#clockwork smirks in the background

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König vs Reality TV

So, König is not a reality TV fan. In general he doesn't like tv, he considers it lowclass hogwash and prefers reading books or watching horror movies, but he has his weaknesses.

He was immune to the Kardashians. The Housewives of New Jersey could kiss his ass? Honey Boo Boo? Honey Boo Who? Honey Boo Hoo Fuck You. He couldn't care for any of it. The next time Horangi tries to get him hooked on a K-Drama he's going to put the remote through the TV. Nobody could get through to him.

But then he met his match in the form of one British chef.

Yes, König is a sucker for Kitchen Nightmares. That was König's gateway drug for reality tv.

You were just playing it in the background while working when König stepped into the living room. He was gonna ask you something, but then he started watching the show. You eventually had to ask him what was wrong, but he completely tuned you out. Later, he subtly asked you about the show.

"What is this slop you're watching?"

"What? Kitchen Nightmares?" you smirk, "you really are watching it, aren't you?"

König doesn't tear his eyes away from the screen as he says, "I'm not watching it."

He stands there for ten minutes when you ask him what he came to you for. He admits he forgot. He refuses to admit that he's watching. You already know.

Late at night König looks up the show on his laptop and in an instant he's hooked. In one night, König becomes Gordon Ramsey's biggest fan (both literally and figuratively). He's obsessed. It's an entire show dedicated to food. He can't get enough of it. And, despite himself, the drama gets to him. He lives for the drama. Every now and then you'll hear König mutter something like 'My name's NINO' under his breath but you can't be sure.

The thing is that for all of König's media literacy, for all his skills at psychological warfare and his incredible understanding of psychology, König becomes a sucker for the show. He's the same brainless housewife as the next. Not that that's a bad thing! Everyone needs a show to turn their brain off to. It's fun to just chill and watch some brainless slop. But being brainless is a hit to his pride. It doesn't stop him from being completely hooked though. He's watching the show and every time they bring out a dish to Ramsey König looks at it and goes 'Oh wow that looks so good'. Then Gordon Ramsey says, 'it's overcooked, bland rubbish' and then König goes 'That looks so gross. How can anyone eat that slop? Couldn't be me'. It's incredible. It's like clockwork. Somehow, this show works its way through every one of König's defences and he becomes a complete and total sucker.

But Kitchen Nightmares is only the gateway. König learns about the entire world of the food network. He watches Masterchef seasons from multiple countries, he watches Bar Rescue with John Taffer, he eats up all the food tv out there.

Eventually, you come back to him cooking along to Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg. On one hand, he looked like such a massive dweeb that it bordered on being an ick. On the other, his already phenomenal cooking has only been getting better and it's not slowing down any time soon.

Konig Dump

Headcanons

[uglypastels]

Hey can you do a coffee shop AU ab Gambit where the reader works at the shop Remy frequents? But one day there’s an attack and her mutation manifests?? Love your writing!

stick with me as I try to figure out how to write his accent lol. it's just a quick and fun lil thang but i hope you like it. [also, is this my first ever coffee shop au?? it might be. don't quote me on that tho]

warnings: slight cursing. supervillain attack.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Will that be the usual, Remy?’ You already pulled out the paper cup to write his name and order on it, looking up expectantly for him to confirm your suspicion.

‘You know it, chere.’ 

‘One cafe au lait, coming up.’ You chirped with a smile, noting it down on the side of the cup. Like the well-oiled machine the two of you have become over the past weeks, he didn’t need to hear the price and just slid a five-dollar bill across the counter and pushed another exact bill through the slit of the little tip jar next to the register.

‘Well, you know,’ and just like any other time, you couldn’t help but comment on his generosity, ‘you really don’t have to do all that. It’s just coffee.’ As much as you appreciated his gesture, a twinge of guilt struck you as he practically paid double for what already was an overpriced beverage.

‘It ain't for the coffee,’ he smirked, which, with a flash of heat, immediately radiated onto your cheeks. It all happened like clockwork, and so you reminded yourself that that’s just who he was.  You were sure he did it with anyone, so you mustn’t let it get to you. To not get too hung up over a customer who made it a habit throughout his day to flirt with his barista.

‘Here ya go,’ you presented him with the drink. 

‘I donno how you do it, belle,’ Remy said after his first sip, a satisfied expression spreading over his face. ‘Perfect. Evry time.’

‘Why, thank you.’ You reciprocated his smile, but really, it was no big deal. You were just doing your job—something that was only easier considering your talents. Practically being a human heat conductor made preparing a perfect cup o’ joe fairly simple. Still, when a charming Cajun walked into your establishment and showered you in compliments on a nearly daily basis, the effect might have been a bit stronger than a one-off comment from a stranger. No matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to deny his allure. 

For a Tuesday morning, the café was surprisingly clear of customers besides a couple of taken tables at the windows, where some early birds had begun their day by reading the paper or getting a headstart on their work. And so, with no line rushing him off behind him, Remy sipped his coffee right by your side. 

‘Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be, Rem?’ you teased as you wiped the counter.

‘With a beautiful lady righ in front of me, there ain't nowhere I rather be.’

‘Oh, shush, you.’ You tried to ignore it, but the steam coming off from the once wet handtowel you used to clean was saying differently. Both of you were about to open your mouths, the snarky banter already dripping from both your lips, but that all faltered as the ground beneath you shook. The soft ambience brought on by the instrumental music playing in the background over the speakers was overrun by the aggressive shaking of all the products and measuring jugs falling to the ground. But soon, even that was silenced by the screams that followed. A stampede of morning commuters was running through the street, eyes wide and pale with fear. 

‘What the–’ you muttered out, carefully making your way to the window. Perhaps not the smartest move, but the curiosity had gotten the better of you. And it sure had; as right as you had reached your lookout point, all your senses were thrown off guard by an explosion. The world around you turned upside down— or was that just you as you were thrown off your feet and across the room following a million pieces of shattered glass? 

You were ready to fall into the puddle of shards, but instead, you were met with the hold of two strong arms, and once you dared to open your eyes, you saw a pair of glowing red ones. 

‘You alright?’ Remy put you down on the ground. 

Still, in shock, all you could respond with was a nod. You watched as Remy made his way across the glass-covered floor, calling out to the fear-stricken people in the café. 

‘Is gonna be all right, everyone.’ He helped a lady get back up on her feet and make her way to the back of the room. ‘Stay inside. Get z’away from the street.’ And even though you wanted to listen to his command, you found yourself walking back towards him. 

‘What are you doing, cher?’ With his hand on your shoulder, he held you back from taking another step. 

‘I wanna help.’ It was clear enough to you that he was about to fight whatever it was that was scaring all those people outside, and there was no way in hell you’d let him go out there on his own. 

‘Do you even know what you’re up against?’ 

‘Do you?’ you hit back, and that response clearly pleased him. The worry on his lips turned up into a smirk. So, the barista had a spark to her. It didn’t surprise him, necessarily. If anything, the excitement from seeing this side of you sparked a rush through his whole body. 

Side by side, you ran out into the street, avoiding the last few incomers who were trying their best to escape whatever it was you were about to greet. And what that was, you soon found out. All you had to do was look up into the sky.

‘Le Bon Dieu.’ Remy cursed under his breath.

‘Damn.’ You gasped at the sight of what you could only describe to be a giant robot floating above the tall buildings. Eyes glowing with a fire that burst in jetstreams of destruction.

Perhaps you were way in over your head, getting into a fight with a steel giant, fighting with a nearly complete stranger, and yet, when you looked up at him, and your eyes met, you had a feeling that you’d be just fine.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 2)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

After what you thought was a wonderful night together, Melissa leaves you feeling cold.

Warnings: Toxic Melissa, smut, and very veiled internalized homophobia

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for all the love with the first chapter. And a huge thank you to @alexusonfire for being my beta <3

Link to Chapter 1

While a comfort show played in the background, you swiped mindlessly on a dating app. There was a part of you that felt as if you were betraying Melissa by doing so, but then again, she dated and even married without much of a thought about you or your relationship. The women you swiped on all seemed nice enough, but they were no Melissa Schemmenti. 

You were drawn from your phone when the redhead let herself into your home and held up a Tupperware container to you as she walked past you and into your kitchen. Your eyes followed her sweat pant clad hips the entire time she spoke to you, “I brought puttanesca, and I forgot my show is on in fifteen, so we have to postpone the sex for an hour.”

“You didn’t have to come.” Your response was automatic. By no means were you trying to get her to leave, but she shouldn’t feel so beholden to come by when your relationship was so casual. 

Mel paused briefly, glancing over her shoulder with furrowed brows, “Since when did you play all hard to get?”

Rather than respond to her, you turned back to face the television with a roll of your eyes. It was never really worth starting trouble with Melissa. Instead, it is best to just pick and choose your battles. 

When she emerged from the kitchen, she was carrying two bowls that she must have pulled from your cabinets. There was a pang in your chest at seeing Mel be so domestic in your own home. It was a sight you yearned for, yet you knew it was best not to get used to it. 

She passed off a bowl to you with a commanding tone,  “Eat.”

Taking the bowl into your hands, you passed off the remote in return, “What are we watching?” 

“Real Housewives.” Mel asked with her mouth full and her forearm covering her mouth from your view. When she finished chewing, she took the phone from your hand and began flipping through the channels in search of her favorite tv show. 

You rolled your head over to stare at Melissa with an unenthused reaction - a bit overdramatic, but it reflected your overall disinterest in the reality program. 

Mel wouldn’t even give you a glance as she found the right channel. She only held up a hand and sassed you, “I don’t need your shit. Now shhh! It’s starting.”

—

Melissa was on you in an instant when her show was through. She threw her leg over your lap, straddling you with a smirk, “And now I’m ready for ‘ya.”

“Now you’re ready?” You let out a breathy laugh and ran your fingers up her thighs to squeeze her hips. Watching her lips expectantly, you began moving her shirt up slowly. You couldn’t help it as your heartbeat quickened in pace - Melissa was just far too gorgeous. 

Melissa began rocking slowly in your lap and you nearly melted as her manicured hands found your cheeks with a hum, “Mhmm...”

She dove down for your lips without any further hesitation. Her kisses were deep and hungry which was often evidence of her impatience. Mel moved her hands from your face and used them to brace herself on the back of the couch. She would always do this, grinding and bucking against you so you would cave in and touch her. 

Like clockwork, you did as you were silently commanded, knowing she would only maintain control over you for a few minutes longer. You pulled down on her hips, guiding her to grind against you and earning a groan from her. 

The sound was your kryptonite. It was addicting.

You maneuvered swiftly to draw more sounds from her. One arm around her waist, guiding her to grind back and forth, while the other was pushed beneath the waistbands of her sweats and underwear. 

