#coming from someone who regularly looks at photos of him and laughs

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

reposting from my twottwer but

ethan isnt ugly because of his chin or nose, he looks bad because 99% of photos taken of him r in the game where he has no expression and looks extremly uncanny, his chin and nose are lauvely and are features many people have but just arent conventional beauty standards

liek theres a mod where they put his model over another resident evil character and he has full facial animation and he looks GREAT because his eyes arent popping out like he saw a cartoon ghost!

mod

re7 (no facialanimation)

ethan is just a average normal everyman, he LOOKS like some random civillian and it fits bcs he is! it would be strange if he was some chisled super soldier whos built like a brick wall because hes a software engineer who lived in california bro is not going to have a built of a body builder

and thats ok!!

[dira333]

Blind Date with Tsukishima

Blind Date - Tsukishima x Reader

“And it’s going to be a Blind Date,” Hitoka points out. “I’m not telling you who it is. But he’ll wear a red scarf.”

“A red scarf,” you nod. “Gotcha.”

She squints at you. “You don’t wanna know more?”

“No, I’m fine.” You sigh. “Better to go in blind, right? Not like swiping on Tinder did me any good.”

She laughs heartily. “You’re too much in your head. You’re just like me! But he’ll be nice. Ah, well… he’ll be nice for you.”

It’s your turn to squint. “He’s not that nice to others?”

“He is!” She reassures you, already panicking. “I’d never say anything bad about him, he’s my friend. But he can be a bit brash at first if he doesn’t know or trust you. But he’s always respectful to authorities, I know that’s important to you.”

“Well,” you sniff before sighing. “I am too single to complain about that. Blind Date it is.”

-x-

“A Blind Date,” Kei repeats, dragging the words. “How old are you?”

Hitoka pouts. “It’s a cute idea!”

“Sure, for her. But you could tell me who it is.”

“But where’s the fun in that? Tadashi, back me up!”

“Tsukki-”

“No,” Kei shakes his head. “Don’t bother. I’m going to go along with it because you asked so nicely, but only this one time, okay? And don’t remind me that I’ve been single for too long, I know. Shush!” His hand snaps up just in time to cut off Kanji who’d just opened his mouth.

Kanji pouts but falls back again, throwing his arm around Hitoka for support.

“What is she going to wear?” Kei asks Hitoka. “A red scarf too?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “She’s got a big red hair clip that’s shaped like a flower. A Gerbera.”

“Oh, is that the exotic one?” Kanji asks, perking up.

“No, you mean Hibiscus,” Kentarou drawls before taking a sip of his beer. He rolls his eyes at the sudden attention. “What? Everyone knows those flowers.”

“Sure,” Kei drawls back, finding at least a little reprieve in the angry glare he gets in response.

-x-

Hitoka has a lot of friends, you realize, as you stalk her Instagram account.

But she’s very good at tagging all of them, be it work friends, old high school friends or all those other people she knows from dating a Volleyball Player.

You scroll back all the way to her first post in High School and come up with only three people wearing a red scarf around her.

Sure, that means nothing in the long run, but one of those people is a girl, and the other two are Asahi Azumane the Fashion Designer and someone called Tsukishima Kei, Volley Player.

It doesn’t take long to figure out that Azumane is happily married, the red scarf now tied around his wife’s neck. What a shame. He’d have been cute.

Tsukishima’s Instagram Account is private and you’re not going to embarrass yourself by sending him a follower request.

Koganegawa Kanji’s account, however, is public and he posts a lot.

From Selfies at work, Tsukishima glaring at him in the background to Group Photos at the Isekaya they seem to visit regularly, everything is there.

It doesn’t take long to find a messy video of the Gang, Tsukishima and someone with a haircut resembling a Tennisball engaged in the laziest catfight you’ve ever seen or heard.

Tennisballhead’s insults are not for the soft but Tsukishima draws back just as effectively.

So… you could be mistaken, but you’re pretty sure Tsukishima is going to be your not so blind Blind Date.

-x-

He doesn’t want to know, really. But then again, a bit of research doesn’t hurt, right?

Hitoka has only five girlfriends that she regularly mentions and posts on social media.

Two of them are taken, one is going through a complicated breakup at the moment as far as he’s aware, and the other two… 

There is no Gerbera hair clip in sight. Not even a hair clip with a different flower, though he doesn’t think Hitoka would mess up something that simple.

It’s two days until the Date and he finds himself scrolling through both of their Instagrams, looking for clues, pretending he isn’t interested at all

And maybe he wouldn’t have figured it out if not for Kanji’s big mouth.

-x-

The Diner’s nice, decorated in a western style.

You start salivating just at the thought of a milkshake with fries but busy yourself with the menu instead, sipping slowly from the glass of water you’d ordered.

You’re early, the result of a surprising eagerness to meet your blind date.

Someone brushes past you and you can feel it - the giant red hair clip snagging on something. You can feel the break before you hear it, watch helplessly as the fake Gerbera adorning the clip tumbles to the floor, only to be crushed under someone’s eager foot.

Your hair now flows freely around your face, a welcome shield from the outside world as you fight against the sting of tears.

It’s nothing big, the hair clip not even of sentimental value, but you can’t help but see a sign in it.

-

Tsukishima Kei is fifteen minutes late. 

You stare at Hitoka’s message on your phone, the innocent question of whether you made it to the Diner just fine. No sign that she knows he’s not showing.

Maybe he got held up at work? Does that happen to Volleyball Players?

“Have you decided yet?” Your server appears next to your table, chewing bubble gum and grinning.

Surely you’re imagining the smug curve of her smile.

“Just a minute,” you ask. “I’m waiting on someone.”

“Oh honey,” she drawls out with enough satisfaction to leave no doubt she’s enjoying this. “He’s not showing. Just accept it.”

“I-”

“Are we paying for that roast on the side or is that on the house?” A deep voice asks to your left and you both turn, surprised.

Tsukishima’s there, in the flesh, out of breath, and beads of sweat glistening on the bow of his lip. He looks like he ran here and you’re ready to believe it, no more evidence needed. 

“I’m sorry Honey,” he tells you with a voice so sweet you can only call it passive-aggressive. “The train got delayed and my phone was empty. Never letting Kanji play games on it to pass the time.”

“You’re forgiven,” you tell him simply, sending a pointed glare toward your server.

She catches herself, shuffling away with an apology but that’s too little too late. You know you won’t be tipping too well tonight.

Tsukishima slips into his seat, pulling the red scarf from his neck.

“I thought you were supposed to wear a hair clip?”

“I thought you were supposed to be on time?”

He smiles, clearly enjoying that you dare to fight back.

“Missed my train. Running over was faster than waiting for the next.”

“Mhm,” you eye him. “You sure you didn’t just want to show off your stamina?”

“Maybe?” He grins. “What about the hair clip?”

“It got crushed under careless feet,” you admit, trying not to feel sorry for yourself.

“Good,” he comments. “You won’t need it any longer.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, a little perplexed. 

A blush, as red as the Gerbera mentioned, rises onto his cheeks.

“No more blind dates?” He offers and you smile. “We’ll see about that.” 

- Bonus -

“How did you know it was me?” You ask, your joined hands swinging in between your bodies.

His cheeks are flushed from the cold, the wine and no doubt your attention as well.

“Kanji… Hitoka’s boyfriend. He mentioned your favorite food.”

“And?” You blink, surprised that this might have led him to you.

“I might have been stalking Hitoka’s Instagram. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, you wear that red scarf a lot. Just saying.”

“You knew it was me?”

You shrug, unable to keep from smiling proudly. “Had a hunch.”

Requests open

[just-dino-maggie]

could you do 15 and 16 with jack hughes??

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it!

15. Not being able to stop smiling while kissing

16. Taking silly pictures in a Photo Booth

Jack and I have been best friends for years. Deep down I’ve always loved him, it’s hard not to love him. Recently it’s been challenging to hide my feelings from him. He’s been extra flirty and over the top with me. I’m trying to resist because I don’t want to lose him.

He’s home for the summer and besides his golf trips with Quinn and Trevor we’ve been hanging out the whole time. We decided to go to the Zap Zone by his house for old times sake. We always used to go to play glow golf and laser tag.

I knock on the Hughes door even though they’ve expressed that I don’t need to. It feels weird if I don’t, what if I saw Luke in his underwear or something. I could be permanently scarred. “Coming!” I hear someone yell behind the door.

The door swings open and Trevor is standing in front of me. “Hey Y/n/n,” He pulls me in for a quick hug. “Jack is almost done getting all dolled up for your date.”

I shake my head at him, “It’s not a date and you know it Zegras.”

He gasps with fake shock, “Not a date? If Jack isn’t treating you right I’m always here to show you a good time.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“Shut up Z.” I say unable to hold back my laugh. If nothing else Trevor has always been funny.

Finally Jack runs downstairs, he’s wearing a basic pair of black jeans and a crew neck but he looks unreal. “You ready Y/n/n?” He asks and I nod, “Let’s get out of here then.”

He takes my hand and walks me to the car. Opening my door for me so that I can get in. As we sit in the car and talk I feel myself falling into our rhythm. We are friends who flirt and hold hands sometimes. It’s weird but I don’t care as long as I have him.

We play glow golf. He insists on showing me how to putt because I “don’t know how to do it”. When I try to remind him that we used to play glow golf together all the time he just smirks and tells me that I’m rusty. When he stands behind me with his chest pressed against my back and his hands covering mine my heart goes crazy. I’m breathless as he steps away from me.

The rest of glow golf goes smoothly. I convince myself that he was just trying to throw me off my game. That has to be the reason he held me like that.

After glow golf we decide to play arcade games. I spot the Photo Booth and grab Jack’s hand. “Can we please get pictures?” I ask gesturing toward the booth. He nods and we squeeze in the small space.

Our first picture we smile regularly, then I stick my tough out and put a piece sign behind Jacks head for the second. He smiles and pulls me on to his lap messing up my hair for the third picture. Then our eyes meet and he pulls me in placing his lips on mine. I don’t even notice that the final picture has already happened. I’m completely addicted to him and this feeling.

I pull away keeping my forehead against his. “Why did you do that?” I whisper.

“Because I like you.” He responds, “For a long time I’ve liked you.”

I smile, “I have too.” I pause and place my hands on both sides of his face. “I can’t believe you just did that.” I let out a shocked chuckle.

“Can I do it again?” He reply’s simply and I nod immediately. He brings his mouth to mine once again and I can’t help but smile as we kiss. I can feel him smiling too. Nothing is better then this.

[tigreblvnc]

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP — @modern-day-corpse-bride

Your match is...

— Charles Chevalier

✦ How happy I am to finally be able to match this little French imp with someone.

✦ Actually, Charles came to mind very clearly when I read your bio, mainly because I think you two share a few similarities.

✦ And you both give off a similar energy.

✦ 'I’m a veryyy talkative person' There's something special about Charles—he can be very talkative, and I can totally see him chatting with someone on the field in a random way while the match is still going on...

✦ ...and also, there are chapters where we almost forget about him?

✦ Especially because when the match loses its excitement, Charles stops investing in it. We see this when he literally asks Julian if he can leave the game because it's getting boring.

✦ 'A lot of people think I’m mean but I'm not!!!' Clearly, with Charles, there's an insolence that reflects his young age and the fact that he's so good on the field that there's not much that unsettles him. He easily teases people and likes to do the opposite of what he's told. In jargon, we call that a troll.

