

Lucifer smiled brightly: Would you marry me?

Adam: Anything- wait, what? M-marry you?

Looking at his partner in shock, Lucifer placed his love back on the floor and got on one knee, pulling out a dark red velvet box.

Lucifer: Adam- I got this... so long ago. I knew from the beginning that you were the one. You've saved me from myself- and have done more for me than anyone I know. I... fuck- I love you so much, and these few months without you killed me. Adam Kadmon, would you do me the honour of marrying you, and ruling Hell by your side...?

Adam was beyond crying before Lucifer had even finished, but when it was his time to answer, he managed to squeak out a:

Adam: Y-Yes- FUCK yes!

I also really love Nun Adam. But this time let him be a real nun and Lucifer come up as the devil looking for a new human bride 👀

I'm weak for aus like this.

I love nun!Adam au's!

Maybe too much.

Who am I kidding? There's no such thing. I'm so keen for this btw!

Let's start a new rp!

[yesimwriting]

omg irl (personally) i would get so fed up with armand like... nothing's ever straightforward with you... there he goesss with his ulterior motives.

I love how you describe Louis' worry in the latest chapter, because as anon requested, it is the crashout of all crashouts BUT its so sublty written and kept between the lines (big kudos to you) because Louis is not burning and killing 20% of the vampiric population like he did in paris BUT there are hints/implication present that he absolutely would do something much worse to protect and/or avenge bestie reader.

And it really shows during the part after the phonecall when he's thinking to himself. Him repeating Josh's name like a mantra??? Girl his last victim was in the year 2000 but im sure he's willing make sure josh will never use both of his wrists to operate a car ever again lmao. Also, being an english speaking foreigner, i'm usually able to keep my accent at bay but i know damn well that Nola accent was HEARD through that damn phone. This reminds me of that older brother vibe ask of yours you wrote before. We all know he booked a flight arriving after sunset so he can personally drive and pick her up from the airport. Also stand as close as possible by the arrivals so she doesn't need to carry her luggage with a broken wrist.

His worry over the medication that makes her drowsy??? Omg Louis loves her so much its sickening what the hell. I need to see Daniel catching bestie in 4k, casually snoozing peacefully with Louis bc she feels so safe and i need daniel to snap a picture to blackmail louis with it later. (the 70 year old senior is louis younger brother confirmed by jacob anderson himself lmao)

The one hundred thousand over set price for her painting reference???? So Louis doesn't even know, I wonder where armand is keeping the painting. I also wonder what his intentions are with reader. Like... what are his feelings, is his interest romantic, platonic, sexual or something completely different.

Now bestie reader is so gen z and i know for a fact the people in this generation will see bullshit from miles away. (we've been trained by social media) I love the idea of armand being the manipulative gremlin that he is and reader just seeing straight through it. She's a baddie we know damn well she will CLOCK HIM the second he tries to shift the playing field. And I know he'll like it too. Just look at him and Daniel. (rip non book readers, devils minion will give you whiplash)

SIDE NOTE: i love the moment in the show when armand is retelling his story of the trial in paris and Daniel questioning how tf a five hundred year old ancient did not have the ability to stop his own coven. Daniel's smug face and the deadpan "Or what?". Daniel GO GET HIS ASS.

Daniel and reader would get along so well.

side note nr 2: i apologize for the bomb i just dropped in your inbox.

omg what a fun ask <33

i love armand, but in real life i'd be so over the theatrics of it all 😭 like yes you're playing chess and we're all playing checkers we get it!! no one will think you're less mysterious if you just answer the question omg

thank you for mentioning the louis thing! i'm glad you liked how i set it up bc i wanted his worry/frustration to be apparent but i still wanted it to feel in character. ik he's not opposed to greater crash outs (like the paris thing for my girl claudia ✊) but i also think that even when he's upset he understands time and place to an extent. like claudia's very intentional killers deserve worse than a guy who has done something relatively minor to reader on accident. however, it's still important that he very much would do the same if not worse for bestie reader if something actually bad happened to her, so i'm glad you read it that way!!

the josh thing pls 😭 i almost didn't have bestie reader give the guy a name bc she knew how he'd react. also i think that while louis isn't chill with murder, knowing that it'd be so easy to hurt someone who he thinks deserves it isn't an easily dismissible thought. i don't think he's jumping to hurt/kill everyone that's wronged bestie reader, but i do think it's an intrusive thought. the wrist thing 😭 i can see louis reacting like that if he was right there, but i feel like louis would only plan out violence if someone seriously/intentionally hurt reader.

this is going to sound off topic, but bare with me for a second. i haven't delved into this yet, but friendships can be just as complicated as romantic relationships, and while i'm committed to louis and bestie reader always being completely non-toxic, that doesn't mean their dynamic is simple. a major thing that complicates their relationship is the way that they worry over the way the other perceives them.

bestie is worried that louis perceives her as fragile and therefore fleeting and unworthy of long term attention. she's scared of being seen as a hindrance and as a burden. louis is worried that one day everything will click for bestie reader and she'll realize that he's a monster. so he's doing all he can to not demonstrate violence in front of her.

anyways, all this to say that he's not going around attacking people partially bc of his values but also bc he doesn't want her to associate violence with him.

also, total side note but this dynamic is actually what leads to reader and armand bonding. louis loves her so much and the thought of losing her is so distressing that sometimes he censors himself a little too much or treats reader like she's extremely fragile. armand doesn't. yes, this is because it's easier to risk losing someone that isn't the your emotional support human, but also bc he genuinely thinks she's capable of handling it. he'll tell her every (non-incriminating) vampire story ever in full, gory detail and reader is fascinated.

the accent comment is killing me 😭 ik that nola accent was HEAVY over the phone. reader felt those words in her soul.

and yes he’s AT that airport and he’s happy about it too lol.

also yes louis loves her sm 😭. ofc he was worried about her all alone on drowsy medication. that's the light of his life! what's he supposed to do if something happens to her? go back to only talking to his companion and occasionally a journalist accidentally moonlighting as a divorce lawyer??

also omg daniel and reader interactions are a need!! daniel being described as louis's younger brother is so important to me here omg. i love daniel and louis's relationship sm, and i just know daniel is ready for someone else with common sense to be sitting in. daniel looks at bestie reader like that one meme that's like 'you're the only bitch in the house i ever respected'.

the picture concept is so cute 😭 might have to write that into a scene bc i can see daniel seeing louis and reader asleep and at first being like ? and then taking the picture to bring it up later.