Satisfying her needy desires earned you deeper kisses and she moaned into your mouth as your fingers slipped through her folds, “Oh, Jesus..”

When you found she wasn’t as damp as you liked, you withdrew your hand from her underwear. Parting your kiss, you pushed your fingers past your lips and swirled your tongue around the digits. 

Spit drenched your fingers when you guided them back to her clit, and the newfound wetness caused her to gasp. 

She looked so perfect like this. Forehead pressed to yours. Flyaways of red hair framing her face and dancing in your periphery. Jaw slack with her eyes screwed shut. Soft moans rising from her throat with every shift of your fingers. Her soft breasts threatened to spill from her tank top with every thrust of her hips. Every few moments your name was huffed in the most beautiful, desperate tone. Her hands shifting rapidly between the couch and your shoulders as she sought contact while also attempting to brace herself. 

You cooed to her softly, knowing all she needed now was praise. “Pretty girl… so beautiful aren’t you?” 

She knew the drill. Melissa knew to answer your question promptly if she wanted you to continue playing with her. She let out a strangled hum to avoid taking away too much of her attention from her own orgasm, “Mhmm.”

Your fingers danced gently at the edges of her face, tucking hair behind her ears. You wanted to kiss her cheeks, but you refrained from the gentle intimacy to avoid spooking Melissa.Your next question flowed from your lips with a tone dripping with intense desire, “Are you gonna make yourself cum on my fingers?”

Mel was doing all the work at this point. Her hips ground erratically, hinting she was getting incredibly close to her climax. She could only answer your question with a strangled hum. “Mhmm.”

“What was that, hon?” You drew your hand back an inch, earning a desperate and frustrated gasp from the redhead. 

Her eyes flickered open and you were suddenly face to face with her wild, green hues. Mel was obviously upset with how you were teasing her, but it was laughable with how quickly she folded in the bedroom. Her willpower was all but nonexistent when your hand was down her pants. 

She gasped and bucked her hips upward in search of your hand, “Yes… Oh god, yes please…”

“It almost sounds like Melissa Schemmenti is begging.” Your grin was evil as you slipped your fingers back to where they had been previously. The redhead went crazy in your lap, gasping and moaning as her hips writhed in order to achieve her orgasm. 

It only took her mere seconds to find it, and with a final buck of her hips, her face was buried into her crook of your neck as she rode out her orgasm and choked out, “Fuck you.”

—

Melissa was running her hands up and down your thighs as she went down on you. She would always get so lost in giving you head that she would come up for air with big gasps. And rarely did she ever stop right away after your orgasm, it typically took writhing and begging to pull her from her pussy eating trance.

When you came, your hips lifted into the air with Melissa’s face still attached - a sight to behold. Your final orgasm (or orgasms) came in a final set of three, rolling together in a way that had you sobbing out in search of reprieve. 

When you finally settled, Melissa rested her cheek on your mons and tucked her hands under your sides to better snuggle against you. “Give me a few minutes and then I’ll be ready for another go.” 

She always was so avid about giving head to you - a little fact that made you raise your eyebrows in questioning. After all, it seemed a little fruity for her to enjoy it as much as she did.

You had no complaints at the suggestion as your blissed out mind mulled over the events of the past half hour while your eyes focused on the lazily moving ceiling fan, “Mm... Sounds good to me.”

It was hard to draw your attention away from the red hair draped over your middle. And against your better judgment, you began twirling and untwirling the locks around your fingers. Her hair was silky to the touch and the smell of her rose scented shampoo and conditioner wafted up to you. 

“Wuddya think you’re doin’?” Mel’s tone seemed slightly annoyed, but she made no effort to move away from you or to get you to stop. 

“Oh, relax, tiger.” You teased Melissa, pushing your fingers against her scalp to rub gently. “You aren’t any less tough just ‘cause I’m playin’ with your hair.”

“Hmph.” Melissa begrudgingly turned her attention to the reality show that now graced the tv  She told herself that she would only have to allow for it until she was ready for another round of sex. 

Rarely would you get these soft moments of intimacy from her. Often she would leave or move away to prevent any prolonged contact like this, but something about spending time together before sex must have softened her up. This moment alone gave you the bittersweet feeling that you fit so well together, but you had to remind yourself of the constant heartbreak she caused you.

Episode after episode of miscellaneous reality television played before you checked in again with the redhead to see if you were done for the evening, “Mel?”

When no response came, you sat up at a low angle to look down at the woman who had fallen asleep on top of you. With a gentle hand, you combed red curls from her face to expose her features softened by slumber. Even with a quick glance of her sleeping face, you were pained by your yearning for her... as you knew the odds were not in your favor. 

No one could feel sorry for you. For decades you had inflicted this pain on yourself, letting her back in a moment's notice. And tragically, you worried this pattern was destined to repeat itself as Melissa had a way about her that felt addictive for you. 

So while you knew Melissa spending the night would not be good for your heart, you continued played with her hair until you finally fell asleep.

---

The next morning you woke up feeling incredibly stiff from your night spent on the couch. Worst of all, the redhead that had once been sleeping on your stomach was absent. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked around your home for evidence of Melissa’s presence, but her purse and jacket that once sat on a chair near the front door were now gone. 

As you looked around, you noticed that you were draped in a blanket and the television had been turned off. When you stood and glanced into the kitchen, your eyes caught a glimpse of the dinner dishes in the drying rack. 

You felt your cheek grow warm from the embarrassment. She couldn’t stick around to say goodbye, but she was a decent houseguest and washed the dishes? 

Retrieving your phone from the coffee table, you drop yourself down on the couch as you furiously type out a message to the redhead and hit send. 

Couldn’t say goodbye before you left?

Her reply came a few minutes later, and you could feel her attitude emanating from the screen - We aren’t dating. 

Maybe you should have thought it through more when you replied, but you sent the text anyway - That doesn’t mean I don’t care.

And it was no shock that all you received was radio silence from Melissa. It infuriated you that she couldn’t even send a simple text, a like, or even an emoticon in response. One day turned into a week which turned into a month, and finally there you were three months later with no response. 

You were so over it at this point. It was painful and embarrassing that you thought your night together of dinner, tv, and fucking felt so natural and fun - only for her to leave you high and dry before the sun rose. 

There was no reason to let Melissa Schemmenti make you feel like this again. It was finally time to move on, and you did with a simple notification from a dating app.

Link to Chapter 3

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

[kai-anderson-whore]

Next chapter (kit walker x fem reader smut) (kinktober fic 5)

Summary: you and kit have been married for two years, neither of you thought of trying for a baby till kit brings the idea up again.

Warnings: smut, fluff, breeding kink, creampie, heavy kissing, cuddles in the kitchen (it’s giving mardy bum by arctic monkeys), trying for a baby, talks about trying for a baby, unprotected sex, romance, aftercare

Word count: 1,4k

A/n: we are officially half way through the kinktober masterlist this one is quite cute ngl.

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

Married life was great to kit walker, he never used to see himself the type to marry until he met you. He knew from the moment he saw you, you were the one. Now two years into your happy marriage, routine was almost the same. You would sat together for breakfast, kit would go off to work, come home and have dinner then cuddle up on the sofa by the coal fire.

Kit was at work filling a families car up with gas, he couldn't help but smile to himself seeing the couple's toddlers carrying on the backseat. Kit finished filling the tank up with gas, the husband paid kit for the job thanking him. Luckily it was almost the end of his shift, he just couldn't wait to get home and see you.

"Have a nice day" kit smiled waving them off in his usual friendly manner. Walking back into the garage plopping himself down on the chair with a sigh. His mind drifted off, thinking what life would be like for you and him if you both had a couple of kids running around. His heart swelled at the thought.

You both previously spoke about children not planning anything, a mutual agreement that if you were to end up pregnant one day it would be great news, but it wasn't set in stone. For a few weeks now kit had been thinking about starting a family, he knew he was ready for a baby. But he also knew you would be carrying the baby for nine months 'would you be even ready?' Kit thought. Not realising the time kit's shift came to an end grabbing his jacket closing the garage, he set off home. Planning on maybe bringing the baby subject to the table later tonight.

You were at home just finished making dinner for you and kit, the radio playing in the background. Just like clockwork kit entered through the door with his usual room shining smile. "Honey I'm home" he sang making you smile. "Hey how was work?" You asked setting the tea towel down on the counter. Kit made his way over to you wrapping you up in a hug, "it was okay nothing special just glad to be back home with you" he smiled against your lips before pressing them to yours in a chaste kiss.

'Then he kissed me by the crystals' played making you grin at the coincidence. "Ironic" kit chuckled pulling away from your lips. "Then he asked me to be his bride, I'll always be right by his side" you sang along your arms around his neck. Kit just smirked letting you enjoy the song. "Dinners ready" you spoke up once the song ended. "Perfect" he whispered.

After dinner you were cleaning the dishes whilst kit got out his work clothes. The radio back on playing throwbacks 'blueberry hill by fats domino' playing, you hummed along it was one the very song that played when you met kit. "For you were my thrill, on blueberry hill" kit entered back into the kitchen singing along, wrapping his strong arms around your waist from behind still singing along, swaying you both gently to the song.

You smiled leaning your head back on his chest, shoulders deflated in comfort. Kit's chin resting on your shoulder peppering soft kisses along your exposed neck. A content sigh left your lips feeling at home with your husband's arms around your waist. "Let's make a baby" kit whispers into your ear, your eyes shot open. Turning your body to face him, arms still around your waist.

"A baby?" You asked unsure if you heard him right. Sure you would adore having a baby with kit but you always assumed if it happens. "Yeah come on, think about it honey a little mini us running around" kit's voice soft and gentle swaying you both to the love songs on the radio.

You thought about it for a moment sure you felt ready to start a family but didn't think kit was just yet. "Are you sure kit it is a huge responsibility" you question, "I'm more than sure, only if you want to have a baby after all it's your body" kit assures. You smile sweetly at your husband nodding your head. "Okay let's try for a baby" you bit your lip.

Kit smiled pressing his lips to yours gingerly making you melt into his lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck once again bringing him closer to you. From the sweet kiss turned heated and passionate, kit leading you both to your shared bedroom with little to no effort. You giggled nearly tripping over each other entering the bedroom.

"Now are you sure about this kit" you asked one more time taking your dress off along with your undergarments. "I'm more than sure, just the thought of you pregnant does things to me" kit groaned laying you gently on the bed, he took his clothes off before climbing on top of you. His lips back on you, your body reacting to his gentle touches, like putty in his hands.