✦ 'I’m really big on complimenting and boosting other people’s confidence' I like to think that you met during one of his training sessions at the stadium. You found something a bit funny and unusual about him, and your eyes followed his run on the field. At first, he might not have noticed you, but eventually, he realized that someone was regularly commenting on his crazy passes and turned towards you.

✦ He froze for ten seconds before signaling you with both arms raised as if you were someone he had known for ten years.

✦ I think that normally, encouragements leave him quite indifferent, but coming from someone he doesn't know at all, it might amuse him and even make him laugh a bit.

✦ At the end of his session, he turns to you and, quite unexpectedly, throws the ball at you from a distance. Just to see how you’ll handle it.

✦ Maybe you dodge the ball, maybe not, but either way, it makes him smile. He strides over to ask, "T'es qui ? Tu fais quoi là ?" – 'Who are you? What are you doing here?'

✦ You’re not sure if he’s really listening even though he’s the one who asked the questions, but he’s smiling at you widely, with his shark-like tooth showing.

✦ 'I think that the notion that I’m “mean” comes from the fact that I’m very honest.' Well, you see, I think this amuses him because he likes controversial opinions and people who aren’t afraid to say what they think. Charles finds conventional and controlled people boring. You can see it on the field—he prefers to get along with Shidou, someone more original and aligned with his philosophy of play, rather than Rin, who is very structured and strategic.

✦ 'My main love languages are physical touch and gift giving' I can’t see Charles being into giving long speeches or spending time listening to others; I think his love languages would be more like yours, maybe with acts of service included. I imagine he’s the type to rush and jump on the people he likes, climbing on them without shame (like he does with Shidou when they score together).

✦ The cool kid you never get bored with. He prefers outdoor activities over indoor ones, and he takes you to see the cool spots in Paris. The amusement park is his favorite place.

✦ A bit uncontrollable, he’s all over the place and wants to try everything with you. He pulls you by the sleeve: "Allez ! Ça a l'air trop bien !!!" – 'Come on! This looks awesome!!!'

✦ He enjoys teaching you curse words in French.

✦ Buys you ridiculous trinkets from attraction stands.

✦ Tons of selfies that he posts on Instagram, tagging you every time, even though it’s his face in 80% of the photo.

✦ Emoji abuser. His messages are unreadable, and he sends forty of them in a row.

✦ Sends voice messages too, many of which cut off prematurely (the worst kind). He records them again right after but never finishes them; he’s already moved on to something else.

✦ 'I like to collect vintage items like dolls or photos which kind of creeps a lot of people out, and I also like to hand-build with clay from time to time.' Honestly, that intrigues him. He finds it weird and judges it out loud, but it doesn’t scare him.

✦ He tries to make a clay sculpture of you and totally messes it up.

✦ He gives it to you on some random day with no particular significance.

✦ The sculpture’s aesthetic is questionable, and you can barely recognize yourself...

✦ ...But you keep it anyway, because a gift from Charles is worth gold.

A word about your match: You’re kind of the partner-in-crime duo that everyone dreads, that people secretly like a little, but that no one will admit to liking.

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | AUGUST '24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

[andguesswhat]

The shield that you own - 2 -

*

After stepping out of the shower, Jack dried himself roughly, tied the towel around his hips and went to the desk at the window to have a look on his phone if something had occurred and he was needed. But only a message from his little sister Sarah blinked.

I saw you pining over him. Shouldn't you be watching the fans instead?

Although Jack was aware that it wasn't good if anyone looking could see his feelings for Tim and that he should urgently admonish himself to restrain his reactions on the red carpet, he had to smile. He liked Sarah's dry remarks. Ever since he started working for Tim regularly, she had been his constant critical commentator. His CCC, as he had taken to calling her.

He looked at the "evidence photos and videos" from the premiere in Mexico city that Sarah had sent along.

Tim had been given a wrestling mask by a fan, tried it on straight away and posed with it. It was adorable. What was he supposed to do? How could you not smile at that?

In another photo in a different situation, however, it was not quite as clear how he could talk his way out of it.

Jack sighed and scrolled up to Sarah's last message, a few days earlier, which he hadn't replied to either.

LOL Are you his minion now, his boom box carrier? Was that part of your training too?

A picture showed him walking next to Tim carrying Tim's boom box on their way to the Jimmy Kimmel studio. Loud music was Tim's constant companion in cars and dressing rooms. Jack found it endearing, and he didn’t think it was a big deal that he was the one carrying the box, it was part of his job.

But Sarah declined to see these things, instead warned him to let himself be exploited. Although she was the little sister, she saw it as her job to mentally protect her big brother, who in her opinion was ‘far too nice for this world’.

Jack knew she meant it well. In the end it was kind of funny because she was basically the reason why Jack had become a bodyguard. Because he had always protected her.

As a teen, Sarah had taken just as much pleasure in being rebellious as now, which had gotten her into trouble more than once.

When Jack, as her 10-year-old older brother, had first been involuntarily instructed by their mother to look after her, he had quickly realized that he enjoyed it. He had realized that he was good at it, protecting someone, staying calm in troubled and difficult situations. Staying firm. And taking action when necessary.

Today, Sarah was still too rebellious to not getting into trouble, but by now she was old enough and had learned to look after herself.

Jack looked out of his hotel room window over the rooftops of Paris in the afternoon sun.

The next premiere was coming up.

The morning had gone well, the cast had had fun with their interviews. They would make good publicity.

Tim was always a bit different in Paris. Somehow more Frenchy, Jack would say and Tim would laugh at him for that.

But it was true, Tim spoke more elegantly in Paris. His lips and tongue adapted to the flattering language, but he also expressed himself more selectively in English.

He also dressed more elegantly. Jack was curious about Tim's outfit for tonight and he was looking forward to the evening.

Only Tim's flirting with Austin was a thorn in his side. Although he knew it shouldn’t.

He liked Austin. He got on well with him.

In a perfidious way, he even liked it when Tim flirted with him. Because Tim laughed a lot then and looked happy. And that was the most important thing, wasn't it?

He knew Sarah would hate him for that attitude. "Please for fucking once think about yourself!" she would say.

But he was who he was. And after all, this was also a reason why he was doing his job well, right? So why should he change?

The vibrating of his cell phone snapped him out of his thoughts.

Tim. He had sent him a photo of a silver designer breastplate lying in a fashion box. Underneath:

Look at thaaaat! Tonight, I'm going to have two shields! ;)

Jack smiled, sent a little knight emoji and looked at his watch.

Pick you up in 20!

*

Tim looked beautiful with this shield on his chest that reflected the colors of his surroundings. Over it he wore an elegant suit which emphasized his slender figure. Jack found even more opportunities than usual to touch him, happy for every turn they had to make so that he could gently point him in the right direction. Tim was laughing a lot that night, Tim was beaming a lot that night, Tim was flirting with Austin a lot that night. Jack was already familiar with Tim's flirting. On the Wonka promo tour he had made Hugh Grant all fuzzy with it, but now with Austin... it was more physical, also more put-on somehow. Jack could see that they really liked each other, but they were also putting on a show for the fans for sure. In the end they were both professionals.

Which didn't really make it any easier for Jack, because he knew Tim liked to lose himself in the game sometimes. He knew he shouldn't care. He didn't want to be jealous, it was totally inappropriate to be jealous. They had no relationship, no commitments.

But still... After the premiere party, they went to their hotel and parted from the others. Jack was so busy hugging everyone that he didn't notice Tim saying goodbye to Austin. Outside Tim's hotel room, just before Jack wanted to say goodnight to Tim, Tim leaned lasciviously against the door frame, no longer wearing the shield, his bare chest so inviting, his eyes as dark as they were demanding and purred with a wicked grin, "Austin let me suck his cock today, do you want to punish me for it?" And that's when Jack realized that his shield was also already down again. He couldn't think as quickly as his hand buried itself deep in Tim's curls and his body pressed Tim against the door, causing Tim to groan with excitement. Tim loved to be taken hard and Jack loved to make Tim happy. A few moments later they were already naked on the bed and he rammed into Tim as he gripped his hips, fucked him hard from behind as his hands clamped around Tim's neck, and when Tim was about to come, he held Tim’s mouth shut, the stifled scream making both their bodies tremble with ecstasy.

Exhausted and satisfied they fell on the bed. It wasn't the first time they'd had rough sex like this. The night before the Golden Globes, he had received a message from Tim to visit him at home. When he complied with the request, he realized that Tim had more sex stuff than Jack knew what to do with. But unlike here in Paris, that night hadn't been about fun. Tim had needed something else that night. A binding. A binding by limitation. Tim had been lost, upset, in despair. In layman's terms, Jack would say not far from a panic attack. Tim needed someone to put him in his place again. So Jack had tried to help, had done as well as he could. Had set him limits, tied him up, held him down, fucked him while Tim's body writhed and Tim's moans released what there was to release. Even though it was the sex that had felt most distant from himself to Jack, it had been the most emotional he'd ever had. Seeing Tim like that, seeing how much he needed that, his body to be restricted, to be able to be in the end completely himself again.... It had moved him deeply.

Now Tim lay beside him in bed, sleeping and breathing peacefully, recovering from an exhausting day and Jack allowed himself to run his fingers lightly over his slender body. However harsh he had been to Tim, Jack could never have hurt him. Over the years, he'd seen the marks on Tim's body. Reserved for someone else. No matter how proudly Tim wore those marks, the sight of them only made Jack want to protect him even more. And no matter how much more familiar they had been after this evening before the Golden Globes, the marks from someone else always showed him clearly that in the end he wasn't the one Tim needed... **

[softquietsteadylove]

Gil has a sexy water shooting in boxers and a white dress shirt 😏

"This is dumb."

"Come on," Thena smiled as Gil fussed with his 'wardrobe', "you know how these shoots are."

"I wish I didn't," he grumbled, visibly embarrassed.

"Stop it," Thena laughed faintly. She had seen him plenty of times like this--shy and flustered at the wardrobe picked for him. "You look good. And that is the whole point of this."

"I still don't know whose big idea it was to even nominate me," he practically pouted as the lighting for the set was finalised."

"It's based on general consensus, Gilgamesh," she chided him, tugging at the front of his shirt for him one last time. "And Sprite says there has been a bit of a resurgence for you online as of late."

Gil had stumbled into a nomination for sexiest man of the year (or alive, or whatever they were calling it these days). And he wasn't overly pleased with it, especially when he found out that he had won. And furthermore, that they wanted to do a sexy photo shoot for the occasion.

He had initially wanted to decline, but his manager practically frothed at the mouth at the idea. One did not simply decline the title, nor the publicity that came with it.

King had said, verbatim, "go on and slut it up, big guy", so...that was helpful.

"Okay," Gil gulped, stiffly walking towards the set.

He had fussed and fussed, saying that plenty of options were just not him, or they wouldn't be believable that it was something he did regularly. At first he had suggested they just follow him around at the gym for the interview.

But the editor had gotten a tip off that Gil was a great cook.

Thena watched from the sidelines as they directed him. He was wearing a white button up shirt, and absolutely nothing else. Well, a pair of black boxer-briefs. Gil had said he looked completely ridiculous. Thena had told him not to argue with the producers.