YES THE PAINTING REFERENCE i'm so glad you noticed!! i was so excited for it lol. i mentioned this in another post briefly, but i think armand's lowkey disgusted with himself for purchasing the painting bc it's a physical representation of the fact that he finds reader interesting. even before louis, before he knew her, he found something about her interesting, and bc he thinks reader has dismissed him, he wants to pretend that he's never thought about her at all.

i don't want to spoil where the painting is (it's not a major spoiler lol) but armand still has it and it is somewhere secret.

omg armand's intentions with bestie reader 😭!! i'm going to give you a short answer and then a long answer bc his feelings for her evolve slowly.

short answer: he has a really intense hate-crush on her. she's so beloved and perfect and basically the sun personified. he wants to consume her soul, he wants her to not exist, he wants her live forever, he wants her, he wants her to be just as obsessed with him so that he can calm down. she's an affliction. she's a blessing. he's going through it.

long answer: at first, he resents her bc she's taking up all of louis's attention and love. then, he starts to wonder what is so perfect and wonderful about her that has louis absolutely enraptured by her existence. then, he tries to win her over for his pride, and then..well...it spirals.

there's also the underlying benefits of getting reader to care more about him than louis bc then louis can't leave him without losing reader (most delusional and unrealistic part of his thought process tbh).

as far as end goals, he's a little lost bc all of this was an accident <3. it gets to a point where louis and reader are so intertwined, armand thinks he deserves to be with both of them. he's entitled to a matching set.

bestie reader's gen-z-ness being the reason she can see through everything armand says 😭. omg. in my head, she likes louis and armand together so when she realizes something is up she's like oh no. bc she obviously has to tell louis but she's not happy about it. lowkey on a subconscious level she doesn't want to not have armand in her life so she's like :(.

still calls him out tho bc she's loyal and also bc his lies are so egregious it's hard not to. i can picture her being lowkey sneaky when armand mentions saving louis, like feigning confusion and asking something like "just so i'm clear, isn't lestat also technically a powerful vampire? and wasn't he also in the building?" just to start something but also as a way of sending louis subliminal messages to lock in and open his eyes.

also i can see daniel realizing bestie reader knows something is up and looking at louis and being like "come on...i know, armand knows, even the girl that was really happy to be talking two minutes ago and now can't stop staring at the floor knows..." 😭

omg and armand liking being called out. this is for sure when his obsession with reader peaks. also, this hasn't come up yet, but i picture bestie reader as being very perceptive and when she argues with armand over small things she accidentally clocks him with next level reads that she'll never know how accurate they are. i'm talking reads so accurate, louis is immediately stepping in between them bc he thinks it's so over for her just for armand to let it go. (might need to write a drabble featuring this)

armand's love language to reader is not killing or torturing her for calling him out. it gets to a point where louis is like ? girl i've seen you kill people for implying what she just directly said?? if louis ever notices that something is going on with armand in relation to bestie reader it's bc of a suspicious lack of attempts to physically hurt her fr.

(also total side note, but bc you mentioned devil's minion, i just needed to say i love devil's minion era sm.)

omg in response to your side note, i LOVED that moment so much. "or what?" had me gagged. on the GROUND fr.

daniel and reader would get along so well. two divas coming together to maximize their joint slay. they're sitting around the penthouse giggling over the vampire drama like they're the immortal ones 😭.

also,, never apologize for sending me a long ask!! i'm currently very hyperfixated on iwtv and this was so fun for me! if anything, i'm sorry for how long this response was 😭💗

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Warm Spring Days

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 12 - Epilogue)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 1.2k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

"Yoo-hoo!" Someone was calling out to you from afar, a dark silhouette against the afternoon sun, waving energetically as they came closer. Levi set down his tea cup with a sigh.

"That's why we should've had teatime in my office," he muttered.

"But it's such a nice day! It would've been a crime not to make the most of this perfect spring weather. Besides, you could really use some sun." You gestured at his pale complexion, earning you a scoff.

"I think I can do without. I'm not a plant. I'd rather have tea in peace than–"

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" Hange interrupted, having finally reached the wooden table near the horses' paddocks where you'd convinced Levi to spend your teatime. "Got some mail for you!"

You squinted up at Hange, eyeing the brown package they eagerly thrust toward you. "What? For me? Are you sure?" During your entire time in the scouts, you hadn't received a single package. You didn't even attend mail call anymore.

"It sure has your name on it. But if you don't want it..." Hange teasingly pulled the package out of your reach.

"Noo I want it!" you exclaimed, jumping up from your seat to reach for it. When you snatched it from Hange's hands, you let out a surprised huff of air. It was heavier than it looked.

"Who could it be from?" You turned it in your hands, looking for the sender. There it was, written in a neat, elegant script: Pierre's premium porcelain pottery, Millstone Alley 15, Mitras.

You squealed. "It's from Pierre!"

"Who's Pierre?" Levi asked with a frown.

"The potter I told you about – the one who specializes in tea sets, where I also got your birthday present." The grin on your face was nothing short of ecstatic as you settled back onto the bench, the precious package pressed to your chest.

Levi didn't seem to share your enthusiasm. "Did you order another one? You already have so many."

"I swear, I didn't order anything! And I don't even have that many... Just seven. Okay, maybe eight. But there's no such thing as too many tea sets!"

"Remind me again, who was complaining just the other day that they're running out of space in the barracks?" Levi raised an eyebrow.

"I can always put up another shelf…" you pouted.

"Uh-oh, do I sense a lover's quarrel coming on?" Hange chimed in, a playful grin on their lips. "I better run before you make me pick a side."

Levi rolled his eyes. "Yeah, go ahead. Best idea you had all day, four eyes."

"You're just saying that because you know they'd be on my side." You flashed Levi a grin.

"Tch, you wish. All I want is some peace and quiet around here."

"You may have picked the wrong company for that," Hange said with a wink, giving a nod in your direction where you were now gleefully tearing the brown packing paper from the box.

Levi's only response was a pointed glare in Hange's direction – his signature death glare, no less.

They put up their hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I get it. She's the apple of your eye, your one and only… of course you'd make an exception for her."

Levi grumbled something under his breath, too quiet to be understood.

Hange chuckled. "Yep, time to leave if I want to make it out alive."

With one last smirk, they turned and walked away, leaving Levi shaking his head.

You barely paid any attention to the exchange, too excited to see what was in the mystery box.

With a dramatic flourish, you lifted the lid, revealing a card with elegant handwriting mirroring the one on the box.

Spring has come, and with it a new collection. Enclosed you will find its distinguished centerpiece. With heartfelt gratitude for the inspiration, Pierre.

Curiosity piqued, you reached deeper into the box and retrieved the rest. It was a tea set, complete with two cups, saucers, and a matching pot. Each piece featured a familiar cat, its nose wrinkled in mild disgruntlement. Cat-Levi.

You gasped. "It's you!"

"It's Herbert," Levi said dryly.

He had picked up one of the cups and gingerly turned it between his fingers.

"You remember that?" you asked, stunned.

"Of course I do."

You felt a smile spread across your face. "It's actually you. If you were a cat."

Levi snorted. "That's ridiculous. It looks nothing like me."

You leaned over the table and held the cup next to his face. "Not true. You're both very cute." In the pink-golden hue of the low afternoon sun, it almost looked like he was blushing. Almost. Levi let out a quiet huff. "You said the same thing back then, too. About the cat."

You tilted your head, eyes drifting upward as you pondered the question. "Did I?"

"You did."

"Hmm. Guess I already had a thing for you then." You put the cup down, leaning in even further. "But I remember doing this." You planted a quick peck on his cheek and pulled back slightly, a playful spark in your eyes.

"You always did have a way of surprising me," Levi murmured, his gaze lingering on your face.

"Trust me, I surprise myself a lot, too. I don't even know what I'll do next half the time." You chuckled softly, leaning back. "But I do like where it's taken me."

For moment, neither of you said a word.

"Hey, Levi?"

"Mhm?"