Kit took his hardened erection between your folds using your arousal as a lubricant, slipping inside of you with a groan, your hands gripped onto his biceps a sigh leaving your own plump lips. Your head felt light at the sudden sensation your walls accustomed to his size. Kit peppers your cheek with loving kisses, his eyes were clouded with nothing but love and affection with the faintest hint of lust.

It was like on your wedding night all over again when he was the first person to ever touch you in such a way.  Now a new special moment in your life, kit wanted this moment to be as romantic as possible. He retracted his hips starting in a slow passionate pace. Soft sighs left your lips, your hair tossled around the pillows beneath your head. "I love ya so much suga" kit mumbles his rough hand guided your leg over his waist.

"I love you" you panted out running a hand through his chocolatey hair. "I can't wait for us to have a baby" he says his thrusts a little more faster but still as loving as before. You moaned at the sudden quickening pace of his hips. Your walls fluttered around him greedily around him.

Kit already felt close to the edge trying to contain himself for a little longer. Your hips lifted making kit hit that spot to make you come undone for him. "I'm so close" you moaned out your grip tightened around his toned arms. "Me too baby, I'm gonna to fill you up so fucking good" he whispers burying his head in the crook of your neck.

Your breath catches in the back of your throat as the overwhelming force of your release washes over you. “Oh my god” you loudly moan, back arched, nails sinking into kit’s arm triggering his own release. With a low moan kit released inside your velvety walls, not letting a drop go to waste. Your legs shaking with the slight overstimulation.

Once kit was sure he milked every drop of his cum inside you, he pulled out making you whimper at the loss of contact. You felt the mixture of yours and kit’s release drooling down your legs, kit chuckling to himself before grabbing a towel to clean you up. Your legs shaking ever so slightly, his hand running along your leg soothing you.

“You need anything, water?, food?” He asked stroking your cheek. “Just some water please” you replied with a lopsided smile. Kit nodded his head getting your water and discarding the towel. You sat on the bed thinking about the possibility that you created a new life just now. A huge milestone in your marriage, a smile creeping on your lips.

“What’s got you smiling?” Kit entered the room holding the glass of water, mimicking your smile. “Just thinking” you sighed as kit handed you the glass of water, you took a sip as he crawled into bed beside you. “About?” He questioned further. You placed the cold glass on your nightstand getting yourself more comfortable, head resting on his broad chest. “About the fact we’re trying for a baby”.

Kit’s hand stroking your arm, his other arm that’s free resting behind his head, deep in thought. “I know it’s crazy to think” he whispered with the same smile on his lips. “You know”- you turned your body so your chin rested on his chest, kit raised his eyebrow at you for you to continue. “It’s might take a good few tries till we get pregnant”.

“I guess we gotta keep trying then” kit smirks flipping you both over, a laugh erupting from your lips.

[nctsworld]

at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork. 

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.  

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am. 

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood). 

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one. 

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you. 

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items. 

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.   

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once. 

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total. 

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.  

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.  

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.” 

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften. 

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?” 

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you. 

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.  

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain. 

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive. 

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?” 

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?” 

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.” 

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?” 

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?” 

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura). 

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.” 

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.” 

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?” 

“$130 steak it is.” 

“If I—” 

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is. 

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?” 

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.  

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought. 

You hand him your phone, and he does the same. 

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.  

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?” 

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”  

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87. 

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.” 

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him. 

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.” 

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs. 

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items. 

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.” 

AUTHOR'S ENDING NOTE

thank you for reading! i've been getting so much love for this - y'all are amazing. if you would like to read an informal continuation, see here!

[honeybeefae]

Behind the Screen (Professor Gale x Female OC)

Summary / College was expensive, living was expensive, and Tessa’s parents had left her ill-prepared for the reality. Part-time jobs were difficult for her to keep with her school schedule, her major was crushing her mentally and spiritually, and with no other place to turn, she found herself profiting from less-than-professional means. However, it paid the bills and she never showed her face so it was foolproof. Never had she encountered anyone who knew what she did after dark…until she met the new Evocation professor. 

This idea floated into my head and will not come out. I would love to turn it into a multi-part series if anyone is interested! I know it isn't my usual ACOTAR work but I wanted to explore this new obsession! This is a kind of “modern” BG3 universe where magic, the absolute almost takeover, etc., are still the same but in a more modern setting! Obviously this will have smut so you have been warned but I will include content warnings at the beginning just in case! I hope you all enjoy! This chapter is a little short but I wanted it to be sort of an introduction to the story! <3

WARNINGS: 18 +, Cam Girl Activities, Paying to watch, Mutual Masturbation

AO3 Link

Chapter One: Lights, Camera, Action!

The music is slow and low in Tessa’s room, the bass thrumming throughout her body as she slowly sways to it. She smirks tauntingly as her fingers dance over the most sensitive parts of her body, covered by flimsy lace that one of her loyal viewers had sent her a week ago. It was a rich purple, matching the intricate masquerade mask that adorned her face and kept her most tempting feature unattainable. 

“Gods,” She moans huskily, sitting in her leather office chair to face the camera before slowly spreading her legs. “This feels so heavenly against my skin, Gale. You positively spoil me….”

Her computer is the only harsh light in her room as the rest of it is filled with soft fairy lights. She watches the screen as he types, knowing it would be a long lengthy response. He had been one of her first customers during the whole endeavor and after a few months, Tessa knew all of his quirks. Well, at least the sexual ones. 

Tonight is another private showing for him. It was like clockwork, Sundays at 8 PM and Fridays at 10 PM. They would last at least an hour, sometimes an hour and a half, and would consist of her teasing him until she turned her taunts to her body. He had sent her so many pieces of lingerie and toys in the few months she had started that it was a little startling. Sometimes he wanted her to take the lead, doing what she liked, while other times it was a specific script for her to follow. 

Either way, she knew he would pay a generous amount of money for these private shows and even more on tips if she did a free live show. A small part of her always wondered what he was like, what he looked like, but she knew entertaining that would only lead to pain. He could be married and hiding this obsession or single and desperate. None were good options for her. 

But she was more than happy to entertain his fantasies for however long he would pay her. 

“You know I am to please, my darling. I knew the purple would look absolutely radiant with your skin. It is all I can do now not to finish too quickly for you, the vision you are. Perhaps we should move on to the main event, yes? I am painfully aching to see all of you again.”

A blush comes over her cheeks at his words, both poetic and yet so vulgar. From the way he typed, she figured he had to have some kind of proper background and be older. No man she had ever met that was her age talked like him. 

“Of course, my love.” She purrs, reaching over to her drawer to fish out a toy. Before the stream, she had debated which one to use as his taste seemed to change with the wind. However, there was one she could always trust would please him. 

It’s a rabbit toy, sleek black with a long and thick vibrator and an additional clit stimulator that sucks and pulses in time with the rest of it. She always has the best orgasms with it and had actually been using it when Gale first found her stream. Ever since it was one of his favorites. 

“A classic, dear. Show me how your pretty cunt can drench it…and keep the lingerie on.”

“Yes, sir…” She almost whimpers as she pushes aside the already soaked material of her panties, biting down on her bottom lip as the toy comes to life in her hands. It was like a Pavlov effect on her pussy as she feels herself clench around nothing, eager to fuck herself for him.

The toy slides with little resistance inside of her as the clit stimulator begins to work its magic immediately, her back arching as she moans. She can feel the urge to close her eyes and blindly find her pleasure rising but she forces them open, eager to see what her client has to say. 

After a few seconds, he begins to type and she can only imagine what causes the delay, her mind flickering to images of a faceless man stroking his cock to her body. 

“So needy, so wet.”

“I can hear that wet cunt over your music, naughty girl. Do I make you this wet?”

“Fuck yourself for me. Call out my name, let everyone around you hear you cry for me.”

“Fuck, Gale!” She whines as she picks up the speed of her thrusts, the movement causing her clit to rub against the nub perfectly. “It’s…it’s so deep and it feels so fucking good…”

Her breasts sway to the rhythm she has become a slave to, almost popping out of the lingerie as the chair underneath her squeaks from her shifting weight. She can feel her mask begin to itch on her face as she starts to sweat, itching to remove it just so it doesn’t distract her. 

Instead, she spreads her legs wider and throws her head back in bliss for him. 

“Oooooh shit, oh fuck me,” She gasps as she hears the computer ping rapidly. “Gale, gods, Gale, fuck me, fuck me!”

The dual stimulation is causing her vision to turn spotty as she hits her Gspot, her entire back coming off the chair as she goes faster and faster. She thankfully has enough sense to raise her head to view his chat, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

“That’s it, darling, such a good girl. Look at you squirm for me. Look at you degrade yourself for me.”

“I can tell you are close. I can see your thighs trembling with the effort to keep them spread, to keep that slutty pussy open for me.”

“Gods above, I wish you could see how much I am leaking for you. It is a mess that I would love to cover you in. A devilish, sinful masterpiece.”

“I won’t last much longer. I need you to cum. Now.”

His last message had only been sent a few seconds ago and she took it in stride, changing her position so that she was practically kneeling and fucking herself roughly. Tessa could feel the drool leaking out of her mouth as her whole lower half seemed to throb in need, the tingles starting to spread up her body as she felt her orgasm quickly approaching. 

“I’m gonna cum, oh gods, I’m gonna-” She couldn’t even finish the sentence as she did one final, harsh thrust into her cunt. It sends her over the edge, her hips mindlessly grinding down further into the vibrations as she clenches over and over on the toy. It felt like too much and not enough, her body craving something more. Something real. 

Gale’s name is the only thing she can chant as she rides out her high, one of her hands going up to squeeze and pinch at her breast to extend the pleasure. After a few moments, she starts to come down, switching off the toy with clumsy fingers and letting it slide out of her.

“Show me.”

She knew what he wanted. It was the same every time she finished. Tessa gives the camera a lazy grin as she reaches for the toy and holds it up, showing the shiny and creamy texture before she does the same to her pussy. 

“The things I’d do to taste you, sweet girl. A tempest of my very own. Thank you for the show.”

His words make her look away for a moment in shyness as if she hadn’t just given him a very risque show. She turns back to the camera and blows him a kiss, wishing him a goodnight before she ends the stream and shuts her laptop. 

“Wow…” Tessa murmurs to herself, taking a deep breath as she stands up on shaky legs. She reaches for her phone and turns the music to something more alternative, more her speed, as well as turning the lights back to their lighter color. 

And so begins her nightly ritual after becoming her alter ego, Tilly Tryst. The mask comes off and is safely tucked away along with the rest of her clothes and toys. She fixes her bed and lights her candles, heading to the bathroom to take off her makeup and anything else she wears for her job. It’s like taking off a costume for her, or maybe an actor coming off stage. 