He did look sexy.

Gil slouched over to the stove, grasping the handle of the pan just to really sell that he was doing some casual and lazy home cooking (in his underwear). "Y'know, I can't help but feel it's kinda dangerous to advertise this. Cooking without protection can-"

"Okay, big guy," the photographer murmured, obviously not listening to him. "Tug those sleeves up a little more?"

He did have great forearms.

"And," they adjusted the lens, "lean back a little, like you're talking with someone behind you?"

Gil was still terribly stiff. For all his acting prowess, photo shoots were not something into which his talent could translate naturally. He was too shy, too uncomfortable showing off his body.

"Think about who you're making these eggs for!"

Gil looked at the spatula in his other hand, "you really wouldn't need this just to scramble some eggs."

The producer sighed, rubbing their forehead. "Okay, let's try...something else."

"Gladly," Gil sighed, dropping himself from the unnatural pose.

"You!"

Thena blinked as she found a finger pointed at her, "me?"

The producer nodded, wagging a finger until she came closer to the set, "you came with him."

Yes, Gil had both been mortified at the idea of her seeing him like this, but also too shy to come all by himself for what could have been anything from a sports shoot to a total fanservice scene.

"What about her?" She was grasped by the shoulders to indicate to Gil that she could be the subject. "We put her at the other side of the island, out of frame, you just talk to her for a little. Think you can do that?"

Gil sighed at the grating and patronising tone. But he understood that his discomfort was primarily the cause of it. He looked at her, "are you okay with this?"

"It's not a problem," she answered, mostly for Gil's sake. Although she was all but shoved into the seat by the producer who obviously thought this would be quick and easy.

"Okay," Gil sighed as he resumed his place in the best lighting for the shot. "So, uh-"

"Well, you're right, you wouldn't use that thing to scramble eggs."

Gil did glance over his shoulder partially at her, pretending to make the vague gestures of cooking.

"You always just use chopsticks when I watch you," she tilted her head, although saying that was possibly more incriminating than she intended it to be. She just meant that he cooked a lot when he was over at her house (a lot).

"I mean, it's not like it's bad for making eggs," he shrugged, moving the spatula as stirring something around in his empty pan. "But it kinda cuts through them rather than keeps them airy and fluffy."

Thena smiled, happy just to watch him loosen up somewhat. "You could be making pancakes, I suppose."

"Huh," Gil mused, examining his pan at the suggestion. "I wouldn't really recommend a stainless steel nonstick for it, but I guess it's not impossible."

"You make delicious pancakes."

Thena continued to chat with him lightly and causally. It did actually seem to help him loosen up and forget about the cameras and the lights and the lack of pants on him. He would turn towards her every once in a while and then go back to staring at his imaginary dish.

"I think we got it!"

Gil blinked, "really?"

"Yep," the photographer declared happily, with the producer nodding enthusiastically in relief. "We're all good."

"Oh, uh," Gil set the pan and spatula down on the set stove and stepped back, "great."

Thena smiled at him; he was immediately back to being self-conscious and shy. She stood from her seat, "come on."

Gil started tugging at the shirt immediately, rolling down the sleeves to keep his hands busy. "Thank god, let's get outta here."

"Get some pants on, you mean?" she couldn't resist a little tease, which made him turn scarlet right to his ears. "Oh, come on, Gil. Your backside looked quite fantastic, I thought."

"Thanks," he snarked, eagerly heading right for the changing room to put his normal clothes back on. He looked over his shoulder before disappearing completely, "should I be concerned about you looking when I'm cooking at home, now?"

She shrugged with a faint grin, "what would you prefer I look at?"

Gil never did come up with a reply, retreating from her flirting.

She also needed to recover, actually. He did look good in the shirt and underwear they had selected for him. And while it wouldn't show up on the page, she had actually seen that it wasn't specially lined just for the shoot. She hadn't seen everything but she felt that she had seen...enough.

She twisted her hair over her shoulder, running her fingers through it, although making sure that the tips of her ears were covered.

[alettertothesea]

Once Upon A Time

It was the first time he was coming back here in years. He never thought he would set foot here again. In this city. In this street. In front of this door. The last time he had closed it behind him, he had sworn to himself that he would never come back. Yet here he was, one hand gripping the handle and weighing up the pros and cons of whether to lower it. Because this house wasn’t just any building and the pale imitation of the others forming the residential precinct. It was the only place he could call home. And he didn’t really know what he was doing here today. Why he had bought a train ticket at the last minute. Why he had spend hours sitting on an uncomfortable seat last night to be standing in front of this door.

Sighing and wiping away with an invisible hand any thought that could make him turn and run away from this place, Hinata opened the door and stepped inside. He might have been surprised at the atmosphere that suddenly wrapped him or the odor that covered the walls of his nostrils. But a draft hit him violently like a gust of wind in a storm. The humidity and mold of the time didn’t fill the place. The mixture of floral perfume and chemicals from fresh paint wasn’t floating in the air. After so many years, the house still had that same smell of fresh laundry with a hit of citrus. Hinata smiled when he recognized the subtlety of the fruit. Tangerine.

“Why did you buy tangerines? You don’t even like them!”

“But you do. Moreover, just because I don’t eat them doesn’t mean I hate their fragrance! Besides, I fell in love with a big, sweet and at times sour tangerine. So how can I hate them?”

A snort crossed his sealed lips when the last bits of memory evaporated from his mind and from before his eyes; jumping at the same time at the sound he had just made. How long had it been since he laughed with such innocence? With such fondness? With so much love? How long had it been since he actually laughed?

It had taken him years to start over after that day. Yet a few seconds in this house seemed to cure all his sorrows and heal all the scars left open within him.

Hinata went further into the house. Nothing had moved or changed. He didn’t know why this fact surprised him, because, technically, it was normal for everything to stay as its righteous place if nobody lived here. If no human presence animated this skeleton of concrete, wood and plaster. Still, he couldn’t prevent his heart from squeezing painfully in his chest. He couldn’t help sliding his forefinger along the edge of a piece of furniture to collect a thin layer  of dust. Or his eyes to fall on one of the photos placed here and there throughout the house. The picture painted an immeasurable happiness. An unconditional love. A loving home.

With a trembling hand, Hinata took the frame. His already tight throat constricted even more. He gulped past the lump in the middle of it. His eyes glazed from the tears that had created an opaque curtain over them. He gently stroked the cheek of the second man who was frozen on the glossy paper. In the halo of sunlight, the man with ebony hair and midnight blue eyes (which no one could see because he had closed them), so dark that Hinata had always had the sensation of drowning in the depths of the ocean, was smiling like Hinata had never seen him smile. His lips were stretched to his ears and his straight white teeth were visible.

“Why did you develop it? And why did you put it here on display?”

“Because people need to know you can smile!”

“I look stupid!”

“No, you look beautiful!”

The photo pressed against his chest, right on his heart, Hinata found himself on the engawa. Sliding slowly down the beam, his gaze lost in the vastness of the garden, which didn’t look like a wilderness, as if someone came to maintain it regularly, Hinata wondered how things had turned out that way. How the light could have given way to darkness so quickly. How the sun, the cloudless azure sky could have been chased away so that an eternal night settles over his head.

“I came back. You begged me to and I told you I would. But where are you?”

[bigfan-fanfic]

Not Just a Favor

Year of the OTP: January OTP: Steve Rogers x Clark Kent Prompt: Fake Dating Synopsis: It's really hard to act like it's just a favor for a friend... especially when Clark and he discuss their sexualities and each other.

It happens every so often. A journalist gets a little too close to understanding something. Batman gets a little paranoid. And Clark Kent needs to be seen somewhere at the same time as Superman.

Bruce usually holds a press conference in these cases, during the day. Clark will be there in his capacity as a journalist, and one of the shapeshifters or a projection can be placed to act as a pretend Superman for that morning.

But sometimes that's not possible, if, say, Bruce is away on a mission or heavily injured. So Steve offered to be his alibi if he wanted to spend some time with him - he could rarely go out in public without a picture or two being taken of him anyway.

It had been Diana who suggested that Steve take him out to eat. Clark didn't get a lot of people offering him that, and it might be a nice thing to do. It gave them both a couple of hours to unwind, and didn't necessitate Bruce's interference.

And with it being based on Clark actually being somewhere, the more they did it, the more regularly it became assumed that Clark was going to meet Steve (at least, so he claimed his colleague Lois had assumed).

The only issue was how easy it had become to speak to Clark. Despite the initial worrying of easy or difficult it would be to relate to each other, Clark proved to be every inch the excellent conversationalist, and Steve ended up looking forward to their... well, dates.

Clark had laughed when Steve had mentioned that he had had to address the rumors of homosexuality surrounding the photos that surfaced of him and "a Metropolis journalist."

"I suppose people are eager to assume things, aren't they? How do you feel about it, you know... you're from a different time..." Clark allowed, quite generously, Steve thought. They were in a fifties-style diner, sharing a red plastic basket of fries, a pile of sandwiches and empty plates littering the table.

"I was born in 1920, Clark. We had gay people in the twenties."

"My mistake," Clark teased, still in good humor. "All my journalistic research has suggested we hadn't been invented yet."

"We?" Steve noticed. "So, you're..."

"Gay? Not exactly." Clark said easily, though Steve noticed that guarded wariness behind his eyes. "I just don't necessarily have a preference for gender. Women, men, off or on the spectrum - I like people more than genders."

"Oh." Steve said softly, which caused Clark to laugh despite himself. "Well, we had gay people back in my time, but... not quite the language to... describe things."

"You don't have to have the answers now." Clark allowed.

Steve chuckled. "I'm trying to come out to you, Clark. Come on."

Clark laughed and waved a hand in mock-defensiveness. "Apologies. Carry on."

"I... notice, you know... gender. It's different for me, liking someone like Peggy and liking someone like, you know, Bucky."

"Beyond one of them being your commanding officer and the other your best friend? Getting awfully problematic there, Cap."

"Shut up." Steve snorted, chomping down on a fry while Clark softly sipped at the lemonade he had ordered (another thing Steve had learned he never realized he catalogued - Clark didn't like carbonated drinks; with his heightened senses, they bothered him badly). "I just mean that it's not like I don't consider that in my view of someone. But I like both. Or maybe all. I've never been with or felt something for someone non-binary, that I know of, but if I did, I think I'd be attracted to them in a different way?"

"That's interesting." Clark tilted his head. "So, you don't, like, prefer any gender over another, but it is something you still feel."

"If I had to say, I guess I'd say I have a slightly greater attraction to men than women. But maybe that's just because I haven't been as close to as many women because of the army and after."

"So it's not necessarily a different kind of attraction, more of a different presentation. Different roads, same destination?"

"That's a real good way of putting it. Must be your journalism training." Steve teased.

Clark snorted, "Nah, just something stolen from my Ma. Pa actually came out a few years ago, and he felt it pretty much the same as you." They lapsed into companionable silence.

"You're one of the easiest people to talk to that I've ever known." Steve blurted.

"It's the eyes. Something about them draws people in." Clark replied, not missing a beat.

"No. It's you. You're kind, and understanding. You're smart as a whip, and you've got a stupid sarcasm that reminds me of Bucky."

"High praise." Clark's eyes were unreadable. Crystal blue, studying him in the way only a man that can see the most minute movements could.