"If we ever do manage to rid the world of the Titans, and there is no need for the scouts anymore... would you like to open a tea shop with me?"

"I would like that."

"I'm glad." You beamed at him. "You could be in charge of the tea leaves. And I'd learn pottery so we could sell our own porcelain. Ohh, maybe we could do a bird design next! With their wings spread wide, like the wings of freedom! Or we could do one with Titans! I'm sure Hange would love that."

"I don't think the latter would sell too well," Levi remarked dryly.

"Maybe not. But we could do limited editions, each teacup unique with a different design…" You continued to lay out your plans like that, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, until the shadows grew long and the air grew cold. Teatime slipped away, giving way to the night. He didn't even notice. Your smile was so warm and bright, how could he look at anything else?

– –

– –

Many years later, many miles beyond the sea, another warm spring day was ending on a busy street. It was filled with people heading home, passing by the shop windows that reflected the golden-orange sky above them. A bell chimed softly as the door of a shop shut behind its last customer of the day. The wooden sign out front swung gently in the breeze. The Tea Lovers.

A/n: And with this, The Tea Lovers comes to an end. Writing this was so much fun, and I want to thank each and everyone of you who encouraged me with your kind words!! You guys have no idea how happy it made me. I'll be sure to write something else in the future, so if you'd like to be tagged for future works, follow this link to join my tag list. See you <3

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn, @omlyurslvi, @wingoodlilboymyway, @dreamersbelieveinus

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror..............Part V

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length in a later part)

Summary: Geta has concerns. He meets with Macrinus to discuss Letha. Macrinus knows he's going to get what he wants.

Warnings: Suggestions of period-typical treatment of women, 18+ only

Word Count: 2.8k

Part 5 of 13?

[ Part IV ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is probably, maybe, the most Macrinus we'll have in a single part. Thank you Denzel for portraying Macrinus as you did. He's just so charming!

“You look horrible,” Caracalla commented. He sat at the long table, picking at the spread of fruits and other things, occasionally tossing something to Dondus.

Upon getting dressed the guard outside Letha’s  door had led her here, to a large dining table containing various fruits and even some bread, a reasonable portion compared to the excess she’d been exposed to over the last few days. It seemed she would be breaking her fast with the Emperors now. She definitely preferred it over the heavy stares of Macrinus’s gladiators as she stood off to the side in their dusty dining hall, munching on a scrap of bread.

“You’ll have to forgive me, your majesty, my head is still spinning,” she confessed, sinking into one of the dining chairs on the opposite side, waiting for her head to catch up with the movement.

Caracalla laughed. “Did my brother give you too much?”

At the mention of his brother, Letha’s cheeks flushed. 

She could still vividly picture the way Geta looked that morning when he’d followed the healer into her room. When he asked her how she felt his voice was a bit lower than usual. He wasn’t all made up yet, and the robe he wore wasn’t as ornate or decorative as anything she’d seen him in before. And startlingly, he lacked the laurels he and his brother wore. He looked tired, but ordinary. Human. The guard must have roused him from sleep. The idea of it made her heartbeat quicken.

“I don’t know that there’s a right amount,” she sighed, her head still pounding.

“Sure there is,” he smiled. He looked up past her and his smile grew wider. “Ah, speaking of people looking horrible, brother,” Caracalla joked, falling into a fit of giggles under Geta’s intense stare.

The chair beside Letha was pulled out and Geta sat, still clad in only a robe, one of his hands holding it closed. A sigh left him as he allowed himself to be still for a moment, the first moment since he’d been roused from sleep. 

“Are you okay?” Letha asked, watching him. His eyes were shut, his head leaned back against the chair. Her eyes trailed down his pale neck as he swallowed, steeling himself before he relaxed, sitting up straighter. His eyes met Letha’s, catching her staring.

“Fine,” he assured her, though his terse tone was far from reassuring. He reached across the table and picked up a shiny apple, staring down at it as if uncertain if he wanted to eat it or not.

“What my brother means to say is no,” Caracalla grinned. Geta’s eyes darted up to stare down his brother. But Caracalla continued, undaunted. “He couldn’t sleep, surely, probably still thinking about the–”

“Brother,” Geta warned. 

“You’re no fun,” Caracalla sighed, backing down. His eyes flitted over to Letha and his smile returned. “I know you got stabbed and all, but you’ll still join us today, right?”

“I-If you want me to, your majesty,” she answered. Caracalla was quite different from his brother. He seemed to be good at reading people. His brother, anyway. Letha wondered how he’d picked up such a skill.

“I do,” Caracalla confirmed, getting to his feet. “You can sit with me,” he grinned, leaving the table before anyone could dissuade him. This was it, this was what Macrinus wanted. But why did it feel so off-putting?

The room grew quiet in the absence of the more chaotic brother. Letha finally allowed herself to pluck a grape from the stem, turning her cheek to Geta as she ate it. Why had he sat so close? She could hear him breathing, it was so quiet. 

“You protected us,” Geta finally acknowledged. The apple sat in front of him on the table, untouched. 

“No one else was doing anything,” she answered, plucking another grape free.

He nodded. “A severe lapse, one I’ve been assured won’t happen again.”

“Good.” She ate the sweet grape, and then another.

“Where did you get a knife from?” he questioned, his ringless fingers moving the apple around on the table top. 

“I kept one in my dress. I had a pocket where I hid it,” she explained.

That seemed to alarm him. “Did you have it that night?” He didn’t have to specify, she knew which night he was referring to. The only other night. So he did remember.

She met his eyes, a cautious smile she couldn’t hide spreading across her face. “Yes.”

“Who are you to Macrinus, really?” He seemed genuinely curious, if not a little suspicious. “You aren’t bedding him, or so you say–”

“—I’m not,” she insisted.

“—and you aren’t a maid, far from it. I’ve seen you fend off a man almost twice your size, and you know exactly where to cut a man to kill him quickly. So, who are you?”

She eyed him warily, unsure of how much or how little to tell him. Something about him gave her the impression that he would appreciate honesty. “My brother taught me how to look after myself,” she explained. He was probably scolding her all the way from Elysium, calling her reckless, furious at the warmth she felt at the sight of a Roman Emperor. 

“And Macrinus bought me from one of your generals.” After they killed my family, she wanted to say. She didn’t have to, the look in his eyes implying that he seemed to understand that much. Her anger and hurt was beginning to return. “He started bringing me out with him, for his safety.”

He seemed concerned, and she couldn’t blame him. But she had defended them from a threat. If she truly wanted them dead, she could argue, she wouldn’t have intervened.

“Well, the city of Rome thanks you, Letha,” he said, getting to his feet. Any familiarity she had experienced with him was gone, it was all formal. “You will be honored once you are feeling better.” The way he kept his eyes off hers, the stiff way he spoke to her now, it ate at her. He was so hot and cold, one moment entirely too comfortable with her, and now he was the Emperor, despite not wearing the crown. She decided immediately that she much preferred the man.

“Thank you, Emperor,” she replied, echoing his formality.

He noticed, his eyes locking in on hers for a moment. “I will send some of our maids to see to your needs. If you require anything further, just ask.”

“I want to speak with Macrinus,” she blurted out, trying to catch Geta before he slipped out of the room.