The bath she draws is usually her favorite part as she bathes herself in lighter scents. If she cared to analyze, it would be abundantly clear that it was like she washing away her sins or her actions. However, that would mean moralizing her job and that was a road she did not want to go down right now. 

Her phone pings as her muscles relax under the water, reaching out to see who could be texting her so late. The notification wasn’t a text though but a deposit notification. Gale had left her another very generous tip on top of his private stream payment. 

Tessa wishes she had someone to talk about this with, to see if this was healthy or if she should cut ties with him. This entire cam-girl job wasn’t even something she wanted to be doing. It was forced on her…subject herself to this or drop out of college. She knew others would have done the same in her position. 

Blackstaff Academy is the best wizarding school on the Sword Coast. Plenty of wizards of considerable acclaim had gone here and she was determined to be one of them. Her parents didn’t support her in her endeavors though they had no problem when her brothers had gone here. It was a sexist ideology, a kink in their plans to marry her off to a family friend to strengthen their role in society, and they hated her for it.

Other wizards at the school had a support system, a childhood of magical nurturing that inspired them to become even greater, and money or assistance to pay. Tessa had a childhood of sneaking magical tomes from her father and brothers, a support system of only her grandfather, and no money to her tattered name.

This is her last resort and thankfully, it was supplying more than she needed. It not only paid for her books, supplies, and other needs, but also her food and her rent. She finally felt like she was on the winning coin of fate. The last thing she needed was her only source of income to stop, even if it might be a dangerous game. 

And while Tessa would never admit this to herself, let alone a friend, she got a small thrill from her work. To be anonymous and yet so fully exposed is a different kind of adrenaline, not to mention the attention. Especially from her favorite clients. It fills a void that she desperately tries to hide.

She felt needed, desired, and for someone who went most of her life feeling the opposite it was like a balm for her soul…even if the methods were a little unorthodox. 

The clock in her room chimes, signaling the late hour, and she sighs before hauling herself out of the bath. Her last “first” semester started tomorrow and by the looks of her schedule as well as gossip in the hallways, it was not going to be an easy one. 

Tessa wraps herself in a fuzzy towel and softly pads back into her bedroom, fishing out comfortable pajamas as she finishes her nightly routine. Doors locked, windows shut, curtains drawn, and most importantly her laptop was shut. The bed calls her name as she finally settles in and down for the night, closing her eyes and drifting off into a dreamless slumber. 

[zylev-blog]

Background info for this post:

Danielle: Diana

Sam: Demeter

Danny: Zeus

Valerie: Artemis

Dan: Poseidon

Vlad: Hades

Clockwork: Kronos

Jazz: Athena

Pandora: Hippolyta

Ghost form: Divine form

————-

Diana was reading in the Watchtower when Danny sought her out. He stayed invisible, but he knew she knew he was there.

“Hello, Father.” Diana said formally, turning the page in her book. “What brings you by? Did Mother kick you out again?”

“No,” He denied. “She didn’t.”

“Okay.” Diana responded, “What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything!” He insisted.

“Who’s that talking?” Barry asked from the other side of the room.

“Father, you may as well show yourself so that it appears that I am not speaking to myself. But a word of caution; you may want to reign in your appearance.” Diana set down her book, looking up where Danny had been invisibly floating in front of her.

“There is nothing wrong with my appearance.” He grumbled.

“Really? What happened to the last mortal you let see you?” Diana cocked an eyebrow.

“His brain melting was not my fault.” He denied instantly.

“Mhm.” Diana waved her hand. “You don’t even remember his name, do you?”

“Of course I do!” He bristled.

“Really? What is it then?”

“Steve Trevor.” He said proudly, “But you know that I won’t remember every mortal fling you’ve ever had.”

“Are you calling me old, Father? Isn’t that like calling the kettle black?” Diana smirked.

He blushed, but only Diana could see it. “I see you are getting wise in your old age. Would that be Artemis or Athena’s influence?”

“Both.” Diana responded, “But the same could be said of it being Grandfather’s influence.”

“I am so confused.” Barry complained.

“Father.” Diana prompted.

“Fine,” He grumbled, shifting to his human form. He had long since reached adulthood, and his human form reflected that. He was 6”6 tall, with spiky black hair and light blue eyes. Stubble covered the bottom half of his face, but it was immaculately trimmed. He wore black armor with a cape made of galaxies.

“Wow.” Barry glanced at Diana, then back to Danny. “Do I bow?”

“That’s not necessary.” He said quickly. “My name is Zeus. It’s wonderful to meet you, Barry Allen.”

“He knows my real name?” Barry asked, shaking Danny’s hand.

“Of course. He is King. He knows all.” Diana smirked, looking at him.

“Do not compare me to my father.” He complained, “I am not an omnipresent asshole.”

“What?” Barry asked.

“See all, know all, that kind of bullshit.” He shrugged, “I’m not God with a capital G.”

“Why are you here if it has nothing to do with Mother?” Diana asked.

“Hades.” He said as Diana stiffened, “He has… become active lately.”

“Is he back to his old ways?” Diana frowned.

“Not completely.” He responded, thinking of the days long since past when Vlad had messed with clones. “Nobody is sure what he is up to, since we can’t find him.”

“That’s not possible.” Diana sat up straighter.

“He gave up his divine form.” He said, “Taking on a new mortal form.”

“That’s…” Diana trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“You see the dilemma, then, daughter?” He asked.

“Perhaps he is turning over a new leaf, as the humans say.” Diana said slowly.

“Do you trust Hades?” He narrowed his eyes.

Diana had no comment.

“Your grandfather doesn’t think you should be involved,” He continued, “But your mortal friends…”

“I will summon them at once.” Diana stood.

“Great, I’m so glad you both pretend as if I’m not here.” Barry complained.

“I am sorry my friend,” Diana looked over at the speedster.

“It’s okay.” Barry shrugged.

“I had forgotten what it was like to speak to mortals. My apologies.” He apologized.

“You don’t remember what it was like to be a hero, Father?” Diana teased, “Perhaps I should ask Frostbite for dementia medicine.”

He rolled his eyes. “Perhaps I should ask him if it’s too late to have an abortion.”

Diana gasped. “Mother would take offense to that!”

“She will,” He agreed.

[sunshine-daisies-library]

Request for John b routledge: reader and John b slow dancing while talking about their future together.

older | john b. routledge x fem!reader

summary: you and john b are the only ones that remain on the dance floor. the both of you can't help but reminisce on the past and look towards the future.

warnings: she/her pronoun usage, mentions of drinking and weed, partying

You weren’t sure how much time had passed by since you started swaying in John B’s arms. All you knew was that Sarah left a little after midnight with Kiara following suit, and Pope and Cleo went home soon after. JJ, ever the partier, continued through rounds of drinks and chasers until he ultimately ended up passed out on the couch. However, you and John B. remained awake, dancing along to the soft music playing from JJ’s speaker. You were grateful JJ was too far gone to complain that you connected your phone to his speaker and played something calmer for the end of the night. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” John B. whispered softly in your ear, his hand just barely grazing your hip. 

“Nothin’” you hummed. You allowed your fingers to loosen to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. The mere sensation sent shivers down John B’s spine, delightful and exciting all at once. 

John B. pulled away to twirl you, your giggles filling the air and drowning out the soft melody playing in the background. “Don’t lie to me, y/n,” he says with a chuckle. The conversation was light, no harm or accusatory tones being displayed. He was merely curious about what was going on in that little head of yours. “You can talk to me, always.” 

“I know,” you relent, joining back together with him. “I’m just…content, is all.” 

John B. raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk dancing along his lips. The smell of cheap beer could be smelled from his breath, and his corny Hawaiian shirt reeked of weed. You weren’t any better, though, with your bloodshot eyes and racing heart from one shot after the other with JJ. Your Converse were matted with dirt and spilled White Claws, squeaking against the beer can littered floors of his living room. It was your perfect paradise, despite everything working against the two of you. Anything was paradise with John B. and your best friends at your side. 

You finally gave into his magnetic stare, his eyes your weakness. “I don’t wanna get older,” you sighed. “I don’t want to lose all of this.” You gestured to his small shack, complete with its unwashed dishes in the sink and sticky counter covered in God knows what. 

John B. could only laugh softly at your confession. “So you want JJ to stay on his drunk ass on our couch for eternity?” he joked, swiftly dodging your punch. 

“Not that,” you whined, but you couldn’t stop your heart from flipping at the way he called this place “ours.” That is what you didn’t want to lose. “I don’t want to get all old and wrinkly to a point where you don’t wanna love me. Or too old to go on adventures with the group and dive for random shit that tourons leave behind. Or too–” 

“Slow down, n/n,” John B. cut you off. He reached for the sides of your face, his thumbs grazing your cheeks to wipe away the tears that began to form. “None of that is gonna happen,” he reassured you. “Yeah, we’re gonna get old and gross, but that’s not going to stop us from doing stupid shit.” You choked out a wet laugh at his wording. “We’re still going to take the boat out any chance we get. We’re still going to try and fail to prevent JJ from cliff diving. We’re still going to go on adventures together, and we are still going to be in love, no matter how old we get, you hear me?”

You nodded, but a pout still remained on your lips. John B dropped one hand to grab yours and kiss it softly. “We’re gonna get old,” he whispered. “And you’re gonna be my girl forever. You’re gonna wear that cocaine colored wedding dress and walk down the aisle, and I’m going to cry like a baby through it all.” 

John B. pulled you in and began swaying again. Like clockwork, you rested your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m going to get a job, and we’re going to buy a house on a hill so we don’t have to worry about our basement flooding after hurricanes. We’re going to have three kids -no, four- and you can take care of them in that house.” 

“Like a housewife?” you snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. 

John B.  dipped you carefully, a boyish smile on his face. “Well, you can do whatever you’d like,” he reasoned. “If you don’t want that, we can be a team and raise them together. I can..can be a mechanic or engineer, and you can be a teacher. Or nurse, or doctor, or whatever you want. I just want you to be happy and never stress.” 

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it,” you decided, tears dried and frown replaced by a smile. “I guess getting older isn’t too bad, then.”

“With you?” John B. questioned as the song came to an end. “It’ll be worth it all.” 