"How many of these, uh... outings have we had?"

"Outings? I think, maybe... six or seven? Why?"

"Because... since maybe the third one, I've hoped we could do this more than just as a favor."

"A favor? What do you mean?"

"You know... a cover. For Superman."

Clark laughed, then. "I don't need this much cover, Steve. Most of these are just for fun. Because I like hanging out with you."

"Well, that makes this a lot easier."

"Sorry for stepping on your moment there."

"Well, maybe I got another moment. 'Cause I don't wanna do this just for fun. Probably since the fourth or fifth one, I've considered asking you out on a real date." Steve said plainly, looking at Clark straight on. The other man looked surprised, but not displeased.

"So... you're saying you want to date me."

"I really wanna date you, Clark."

"Well, that's... I'd like that."

"No big journalistic turn of phrase?"

"Shut up."

Steve's grinning like a maniac now, and after wiping his fingers of fry salt, rests his hand over Clark's, and silently thrills at the way Clark turns his hand over to hold Steve's in his.

"Does this count as our first date, then?"

"It can. We could retroactively call our first 'outing' our first date. Or we can say our next time will be it."

Steve smirks. "Are you as excited about it as I am?"

"I can hear your heartbeat. It's almost as fast as mine."

Steve just smiles then, knowing that both their hearts are dancing a jig, and the easy conversation resumes, their hands never leaving each other's until they get up to pay the check and leave.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a series of screenshots of tumblr posts. bestofgentleearth posts a photo of a comment by "butterfly" which says "today, the world looked beautiful again. i'm starting to remember what kept me alive last summer."]

[firstfullmoon posts a tweet by @ heatherchristle "Heather Christle" (verified) which says "Once a first grader asked me how long a poem had to be and when I said it could be just one word he wrote a poem that was just his best friend's phone number."

They then say "excuse me while i go cry".]

[luthienne reblogs a post which has a tweet by @ chenchenwrites "兔兒神". The tweet says "let me stay tender-hearted, despite despite despite". On tumblr, the OP says "i keep thinking of this". luthienne's tags say #yes yes yes #text #typography #a kind of holiness #favorite #everything that chen chen posts is so good and i love him. <3]

[honeytuesday posts "love it when people are just a little bit unraveled. hair wisps flying everywhere, wrinkles in yesterday's t-shirt, pockets reserved for useless things only. fingers kissed blue from the last pen that fell in love with you. laugh on the wrong side of raw. smile on the right side of bizarre. bright eyes smeared kohl dark, hungry mouth stained lollipop red. messy messy messy messy. you are blurry like the edges of my favorite old photograph. each second you're born anew. you are beautiful and terrible and the most irreplaceable part of living and i could love you forever and ever and ever".]

[An anonymous ask which says "In your honest opinion, what does it mean to be human?"

soracities answers with a screenshot of a poem. It says "In the dark times, will there also be singing?/Yes, there will be singing./About the dark times."]

[zarazaramp3 reblogs a post by coffeepeople which says "I find it endlessly fascinating that most humans just want someone who will get up in the middle of the night to close the windows with them when it starts down pouring. We want someone to dry our dishes after we wash them. We just want another person to do mundane activities with. We want to tell someone how the copy machine broke at work and we want to listen to how Debra is causing office drama again. We just want something so simple. We want human connection and honesty and to be bored with someone else instead of bored alone." zarazaramp3's tags say #yeah......... #on humanity]

[bakwaaas posts "when I was younger, I used to think true love was tumultuous and intense. but now, I feel like real love is gentle. passionate in a soft, sweet way. not fireworks and drama, but a love that's like coming home, the breeze on a still summer day. a balm to the aches of the world."]

[mrspider posts "something sad but also kind of sweet ive noticed about human trait mirroring (i.e. seeing someone regularly preform a physical or verbal action and adapting it as your own) is that even years after a person has stopped being in my life theyve still left pieces of themself within me. i still smile and wave like my childhood best friend did. i still pull my shirts up to cover my face when im embarrassed because my favorite college roommate did that. ive learned how to be a human being through all those around me, and those after me will likely learn the same way too." They reblog with a screenshot of a comment by kitterel which says "its kinda cute i can trace the trail of saying 'indeed' in a specific silly voice from my brother to me to my friend to her little sister who has never met my brother.... we're all just connected by strings we can't see innit".]

[lesbiancolumbo posts an image of text which says "Sometimes human connection isn't that complicated. Sometimes it's just about stepping back and asking the other person: What do I mean to you? What do you see in me? Why do you think we landed here?

Most people think that love follows some triumphant story line: You meet and you're in love and everything unfolds according to plan. But love is just two imperfect people, feeling their way in the dark together. Love is a calamity. You fall in love, and it turns out the person you're with is deeply flawed. You fall in love, and it turns out you are deeply flawed. You think that means nothing is magical anymore, but it really means that the magic has just begun.

This is not the end of a love story. This is the very beginning." They then say "having a lot of thoughts about this week's ask polly".]

[A post with the name cropped out. It is a photo of an annotated page which says "Walking home, for a moment/you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It's unendurable, unendurable." The post credits this as "Franz Wright, from "East Boston, 1996; Night Walk," in God's Silence".]

[iamdrowninghelpme98]

Entry 7:

2023

~~~~~~~~

I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to my adopted family. The truth is, they never really adopted me— not legally, but in the way that matters. My adopted mom was actually my teacher. She loved me at my lowest when no one else did. When I was invisible to the world, she saw me. I love her so much for that. She tried so hard to help me when nobody else would. I was her only daughter, and I thought that meant something that would last forever.

My adopted mom used to bring me avocados in high school, and I loved that more than I ever told her. It meant everything to me. I had something to eat at school and at home, and it felt like a lifeline. I still think those were the best gifts I ever received. I used to be in her class first thing in the morning, and I cared about her so much that I’d try not to show up high, at least for that first period. I’d wait for her class to end—or almost end—before running to the bathroom to use. I think she picked up on that quickly, but she never tried to get me in trouble. She wasn’t looking to get me kicked out of school; she wanted me to graduate, probably more than I did for a while. Sometimes, I got to be in her class twice a day, and for a while, school became worth going to again because of her. The days I didn’t go for one reason or another, she would email me just to make sure I was okay, when in reality she could have just marked me absent and moved on like everyone else, she cared.

My adopted dad is amazing too. He didn’t have to allow me into his family, but he did. I was just some drug addicted teenager, but he loved me anyway. He’s the coolest guy- he travels the world regularly, and he’s pretty religious, but not in an overbearing way, he says he prays for me a lot and he’s always ready to share some wisdom. I love him, too. He sends me cool photos and videos often of his travels, I’m just honored he even thinks of me while out traveling, I feel pretty special to be included in his journeys. 

We have so many memories together. I used to sleep over at their house, and we’d talk all night, sharing stories and laughing like I was really part of the family. We’d go to the zoo, I love animals, or drive around to see Christmas lights during the winter. They would jump through hoops just to see me, finding ways to work around my schedule and even avoiding my husband to make sure I was okay. I miss those days more than anything.

But they don’t love me anymore. My adopted dad might, we still talk every now and then, but it’s not the same. I messed things up big time, and that was a while ago now. I haven’t seen them in ages. I don’t even think they know I had a baby. My husband says he sent them a text and told them, and that they didn’t care. I don’t believe he really texted them, though—I think he just said that to hurt me. He knows exactly how to cut me down.

Now that I’ve had my phone back for a while, I’ve thought about texting my adopted mom, but I haven’t. I’m scared. I know she doesn’t want to hear from me. She thinks I used her for money, that I have mental problems she doesn’t want to deal with, that I’m too much trouble to have in her life anymore. She and her husband have a son. A real son. They don’t need me. He’s perfect, too—really smart, a college graduate, never got mixed up in drugs, married with a kid. Basically, everything I’m not. With a real kid like that, what could I possibly offer their already perfect family? I’m just a screw-up. It makes sense she doesn’t want me around.

BUT

I pushed her away first, I think. I just didn’t expect her to leave. I’m the idiot. I falsely believed you couldn’t push away someone who didn’t want to leave- but maybe you can, or maybe that person really was looking for a reason to go. I just don’t know.

But I’m an asshole. I don’t blame my adopted mom, but I also do. That’s pretty messed up, right? I’ve been mean to her, and she’s hurt me too. But I suppose I feel extra hurt by her rejection because I always thought she knew me best. I thought she understood me in a way no one else would or could. I thought she saw through the chaos in my head to the real me. Maybe I took advantage of believing she’d always be there for me, no matter what, no matter how horrible I was. I always thought she’d never leave me. I was wrong, and she never deserved that behavior from me. I’ve been awful. But she did everything she could, I know that more now than I did before.  Losing my adopted mom’s love absolutely destroyed me, but I could never tell her that. For such a long time, I wanted to get better for her, to make her proud, to show her that her love and effort weren’t in vain. But when I’d relapse or mess up, I started to hide myself from her, afraid of letting her down. I remember one time when I was confiding in her, she told me I was just having a pity party. Maybe I was, but I thought my reasons were valid. That comment though, it traumatized me. It made me feel like my pain wasn’t real, like I wasn’t allowed to feel how I felt. Ever since then, I haven’t felt like I could share anything with her again. I hid myself even further from her as a result, burying my pain deeper, until there was nothing left of me to show her but resent that was misplaced.

I’ve been in so much pain for so long that I’ve spread it to other people, especially her. And she’s had enough. That’s fair right? But why couldn’t she just love me unconditionally? Why can’t I be deserving of that? Maybe I am horrible. I hate myself—how can I expect anyone else to feel differently? 

But I have been punished for my ways. I lost another family. Losing one was hard, but two? Fuck, that hurts. I am horrible. 

Why do we hurt those brave enough to love us?

I deserve to die.

---

[ateezreactionsandscenarios]

So you’re going to deny me?

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Smut

CW: Teasing, soft Dom Woo, slight manhandling, dracryphilia, praise, marking.

Word Count: 2447

Summary: You tease Wooyoung over his bromance with San and jokingly deny him affection, that is until he loses it and takes control.

Prompt List               MasterList         Buy me a Coffee

They were at it again, they’re like this every time you hang out. You’re a third wheel in your own relationship whenever San is around, you can’t complain though, it can be nice to see someone else on the receiving end of Wooyoung’s needy, bratty ass, it was like handing your child over to your parents so you can have a break for a while. San had invited you both over for a movie night, something that the three of you did quite regularly and every time it resulted in Wooyoung clinging to San practically begging for his attention and teasing him. This was great entertainment for you since you could just sit back and watch and not be the one getting pestered, as much as you love your boyfriend you did want to kill him from time to time with how annoying he could get when he’s like this. 

“Oh come ooooonnnnn!” You could hear Wooyoung whining from the kitchen. “I told you no, last time I let you use the knife you almost took Mingi’s eye out, so I’ll do it.” Such a simple task as snacks was made difficult by Wooyoung once again, needing to be close to San and having his attention and praise. San was right though, last time they left Wooyoung in charge of chopping he got a little too excited and was waving his arms around forgetting he had the knife in his hand and had barely missed Mingi’s eye when he walked past, safe to say that was the last time you saw him holding a knife. You walked in to check on them, mostly San, and you were met with the scene of San trying, with great difficulty, to cut up some carrots while having Wooyoung practically hanging off his arm. “Come ooooonnnnnn!” You let out a small laugh before removing your boyfriend from San’s arm. “Come on Woo, let your boyfriend do what he needs to do and we can watch the movie.” His pouting stopped for a brief moment to look at you stunned over what you said. “Boyfriend!?” San couldn’t help but chuckle to himself over this. “Yes, you need to leave your boyfriend alone to do one thing then he’s all yours again.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” He squeals back pouting his lip at you. “Woo, every time we’re with San I end up being the third wheel, you’re like a lost puppy around him. I’m starting to think I’m a cover up for your feelings over him.” You laugh as you pat him on the head shooting a glance at San who’s trying his best to keep himself together. “I am not!” he yelps crossing his arms while having his little tantrum. “Okay, whatever you say, but I give it 10 minutes until you’re back on him.” 

You were right, it wasn’t even 10 minutes. By distracting Wooyoung in the kitchen San managed to get the snacks together in peace and you were all sat down to put the movie on. You ultimately ended up sitting in the big armchair since Wooyoung followed San to the couch and was practically laying on top of him while they flicked through Netflix. You took this opportunity while San was sat there peacefully and Wooyoung with his legs across his lap and head on his shoulder, to take a quick snap. “Aww, look at the happy couple.” You coo as you show them the photo. “Hey! What do you mean couple! I’m just comfy.” San couldn’t help but join in. “Aww look at you so cute.” He said pinching Wooyoung’s cheek causing a small blush to creep up. “I hate you both, I’m gonna go pee.” he grumbled as he got up. Trying to test his luck he came over to you and tried to give you a small peck on the forehead as he went past but you swiftly dodged it. “What was that fooorrrr!?” he whined stomping his feet at you. “If you want a kiss go ask your boyfriend San over there.” He shot you a small glare as he walked off to the bathroom leaving you and San giggling messes. “You’re too much you know that.” San says to you between giggles. “Well he’s obsessed with you what can I say and he’s so easy to wind up and he bites every time.” San gestures to you to swap seats with him to make Wooyoung feel a little better after all the teasing, but you weren’t done yet.

The movie was playing and because of your teasing Wooyoung was trying desperately to get your attention and affection but you were having none of it, you wanted to see how far you could push him. He’d try to subtly put his arm around you, to which you shuffled away. Then he tried to hold your hand, you crossed your arms in return. He even went to grab your ankle to put your leg across him so he had some part of you touching him, but you curled up into a ball when you caught on to what he was trying to do. He was losing his patience with you now, all he wanted to do was cuddle you and shower you with little kisses to show you how much he loved you, but he was being denied. There was a way he could get you to pay attention to him but right now was not the time nor the place to do it, he needed to get you home just the two of you.

The movie was finally coming to an end so Wooyoung was quickly coming up with an excuse to get you home fast. As the credits started to roll he gave out a huge yawn which gained attention from you and San. “is it that late already, I’m exhausted.” He said to himself more than anything. You and San exchanged confused looks. What did he mean by late, it was only 8:30. “Well y/n we better head off, we got a busy day tomorrow we need a lot of rest.” He said giving you a small nudge. “We do?” You asked a little confused. “Yes we have the thing remember?” His eyes widening slightly trying to make you get the hint, safe to say you were not getting the hint. “Ugh, I’ll tell you in the car.” he grumbled getting up to grab his things. You shrug your shoulders at San not having a clue what was going on but he brushed it off saying it was okay and he’ll see the two of you soon enough anyway.

The car ride home was pretty quiet, it was only a short trip seeing as you lived 10 minutes away, but Wooyoung did nothing but pout the whole time. “Why are you all pouty?” you ask putting your hand on his thigh to reassure him. “You ignored me most of the night.” his little pouty voice making a return. “I was teasing you, so maybe that would be the last time you ignore me for San.” you still couldn’t help but giggle over this, he was cute when he was pouting, the way he’d jut out his bottom lip and his puppy eyes. You finally get to your house and you didn’t even make it fully into the doorway before you were thrown against the wall, hands held above your head, nowhere to run to. He didn’t say anything at first, he just held you there taking in every detail on your face, his puppy eyes have now gone dark. “Woo, what are you doing?” you whispered to him. “Are you going to give me the affection I want?” his voice was low and sent a shiver up your spine. You didn’t answer his question and soon enough you found yourself being thrown over his shoulder as he carried you off to the bedroom.

You were thrown onto the bed with enough force to make you bounce a little before you were able to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at Wooyoung who was now leaning over you, both hands on the bed at the side of your hips, just staring you in the eye planning his next move. His face was just inches away from yours, you could feel his breath against you. Not being able to hold back anymore you lean up to give him a kiss, but just as your lips were about to meet his he puts a finger on your chest and pushes you back slightly. “You denied me a kiss, and now I’m gonna deny you.” You pout at him after being denied a kiss and you give him the same face he’s been giving you all night. “Yeah, it’s not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot now is it.” he says with a low voice in your ear before shoving you back down flat on the bed, his hands wandering from your hips down to your legs taking his time feeling every curve of your body before playing with the waistband of your jeans. “Now, if you promise to be nice to me, I’ll be nice back.” his fingers tracing the button of your jeans, teasing to undo them. You give a quick nod and a small whimper in reply. “I need words, will you be nice?” he looks up to you with hooded eyes not moving from where he is. “I’ll be nice.” You breath out still nodding. 

Happy with your answer he slowly makes his way back up to your face still staying only inches away from you with a smirk just to tease you that little bit more before finally leaning down and capturing you in a deep kiss, a kiss he’s been longing for all night, the kiss you’ve endlessly denied him. The kiss started off sweet and tender, like it was something you’ve both needed for so long but it quickly became heated and before you knew it you both found yourselves having to frequently pull away panting for air. With each kiss his hands trailed lower and lower down your body until they found the button of your jeans again, slowly undoing it to still tease you a little more. “Just hurry up will you.” You panted between kisses which earned you a look from Wooyoung. “Now, I thought you were going to be nice, stop with the demanding, you’ll have your fun when I say you can.” With button undone and him slowly working on the zipper you were starting to lose your mind. Breaking the kiss for a moment he’d pulled your jeans and underwear off in one swift movement and threw them across the room. his hands now roaming every inch of your legs as he takes in the sight of you, this is a sight he could never get tired of. His shirt was quick to follow your jeans. He only gave you a small moment to be able to admire his toned torso before he was slamming his lips back on yours then slowly trailing kisses down your neck causing you to let out small whimpers before removing the rest of your clothes to join the pile on the floor.