“I will let him know.” And with that, he was gone.

Macrinus studied the busts adorning the alcoves that were interspersed along the hallway, imagining his own visage chipped out of marble, sitting on a pedestal as proudly as these men, these tyrants. No, he was too good for that. Instead, he would take his time here, some days from now, and slowly tip them over, one by one, and get great satisfaction as the faces splintered and cracked on the floor.

“Macrinus,” Geta greeted, very much the image of a magnanimous god in his elaborate clothes and shining gold jewels. Macrinus could see the youth in his features, could see him for what he truly was. Not a god, nor an Emperor. Just a boy, a boy given the reins to a raging, bloodthirsty empire with one instruction. Grow, spread like a disease. Though it seems the twins were never taught when to cut it off.

Macrinus could see traces of his father in him. It was Severus’s death that put life back into Macrinus’s dreams. A coup against Septimius Severus? It would never be successful. But after his passing, his fledgling offspring given joint-ownership of the throne? Macrinus dared to dream again.

“Emperor,” he greeted. “Thank you for summoning me. I was so worried about Letha. I hope she has behaved herself.”

Geta quirked an eyebrow. “She’s been a perfect guest.” Macrinus could tell the man had a million questions on the tip of his tongue, but he knew better than to show such latent curiosity. “And besides the discomfort, she seems to be just fine.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news. I was hoping I might speak with her?” Macrinus tried to read Geta's expression. Hesitance. 

“I did want to ask something of you, while you’re here,” Geta sidestepped Macrinus’s request. 

“Sure, Emperor, anything,” Macrinus answered, hoping to sound a bit like Thraex, with his preening and fawning over the twins. 

“My brother, understandably, has been shaken by this… this attempt on his life,” Geta began, turning one of his rings repeatedly. “And I do believe he would feel better if your Letha would stay near, at least for a little while.”

“Emperor Caracalla?” Macrinus questioned, eyes falling to the way Geta’s hands fidgeted. Not just Caracalla.

“Yes,” he confirmed, leaning closer to Macrinus. “But I must confess I have questions I would ask you before I feel comfortable leaving my brother alone with her.”

“Of course, your majesty, I am an open book. What would you like to know?” Macrinus offered, smiling.

“Would you join me in my study?” Geta asked, gesturing behind him.

“I would love to,” Macrinus beamed, clasping his hands together. Geta smiled, abandoning the rings and turning, leading Macrinus through the palatial estate.

Macrinus would be loath to admit it, but he much preferred the Roman style of subterfuge. He would be content to sit back and watch his plans fall into place around him. He yearned for success more than any lover. He hadn’t been searching for his falcon, his shrike, but there she was. Shining brilliantly even under the muck and grime. He paid twice as much as he told himself his limit had been. That certain fury he always sought was swirling in her eyes. The flurry of ideas on how he could wield it made him feel supremely confident that he’d won out on the deal.

The general hadn’t offered her up for sale. As the prisoners were paraded past on the docks, Macrinus noticed the woman being pushed along, her hands bound behind her, looking very much like a ruined princess. A princess that had spent days in the hold of a Roman ship, surely. Her torn dress indicated a comfortable life, but the way her eyes were set in a fixed stare, carved from granite, seemed to speak to her resolve. A quiet sort of anger. 

She was separated and Macrinus suspected he knew why. His suspicions were confirmed when General Plautianus strode past, reaching out to drag her out of line and up past the other men. She fought every step with all she had. The men on the docks were forgotten. She had what Macrinus was looking for.

He followed General Plautianus, soon catching up with him. The princess’s eyes fell on him and he could feel the heat of her revulsion at his gaze. 

“General,” Macrinus greeted. 

“Ah, Macrinus, not waiting for the arena today? We don’t usually see you down here at the docks.” As the General turned to face Macrinus, the woman hidden by his broad shoulders, Macrinus nearly recoiled. There was an angry red line that stretched from the end of his right brow to the back of his head, and where it would’ve intersected his ear, it was gone. The top of the man’s ear was gone. “It’s nothing,” the General spoke, watching Macrinus’s eyes trace over the wound.

“Of course,” Macrinus looked away from the wound, beginning to put two and two together. “You’ve weathered far worse,” he praised, earning a laugh from the General. “A gift?” Macrinus questioned, gesturing to the hidden woman.

“I thought I might tame her for myself, but I’m starting to think she’s more trouble than she’s worth,” the General admitted, gesturing to the wound. 

Interesting, Macrinus mused. 

“I’m wondering if I might be able to take her off your hands, then,” Macrinus suggested. “It would be a nice change of pace.”

“She’s too highborn for fighting,” the General smirked.

“Who said anything about fighting?” Macrinus joked, laughing with the General. 

He could see her fighting the General’s grip, her eyes narrowed at him as if she wanted to kill him. Perfect.

“Name your price,” Macrinus spoke, growing serious.

The General’s smile began to fade. “Gladiatrices have been outlawed,” he warned Macrinus.

“So I am aware,” Macrinus answered. “Name your price.”

“Ten thousand,” the General offered, a challenge.

“What would the Senators say about you kidnapping one of Rome’s new subjects?” Macrinus accused. 

“Eight.”

“There could be charges,” Macrinus insinuated, clasping his hands together.

The General frowned deeply. “Five.”

Macrinus smiled. “Viggo!” he called out. Viggo appeared, confusion on his face. “Please take this poor girl. She will be coming back with us,” Macrinus explained. He drew out a pouch and counted out some coins, dropping them into the palm of the General. “Consider it a down payment. I’ll send someone along with the rest this evening. I don’t usually do my trading at the docks,” he explained.

The General grunted and nodded, pocketing the gold. His grip on the woman lessened, and he seemed truly relieved to be handing her off to Viggo. She would be someone else’s problem now.

“Relax!” Viggo pleaded, gripping her upper arms tightly to keep her from running off. 

“Always a pleasure,” Macrinus nodded. He turned and walked back to their waiting cart, smiling at the sound of Viggo struggling with her. 

“Where is she from?” Geta asked, setting the glass down in front of Macrinus. 

“She was with General Plautianus at the docks, so I’d say it’s safe to assume from wherever you sent him, your majesty.”

“Please, we have no need for formality,” Geta insisted, taking a seat at the table across from Macrinus, his own glass on the table before him.

“Of course,” Macrinus nodded.

“And she is now your… guard?”

Macrinus chuckled. “She is quite good at getting one over on men who underestimate her,” he warned. Geta lifted an eyebrow. “She broke the arm of one of my better prospects,” Macrinus explained. Geta leaned forward, his glass abandoned. “He might have been a bit too handsy,” he excused. “She’s quite observant. And who would guess she was dangerous?” Macrinus grinned. “It seemed like the perfect arrangement to me.”

“She was a prisoner, then? But I thought…”

“Oh, no, she was in the custody of General Plautianus. I guess she injured him and he took special offense to that. I did try to warn him of how it might look.” Macrinus took a sip of the sweet wine, always towing the line, baiting the hook. It’s not like Geta made it hard. Macrinus knew it from the moment he’d stood there in the box, staring down at Letha as if she held all his secrets.

“General Plautianus? She took his ear?” Geta asked, more than a little surprised. 