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

it only takes a taste | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! this is just pure fluff and maybe kind of slowburnish lol

this was loosely based off of it only takes a taste from the waitress musical! :3

idk i just really like the idea of late nights with mike even if he's too tired to even think straight lmao

also don't ask what time period this takes place in, i was born in 2004 and know like 2 things about the 70s-90s or whenever the movie takes place bc its never explicitly mentioned

i also do not regularly bake or cook so do not be afraid to go to my comment section and tell me if something sounds off

i love this man ok, i have said it 1000 times already but i've been in love with him ever since i first saw him when i was like 12 or 13 and was even more so obsessed with rebornica's mike design for YEARS. 12 year old me would have an aneurism if she knew about the fnaf movie

you let out a long yawn, one hand reaching up cover your mouth so as not to potentially ruin the mood of any customers around; granted, there was only two and they were graveyard shifters from somewhere outside of town but customers are customers. you'd been working at sparky's for a couple of months now, figuring it was an easy way to make some cash and keep food on the table. of course, you hadn't accounted for the very long hours that passed where you half debated trying to sneak away since no was around from 2-4:00 am: your boss would kill you, though, and you wanted to stay employed.

soft oldies music plays in the background as you glance over at the clock ticking away on the wall. just as you move to grab a rag to clean the counters for the 5th time during your shift, you hear the bell above the entrance jingle and don't even have to look up to know who it is.

mike wasn't a regular at first, just someone who popped in at random and very quietly asked for a coffee. after a while of starting a new job, he started coming in at almost 11:00 pm everyday and always asking for the same thing: just a plain, black coffee. "seriously?" you had said with a smirk the first time he said his order to you, your eyes widening at the attitude you had just given a customer. fortunately, mike was quick to respond with a tired but good natured laugh, his hands folded in front of him. "i'm all ears if you have other recommendations." he mumbled with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, giving you instant relief.

now, it was just clockwork. "hey." mike sighs with a soft sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he takes a seat at a chair by the counter you were standing behind. "coffee machine is kind of acting up tonight, you're gonna have to give it a minute. want anything else while you wait?" you say as you approach the counter, giving him a quick smile. mike is about to decline your offer, his lips parting to say something before his eyes land on something on the farther end of the counter. "what about that? still good?" "you're just in time. i was going to take the rest of it home." you say with a smile, walking over to the cake stand holding an apple pie with only 3 slices left of it. you take the lid off to plate it, handing it over to mike with a hum before bringing him utensils. you don't even get the chance to bring up to him that the slices have been sitting there for a couple of hours, blinking in shock at the way he's quick to start eating.

you turn your back to start taking down the chalkboard advertising the special from the day before, giving mike his one moment of quiet you were sure he needed. you start to think about what your day will consist of once you're done with your shift, dreading having to clean your room before you can actually sleep. "did you make this?" "yeah. why, is it bad?" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at mike again; your eyes widen a bit at the way mike is looking at you, his own eyes looking at you like he can't believe what he just put it in his mouth. "no, no, it's..it's really good, like. really good." your cheeks redden a bit at the sudden compliment, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you occasionally glance at him enjoying the pie you'd made; you wouldn't say you were amazing at cooking but you definitely knew enough to make a meal that would do more than just feed you.

it also didn't help that you'd been harboring a crush on mike for the past month. that you were aware of, he didn't have a partner of any kind but that might have been more to do with the fact he didn't have time for one than anything else. you at first brushed it off as just not having contact with anyone your age that late at night, just enjoying his company when nights got lonely. but you couldn't deny the way you would style your hair a bit differently or try a new perfume in the hopes of getting a compliment from mike; to your absolute pleasure, he almost always pointed it out. now to hear this sudden praise for your cooking took you out of your element.

"thanks, really, but i make it all the time. i can make thousands like it and they'll all be the same." you say with a light chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest as you look over at the cake stand sheepishly. "then maybe you should consider getting a day job making these instead." mike says between bites, giving you a playful smile. you can't help but scoff despite the smile on your face, looking over at mike again. "well, if it's that easy, maybe YOU should quit your job and come and join me. keep me company." the two of you have a quiet laugh, your cheeks reddening at the indirect compliment you had paid him. once his plate is empty, you take it away from him just to have an excuse to do something with your hands (also to get away from the almost fond look that mike was giving you right now, definitely not on par for him). there's a tense silence between the two of you before mike speaks up, clearing his throat when he speaks. "uh, i tried making that at home. the pie, i mean. i don't remember what kind it was right now, but it definitely didn't end as well as that." he says with a nervous laugh, hands folded in front of him again as you hear the coffee machine start to pour out his drink.

"well, what exactly did you do wrong?" with surprisingly no hesitance, mike goes on to tell the story of how sure he was about this recipe he'd seen in a catalogue, going above and beyond to make sure this "stupid thing" (his words) came out right. little did he know leaving his creation unattended for even a second would result in smoke pouring out of the oven and having to throw out a charred-black pastry; "and then abby went and acted like we could just go and do it all over again and.." mike starts, hands waving around uncharacteristically as he finished off his story. he caught the way you were trying to hold back a laugh, fingers pressed to your lips that were etched into a small smile. "it's ok, you can laugh all you want. i never tried doing it again." you can't help the laugh that leaves you once he gives you his full permission, still trying to keep your voice down. "i-i'm sorry, really.." you giggle once you've calmed down, rubbing your hands over your face before you start to walk around the counter to where mike is sitting. "but that's not how making a pie works. you can't just leave it like that or give up on the process that easily."

mike makes a face that says 'i'm listening', shrugging his shoulders when you sit on the stool next to him. "making a pie is like.." you start with a sigh, hands propping up your chin in thought as you look up at the clock. "you just know when some things feel right. if something is too much or too little, whether you need to start again or not. lord knows i've had to redo entire pies because the crust wasn't flaky enough or the filling didn't taste like apples enough." you say, chuckling a bit as you remember all the times you'd slaved away for almost entire days trying to nail down the perfect home recipe. you take a minute to think again, sitting back a bit as you smooth down your apron tied around your waist. "and it also doesn't help if you make something just to make something. when you bake or just cook a plain old steak, you have to make it like you're crafting a story or making a song. all of my best meals were made with someone or something in mind."

your cheeks go red again when you realize the very unprompted ramble you went on, a nervous laugh leaving you as you look down at your lap. "sorry, you totally don't have to-" "no, no, i-" the two of you jump a bit at the way you both try to speak first, sheepish smiles tugging at your lips before you go quiet again. the bell above the door jingles and you don't have to look up to know the two of you are alone now. "i like hearing about that sort of stuff. i really only hear about it when i'm here with you and it's..nice. different." your heart soars and you can only hope that mike can't somehow feel or hear it, trying to give him a warm smile without saying something you'll regret. you get up from your seat with a when he checks his watch, knowing that's code for 'i need to go' even before he stands. you're almost sure he'll leave without saying anything which you are simultaneously grateful for and hoped he wouldn't do, already busying yourself with some other menial task. "hey."

you look up almost as soon as he speaks, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and not able to contain your own. "save those leftovers for me. i hope it still tastes like you were trying to make it for me when i get back." he says, a smug look in his eyes as your lips part a bit in shock. you try to call out to him before he jogs out to his car, taking off accordingly.

-> ta da its done! :D &lt;-

this was honestly less romantic than i wanted it to be but i promise that my brain is racked with thoughts of him literally EVERY DAY so mayhaps i can write something else that's more up to par one of these days

but thank yall for reading! :D i haven't been able to pump out a oneshot like this for a while and it felt good to write something longer than a couple of paragraphs, i have missed this account sm 🐺💗 love yall and i hope that you all are having a fantastic day!

[kaeyachi]

Kaeya visits the Dawn Winery... a lot.

He has multiple reasons and excuses that change every time he is greeted by Adelinde.

An investigation on the Darknight hero.

A mission he received from Jean.

A short detour from his patrols.

One time, all he did was ask for a glass of wine before he went his merry way.

Another, he spent a bit more time within the building, creating jam with Adelinde.

Diluc occasionally catches the man approaching the winery from a distance. If he was lucky enough to evade Kaeya's attention, he would send Adelinde to talk to the cavalry captain in his stead. As for the other times, Kaeya would glance up to meet his eyes from where the cavalry captain was standing by the entrance - thru his tinted windows somehow. The younger man's eyes would be glinting mischievously, his ever-present smirk slowly growing on his face.

"Gotcha," his face seemed to imply.

Diluc simply huffs in frustration before leaving his room to spend a couple of moments bantering with the other.

Diluc knows how frequent Kaeya's visits were. He fully expects at least 2 visits in a week...

...The idea that Kaeya frequently visits but never stays... leaves a bitter taste in Diluc's mouth.

Kaeya himself had said that Dawn Winery was his home. If he thought so, why was he always doling out excuses just to be here?

Doesn't Kaeya know he is welcome any time?

Does Kaeya know he could stay?

.

.

.

Like clockwork, Kaeya visits the Dawn Winery.

This time, Kaeya manages to meet his eyes- thru the tinted windows somehow.

Diluc huffs, leaves his room, and meets the other by the entrance.

Kaeya tries to give an excuse for his visit.

Diluc interrupts by saying "you don't need a reason to come home".

.

.

.

'Gotcha' Diluc thinks. He feels as if he won something upon being met by Kaeya's stunned face and hearing Adelinde's giggles at the background.

[worldsmessiestwriter]

Just a good samaritan.

tw - loss, angst and heartbreak.

word count - ?

Peter Parker x Reader

inspired by The Manuscript by Taylor Swift.

—————————————————————————

Peter Parker hadn’t planned on starting over—not like this. Yet, here he was, in a cramped, dingy apartment where the radiator clanged every night like clockwork. The familiar buzz of loneliness threatened to seep through the thin walls.

Until one knock on his door changed everything.

Peter opened it to find a young woman standing there, holding a plate of muffins. She smiled, her breath fogging in the chilly hallway.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, from across the hall,” she said, extending the plate like an offering. “I thought I’d bring you these. Welcome to the building.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Homemade muffins? Either you’re angling for a favor, or you’re trying to poison me.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t waver. “No, I’m just a good Samaritan!”

He laughed softly, taking the plate. “Well, I won’t say no to free food. Thanks, Y/N.”

It started small—chats in the hallway, shared complaints about the broken elevator, casual banter when they ran into each other at the corner bodega. But small turned into something else. Peter found himself smiling more, his nights a little less heavy with the weight of memories and regrets.

And Y/N, well, she hadn’t planned on her next-door neighbor being so… magnetic. It wasn’t just the messy hair or the boyish charm. It was the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, the way he spoke like someone who had lost everything and still managed to find reasons to laugh.

One rainy evening, they found themselves on Peter’s couch, a marathon of bad action movies playing in the background. Y/N was laughing at some ridiculous explosion on-screen when Peter leaned closer, his gaze warm and teasing.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft but playful, “you could’ve just told me you wanted an excuse to hang out. The muffins were a nice touch, though.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.”

But her heart was pounding, and she knew he could see the flush creeping up her neck.