You buck your hips at him while he teases the tip of his cock along your slit in an attempt to get some sort of friction between you, whimpering under him to just fuck you already was driving him mad. “Does my girl want me that badly?” he says in such a soft tone it made your head spin. “Yes.” was all that could come out of your mouth. “Yes what?” he asks slowing his movements down ever so slightly to punish you just that little bit more. “Yes....Please, please.” you whimper practically begging him at this point. As much as he would love to continue his teasing he wanted you just as bad and so accepting your pleads he gives you what you want. His first thrust was merciless as he thrust as hard as he could, taking all the air from your lungs as he did it. He gave you a second to adjust to him before delivering another, if not rougher thrust. You couldn’t stop the moans escaping your lips, you had lost all control. “That’s my pretty girl, coming undone, because of me.” he growled between each thrust, your moans and screams filling the air. 

His hands trailing their way up your torso to your breasts giving them a tender squeeze, the way they fit perfectly in his hands always drove him wild. His thrusts just kept coming, consistently pounding into you hitting your sweet spot every time, lets just say, being a dancer he knew how to use his hips to his full advantage. The pleasure washing over you was so much you couldn’t hold back the single tear leaving your eye. “My girl is taking me so well she’s crying.” he lightly mocked you, twisting his hips with each thrust to hit you in a new spot each time. Your hands found their way to his hair as you tried desperately to pull him closer to you, needing his lips on yours again. “Oh Doll, I don’t think so.” He growls removing your hands from him and pinning them above your head leaving you completely helpless. “This is payback.” He whispers nipping at your ear before leaving another trail of kisses down your neck and marking you every so often just to make it know to the world who’s girl you are. 

“Woo....I.....Can’t hold on much longer.” you gasp as you can feel your high approaching. “Is my girl about to cum? Do it, I want to see what only I do to my girl.” He smirks into your neck feeling you tighten around him as you get closer. Another few hard thrusts later you’re left a shaking moaning mess. The sounds coming from you and the sensation of you around him driving him over the edge as he meets his high soon after, riding out both of your orgasms until you’re left panting, sweaty messes. 

“Will you mock me like that again?” He pants breathlessly still hovering above you. You can only shake your head in response still waiting for the stars to leave your vision. Giving a breathless chuckle to your response he leans down and gently kisses your nose before flopping to the side of you. “I love you Woo.” you say sleepily as you roll over to face him. “I love you too Doll.” He pulls you in to a sweaty but tender cuddle with your head resting on his chest as he gently twirls your hair between his fingers. “Come on let’s get ourselves cleaned up for bed.” he whispers tapping your head lightly to get your attention. “Just a little longer....please.” 

[enchanting-eloquence]

Welcome home baby (Jake Seresin)

Summary: Your boyfriend Jake "Hangmam" Seresin is coming home after a long mission, but as excited as you are to see him you're nervous too - you've got a secret to share. (1,900 words)

Author notes: Thank you so much for reading - I'm still finding my feet with this and getting the confidence to post regularly/ break through the writer's block, so any comments, likes or shares would be hugely well received. And what can I say, this man is inspiring a loooot of thoughts in me!

Warnings: Some serious fluff, angst, hints of sex although nothing direct.

Welcome home baby

The phone woke you before the alarm and you rolled over, silently cursing yourself for keeping it in the bedroom. Usually it would be downstairs or at least on silent mode, but there were times when you wanted it close - needed to know you could be reached, just in case something went wrong on assignment.

As your eyes came to focus on the screen and the first line of his message popped up in front of you, you knew that wasn’t the case this time.

Goooood morning beautiful. This is your pilot speaking. We’re all prepped for take off, the weather is good and in less than eight hours I’ll be back in our house.

You grinned, glad no one else was around to see just how goofy you looked as you began to type a reply, only to see those three dancing dots looking back at you.

Back in our bed.

The second message inspired a laugh, rough with the edge of sleep. And again, the dots moved.

Back in you.

This time the text was swiftly followed by a selfie, Jake strapped into a helicopter wearing standard issue green overalls and the cocky smile that told you exactly what he was thinking about as he prepared to head home.

Usually you liked to tease a little - the back and forth between the two of you had been part of the fun since day one. But this mission had been a long one and you had damned good reason to want him home. Plus, with your brain still addled from sleep it was hard to be anything but honest.

God I’ve missed that face.

And funny you should mention the bed, I’m in there right now.

The dots returned again.

Maybe you should stay there all day, wait for me?

You chuckled quietly, a familiar heat rising in your core as you placed a hand to your middle.

It’s no fun without you here, the bed’s too big and I’m too lonely.

That sounds tough sweetheart, maybe you should send me a photo - it’ll be like I’m there with you…

Again a laugh, knowing exactly the kind of photo he meant and determining that wasn’t a good idea this morning.

We both know those photos are only when you’re alone. And I’m guessing right now you’re not.

Instead you snapped a quick selfie as you were - hair mussed, eyes still heavy lidded, and straps of your tank top visible over the blankets.

This will have to do!

There was a brief pause while you imagined him opening the photo, probably even zooming in a little to the bottom part just to see if there was any sign of your cleavage over the top of the blanket.

God you’re beautiful. I can’t get back to you quick enough baby. Need to put the phone away now but start the countdown - I’m on my way.

As he went offline, you looked again at his photo, marvelling - as you so often did - that such an incredible man was yours.

As if those knowing green eyes, sharp jawline and deliciously smart mouth had found their way to you; and as if the highly decorated fighter pilot who spent half of his life on top secret missions around the world has somehow decided that home life with you was just as good a fit for him.

Not that he ever let you believe you were the only one who had struck lucky. If there was one place that Hangman parked his trademark arrogance, it was when he was complimenting you. Marvelling at how lucky he was every time your smile lit up his field of vision, and asking over and over as he watched you work just how someone like you had ever agreed to start a life with someone like him?

And from today onwards, that life together would never be quite the same again. A new chapter was about to begin, even if your boyfriend didn’t even know it yet.

You shook your head, grinning despite yourself at his goofiness as you climbed out of bed, leaving Jet - the black Labrador he’d bought to keep you company while you were home alone - snoozing on the bed as you prepared to start your day.

Jake’s homecoming days were always strange ones when you’d learned to plan little. There was no telling exactly when he would be home, leaving an anxious pit in your stomach until the moment he walked through the door.

On days like today that anxiety was tempered with the knowledge that he was coming home; something you knew only too well wasn’t always guaranteed for even the best pilot in the navy. Nonetheless, you’d begun a ritual of wearing one of his shirts on those days - a lucky charm that helped you feel close to him until you could start to expect him.

Today it was an old Dallas Cowboys shirt - worn and comfy enough to soothe your off-kilter nervous system, and big enough to fall past the hem of your shorts as you and the dog pottered around the house, working on some admin you knew would stop your mind wandering into worry and your eyes to the clock more than once every ten minutes as you wondered how tonight’s reunion would go, the faintest patter of uncertainty tempering your excitement to come back together.

With a couple of hours left until Jake’s ETA, you wrapped work for the day and headed out into the garden to weed the flower beds you’d both planted together, determined to ground yourself and prevent your nerves getting the better of you.

With the sun on your back, your hands in the earth, and Spotify playing from your phone, it was all too easy to lose track of time, meaning that when Jet began to bark joyfully, you put it down to excitement over the neighbours’ kids playing and hushed him without a glance.

“Well well well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes?”

His voice was like honey, and had you dropping the tools you were using with a start. Slowly you turned and saw him standing before you - every inch the handsome navy man - with one hand on the head of the joyous dog who danced at his feet.

As you stood, he dropped his rucksack and strode towards you, putting his hands on your hips and lifting you so that your legs wrapped around him while he kissed you deeply with a slow heat that was both sexy and soothing all in one.

When you finally came up for air he pressed his forehead against yours and gazed into your eyes. “Missed you baby,”he said gruffly.

“Missed you too,” you murmured, moving to rub your head against his neck like a cat.

You stayed like that for a while, simply relishing being able to touch one another and breathe the same air, before he moved his face back to grin at you and shifted your weight to lift a hand to your shirt.

“And a cowboys shirt? Really darlin’? I’ll remind you of this next time you complain about the game being on.”

You swatted his chest playfully and smiled. “It’s not the Cowboys doofus, it’s you. It smells like you.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your lips. “And now it’ll smell like you.”

“Now,” he shifted you back up again. “This has been a long mission and there’s something we really need to do before I even think about unpacking. So what if we head inside and-.”

“Jake, just, wait.” You out a hand on his chest, your heart beginning to pound as you realised this was the moment. “We need to stay here for a while.”

He raised an eyebrow and reminded you all too keenly of the arrogant airman who’d first  charmed you into a date. “Oh you don’t want to go inside? I mean, that’s cool with me although I don’t know how the neighbours will feel about you screaming my name-.”

The statement was meant to make you laugh, but it just led you to chew your lip harder as you wondered what to say.

“Baby what’s going on, is something wrong?” He pulled you tighter into him, his face smoothing into a worried frown as you shook your head and looked downwards

“No. Well I, I don’t think so.” You took a deep breath and lifted your chin to meet his eyes with yours.

“Jake, I’m pregnant.”

The green eyes widened and the jaw dropped for just a second - the famous Hangman caught off-guard for just long enough to make you worry.

“I know it’s a surprise. Know we’d planned to wait, to get married first.” The words spilled out of you as you lowered your eyes again, “I found out two days after you left. Couldn’t call, didn’t want to tell you by text. So I just waited. Thought that would be best.”

When you looked to him again, you realised his expression now was one of concern. “You’ve been holding this all by yourself?”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you suddenly realised how tough that had been.

“It’s been six weeks y/n.”

The tears spilled now, “I know. And I should’ve told you, I’m sorry. We should’ve talked about it.”

“Whoah whoah whoah.” He set you down now and put his hands on your shoulders as he crouched to meet your eyes.

“I’m just worried. You, pregnant and home alone,” Jet barked as though understanding and Jake shot him a quick smile. “Almost home alone. I only wish I’d known so I could’ve made sure you were ok.”

You gazed back at him, bottom lip quivering, “you’re not angry?”

Jake let out a long, slow breath and wiped the tears from your face. “Angry? Hell no.” His voice was soft now, maybe softer than you’d ever heard it as he moved one hand down to your lower abdomen. “You’re having my baby y/n. This is, incredible.”

He gazed down for a moment, marvelling at what was going on inside you and you could’ve sworn you saw the hint of tears in his own eyes, giving the knot of anxiety within you all it needed to dissipate after six long weeks without him.

Full of love, you put a hand to his face, pulling it up to meet you for another kiss filled with everything you couldn’t put into words. He kissed you back, his mouth earnest in a way you’d never felt from him before but gentle, as though afraid you were going to break beneath him, and caused you to laugh.

“I’m pregnant Jake, not fragile.”

Pulling back, he looked down at you through heavy lidded eyes. “I know, but… Are you feeling ok?”

You nodded. “A little tired at times, but I’m good, honestly.” You smiled. “I’m having your baby.”

And with that his face broke into its usual grin, he scooped up his rucksack in one hand and let out a whoop before hoisting you up in his other arm and walking back toward the house, Jet running joyfully beside him.

“You sure are babe, and we need to celebrate.” He paused for a moment and looked down at you, Hangman grin in place again. “And darlin’? I’m gonna need you to keep that Cowboys shirt on.”

[angryschnauzer]

The Hammer and the Screw

Summary; Getting a call out of the blue from fellow agent August Walker, fresh from a six month long mission in the middle east, you accept his invitation to his apartment for dinner. What follows more that satisfies your appetite. Set before Mission Impossible Fallout

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (Moodboard note: female images are for wardrobe inspo only - no description of race or body type used in the story)

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Mission Impossible

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Food Play, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Anal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms.

Authors Note: In this story, August looks like the above actor in the black and white photo - irl that is Can Yaman, a Turkish actor who on his insta posts looks quite like Henry in his Walter Marshall era. 

I do not run a masterlist or tag list, however if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you'll then get an alert every time i post new work.

The Hammer and The Screw

Slipping your wallet into your leather jacket you smiled at the clerk and took the bag she held, nodding thanks before heading out the door. Ten minutes later you'd dropped the flu meds off at your teammates apartment and stepped out onto the sidewalk, taking a deep breath of the city night air when your phone quietly rang with MC Hammer's most famous track;

"Well fuck me, look who's back in the country" you muttered to yourself before hitting answer;

"You old devil, long time no speak"

August's quiet chuckle greeted your ears;

"How's my favourite psychopath?" His rich tones teased you.

"Good. Just dropped flu meds off at O'Briens, then going to look for some trouble to get into. You know how antsy i get between jobs"

"That i do" 

You heard the rattle of pans in the background;

"What can I do for you, Hammer?"

"Need someone to catch me up on the last six months. The job in Istanbul kept me out of the loop"

"Sure, let me grab something to eat and i can meet you"