“That she did,” Macrinus confirmed. “Despite that, she seemed like she could be reasoned with.”

Geta sat back, absorbing the information. 

“I must say, I did not expect her to fend off that assassin,” Macrinus spoke, growing more serious. “I am grateful though, losing either of you would be a very dark day for Rome.”

Geta watched Macrinus, taking a sip from his glass. “I, too, am grateful for her intervention. Tegula has assured me this will not happen again.”

“Wasn’t it one of his men? He wore their armor.”

Geta nodded. “It was. They found a large sum of gold stashed in his home. We do not know yet who paid him, but we expect there will be a reprisal.”

“And you want Letha.”

“I need her with my brother. If she is able to be trusted, I would like her to keep him safe from any other rogue Praetorians. For if there was one, there will likely be another.” Geta downed the rest of the wine, setting the empty glass on the table. “I am no fool, we do not inspire the same degree of loyalty that my father did.”

Macrinus wanted to grin. He didn’t. “It is always difficult, living up to a father’s reputation.”

“I don’t wish to be anything like him,” Geta admitted, meeting Macrinus’s eyes. “He has left us rudderless.”

“Well, Geta, If I may be so bold,” Macrinus spoke, leaning across the table. Geta mirrored him. “I could offer you some guidance. Only if you wanted it, of course,” he smiled.

He could see Geta’s trust in him blossoming. “I would love to hear it.”

“I would first suggest raising the wages of your guards. It might make them think twice before accepting another bribe.”

Geta nodded. “Yes, yes I see how that could benefit us.”

“And you can have Letha, if it would give you peace.” Macrinus chose his words carefully. He watched Geta’s every move, every blink.

A smile threatened to spread across his face but he tamped it down. “I do think it would, Macrinus, thank you.”

“A gift, Geta, to you. A token of our new friendship?”

“Friendship. Yes.” Geta finally allowed himself a smile. “Please, accompany us to the Colosseum today?”

“It would be an honor.” Macrinus mirrored Geta’s smile.

Perfect. Just as planned.

[ Part VI ]

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 11

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Tuesday)

Masterlist

“Happy birthday!”

“Bloody hell!” Pedri yells when he walks into the kitchen.

“Oh my God, did you see his face?” Fer laughs. 

“We all did” their dad says, also laughing.

“My sweet boy” Pedri's mum says, hugging him. “I'm sorry we scared you.”

“It's ok, don't worry. But what is that thing in your heads?”

“Birthday hats!” Fer says. “Inés’ idea.”

“What?” Pedri says, looking at me.

“I saw them yesterday while running some errands and thought it would be cute” I shrug.

“Spider-Man birthday hats?” he smirks, knowing perfectly well why I had picked them.

“Yeah” I shrug again, trying really hard to hide my smile.

“She also bought this for you” Fer says, putting an “it's my birthday” crown on his head. 

“Seriously, Inés?”

“We are a family. We all have to look ridiculous” Fer says. “Now come here. Let's take a photo with the birthday boy before we start eating, have to leave to open the bar and forget about it.”

“I am the one who won't forget about this” Pedri whispers in my ear when I move to stand next to him, his arm around my waist.

“Oh, stop complaining. You look cute.”

“No one can look cute with this in their heads, Inés.”

“You do” I smile. 

“Lovebirds, I need you to look at the camera” Fer says while setting his phone on the table, suddenly making me very aware of the fact that we are in front of their parents. “Perfect” he says before moving to where we all are standing. “Say, Pepi!”

“Pepi!” we all repeat before Fer’s phone takes a bunch of photos.

“I'm killing him” Pedri whispers again.

“Can you please stop complaining? It's your birthday… Pepi” I say with a teasing smile.

“You know, when you say it it actually sounds better” he says while squeezing my waist, the feeling sending a wave of heat through my body that should not be allowed this early in the morning.

“Ok, let's sit down. We don't want our breakfast to get cold” his mum says. “Inés, here” she says, moving a chair for me.

“Thank you” I manage to say, Pedri giving my side one last squeeze before letting go of me. For now. Because he sits (or his mum makes him sit) next to me, his hand moving under the table from time to time and resting on my thigh, sometimes just staying there and others squeezing it, making staying still almost impossible. 

“Inés, are you ok?” his mum had said after the first squeeze and my little jump, one that made me kick the table.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hit the table while crossing my legs” I had smiled, slapping Pedri's hand under the table and making him laugh.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Presents time!” Fer announces once we have finished having breakfast. “Who wants to go first?”

“I will. This is from me and dad” their mum says, giving Pedri a big package.

“Thank you” he smiles while opening it. “Mum, is this…”

“It isn't my photo album, don't worry” she chuckles. “I found this one doing some cleaning a few weeks ago, turns out that I had bought the same one twice. And I thought, why don't I fill it with the same photos the other one has so Pedri can take it to Barcelona with him and check it every time he misses us?”

“Mum, I… This… You even wrote the same things under each photo!”

“My comments are the best part, they had to be there.”

“I love it, mum” Pedri says, getting up from his chair and hugging her. “I love you. And you too, dad.”

“We love you too” he smiles. 

“God, mum. Now my present and Inés’ are gonna look like shit” Fer says.

“Sorry” she shrugs.

“Ok, my turn” he says. “This isn't something as cute as mum and dad's present, but I think you will like it.”

“We'll see…” Pedri says, unwrapping the box I went to pick up yesterday. “Fer!” he gasps. “Did you… Oh my God, Fer!” 

“Were saying?” their mum chuckles while Pedri inspects the sneakers Fer has gotten him, the biggest smile ever on his face. I think I had never seen anyone smile like that because of a pair of shoes. Not even Carla, and she loves shoes. 

“Do you like them?”

“I love them. How did you manage to find them? I've been looking for them everywhere” Pedri says.

“One has his contacts” he smirks.

“I freaking love them, Fer. Thank you” Pedri says, getting up again and hugging his brother.

“Then I guess my present is the one that will look like shit” I sigh.

“Inés, you've given me the best present ever by allowing me to be here today with my family” Pedri says, taking my hand on his and giving it a squeeze.

“Yeah, well…” I say, feeling my cheeks on fire. “I still got you something” I say, giving him my present. Or presents since there were two.

“Which one do I open first?” 

“The one with the blue wrapping paper.”

“Ok” he smiles, carefully opening it to not ruin it. “No way!” he laughs.

“More Spider-Man?” Fer says. “What do you two have going on with that? First the hats, and now… an apron?”

“I saw it yesterday and couldn't help myself.”

“I love it, Inés” Pedri laughs again. “What do you think, mum? Should I wear this at the bar?”

“Yeah… no” she says, making everyone laugh.

“I'll keep it for special occasions, then” Pedri says before opening his other present. “What… Inés.”

“Another one?” Fer asks with an even more confused look than before. 

“This is the nice apron. One you can wear when you come over to my place and cook for me, for example” I say.

“Oh, so this gift also is for you” Pedri smirks. “You want me to properly look like a chef.”

“Maybe” I shrug, my cheeks back to being on fire.

“She even got your name embroidered on it” his mum points out. 

“I love it, Inés” Pedri says. “I love both of them. I can't wait to be back in Barcelona and wear them while making you dinner after a game.”

“That sounds like a date” Fer giggles.