He grinned, catching the popcorn mid-air. “Caught you.”

As the weeks passed, their connection deepened. Peter started making coffee every morning in a French press he’d borrowed from Y/N, his once-solitary mornings now filled with the memory of her laughter. She’d come over and bring cereal—always something childish, like Lucky Charms or Froot Loops—and they’d eat it straight from the box while trading stories about their day.

They teased, they laughed, they argued about stupid things like whose turn it was to pick the movie. But there was always an underlying current of something more.

One night, as they stood on the fire escape watching the city lights, Y/N turned to him. “You’re different, you know,” she said softly.

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Different how?”

“Like… you’ve lived a thousand lives already. But you’re still here, still trying.”

Peter swallowed hard, his chest tightening. “I’m just trying to make the most of this one,” he murmured.

They were happy—for a while. But happiness for Peter Parker always came with a risk.

The cracks began to show in quiet moments. Y/N would catch him staring off into the distance, his expression haunted. He’d pull away sometimes, retreating into himself with no explanation. She didn’t push.

And then came the nights when he wouldn’t come home at all.

She knew there was more to him than he let on, more than just the sweet, clever boy who made her laugh until her sides hurt. But Peter was a storm, and she was a bystander caught in the winds.

One morning, after another night of absence, Peter found her sitting on his couch, a bowl of cereal in her lap. She didn’t look up when he walked in.

"You could have told me, you know," she said quietly.

“Told you what?”

Y/N’s eyes remained fixed on the bowl of Lucky Charms, her spoon idly swirling the milk. Her voice was steady, but Peter could hear the undercurrent of something fragile in it.

“That you’re unhappy,” she said finally, looking up at him with a mixture of hurt and resignation.

Peter froze in the doorway, his heart lurching. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat.

“I’ve tried to ignore it,” she continued, her tone soft but unwavering. “The nights you disappear. The way you look at me sometimes, like I’m here, but you’re somewhere else. I didn’t want to push, because I thought—” Her voice cracked. “I thought maybe you’d let me in eventually.”

“Y/N…” His voice was barely above a whisper. He stepped closer, his hands in his pockets like they could shield him from the weight of her words.

“I don’t need you to tell me everything, Peter,” she said, standing now, the bowl abandoned on the table. “I just needed to know you wanted me to be here. That I wasn’t… some temporary distraction.”

“You’re not.” The words rushed out of him, desperate and raw. “You’re not a distraction, Y/N. You’re… you’re the one good thing I’ve had in a long time.”

Her eyes softened, but the hurt lingered. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?”

Peter raked a hand through his hair, his voice trembling. “Because everyone I let in gets hurt. Everyone I care about… I lose them.” He looked at her, his eyes pleading. “I can’t lose you, too.”

They tried. For weeks after that conversation, they tried. Y/N stayed. Peter let her in—little by little, piece by piece. He told her about his Aunt May, about the guilt he carried for the people he couldn’t save. He didn’t tell her everything—not about Spider-Man, not about the spell that had wiped him from everyone’s memory—but he told her enough.

And for a while, it worked. They found a rhythm, a fragile balance. Mornings with coffee and cereal, late-night walks around the city, quiet moments on the fire escape where words weren’t needed.

But the cracks never fully healed.

It was another late night when it finally came undone.

Peter had been gone for hours, and Y/N was waiting by the window, the city lights casting shadows across her face. When the door finally creaked open, she didn’t turn.

“Long night?” she asked, her voice clipped.

Peter sighed, closing the door behind him. “Y/N, I—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, standing and facing him. “Don’t give me some half-assed excuse. Just tell me the truth. Are we really doing this? Or are you just waiting for me to leave?”

His silence was answer enough.

Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a bitter laugh. “I thought so.”

“Y/N, it’s not you,” Peter said, his voice breaking. “It’s me. It’s my life. It’s… everything. I thought I could do this, but—”

“But you can’t,” she finished for him, her voice trembling.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for hers, but she pulled away.

“I can’t be the person who keeps waiting for you to come back,” she said softly. “I love you, Peter. But I deserve more than this.”

The morning after, the apartment felt emptier than it ever had. Peter stared at the French press on the counter, the one she’d insisted he keep because “store-bought coffee is a crime against humanity.”

He made a cup, but it didn’t taste the same.

Days turned into weeks. He saw her sometimes, in passing, her smile polite but distant. She seemed brighter somehow, freer. Peter was happy for her, even as it broke him.

Years later, Peter found himself in a café on the other side of the city. He was flipping through a book when he heard a familiar laugh.

He looked up and saw her—Y/N, sitting at a corner table, her hair glowing in the afternoon sun. She was with someone, a man who made her laugh the way Peter once had.

He smiled faintly, closing the book and standing to leave. He didn’t approach her—didn’t interrupt. He just watched for a moment, the weight in his chest both heavy and comforting.

As he stepped out onto the street, the wind tugging at his coat, he thought of her words: “I just needed to know you wanted me to be here.”

And finally Peter allowed himself to let her go.

—————————————————————————

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

november with you | kylian mbappé (part iii/iii)

kylian mbappé x original female character [+18]

synopsis: alice has been living in paris for a year, she found a perfect job and a perfect boyfriend in this city, but the cold of november is bringing back old memories she wishes she could forget. warnings: established relationship; smut; domestic fluff; i have never been to france; minors dni.

(this is a sequel to the french exit, but can be read as standalone)

previous chapter | masterlist |

Part III — Put A Little Love On Me

“I've still got so much love hidden beneath this skin.”

Caroline, Alice’s mother, was opening a new store in Paris. The launch party was an intimate event, exclusive to a select few. The venue – adorned with chic, modern decor – screamed sophistication. The store itself was a vision of elegance, filled with racks showcasing Ficher’s incredible designs; you could feel Caroline’s fashion genius in every stitch. Soft jazz music was playing in the background. It was a sight – and sound – to behold.

Alice is wearing the Helen Dress, embodying the essence of sophistication in her mother's brand. Crafted from mesh with thin straps delicately hugging her shoulders, leading to a sensual V-neckline. A front slit and long length, along with the meticulously stitched finish, completed the ensemble.

With an air of femininity and grace, the dress was tailored to Alice's form, transforming her into a living embodiment of her mother's design philosophy. The dress wasn't just clothing; it was a statement, and Alice wore it with the natural confidence of a woman who knows the power of elegance.

Alice had her hands full helping her mother with the event. From organizing the guest list to coordinating with the caterers. At the party, there was a quiet satisfaction exchanged between mother and daughter, an unspoken acknowledgment of a job well done. For Alice, the store opening was an important milestone. The little nods and smiles from her mom were like medals of honor, and Alice cherished them all.

On top of that, this time things seemed different between Caroline Ficher and Fayza Lamari. Even though they have crossed paths on multiple occasions before, the two matriarchs, usually restrained in polite conversation, now seemed to be genuinely interested in each other’s company. For Alice and Kylian, it was almost comical how much their mothers resembled each other personality-wise. They were amusing themselves observing the duo.

“I have to be honest, knowing my mother, I didn’t see that coming.” Kylian points out. “They do have a lot in common. They’re both business women…” He looks contradicted when he says it, as if he can't believe his own words. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy. It’s good that they are friends. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so…”

“Weird.” Alice says, chuckling. 

“Yes, weird.” Kylian smirks. He stops to think for a moment. “It's a good weird, though.”

As Alice continues to watch their friendly interactions, she wishes for a similar acceptance from Fayza. Fayza's politeness towards her was always tinged with a protective edge, as if she was assessing Alice's role in her son's life. Alice understood the maternal instinct; after all, she shared a similar protective shield around her own family. The struggle to let someone new into the inner circle was a sentiment that resonated deeply with her.

But Alice’s family, while protective, had become more lenient with her dating choices. They had reached a point where they valued her happiness over rigid expectations. Yet Fayza seemed to embody a more intense form of protection, making Alice feel uneasy. Like she was walking on a tightrope.

“I want to get used to this.” She says, eyeing the easy vibe between their mothers. “Seeing the two of them like this.”

She doesn't explain why exactly, she figures it's not wise to get too hung up on her relationship with his mom. But like clockwork, Kylian catches the unsaid, giving her a nod that says he gets what she means.

"It's all a matter of time, baby, you'll see," Kylian reassures her, his arm encircling her waist.

His gesture triggers a wave of nostalgia, taking her to another party they attended, not together but still, not far apart. Back then, she had doubts about the possibility of them ever being together like this. The memory feels distant in the past.

A warmth envelops her, contrasting sharply with the uncertainty of that moment. A sense of pride swells up within her – pride in both of them for having faith in their love and creating the beautiful relationship they now share.

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The slam of the front door echoes through the hallway as Kylian chuckles, his words slightly slurred, "Wow, that was something." They both wore coats over their fancy designer party clothes, the chill of the outside world clashing with the warmth of their home. Closing the door seemed to intensify the effect, and for a moment, they felt even drunker.

They stumble into the living room, still holding glasses of champagne that had miraculously made their way from the party to the cab and finally to the apartment. The soft glow of the lamp highlighted the remnants of the evening – a discarded purse and a pair of high heels.

With a playful grin, Alice plops down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. "Join me."

Kylian obliges and sinks onto the couch beside her. They clink their glasses and the sound echoes in the quiet room.

“To mothers and champagne!” Alice declares, taking a sip and grinning.

"Cheers!" Kylian says, lifting his glass in agreement. “But let’s not talk about mothers anymore.” He has a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Alice raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "What should we talk about, then?" She says, teasing him.

Kylian, looking like he was planning something, slowly wraps his hands around the Burberry scarf Alice was wearing and begins to take it off. The smooth, deliberate motion draws a surprised expression from Alice.

The scarf joins their coats on the floor, thrown in the general direction where Alice had discarded her heels and purse, and Kylian continues his mission. His tuxedo jacket, the suit pants – all removed. He’s careful when taking off her dress, still sober enough to understand he’s not allowed to damage this one.

Finally, she’s naked in front of him. It always feels like forever ago, even when he had this view this morning – or every morning. He stares at her, her hair is messy, loose strands framing her beautiful face. He runs his fingers through her hair and lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him.

Kylian is standing in front of the couch, still in his boxers, looking down to her with obvious desire. Alice’s knees go weak as she’s completely at his mercy – and she loves being at this position.

He kneels down in front of her and kisses her roughly, enjoying the taste of expensive champagne on her tongue. Her heart beats faster and he goes on to kiss her neck, then whispering in her ear. “Do you know what I want right now?”

His hand touches her tight and his palm moves up slowly until he reaches a part of her that’s burning for him. Alice gasps and arches her back, her hips moving against his hand. Her breathing is heavy and she lets herself be guided by him. She closes her eyes and moans as Kylian caresses her wetness. 