"Come over. I'm making pasta"

You paused, you'd never been to August's place, he tended to keep to himself, but thanks to your rather violent skillset with a sharp knife you and he had regularly been paired on missions in the past when non Geneva convention methods had been needed to extract information. You worked well together and were regularly the two most feared agents in the bureau.

"Ok. Do you need me to pick anything up?"

"Grab something sweet"

He gave you the address and hung up, leaving you wondering if this was a booty call or a pre-monday private debriefing.

-

You'd made it into the hallway of August's apartment building past security with ease, knocking on his door as you leaned on the wall waiting for him to answer. As the door opened you held up the bag containing the pint of ice cream you'd grabbed from the Bodega a few blocks away;

"I got Stracciatella... fuuuuck me…" your train of thought was thoroughly interrupted when you saw August. He looked like someone from a dollar store romance novel, his hair long and pulled back to the nape of his neck with a leather tie, his strong jawline covered in a thick and healthy beard. His skin was a deep olive tone from the middle eastern sunshine, and he wore a simple white shirt undone to mid chest with a pair of faded denim jeans.

With a laugh you stepped forwards, taking his cheeks in your palms as you gently turned his head side to side to get a better look. His blue eyes sparkled as you took him in, before he wrapped a heavily muscled arm around you and swung you into his apartment, shutting the door with his other hand;

"C'mon my little Screw, catch me up on all the gossip"

He set you down and your heeled boots clicked on the marble tile as you followed him. His name for you was one that many people referred to you as, but he was the only one to do it to your face. If August was the CIA's Hammer, you were known as the Screw, shortened from Screwdriver and referring to the time you'd used your knife and had literally screwed it into a suspect's kidney, slowly over the course of 12 hours in order to get the coordinates of the Anthrax. Even Hunt hadn't been able to get that suspect to crack.

The kitchen was simple and open plan, a pan of pasta bubbling on the stove as the ingredients for a sauce lay chopped on a thick olivewood board on the counter. August delicately plucked the bag containing the ice cream from your fingers, his warm skin brushing against yours. He set it into the freezer before grabbing two imported beers from the fridge, using a lever from a bottle opener to pop the caps as they weren't twist offs and handed you one. Holding his own out he clinked it against yours and you both drank.

"To getting into trouble"

"The best kind" you replied before taking a sip and setting the bottle down before shucking your jacket off and setting it over the back of the barstool that sat at the far side of the large kitchen island to watch as August cooked.

"Wow" 

Looking up you saw him taking in your outfit, a smirk playing on your lips;

"What? You don't like it?"

He chuckled and went back to stirring the pancetta and garlic;

"I guess i've figured out what kind of trouble you were looking to get into tonight then"

You knew the top you wore was an eyeful, a cropped top with cutout in the centre of your chest, the exposed underwires perfectly framing and pushing your breasts to the centre, but the leggings were also helping emphasise the curves of your hips and ass. Turning in the seat you arched your back and stuck your ass out;

"Do you like the Tiktok leggings?"

"The what leggings? Are you even wearing underwear?"

"Tiktok. Social media app"

August cocked an eyebrow;

"I've only just got the hang of Twitter. And you dodged my other question"

"Did i?" You paused, grinning; "Your pasta is boiling over…"

August cursed and went back to preparing dinner, catching him up on the agency gossip from the last six months as he served the food and carried it to the table. Grabbing the beers you followed and thanked him as he held the chair out for you.

The meal was mouthwatering, August's culinary skills a surprise, and yet the biggest surprise was still his appearance. Your eyes continued to wander down his chest, before following the path of his arms and shoulders, admiring how his size had increased with the physical nature of his undercover assignment. By the time you'd had your fill of pasta the beers had been replenished and you were softly buzzed with the alcohol and the atmosphere. August cleared the dishes, and as you watched him move you were transfixed watching the way his body moved beneath the expensive cotton of his shirt. 

"Aperitif?" He offered; "Before we hit the gelato? Did you want to grab it?"

Nodding you went to the freezer as he poured two glasses of Amaretto, recalling your preference from a mission a few years ago. By the time you'd grabbed spoons August was already sat on the couch, drinks on the low table as he watched you approach, his knees wide apart as he clasped his hands behind his head;

"Time for you to feed me Little Screw"

If he hadn't been expecting what you did next he hid it well, as instead of stopping and sitting next to him, you climbed onto him, straddling his legs. With a grin you settled and hooked your feet beneath his knees, curving your back slightly to allow room between you so you could handle the tub of ice cream. Popping the lid you dug a spoon in and scooped a small amount out, lifting it August’s lips, transfixed as his bearded jaw moved and he took the spoon into his mouth;

“Delicious” he muttered as the ice cold treat melted on his tongue; “So, what has Hunt been up to since I've been gone?”

“Squirrelled away in Ireland for the last few months, still working on the Syndicate but you know what he’s like, covert but everyone knows what he’s up to. Hell, the man can’t even do an Irish accent, did he think an annoying American in a sleepy little Irish village would go unnoticed?” you rolled your eyes, meeting August’s gaze. Somehow your bodies had slid closer together, had August raised his knees, you weren’t sure, the beers stronger than standard American domestic brands you were used to. Now finding yourself straddling his lap you dug into the ice cream and lifted another spoonful to his lips, watching as his tongue darted out a little and you realised you wouldn’t mind that tongue being elsewhere. 

Your lapse in attention to your task at hand suddenly caught you out when the ice cream on the spoon had started to melt without you noticing, a large drip landing on August’s exposed chest where his shirt was unbuttoned;

“Oops” you muttered, pushing the spoon into August’s mouth and leaving it there as you ducked your head down and licked the dribble of white cream from his chest, raising your gaze to his as your tongue traced further up his skin than necessary. 

“You little Minx” he muttered, before tossing the spoon aside and lifting your chin with his knuckle until your lips were level with his; “That tongue…” he grunted before surging forwards, his mouth meeting your own with a fierce kiss. There was no preamble of tentative pecks, no teasing the seam of your mouth, not with August Walker. His tongue was in your mouth as yours was in his, swimming together as teeth clashed. 

With the ice cream long forgotten as the carton sat on the shelf behind the sofa, the kiss deepend and slowed, becoming more sensual as hands started to roam, your fingers instinctively winding into his long hair, plucking it from its tie as it cascaded around his face. His large hands smoothed over the fleshy globes of your ass, an appreciative hum resonating through his throat as he experienced the full effect of the form fitting leggings. Running his warm palms over the curve of your back he pushed his fingertips between the fabric and your skin, sliding down and cupping your ass again, before one hand slid to the centre and he hooked a finger over the narrow band of lace that held your pathetic excuse for underwear in place;

“I knew it” he muttered into your mouth, before moving to press kisses along your jaw and down your neck, sucking on the smooth skin as his beard left a wake of tenderness behind it. However when his advances were halted by the high neck fabric of your top he let out a low growl; “Well this has gotta go”

You let out a whine as he pulled his hands from your leggings, only to grab onto the sides of your top and utter a single command;

“Arms up”

Obediently you raised your arms over your head, August pulling your top up and off, before resting back against the cushions;

“Now those are some perfect titties” he muttered, cupping them in his large hands, lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth, his beard scratching against your skin again and sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Writhing on his lap you could feel the promising bulge in his jeans pressing against your core, enticing you to move and push your body to his. He moved his attention to the other breast, rubbing the first nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the teat still wet from his tongue as his thumb teased it. 

As you clung to his shoulders his hands found their way into your leggings again, warm on the globes of your ass and this time he lifted his wrists to make the stretchy fabric slide down until your rear was exposed. With your spine arched they sat perfectly around the top of your thighs, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing against your soaked core, your movement already shifted the tiny lace thong to the side and was brushing against your sensitive petals. August moved one hand until it was splayed cross your back, pushing you up and further to his mouth as he continued his ministrations with his mouth on your chest, and it wasn’t until he broke his contact and sat back, resting both hands on your hips to lower you did you realise his other hand had been unzipping himself. The blunt head of his dick pushed through your folds, seeking out his target until he angled your hips and pulled you down, splitting you in two.

“Oh my god, August… You’re too big…”

“Nonsense” he grasped your hips tighter, pulling you down until you were fully seated in his lap, his thick shaft making you feel like a marionette dancing by the light of flames, but the burning was coming from deep within you as your tight body protested against such an intrusion. You were shaking and whimpering, your head resting on his shoulder as you felt his hand slide between your bodies and seek out your clit;

“Shhhh, you can take the Hammer, I knew you could. Now let's get that little pussy happy again. You’re such a good girl, taking me so deep” he muttered against your ear as you felt the calloused pad of his finger find your pearl and start to rub soft circles against it. He dipped his fingers down and ran them around the seam of your hole, stretched tight around his girth and he chuckled;

“Oh you are stretched out, aren’t you my little Screw? Had no idea you were this tight, if i had i would have ensured that last mission we did lasted considerably longer, can’t believe i’ve been missing out on a cunt this good”

Somehow he managed to rub at your clit whilst his other hand firmly moved your hips to ride him, your body slicking and growing accustomed to his size. As the pleasure surged through you your hips took on a life of their own, grinding down onto August’s lap and drawing every last inch of your bodies together for exquisite pleasure. 

“Look so good riding me” August praised, his blue eyes almost black with lust as you writhed on his lap, breathless from the way his body made you feel; “Little Screw, am i too big for you? Or do you like it to hurt?”

“August… I need more…”

As you moved on his lap he started to thrust up into you, pulling your walls apart and he pillaged deep within you. His hands moved round to your ass, gripping harshly at the soft flesh, before you felt his fingers seek out where your bodies were joined, unaware of his ulterior motive as he doused his hand in your slick juices. It was only as a thick digit pressed against your asshole did you tense for a moment, but as August's lips caught yours you relaxed and he sunk his finger in up to the knuckle. Double stuffed you rode him hard, desperate for release, filled to the brim with him. When a second finger slid in alongside the first you screamed and your orgasm released instantly, your womb in full spasm as you came so hard you went limp in his arms, your head fallen against his shoulder as the world dulled around you.

You are first aware that you’ve moved as August reaches the doorway to his bedroom, being carried in his arms as he walks to his bed and sets you down, stripping you of your remaining clothing before lifting a bottle of water to your lips;

“Drink”

It was not a request, it was a command, and as you took the bottle from him and sipped at the cool liquid you watched as he stripped before you, his shirt slowly unbuttoned to reveal a muscled chest with a dark tan, jeans slipping from his legs and you watched his thick thighs frame his magnificent cock as it bobbed side to side, still firmly proud and erect. Plucking the bottle from your hand he set it down before crawling over you, slotting himself between your legs as they naturally parted and wrapped around his waist, his hardness sliding into your soaked hole as he started a slower grind to make love to you on the expanse of high end egyptian cotton sheets. With each thrust he tilted his hips up into you, every vein and ridge on his dick pulling at your sensitive velvet walls;

“I’m not letting you go now” August muttered, pressing kisses to your neck and chest

“Anything you want” you were almost delirious with pleasure; “Anything August…”

“Kashmir. Go to Kashmir, wait for me” Looking him in the eyes you held his face as he rocked into you; “Little Screw, you know we were both destined for more”

“Yes…For you, anything”

“Five days, say you’ll be there. A new start”

“I’ll be there”

Pressing his lips to yours he doubled his efforts, filling your eager body over and over as you writhed beneath him, in awe of his body and mind, knowing there was more than he was telling you, but willing to do whatever he wanted. When your orgasm came you took him with you, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as he pushed in one final time and you could feel him filling you with his thick seed, a heavy weight in your womb as rope after rope of his creamy spend filled any void left inside you and spilled from between where your bodies were joined. 

-

48 hours later you were sore and tired, but ready to accept the next part of your life. August had received a call from Sloane instructing him to be ready to depart for Germany in six hours, Ramstein Air base being his rendezvous point for whatever chaos Hunt was causing. 

Standing in his bathroom wearing just his white shirt, you circled around August as he sat on the edge of the bath, clippers in your hand as you reluctantly trimmed him of his gorgeous long hair and beard.

“It’ll grow back” he reassured you

“I know, but I liked the way it felt against my skin. I liked running my fingers through your hair as your head was between my thighs”

“So leave it a little long on top, and we’ll see what we can do about the beard” he reassured you with a laugh, watching in the mirror as you trimmed his hair perfectly, long enough on top that his hair still held its natural curl, before eventually setting the clippers down.

“There, I'll let you do your beard. You know what you’re comfortable with. I’ll go and put a pot of coffee on”

A few minutes later you heard water running before August stepped out of the bathroom, wearing nothing more than a towel and a smile. His thick beard had been trimmed into a neat moustache, that on anyone else would have looked ridiculous, and yet on August it just fit right. Wrapping his arm around your waist he pressed a kiss to your neck before you turned, running your fingers over the bristles on his upper lip;