“Oh, shut up!” Pedri says, giving him a little push before moving to where I am. “Thank you, Inés.”

“You're welcome” I smile as I stand up and hug him. 

“Looking forward to our date” he whispers in my ear. 

“Same” I whisper back.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“But wait, if Inés is a football player… Does that make you a wag?”

“Oh my God!” one of Pedri's friends laughs.

“What? Isn't that how they call the footballers’ partners?”

“Wag stands for wives and girlfriends. Pedri is a boyfriend. So he would be a…”

“Bah” he says.

“What?”

“Boyfriends and husbands. Bah” he shrugs, making everyone laugh.

After having breakfast with his parents and Fer, we met with his childhood friends, and I honestly don't know who was more nervous about it, me or him. But we actually had nothing to worry about, because the moment he introduced us, we instantly clicked and it felt as if we had known each other for as long as he has known them. And even though we tried to explain to them many times that we weren't dating, that we were just friends, it was like talking to a wall like had happened with his family the day before.

“You don't know how many times we've teased him about you having a crush on him, Inés” one of his friends said. “All those Instagram likes? You couldn't be any louder.”

“And we knew he fancied you too” another one added. “He has always liked football, but I have never seen him so invested in it as when you play.”

“So we just knew it was bound to happen. He just had to see the light and say goodbye to Barbie nurse.”

Barbie nurse was the nickname they had for Nerea. A couple of them had met her while visiting him in Barcelona, and neither of them had liked the other.

So here we are now after an amazing meal they organized to celebrate Pedri's birthday (birthday cake with candles included), laughing and chatting while playing card games, the people at the restaurant definitely wondering when the hell we are going to leave.

“Both sound bad, but I think I'm sticking to calling you Inés’ wag” his friend says.

“Should we drink to that?” another one asks.

“I think we'll have to save that drink for my next visit” Pedri says.

“What? Why?”

“Inés and I are leaving tomorrow morning, and there is a place I haven't shown her yet.”

“A place? What place?” I ask.

“A very special one” he winks. Why does he have to do that in front of people who will notice my face turning bright red? Why? Aaahhh!

“Oh, I know where he is taking you!” one of his friends giggles. “Sunset?” she asks him.

“Sunset” he smiles.

“Urgh, you are gonna love it, Inés. You'll see.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And?”

“I love it” I smile. 

I've seen many sunsets over the years, Barcelona has some of the best. But none of them compares to this one. It is like someone has painted it, the colours being so vibrant despite being almost winter that they don't feel real. 

“I can tell” Pedri chuckles.

“What?”

“Your face, Inés. You have it written all over it.”

“That I'm loving this?” I laugh.

“Yep. Here it says I” he says, writing the letter on my cheek with his finger, my skin burning where he has touched me. “Here love” he continues, now writing the word on my forehead. “And here it” he says, moving his finger over my other cheek. “I love it.”

“Uhm.” That's the only thing I'm able to say. Uhm. 

“This has been an almost perfect birthday, you know?”

“Almost?” I manage to say, my face still trying to recover from his touch.

“Almost. Because for it to be perfect, there is one thing that needs to happen, and it can't without your permission.”

“My… what?” 

“May I kiss you, Inés?” Pedri says, moving his whole body to face me, his fingers back to caressing my cheek.

“You… I…” I'm collapsing. My brain has shut down. My body has forgotten how to move, what it has to do. 

Because Pedri has just asked me if he can kiss me. 

Oh… my God.

“That's all I need for this birthday to be perfect, Inés. To finally kiss you.”

To finally kiss you. Finally. He's said finally, which means he has wanted to kiss me before and…

“May I?” he whispers, moving closer. “I'm gonna need you to say it, Inés. A nod isn't enough” he smirks when that's the only thing I'm able to do. Just nod. Because he wants to kiss me in case you hadn't heard. Pedri wants to kiss me.

“Yes” I whisper, my voice sounding so low I can barely hear it myself.

“Louder, Inés” he says, his lips brushing against mine.

“Yes. Kiss me, Pedri” I say. How have those words left my mouth? I wish I knew. 

“My pleasure” he smiles before kissing me. 

Finally.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Wait, let me… There we go” Pedri says after closing the door of his house with his foot while I just giggle. “Where were we? Oh, yes. Kissing” he smirks before pushing me against the wardrobe and more than kissing me… devouring me.

Back at the spot where we watched the sunset it had all been soft and kind of shy kisses, but the moment we made it to his building and the doors of the lift closed, the kisses turned into fire, passion, need. And bloody hell. 

“Pedri… Pedri!” I gasp when he bites my neck. “I have training tomorrow when we make it back to Barcelona, behave yourself.”

“Sorry” he says against my skin, sending waves of heat everywhere. “But I can't help myself, Inés. I can't” he says, pushing me a bit more against the wardrobe. That wardrobe.

“Aren't you scared?”

“Scared of what? Of being caught? I already told you my parents and Fer won't be home until midnight at least, today they close late. But if you want to stop...”

“No, no. I meant if you aren't scared of what is behind me.”

“What?” he says, lifting his head from my neck to look at me. 

“The wardrobe, Pedri” I say, trying really hard to not smile… and failing.

“The… Fer?” 

“Yep.”

“I'm killing him. I swear I am.”

“Don't be mad at him” I say, moving my fingers up and down his neck. “I think it's cute.”

“Yeah, well. Cute isn't what I want you to be thinking about right now.”

“Then what do you want me to think about?”

“My lips on yours” he says before kissing me. “And my hands all over you. Touching you, caressing you… or doing this” he says before lifting me in the air.

“Pedri!” I giggle again as I wrap my legs around him.

“What? Thought I couldn't carry you because I'm on the small side?” he smirks as he walks us to his room.

“I've seen your arms. I knew you were able to do it” I smirk back.

“And this is just the beginning of all the things I can do” he says, the way he looks at me when he says it making me melt in his arms. 

Once in his room he doesn't bother to close the door. He just walks straight into his bed, letting me fall on it before taking off his sweatshirt and t-shirt all in one go since they get tangled together. Though I don't mind it, because it allows me to see him properly and… Dear lord. I had not noticed he had those V shaped things on his hips that have always driven me crazy when I see them on a man and…

“Liking what you see?” he smirks before joining me in the bed.

“Very…” much. That's what I would have liked to say if he hadn't stopped me with a kiss, one that almost leaves me out of breath.

“So many clothes…” he says as he moves his hands under my jumper. “We must do something about it.”

“What… Pedri!” I laugh when he lifts me up, sitting me on his lap. 

“Arms up… Good girl” he smirks when I do as he says. “This is so nice…” he says, his finger following the shape of my bra. “Did you pick it thinking of me?”

“You wish” I reply with a teasing smile. Oh, wow. Who is this woman? Though maybe I did pack my best underwear for this trip, the one that is all lace and that according to Carla leaves no room for imagination. 

“Rude” Pedri says before pushing me down on the bed again and going back to his kisses. First it is my jaw, then my neck, one shoulder, the other… And then he starts moving down on my chest until he is kissing me between my boobs, the feeling making me gasp. But he doesn't stop there. He keeps going down, taking his time until he makes it to the hem of my jeans. “Again, Inés, too many clothes. May I?” he asks, his chin resting under my belly button.