Kylian takes the time to admire the sight before him – the naked woman on his couch, legs spread open wide while her eyes are closed, lost in pleasure.

She hears him laugh, softly.

“This. Right here.” He says, entering a finger inside of her. “This is what I want.” Another finger. “Everyday.” He pushes it in and out, slowly. “I can’t get you out of my mind, Alice.”

He keeps thrusting his fingers inside her, preparing her to receive him, and her body starts convulsing, she grasps the edge of the sofa and moans loudly. He will never get tired of the noises she makes when she comes. Kylian smiles at the intensity of her reaction.

Still kneeling on the floor, he brings her to his lap. “I’m going to fuck you now.” He promises her, whispering in her ear as he holds her. “Such a good girl.” He praises her, making her blush furiously. “Look at me, baby.” It’s an order, and she obeys.

Her eyes flutter open and Kylian loves how lewd she looks in that moment. He presses his forehead against hers. “You’re mine.”

“Yes!” She says, eyes filled with lust, body flushed with arousal. “‘M yours…”

Kylian grabs her waist and enters her in one swift motion, pounding her hard against the couch. Her head rolls back and she groans; they move together, sweat covering their bodies. He takes her, uses her. They lie together on the living room floor, Kylian lifts her leg over his shoulder and keeps thrusting into her. 

Her arms wrap around his neck and he leans forward to kiss her harshly, but lovingly. Alice struggles against her second orgasm but it doesn’t take long and he follows her.

Their skin is drenched in sweat, mixing their scent. Kylian thinks he would never get tired of seeing her beautiful body underneath him, his cock buried deep inside of her.

When they regain their breath, Alice and Kylian are still sprawled on the floor. They stare up the ceiling, lost in their own thoughts but somehow still connected. The world outside fades away and the only thing on their minds is the certainty that there will be countless moments like this in their future.

[nocturnal-justice]

So, now we know how the attorneys feel about Kanai Ward... How do they feel about their new coworkers?

Phoenix nervously chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "It's... a work in progress. We're all still getting to know one another, so I'm not surprised some of us may be on edge. Especially given the reason all of us are here in the first place. The last thing I want is for any rivalries to form, but-"

"Oh, I see how it is! You think you can steal my spotlight!" Desuhiko hollers over the rest of Phoenix's statement.

"Nein, nein! I simply want to spread my music to all corners of the world! Besides, don't you still need guitar practice? I'd be more than happy to assist if you'd like," Klavier attempts to reason with the prideful detective.

"Yeah, sure, and risk you taking all the ladies for yourself while I'm distracted!"

The accusation is laughable to Klavier. He leans over, smirking all the while, and whispers to Desuhiko, "who said anything about ladies? I've got all the fanfare I need right here," he point back at Apollo, too occupied with paperwork to pay mind to the prosecutor's sneaky remark. "Anything else is just a bonus."

Desuhiko is effectively silenced.

Athena swiftly leads the next conversation, intently aware of the awkwardness settling in between the two rockstars. "Fubuki and I have been brainstorming which attorney and detective would pair best together in an investigation! She's told me all about how one of her ancestors used to be part of a huge investigative collaboration just like this one! And after some research, we learned that this group tackled problems by splitting into duos of which Forte would work most effectively with an attorney's talent. I think it would be a good bonding exercise!"

Fubuki ponders over the scribbled chart before exclaiming, "Ooo! How about Apollo and I pair up?"

This catches the horned lawyer's attention. "Huh? What makes you think that? Feels like our abilities would clash more than anything."

"Hmm..." The clockwork detective scratches her chin in deep thought. "Ah, I know! We'd be the best 'I Spy' team, we could win a competitive tournament!"

Apollo raises a brow. "If you say so, but I dunno how a game compares to an actual investigation, unless you decide to treat it like one."

In the background of their chit-chat, Trucy is happily practicing a magic trick on a tired but humored Vivia.

[rosevideo-owner]

❛  i don't know what i'd do without you.  ❜ ( from moira, said from within a closet, probably <3 )

John paused for a moment, a smirk forming as he took in words he had heard from Moira so many times before: during the birth of their children, walking her to the car after fun filled, boozy evenings at the Kennedy compound, award shows, not to mention every season of Sunrise Bay that required Vivian Blake to be in some sort of permanent cast or prosthetic. Still, Johnny, the curmudgeon he could be to most outside his circle, always softened at any praise from his beloved wife….though he had to admit, his patience was now wearing thin after catching his bride crawling on the floor of their new dwelling, piling carpeting following with her amongst a scatter of whatever benzo she had been able to reach.

He had been too late to stop her, the clanking of poorly fitted tracks echoing as Moira closed the door to the closet where she now was camped out, the only other noise being the hum of the computer Johnny had neglected to turn off, still playing adware in the background of the tabloid article she had found and now regretted reading. Like clockwork. Now just to rate how bad the damage was and whether he would make the kids help him break this cycle.

"You know that's not true. You are such a strong woman and you know you've pulled me up my my bootstraps before." The exact time escaped him at the moment but those detail weren't important. "Don't you think you should come out of their, sweetheart. It can't be very comfortable."

[hederasgarden]

Flirting For Dummies - Part 1

Summary: Turns out the crush you have on one of the pilots that frequents the Hard Deck isn’t quite so unrequited. You’re just bad at recognizing when someone’s flirting with you. Good thing Jake’s happy to help you understand how interested he really is. 

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader

Rating: General. The second part will include explicit sexual content and be 18+ only. This part features Hangman being a cocky little shit, a shy reader (inspired by @thewhiskersonkittens​​​ post asking for Jake with a shy reader), a misunderstanding and some kissing. 

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: This is my first of hopefully many Top Gun fics. Please let me know if you enjoy this. Reblogs and comments feed the muse. 

The pencil is clutched firmly between your teeth as you highlight another important passage in your book. It’s still early enough that the background sound from the bar is at a steady hum instead of the loud, chaotic energy you know it’ll morph into soon. The golden hours between lunch and the evening rush are the best time to study at the Hard Deck, it’s less stuffy than the library or the studio apartment you rent, plus you get free fries here. That’s hard to beat.

“Almost done?” One of the other bartenders, Becky, asks as she passes by you on her way to the kitchen. 

“Almost,” you respond. Technically there are two more chapters you need to read but with only 15 minutes until your shift starts there’s no chance you can make that happen. You don’t really care anyway, you’re tired of studying. What you need is a break, something more than sitting alone on your couch watching true crime documentaries with a pint of ice cream. 

With a defeated sigh you close your book and lean back to stretch, letting out a startled little gasp when you realize the seat beside you is no longer empty, but taken up by the handsome pilot who you’ve spent entirely too much time thinking about. He’s become a regular at the bar over the last few months, coming in like clockwork on Thursdays and Fridays. Sometimes he’s alone, just ordering dinner and a drink though mostly he comes in with a group of other people wearing the same service khakis to play pool.

You don't know his actual name, just his call sign - Hangman. He's friendly, tipping generously and has a habit of winking at you when you dropped off his drinks. That made you incredibly nervous even if you did like it. You know it doesn’t mean anything… He’s charming to all the bartenders, even succeeding in making the unflappable Becky blush once.

Penny warned you the pilots were the worst of the bunch but the others didn’t make you nearly as nervous as Hangman did. You liked watching him from afar, aware of how his type operated. They didn’t go for girls like you. You weren’t pretty like Becky or funny like Janet, the other bartender you often worked with. 

Having his full attention focused on you throws you for a loop. “What?” You stammer, completely missing whatever he just said. 

“I asked what you are reading about?” Hangman repeats, leaning into your space to see the title of your textbook. 

He’s so close that you can smell his cologne, a potent mix of sandalwood and a sweet citrusy undercurrent. When your mouth opens to respond all that escapes is a uhhhh sound. He smirks, pressing into your space and laying his arm along the back of the bar stool. You meet his beautiful green eyes for just a second before you clear your throat and look away. 

“Coastal Ecology,” you finally manage to force out. 

“You’ll have to speak up sweetheart,” Hangman says, tapping on the wooden bar. “It’s loud in here.” 

It’s actually not but he still leans in and warmth sweeps up your chest into your throat. You hate the way the stupid pet name makes your stomach swoop. Normally you despise all the honey, baby, or darlins you get from the men at the bar, but there is something in the way he says it that’s different. You want him to call you that and mean it, even though you know he never would. 

“I’m studying coastal ecology,” you repeat, turning to look at him fully, buoyed by a brief swell of confidence.

“Smart girl, huh?” He asks, grinning. You sit up straighter at his praise. “Why are you doing it at a bar? Hoping for some attention?” 

His words curdle that pleasantly warm feeling in your chest. ​​

“I work here,” you defend, sliding off the bar stool to put distance between the two of you. “I’m in grad school and the owner lets me study before my shift.” 

The urge to continue and over-explain is hard to resist. You owe him nothing so cut yourself off and focus on putting your things away, but when you reach for your book he rests his hand on it to stop you from taking it. You stare at the large ring he wears on one finger, not wanting to meet his gaze. After a moment he sighs and draws his hand back. You spot an annoyed, almost confused look on his face, which quickly dissipates replaced by a bland smile. 

“Ok then. Guess we’ll take a round of beers. Over at the pool tables,” he says, stepping back.

It’s not your shift for another 10 minutes so you pass on the order to Becky and go hide in the back office until you need to clock in. Despite your best efforts you somehow find yourself looking over to the pool table and meeting the blonde man’s eyes. He doesn’t smirk like you expect. There’s a little furrow between his brows instead. 

"He's hot," Becky says, coming to lean against the bar next to you while you slice up a lime. “Probably a jackass but he’d show you a good time.”

"What?" You ask, embarrassed to be caught looking.

"Mr. Tall Blonde and Built," she indicates, pointing to Hangman. "All pilots are cocky, especially that bunch.”

"Bob is sweet," you defend, thinking of the timid but endearing pilot who always stammers his way through talking to Janet and you. 

"Bob is an outlier and if he wasn't so into Janet I'd love to take him home and sit on that pretty face. He looks like he’d be so eager. Like one of those golden retriever types.” She sighs wistfully. 

"Oh my god, Becky," you chastise, looking over at Bob, half embarrassed on his behalf. He’s staring dreamily at Janet as she cleans off a high top. He really was adorable. 

“Just be careful,” Becky says seriously.

“I don’t think I’m on anyone’s radar here,” you tell her with a sad little laugh.

“Thought you were supposed to be smart, kiddo,” she says, bumping your shoulder and grinning. “Ohhh, I spot a cell phone on the bar. Gotta ring that bell,” she tells you, taking off towards a poor unsuspecting businessman.

