#complain that you haven’t fed me yet

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

I’m also good at complaining at every minor inconvenience too

I really really wish I was a cat, I’m not built for this capatalist society but I am built for sleeping 19 hours a day and knocking things over

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Routine

It’s 5AM. Bloody five in the goddamn morning. The sun isn’t up and you’re barely awake as you unlock the bakery door, but a hulking shape startles you awake as you notice the man and German Shepherd standing outside. The man stares down at you as the dog wags its tail. He’s blond, almost freakishly so with the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. You can’t see the rest of his face thanks to the black privacy mask with the lower portion of a skull painted on it. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans tucked into sturdy boots and a black hoodie.

“G’morning,” he says, tilting his head as he watches you wipe a hand down your tired face. He doesn’t even apologize for scaring you. 

You hold the door open for him and his dog. He’s a regular from the firehouse just down the street. You'd think you would have gotten used to him lurking around the front door, yet every morning you go through the same thing. 

“We have danishes and turnovers today,” you say, leading him over towards the freshly stocked counter. The bakery smelled of fresh bread and sugary pastries, it made your stomach grumble, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten yet. Before you can slip behind the counter, his dog nudges your elbow. You turned with a smile, rubbing both your hands on his ears before walking behind the counter. “What’ll it be then?”

“Danish,” the firefighter said, his gaze never leaving you. You reached into the case and pulled out a pair of danishes, one cherry and one cheese. You never bothered asking him what flavors he preferred, he never seemed to care what he had. You also grabbed a couple of dog treats from a jar near the register. 

He reached for his wallet but you swatted his hand away when he tried to hand you a few dollars. Your boss insisted that keeping the local first responders fed was more important than profit. You walked around the counter again, watching as the firefighter met you by a little table near the front window. You place the pastries down, slipping a treat to the dog before sitting across from him. 

You both sit quietly while you eat the cheese danish. He doesn’t touch his, never does. He always just sits with you while you eat and takes his breakfast to go. It’s odd, but he never complains, and surely if he had a problem with it he’d say something. 

“You know..” you start. “I know Riley’s name.” You gesture to the dog, who was currently resting his head in your lap. “But you still haven’t told me your’s.”

“Simon.” His voice is blunt, that same flat tone he always used. 

“Simon..” you say back. “I like it.” 

You have no idea what hearing you say his name does to him. It sets his heart racing. His mouth waters. He swears, he’d die just to hear you say it again.

---

The brain rot is so real. I just wanna eat him up.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Come Back Together

Benny Cross x reader 

Summary in bullet points:

Now that Benny is back in your life, he is trying to be a better husband

Benny is insecure about his relationship and a barfight ensues

Reader is pregnant (three months)

Benny does a bit of pining and is emotionally vulnerable

Fluffiness 

Part 2 of Come Back Knockin’

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, angst and fluff, relationship struggles, physical altercations (fist fight), mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy, mention of alcohol, cursing, kissing, happy stuff, typos. I think that’s it. This took me forever to write for some reason and I was weirdly stressed about it. tf is wrong with me, right? Anyway…

Words: alright no one freak out…it’s 4300. Idk why it’s a lot longer than the first part but I always do that. If you’re willing to venture onward, I appreciate it :)

Benny Cross Masterlist

Part 3: Together and More

He stares at you incessantly. Which isn’t out of the ordinary—he used to stare at you all the time—but there’s something else to it now. He stares as if he thinks you’ll disappear the second he takes his eyes off of you. Like you'll slip through his fingers. Ironic, really, since disappearing in the blink of an eye is more his thing. 

“Can I make you something?” he asks, staring at you from his chair while you pull a carton of eggs from the fridge. “You should be sitting instead of me.”

“You don’t know how to cook, Benny,” you state matter-of-factly, turning your back to him as you switch on the stove and set a pan on the lit burner.

Cooking has always been your responsibility. It was one of the things you brought to this relationship. And you liked being the one to keep Benny fed, never chiming in when the other Vandals’ wives and girlfriends mentioned how exhausting it was to satisfy their man’s grumbling stomach. You liked that Benny appreciated you for it. 

Now you wonder if subconsciously you believed that as long as you fed him, he’d stay by your side, regardless of his wild nature. Kind of like a puppy. But Benny Cross is no puppy.

“I should probably learn,” he says. “You know, for the kid.”

You hum, cracking an egg on the edge of the pan. “Maybe you should stick to learning how not to ditch your family,” you retort, and immediately your features twist in a wince.

You can’t believe you let those words out of your mouth. You’d been doing so well at holding in the little jabs and remarks, no matter how hard they’ve pushed at your sealed lips. Not to say a few of them haven’t slipped through in the last month, they have, but each time they did, you received instant punishment in the form of Benny’s heart crumbling right before your eyes.

He’s never tried to make you feel guilty about your slip-ups, but he can’t seem to hide his expressions around you anymore. Ever since Benny returned, he’s been different. Your husband who was once so stoic has untethered his emotions from the piece inside of him that, for years, refused to let them show. His affection is more outward now, but unfortunately, so is his pain. So you made a rule to stop doing that to him; stop catching him off guard with words of hurt during a time of pending forgiveness. What he did was damaging, yes, but it’s unfair to pick at him when he’s been doing everything he can to show you he has value to this family; things he never would have done before. 