“You may” I manage to say.

“Then bottoms up” he says, making me laugh as I lift my hips, allowing him to easily get rid of my jeans and shoes. “You are so beautiful, Inés.”

“Thank you” I whisper. He is now kneeling at the end of the bed, his eyes slowly scanning my body while I try to remember how you are supposed to breathe.

“Beautiful” he repeats, lifting one of my legs and starting to kiss my ankle, my calf, the inside of my knee. “Every inch of you is beautiful, Inés.”

And every inch of me is burning because of him. For him.

“Pedri” I gasp when he moves to my other leg and doesn't stop at my knee, as he keeps kissing my inner thigh all the way up. And when I think he is going to kiss me there… He suddenly moves and is back to devouring my mouth, now one of his hands being the one that goes down, his thumb caressing my nipple through the fabric before squeezing my boob and making me moan. And he keeps moving down, caressing my stomach while still kissing me, and then…

“Inés…”

“Yes, you can” I say, not allowing him to ask for permission. I need him to touch me there. 

“Thank you” he smirks. “But first…”

“Pedri!” I complain when he moves his hand to rest next to my head. 

“Patience, Inés. Patience” he says, kissing my nose before lifting me up again and sitting me on his lap. “I'm going back there, but first we need to get rid of this” he says, nodding towards my bra.

“Fine” I sigh. But as I move to unclasp it…

“No” he says, stopping me. “Let me do it.”

“You will do it slowly.”

“I will” he smirks.

“I don't want you to go slow.”

“Are you sure?” he says, moving his hands up my back, his fingers easily unclasping my bra before caressing my shoulder blades. “Doesn't this feel good?”

“It does, but…”

“And this?” he continues, kissing my shoulder and slowly pulling down one strap.

“That too. But Pedri…”

“Shh” he says, doing the same on the other side, my bra leaving my body as he pushes me down on the bed again. 

And the moment I touch the mattress, the gentleness is gone. 

His mouth and tongue are on one of my nipples, his fingers doing the same on the other, and I find myself moaning his name, my body arching against him. 

“Does this feel good, Inés?” he says against my skin as he moves his mouth to my other nipple.

“So good.”

“Told you moving back here would be worth it” he smirks as we lock eyes. And what does he do? He winks. He fucking dares to wink before going back to torturing me. And in response, what do I do? Grab his hair, maybe pulling a bit too hard judging by the way he grunts. But I don't let go. I keep running my hands through it, sometimes pulling a bit. Like when his hand lets go of my boob and starts moving down to where I wanted him earlier.

“Pedri” I gasp when he finally touches me.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, moving until we are face to face.

“Uhm” I nod.

“Use your words, Inés” he teases me.

“Yes. That's what I… fuck” I moan in his mouth when he kisses me again, his fingers still touching me, my hands tangled on his hair as my body stars to lose control. 

“Let me make this be even better” he whispers in my ear, his hands moving to my hips, pulling down what was left of my underwear until I am completely naked in front of him. I'm… holy shit. 

But I don't have too much time to freak out. He's back to being on top of me, to touching me like I wanted him too. Though this time he's adding something else. One of his fingers is going inside me, another following not long after.

“Pedri… Fuck, Pedri.” 

I'm close. I am so close. I can feel it in every single fiber of my body... until I can't take it anymore.

“Are you ok?” he whispers.

“Yeah” I manage to say while catching my breath. That was… Woah. And it was just his fingers. Like… Woah. 

“Do we keep going, then?” he says, brushing his nose against mine. 

“Yes.” 

“Good” he smiles before kissing me again, this time more gently, kind of allowing me to relax before the torture starts again. Though it really doesn't happen. The torture, I mean. This time he is all about caressing my skin and leaving soft kisses, about touching and feeling each other. And when he gets up from the bed to get rid of his joggers and his underwear… “You can look, Inés” he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I just…”

“Gone shy now?” he says with a teasing smile.

“Yep” I reply, my face burning as I try to focus just on his hands, on how they are looking for a condom on his bedside table. But then I start thinking about what those hands and those fingers just did to me and… Bloody hell. If I didn't look too lame by doing it, I would cover myself with the bed sheets and hide from him. 

“It's ok, don't worry” he says once he's finished and has moved back to the bed. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, Inés” he says again, kissing me one last time before his hand goes down to…

“Pedri, wait” I stop him.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just… I…” C'mon, Inés. You know you can tell him. You know you can. “I… I've never done this and I… I…”

“Inés. Inés, look at me” he says, gently grabbing my chin and making me look him in the eyes, the thing that I was avoiding to do. I know I can trust him, that he isn't a jerk. But he also is a man and… “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Inés.”

“What?”

“It's ok if you've never had sex before. It is nothing to be ashamed of. And if you don't want to do it, if you want me to stop…”

“No!” Woah, that sounded way too eager. “No, I mean… I want to do it, Pedri. With you. I want my first time to be with you.”

“Are you sure?” he says, caressing my chin, my cheek. “I don't mind stopping now, we have all the time in the world to do it.”

“No. I want it. I do. With you.”

“Ok” he smiles. “But you have to use your words, Inés. If you don't like something, or are uncomfortable, or…”

“I will let you know.”

“Promise?”

“I promise” I nod.

“Good girl” he smirks before kissing me.

A kiss that is the opposite of that smile that is all playfulness and cheekiness. A kiss that is the softest and most caring one we have shared yet. 

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 26

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 800

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Once again, Lucy was on the other side of the door, like earlier this morning.

Summoning my courage, I opened it. She stood there in jeans and a cashmere sweater.

"How do you know where I live?" I asked, my voice strained.

"Ona, I’m the mayor of this city! And you really have an issue with opening damn doors," she retorted, walking into my apartment uninvited.

"By all means, come in," I said sarcastically.

She turned to face me, her expression sharp, that stern look she wielded so well.

"What the hell were you thinking, Ona? I called you so many times about this morning’s meeting! No answers, nothing! When did you leave? How?" she demanded.

Her face softened as she looked at me. I must have appeared utterly exhausted, my eyes red from crying. I sank onto the couch, and she sat a few feet away.

"At 5 a.m., by taxi," I replied.

"By taxi? Are you insane? That must have cost a fortune!"

"205 euros," I admitted.

"Why, Ona? Why put yourself through this? Is it because of last night? I mean, it’s not the first time..."

She searched my eyes, but I avoided her gaze, her voice calm now.

"Because I betrayed one of the people I care about most. We’re supposed to buy a house in four days; she gave up Canada for me. And what do I do? I sleep with the first temptation that comes along!"

"Well, thank you for reducing me to that," Lucy snapped.

"That’s what we are, Lucy! You said it yourself—it’s just sex. A game we play. We’ve been provoking each other since the start. But this time, it’s different. This time, I was with Alessia again. And at the very first event, I caved..."

My voice broke, laden with sadness and guilt.

"She doesn’t have to know. I’m certainly not going to tell her," Lucy said, her voice measured.

I got up, pacing the apartment.

"You don’t understand! I’m talking about trust! How can I look her in the eye again without feeling ashamed?"

"So this is my fault, then?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, it’s MY fault. It’s MY fault for being so weak around you. MY fault for not stopping myself in time. MY fault for falling headfirst into your little game..."

Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to cry in front of her.

"Stop calling it a game, okay? Do you think this is just a game for me, Ona?"

She stood, her fists clenched in frustration. We locked eyes in a silent standoff.

"Why the hell did you even bring me to that weekend, Lucy? There are thousands of entrepreneurs in your city! You picked me. Why? If not to play, to toy with this ‘little architect’ who’d fall right back into your arms!" I spat.

"And you were right in the end!" I added bitterly.

She bit her lower lip, struggling for words. Finally, she spoke, her gaze dropping to the floor before meeting mine again.

"I’ll tell you something, Ona. The day I invited you, when I came to your firm, I wasn’t in your neighborhood at all. I knew you wouldn’t come if I emailed, so I showed up, praying Alessia would push you to go since it’s harder for her now with the baby. Yes, I didn’t invite you purely for your business..."

I shrugged, unsurprised. I had suspected her motives all along.

"I figured as much. You didn’t—"

"Ona, shut up and listen to me," she interrupted. "This isn’t something I say often. I invited you because I missed you. Of course, I missed your body—feeling you, touching you..." 

I looked away, blushing, but she gently lifted my chin so I couldn’t avoid her eyes.

"But more than that, I missed  you . Talking to you, your smile, your presence. I wanted to see you, but it was easier to use the conference as an excuse than to ask you outright. I don’t know how to do that sort of thing. And then there was Alessia, who you got back with..."

Hearing Lucy’s words, her almost-confession, left me reeling. This wasn’t just fleeting passion. There was more to it—something deeper.

Barely managing to speak, I murmured, "Why now?"

"Because I see you hurting, thinking things that aren’t true. I’m not making promises, Ona. I’m just telling you how I feel, right now, in this moment."

She exhaled deeply. "I’m going to go now."

She let her hand brush lightly down my arm as she walked to the door. Just before leaving, she turned back and said softly:

"I want to see you again, Ona."

[goldenboywrites]

Scorpius turned to walk away from Rose and immediately ran into Teddy’s chest. His cousin wrapped his arms around Scorpius’ shoulders, pulling him away from the middle of the bar towards behind it. “That seemed tense,” He said as the blond hopped up to sit on top of the bar. He shrugged, leaning his weight against the pole. “What was it about?” Teddy tossed Scorpius a cloth and then nodded his chin towards the wet glasses beside him. 

“You know what it was about,” He answered, picking up a freshly cleaned glass and drying it. “Don’t play coy with me, Lupin. I know you have werewolf hearing.” Scorpius went to work, setting the dried mugs off to the side and moving on to the next. 

Teddy leaned his hip against the bar, eyes searching Scorpius’s expression for something. “There are people who want you here,” He spoke softly. “People who are happy to have you back. Rose doesn’t make decisions for the whole group. She is in the minority.” 

Scorpius knew all of that. He did. Rose would eventually come around as she always did, or she wouldn’t and it really wouldn’t change much in Scorpius’ life. The thought that he was ruining Albus’ life by returning did it for him. He hadn’t been thinking when he told Albus he was waiting for him, and while he did not regret what he had said, he regretted putting it in Albus’ mind. But he knew what Teddy feared. He understood why he was trying to smooth things over for Scorpius. “It’s fine, Teddy, really,” Scorpius said as he hopped off the bar, clapping the man on the shoulder. “ I’m not going to pack up and run because Rose said a few shitty things to me, but I am going to the loo so don’t fret. I’ll be back.” Teddy shot him a small smile and waved him off. 

He concentrated on his steps, forcing his feet to cooperate as he walked to the bathrooms. Scorpius clipped his shoulder, turning the corner, but caught himself. “Fuck,” He grumbled, shoving the door open and entering the loo. Those shots were doing a number on him. He stumbled towards the sink, turning on the faucet and splashing cold water on his face. He rubbed the water from his eyes, glancing up and immediately meeting the gaze of the last person he wanted to see standing behind him. 

“Hello,” Scorpius said cautiously. He turned to the side, grabbing a paper towel and wiping off the remaining water on his face. “Andrew, right?”

"You're such a dick, Albus."

The last voice he expected to hear was James and especially to be scolding him like he was eight years old. His head shook and he looked at his older brother scowling at him right then. "What?" He asked bluntly, to which James slapped him against the back of his head. These family get togethers were truly something he could do without. "You left Andrew totally hanging. He stormed out!" Albus scoffed at his brother and shoved him off only to find that he had been right. Andrew wasn't anywhere near them. He had to have gone to the bathroom or something.

"You can't ever keep your shit together can you?" He asked, shaking his head, reaching into his jacket for a cigarette. The butt popped between his teeth and he sighed, a matchbook soon replacing where the cigarette had been. The sound of the head of the match was all that find his head as he looked back to see Scorpius and Rose still going at each other. The puff of smoke brushing past his face drew him back to his brother. "I didn't do anything. I can't help if they're acting like that." Albus knew damn well that wasn't what James meant but still he'd given him that look. "I never see anyone after games. You know this and so does he. I didn't know he was coming back and you all seemed to have been in the know. So who's the dick for not telling me before hand, hmm?"

There was a lot to be said about the relationship of the Potter children in particular. They hated and loved each other so fiercely but as they'd gotten older, the means to keep their opinions in line with each other's was less and less. Between him and James, even nonexistent on a good day. "Maybe if you weren't in his jacket." James said it so softly but it was truly the last straw for him in that moment. "Go fuck yourself." Al could see Teddy coming towards him from the bar but stopped seeing, or rather hearing, Scorpius and Albus. It was funny to see the predicament the oldest of them was in. Because which of these fights was going to set off first?

"Maybe I fucking want to James." He snapped loudly and he felt the eyes fall on him. His cheeks were red and he couldn't care less. "Maybe it feels nice to be asked for once what I want or even whether I want something or not." James stepped in then but Albus stepped right up and pushed him back out of his space. "You're so worried about Andrew then you go and find him. You two are always together anyway so it's more like I get in the way of you two." He knew there weren't romantic feelings between his brother and boyfriend but he still always came in third when they were all together. And maybe that was the way it was meant to be. Andrew and James best friends and Albus just ... was Albus. James shook his head and drew in a deep inhale on his cigarette. "He's a good guy. A good friend." The exhale was full and the disappointed sigh reminded him of his father and Albus could have screamed. "Don't let it ruin you again." His gaze flicked over just as Scorpius stood and Teddy moved closer towards that pair.

"Shut up, James. You don't know anything about him or me." His older brother just laughed and clasped his should tightly. "Tell me what happens in the morning." And with that he left Albus to stand there completely beside himself. That was until Lily and Lysander came to stand at his sides, wanting and needing an explaination. Albus ran his hand over his face and sighed loudly. It was only then that he'd caught a whiff of something. Warm and musky, slightly clinical in origin and that was when he'd realized it was just how Scorpius smelled. It was his jacket. His stomach sank and he pinched the bridge of his nose tighter. "Fuck!"

[spitblaze]

gnc and butch women (cis AND trans) and transmascs are punished for performing masculinity past certain thresholds of arbitrary attractiveness because people that cishet society categorizes or clocks as 'women' are not supposed to perform masculinity. hope this helps 👍