✥

Friday is even crazier than Thursday, the bar is packed to the gills. Although you won’t admit it, you catch yourself searching through the crowd for a familiar face. For Hangman. There’s a bunch of military types hanging around the pool table but he’s not with them. It’s stupid to feel disappointed, it’s not like he even knows you exist, not really. It’s best your crush becomes nothing more than a way to occupy your mind with what-ifs and silly scenarios. He’s probably off with that beautiful brunette girl you saw hanging off his arm yesterday. 

“It’s almost 7,” Penny says, interrupting your thoughts. “Go ahead and clock out before things get too crazy.”

“I don’t mind staying to help,” you offer. 

She waves you off. “You closed last night and should have left two hours ago. You’re good. Go.”

“Alright,” you agree, untying your apron, and retrieving your purse from the back room. Trying to leave the bar is like swimming upstream, you’re fighting past throngs of people who are drunk or on their way to be. By the time you break free the cool air coming off the ocean feels wonderful. You close your eyes and take in a clarifying breath, enjoying the peaceful moment. Maybe you’ll sit out on your balcony and read tonight. 

“Got off late today, huh?”

You jump, clutching your purse to your chest at the sound of the familiar voice. Speak of the Devil. Hangman pushes off from the wall he’s leaning against, running a hand through his perfectly styled honey blonde hair as he approaches you. The tousled effect makes him look even more handsome. He’s out of his Navy uniform, wearing jeans and a light gray sweater that clings to the curve of his biceps.

“Becky said you got off at 5 pm today.” He taps the watch on his wrist. 

Was he talking to you? You glance behind you but no one is there. 

“One of the bartenders showed up late and I didn’t want them to be short-staffed.” You respond, trying to process why he’s talking to you. Was he waiting for you? “Penny was worried and I oh…” you trail off when your back connects with the brick wall.

Hangman grins, head cocked to the side while he continues to stalk towards you. You lick your lips nervously and look past him. Was this some kind of joke? There are a handful of people milling about, sharing a smoke or escaping the crowd, but they’re all caught up in their conversations. No one is looking at either of you. 

“Gotta tell you, honey, it’s a real blow to the ego when a girl doesn’t flirt back with a guy like me.”

“What?” You ask sharply, looking back at him confused. “You were flirting with me? When?”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest in mock pain. “You know how to wound a man, sweetheart. I was trying to be charming but I see I’m gonna need the direct approach here. I want to take you out. Tomorrow night. 7 pm.” He pauses, waiting for you to respond but you just stare dumbly at him, mind blank and body buzzing with nerves. “This is the part where you say yes,” he prods, stepping even closer.

You stare into his green eyes. “I don’t even know your real name,” you finally blurt out.

He chuckles. “It’s Jake.”

He’s in your space now, palm resting beside your head. Close enough to kiss, your mind supplies. The thought makes goosebumps break out over your skin and you let out a shuddery breath. 

“No hard feelings if I’m not wanted but I have it on good authority I am,” he whispers. “I need you to say it so there’s no misunderstandings.”

“Yes.” You offer him a soft smile, feeling shy and giddy.

“Yes what?” He prods. 

“Yes, I want to go out on a date with you.” 

“That’s good,” he hums, inching forward until his lips are a hair's breadth away from yours. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, waiting. He smiles. “I can’t do all the work here, sweetheart. Help me out.”

Emboldened by his words and the way he looks at you, you find the courage to tilt your head up and meet his lips. He takes control of the kiss immediately, one hand sliding along the curve of your hip. The other cups the side of your face. You moan, curling your fingers into the soft fabric of his sweater. For a moment you forget where you are, letting Jake’s weight pin you to the wall as his kiss intensifies. 

He parts your mouth with his, the sensation of his tongue against yours making you quake and him groan. A sharp whistle snaps you back into reality and you draw away, shaking and overwhelmed. Jake’s a little breathless too but he recovers pretty soon, looking over his shoulder at two younger men. Both are in uniform and they pale under the dark look he sends them, scurrying back inside. You shrink down, hands coming to cover your face. Your skin tingles, warming with embarrassment and the aftermath of the kiss.

“None of that,” Jake says, pulling your hands down. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, making a pleased sound. “No hiding that beautiful face from me. You’re cute when flustered.”

You look away, his attention is too much. 

“It’s ok.” He rises to his full height, shielding you from anyone looking. The hand at your waist disappears, but he rubs the apple of your cheek gently with his thumb until you find the courage to look back at him. “That was nice wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you agree.

“Come on, let me walk you to your car.”

You follow his lead into the parking lot. When you stop at your beat up old Honda he grasps your wrist and pulls you back to face him. He brushes another kiss over your lips. Your whole body tingles in response.

"Tomorrow night. 7," he reminds you, tapping your nose lightly before stepping back. 

He’s a few feet away when you realize he hasn’t said where you’re supposed to be. “Wait!” You call out. 

“Miss me already?” He questions, amused. 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you stammer, embarrassed. “Where are we meeting?” 

“I know, you’re fun to tease. Check your phone,” he suggests, waiting as you rummage through your purse. There’s a single text for an unsaved number with the location for an upscale gastropub. 

“How…”

“Janet sold you out. I got your number and she got Bob’s. Seemed like a fair deal,” he says with a wink. “See you real soon, sweetheart.”

✥

Part 2 is here.

[multifariousqueer]

Feels so Good|Shuri x Reader

Summary: You thought you could party without repercussions but sadly, you were mistaken.

Request: can you please write #128(bend over and spr3@ad your legs) on the prompt list?

Word Count: 0.9k

Pairing: Shuri x black!reader

A/n: When I saw this request I was a bit hesitant to write it but I think it came out good. If you like this one, request some more prompts from the list.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, I MEAN IT'S PURE FILTH, cvm sh@ring, dom!Shuri, drinking, light yelling and angst, sp@nking, nicknames: princess, daddy; return of the vibranium str@p, overstim, heavy explicit language, br@t!reader, d!rty talk, e@ting out, I think that's it

It was like a scene out of Euphoria, you were swinging and grinding on your friends while some song was playing in the background. Shuri had invited you to a nightclub and you brought some of your friends and even bought out the bartender to make you free drinks all night. 

What Shuri hadn’t planned for was you dancing on every surface and everyone you knew; your friends hyping you up and dancing with/on you didn’t exactly help Shuri’s case. She was the type to get jealous easily but she’d never show it unless you crossed a line and that you did:

“Heyyy omg it would be so fun to get on a table and dance! C’mon Guys!!!” You shouted, tipsy.

“YESSSS OMG YES” Your friends shouted.

“Not so fast, princess.” Shuri said, grabbing your arm before you could go anywhere.

“Hey let go of me!” You said slightly slurring your words.

“Stop trying to do stupid shit or I’lll take you home and punish you.” Shuri said in your ear.

“What are you going to do?” You said with a smirk.

“Okay that’s it.” Shuri downed the rest of her drink, “lets go” 

Shuri grabbed your arm and ushered you out.

“Hey my friends are back in there.” You whined.

“Griot, call an uber big enough for Y/n’s friends.” Shuri spoke

“Yes, princess.” Griot responded, almost like clockwork

Once Shuri got into the car with you, she gave you a look that could kill you. You gulped and stayed silent for the rest of the ride. 

When you got back to the palace, Shuri cornered you.

“Y/n, what the fuck was that?” She said, angrily. “I mean I invite YOU to a nightclub, not your friends but I let that slide; I let you dance like a slut with your friends that I barely know and I fucking bought you drinks for the entire night and THIS is how you repay me?” Shuri said, leaning in and getting in your face.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know it bothered you so much.” You said, sobering up a bit.

“Well it did. AND ON TOP OF THAT, YOU TAUNTED ME WHEN I WAS TRYING TO HANDLE THE SITUATION AS DELICATELY AS POSSIBLE.” She yelled.

“I’m sorry.” You said. You felt about 2 inches tall right now. You knew you guys had a height difference but now it feels so apparent.

“You’re gonna be sorry in the morning.” Shuri said.

“Wha-” You started.

 “Someone needs to put this pussy in its place. Bend over and spread your legs,” Shuri ordered.

“Yes ma’am.” You complied. You knew you were in no position to argue back.

Shuri smacked your ass.

“You’re walking a thin line Y/n you know that, right?” Shuri asked, kneading your ass.

You were a bit caught off guard.

“Um, yes.” You answered, a bit confused.

Shuri delivered another harsh smack to your ass. You felt your juices pooling but Shuri had discarded your panties when she bent you over.

“You know what to call me and don’t make me have to extend your punishment.” Shuri said

“Sorry, daddy.” You said.

“Good girl. See you’re not just a dumb slut.” Shuri said mockingly.

Even though you knew it wasn’t sincere, it still made you feel happy.

Shuri delivered one last smack before getting on her knees and licking a stripe up your folds. She circled her tongue around your clit before putting it inside your soaked hole.

“Ahhh Shuri, that feels so good.” You said, instantly realizing your mistake.

“That’s it,” She said.

Shuri got up and grabbed her new prototype of a strap. It was huge and looked like it wouldn’t fit. 

“Looks like someone needs a harsher form of punishment.” Shuri said.

“Please daddy, I’ll be good I promise” You pleaded.

“Shut the fuck up and bend over like I told you.” She instructed.

You did as you were told.

“You spoiled little fucking brat. Maybe this will teach you to have some respect.” She said, rubbing the cold metal against your folds and over your clit. You flinched but were quickly shut down by a harsh smack to your ass.

Shuri pushed the strap in and moaned. She programmed it so that it would make her feel the same sensation it was making you feel. You’ve never felt something so big inside of something so small. You moaned as Shuri pushed the strap in and out of you. You felt yourself gripping the strap everytime she pulled out of you.

“You’re so wet and tight, sthandwa.” Shuri said, eyes rolled back in her head and head thrown back.

You moaned and just as the pain seemed to go away, the pleasure came in tenfold. The toy started vibrating inside of you. 

“D-Daddy I’m gonna cum.” You moaned

“Mmmmm cum for daddy, princess.” Shuri said, barely above a whisper.

You came and Shuri followed suit. The waves of pleasure seemed to never stop washing over you. You felt something run down your leg:

“I programmed it so that my juices would come out in you. Shuri explained.

“Mmmmm it feels so good.” You said

You felt Shuri spin you around.

“That was really good.” You said, groggily.

“Yeah it was. I hope you're ready for round two.” Shuri smirked.

Your eyes widened at the comment.

“What?” You said.

“I told you you were getting punished.” Shuri whispered.

Shuri picked you up and whisked you away to the bedroom.