“It's different, but it works”

He surprised you by lifting you onto the counter, falling to his knees as he parted yours;

“Let's see how well it works then shall we?” cocking an eyebrow.

Whatever August had planned for the future, you were one hundred percent along for the ride.

Angsty (with happy ending) sequel: The Screws Turn

[alphascnsual]

"Yeah, I'm on my way now to meet him," Hudson said into the phone as he pulled his leather jacket on, "Yes, you did already tell me he was cute. You also sent me like half of Luca's photo album to prove it," he chuckled at Daniel, his only friend since childhood (and until Luca came into the picture) and someone he practically considered a brother, "And that he had a nice butt, yeah, I saw those pictures too," he shook his head, smiling and laughing lightly. Many years ago, Daniel had been the only kid at school who'd ever had the guts to talk to him and who socialized with him out of genuine companionship; a lot of kids made fun of Daniel for being slow or dumb and those same kids later would get their teeth kicked in by Hudson and so the two had become an unlikely duo, always watching each other's backs.

"Listen, bud, I don't wanna be late- I'll call you after and let you know if it was a dud," he said as he picked the keys of his bike up, "Yeah, yeah, I always drive safe ... Love you too ... bye." Hudson ran a hand through his hair before heading out the door to his bike. Not many people knew that he'd had a pretty tough childhood that had left him skeptical and jaded towards the world around him, an attitude which had earned him the comical reputation as a 'bad boy'. The more accurate description was that Hudson was unabashedly unafraid; he'd looked hell in the face as a child and nothing could scare him since. He didn't care about public opinion or perception, didn't put much stock into rules and manners, and certainly didn't follow trends or expectations. He walked solely to the beat of his own drum and that frightened people.

For instance, Hudson enjoyed working out and playing football- it was one of many releases he used to get out his emotions along with boxing and riding his bike. He also enjoyed reading and learning, possessing an incredibly sharp wit and intelligence. Add to that his love for leather and bikes and people just didn't quite know what to pigeon-hole him as. The best most could come up with was that he was an asshole for one reason or another. Some of those reasons were justified, some made-up, but either way, that was fine with him, the less people who interacted with him, the better. He had Daniel and Luca and his bike and that was all he needed in the world.

At least, that was what he'd thought for the longest time. Lately the nights had been feeling emptier and colder, and even regularly hooking up with Daniel and Luca didn't fill the creeping void he felt inside. Luca had been the first one to pick this up in him but, naturally, Hudson had scoffed it off and didn't allow himself to really voice his wants or dreams, thinking himself childish or weak for doing so. But the other hadn't let up easily and after months and months of saying that he'd help Hudson find someone and Hudson quipping back for months and months that there wasn't anyone in their city who didn't hate or fear him for one reason or another; apparently, Luca had done it, he'd found someone.

Hudson, ever jaded, had almost immediately moved to shut it down, but Luca insisted that this guy, Jonah, was perfect for him. Apparently they'd really gotten to know him on their last vacation and Daniel stepped in before he could attempt to ruin their plan, asking Hudson as a favor to him to just give it a shot. Truthfully, Hudson hadn't ever been able to say 'no' to his golden-hearted best friend and that day wasn't about to be the start. Plus, Daniel promised to make it up to him if it didn't go well. So, while on the surface he reluctantly agreed, secretly a part of him was already excited at the prospect that he might finally meet someone. Jonah had seemed sweet, if nervous over their first couple texts and so, the series of events unfolded that lead him to riding up to the restaurant they'd agreed to meet at. He spotted the other from about half a mile away and it so happened Jonah was standing in front of an open parking so Hudson pulled his bike up right in front of him.

Killing the engine and booting out the kick-stand, Hudson then eased his helmet off, running a hand through his hair, "Hey, beautiful," he greeted breathily with a small but warm smile. "You look really nice," he complimented sincerely as he got up, stowing the helmet away in the compartment beneath his seat along with the leather gloves he'd been wearing, "The cheerleader uniform doesn't do you justice," he winked. Their was an air of comfortable confidence that seemed to border on a cocky air but not quite in the way he spoke and he was certainly warmer and friendlier with Jonah than he'd ever been with anyone that wasn't Daniel or Luca; and that was a testament to the fact that he wasn't just some edge-lord asshole as most painted him out to be. It was also because from the moment he'd seen Jonah in person, something inside of him seemed to spark - he suddenly felt warmer. He didn't know what the feeling was but he liked it and decided to go along with it. Also, what he actually wanted to say was that Jonah looked hot as fuck and he wanted to rip his clothes off that tight, athletic body of his then and there, but Luca had warned him to behave for at least the first date. "Shall we head in?" he half-asked, already slipping a hand across the small of the other's back and gently, but firmly, leading him towards the entrance.

"I asked for one of the tables on the back porch," he informed Jonah, "I heard the water looks real nice when the sun's going down," he added, though he thought to himself that no view would beat the one he'd get of Jonah before they stepped up to the maître d' and said that he'd made a booking for them. The woman smiled, grabbing two menus and lead them to a table as Hudson had described, the ambience was warm and deeply romantic and Hudson pulled out Jonah's chair for him to sit before taking his own seat. He smelled like leather and a deep, spiced, tasteful cologne mixed with ever so feint hints of oil which betrayed that he'd been working on his bike a little earlier before getting ready for the date, "I don't ever come to places like this - it's nice," he hummed, "Luca told me 'bout it. Said they came here for their last anniversary," their waiter arrived momentarily and Hudson ordered a specific, but not overly expensive, bottle of champagne which the waiter bowed to and left to acquire, "Read about it a while ago," he answered before Jonah could ask him about why he'd ordered it or how he'd even known about it, "It's apparently infused with a couple things that make it quite a strong aphrodisiac," he couldn't help the devilish smirk that played across his lips, "Did I mention you look really nice?"

@alphascnsual Not sure why I let you talk me into this, ugh... I'll let you know how it went. You better make it up to me if it's a disaster! :-*

Jonah took a deep breath after sending the text to his friend Luca, letting the phone slip into his pocket as he walked to the spot where he was supposed to meet his date. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, getting slightly annoyed with himself for actually feeling nervous about meeting with Hudson. God, why was he so flustered? The chances of this going well were slim at best anyway. Admittedly, he had pouted to Luca about setting him up with somebody, feeling lowkey envious of his best friend's happy relationship - especially after joining Luca and his boyfriend Daniel on vacation, and realizing just how passionate their dynamic was. Jonah didn't dare to even dream of having that in his life, but was it asking too much to meet someone who would make him swoon? So Luca and his boo had apparently made it their mission to make a match - but as grateful as Jonah was about his friends' efforts, he was more than skeptical about their selection, only agreeing to this date to show some good will.

He didn't exactly know Hudson yet, not personally at least, but he'd seen the guy around. It was inevitable when the other was a college athlete and Jonah was involved in cheerleading and dance - they would end up at the same events, though the blonde rarely paid attention to the actual matches. Sure, he had noticed Hudson before. The guy looked good - okay, admittedly, he was extremely hot - and yet, his reputation was off-putting, to say the least. A stereotypical bad boy, too cool to give a fuck about anybody but himself, probably. A fuckboy with his motorcycle and leather jacket... Not an unattractive aesthetic in theory, but Jonah was already annoyed at the cocky machismo the other was probably going to throw his way in an attempt to impress him. In all honesty, it was almost baffling how Luca thought they would make a good couple. How the hell had he described Jonah to Hudson in order to talk him into this? ... Maybe it had been Daniel's idea. The guy was a sweetheart, and a total stud, but using his brain wasn't exactly his biggest strength... But those were his friends, so Jonah was going to give it a shot.

Arriving at the spot where they were supposed to meet, the blonde looked around, hands in his pocket, fighting the urge to check his phone. He was probably a few minutes early, and still... He was almost certain he was going to be stood up. Hudson certainly seemed like the type for that. Why did Jonah feel disappointed at the thought of that?!

[obeythedemons]

His Office [Obey Me! Headcanons]

I got my own cubicle today with my promotion. I may or may not have bought cat-themed office supplies. They’re not masculine in any way, but they’re cute and I play Obey Me! do you think I’m worried about my masculinity and also I don’t care for gender norms

Obey Me! Masterlist

--

Lucifer

Everything has its place

If something is moved even a centimeter he’ll know

Both as a way to ensure Mammon doesn’t steal something, but also to ensure he’s as efficient as possible when it comes to his work

Splurged on some very nice pens that write smoothly and doesn’t smudge

Everything is clean, he has a hand vacuum that he uses every day on his desk

Has a very high-end computer - he cannot deal with IT issues, not today

Mammon

Paperwork is everywhere

Not because he gets a lot, he just refuses to ever do it and it piles up

Has no idea where anything in his office is

Has a framed picture of Goldie on his desk

That picture changes to MC after a couple of days of knowing them

After that picture changes to MC, he starts to actually do his work and the pile of paperwork decreases and becomes more organized

Leviathan

Anime stationery, especially Ruri-chan themed!

Brings in a gamer chair to be his office chair, otherwise, he’s not comfortable

Has a bunch of sticky notes around his desk with anime doodles from when he’s in a meeting

Got rid of the phone to his office, if people want to talk to him they can IM him or email him

Set up RGB lights for his office and uses that as a light source

His desktop is whatever anime or video game he's obsessed with

Satan

Has binders that are clearly labeled and organized - he likes to read their contents when he's bored

Also has a binder that has whatever book he's reading in it - that way he can read and look like he's working

Knows everyone that works there, so he knows exactly who to contact when a problem comes up - meaning his workload is minimal

Also keeps a chair in his office for anyone that wants to visit with him

His desktop changes every five minutes to a new picture of a cat - it seems to never repeat itself

Asmodeus

Rose gold décor everywhere

Has a couple of mirrors in his office so he can look at himself when he's bored or fix his appearance

Has a cup for pens and a cup for makeup brushes

In fact, his desk has more beauty products than actual office supplies

Is the perfect person to go to if they need a breath mint, some lotion, chocolate, or menstrual hygiene product

Beelzebub

His desk is filled with snacks and like two pens

Has a minifridge under his desk for cold snacks and drinks

There are crumbs everywhere - Lucifer comes in once a week to clean up for him, but it's still not enough

There's a trophy he won for playing Fangol on a corner, it's not front and center

What's front and center are pictures of his family and MC, he got a digital frame so he can have a lot of photos of them

Belphegor

Has a blanket hanging off the back of his chair

His chair also has a cushion on it so he can sit on it and be comfortable - also uses it as a pillow for his desk

Has wrist supports for his keyboard and mouse - they're squishy

Has an essential oil diffuser where he regularly uses lavender

Uses a single lamp for light, but usually keeps it off so he can sleep

Diavolo

Has a very large desk, it's ridiculously large and he only uses a small portion of it

Though, what he doesn't use starts to fill up with knickknacks from the human realm after he meets MC - he likes to show MC them to try and make them laugh or smile

Keeps personal items to a minimum, he doesn't want business rivals to visit his office and try to blackmail him

He does have a couple of chairs for when people visit him - he likes it when it's just to visit and not for a business meeting

Tries to not be in his office too much, he'd rather go to other peoples' offices and see what they're up to

Barbatos

Has an electric tea kettle on his desk with a couple of mugs

One of his drawers is completely filled with different teas

The drawer below that has snacks that pair perfectly with the different teas

The top of his desk is completely clean and organized - has little to no paperwork as he completes it faster than anyone else

Is usually away from his office to meet with Diavolo

His desktop background is rarely seen as he always locks his computer when someone enters or when he leaves - it's a picture of Lord Diavolo, MC, and himself

Simeon

Has the oldest computer that he doesn't know how to work - he wouldn't know how to work a new one on either

Does all of his work on paper - much to the annoyance of some of his co-workers

Has so many binders, folders, and notebooks on his desk - they're unlabeled, but he knows exactly what is in each of them

He uses a Rolodex - no one knows where he found it or that they even made them anymore

Is the person people go to to rant about their job while he patiently listens and offers the best advice

Solomon

His office is off in a weird corner that people didn't know existed until they had to go find him

He looks young, but it seems like he knows everything that has ever happened in the office - that should be impossible

Has all of the old, archive documents that seem to be irrelevant and should be tossed

He has his own microwave in his office after the incident in the communal area

Has polaroid photos of Simeon, Luke, MC, and himself posted along a wall

Luke

People walk into his office and then back out thinking they have the wrong spot - who brought this child here? He works here? Is this legal?

Has a lot of HR forms at the ready that show he does work there!

Still not sure if it's legal

Is always bringing in baked goods for the whole office to try - is always nervous when Barbatos tries his baked good, but lights up when Barbatos praises him

Has a cushion on his chair to help him reach his computer, his legs dangle off the edge

Is in charge of converting Simeon's forms to a digital format

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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