He wakes earlier than you to clean the most-used areas of the house—a poorly done job; you still find dust in spaces dust should have easily been wiped up, but he tries. He found work at a mechanic’s shop not too far from the house, and surprisingly, he has yet to complain about it—a decent job was always something he physically and mentally shunned. He got rid of everything in the spare room and has begun painting the walls from the deep brown left over from the prior owners to a soft, light green that matches the baby blanket he brought you. It’s cute, and significantly better than you would have done without him. You would’ve been too stressed to put together a nice nursery.

Benny awkwardly clears his throat, breaking up your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. The lingering discomfort from your snide tone is palpable, heavy, just short of physically formed, and you can’t escape it. 

“I didn’t mean that,” you tell him as you flip the egg. 

The sizzle in the pan is louder as uncooked egg hits the heat, but you can still hear his deep breath, easily picturing the weak smile on his face when he softly says, “It’s ok. I deserve it.”

You’re about to protest, but he doesn’t give you the chance. 

“I was thinkin’ about goin’ to a meeting tonight,” Benny says. “You wanna come with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Oh…” he says, dejected. “It's been a while since you've been to one. I know you stopped goin’ when I was…away, so I thought…”

You set the spatula down and turn to face him, crossing your arms. “I wasn’t going to go without you. And considering everything, everyone just would have pitied me. I'm sure they still do.”

His blue eyes fall to the tiled floor. You know he hates that such a thought would enter your mind, but it’s not as if you’re capable of stopping it. He put you in a pitiful situation, and were the circumstances placed upon another woman, you would have felt those same feelings for her. 

“No one pities you, baby. I promise,” he says. “They miss you.” His head lifts so he can meet your stare. “But if you don’t want to go then I'll stay here with you. We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

Your eyes widen. “No!” you yelp. Benny’s head jerks back at the sudden outburst and you swallow to buy yourself time to sort your thoughts into words, but the best you come up with is: “You’re right, actually. We should go.”

“But you just–” His brow raises in skepticism. “Are you sure?”

If your options are club meeting surrounded by a large group of people or movie-watching with you and Benny alone, then yes, you are absolutely sure. The movie channels have rallied against you lately. Out of the five times you and Benny have watched a film since he came back, all five have been romances. All of them!

You don’t know if he scours the TV Guide without you noticing or if the television channels have simply rallied against you, but sitting beside your husband who you are trying not to give in to is made all the more difficult when watching Audrey Hepburn fall in love with George Peppard or Cary Grant or Greggory Peck for God's sake. You see them and it makes you forget things. You forget that you’re as upset as you are, and with Benny so close, your heart starts to pound and you can’t focus on anything else. You want to crawl right into his arms, let him hold you and kiss you and take you on the couch after what has felt like an eternity apart. But you can’t do that. It’s too soon. So no movies. 

“Positive,” you nod. 

An easy smile slides onto his face. “Well that’s great, baby. It'll be fun.”

“Yea. Sure.”

“Alright,” he says, standing. “I gotta get to the shop.”

He pauses as he passes by you, and you hold his gaze as he squashes the instinct to press his lips to your forehead. 

You weren’t married to Benny for long before he panicked and left—only a handful of months—but it was long enough for the two of you to develop your own set of rituals. And by the consistency and ease with which Benny performed those rituals, anyone would have assumed they’d been in place for decades. 

A kiss on the forehead after breakfast was one ritual. As was the bedtime cuddling with your leg slotted between his. And the way he’d stare at you in the mirror, his arms crossed and body leaning against the doorframe as he watched you brush your teeth with a grin on his face. 

But the one you miss the most is the hug from behind that you'd receive once he’d decided to come home for the night. He’d circle his arms around your waist and place a kiss on your neck, and then he’d chuckle because he was so determined to sneak up on you and give you a little scare but was never successful. You could feel him before he touched you, you could smell his cologne, but you didn’t want to ruin his fun, so you let him have hope that one day he would finally surprise you. 

Benny blows out a long breath through his nose. “I’ll see you tonight,” he mutters with a brief hint of a smile.

As the front door closes behind him, a carbon smell grabs your attention and you look over your shoulder at your breakfast. It’s charred, inedible, and you don’t even care, you just knock the pan off to the side to keep the house from burning down.

—

“Well, thank the lord,” Betty’s voice travels across the bar as she and Kathy approach you and Benny. “We weren’t sure we’d ever see you again, honey.”

Kathy draws you into a tight hug that rips you from Benny’s side. “Things have not been the same with you gone,” she says as she leans back, rubbing her hands up and down your arms. She smiles so sweetly and you breathe a sigh of relief. These women were your friends and you feel guilty for abandoning them just because Benny abandoned you. “Come sit.”

“Benny Cross, we are stealin’ your wife,” Betty declares, “And you don't get to whine about it.” There’s a dash of vitriol in her tone that nibbles at your gut and you hope it’s simply an effect of the alcohol she must’ve had prior to your arrival. 

“Oh,” Benny says. You glance at him, at the disappointed look on his face—subtle, but there. He wanted you by his side tonight, but he’s not going to force you to deny their offer. “Ok.”

Kathy and Betty each take one of your hands and lead you to a small rounded table. It’s the centerpiece of the room, and as one of three surrounding it, so are you, unfortunately. As Betty sticks a cigarette in her mouth and Kathy takes a sip of her beer, your eyes scan the low-lit space. 

Stares from the men lining the walls burn your cheeks. You recognize only half of them—the Vets, as they’re known—and they give you their smiles and nods in a ‘welcome back’ gesture, Johnny, in particular, sporting a rare grin.

The others—the Newcomers; out-of-towners who came specifically to join the club—look at you with something else in their eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? They seem to know exactly who you are and enjoy a little too much putting a face to the name. You, however, don’t know a single one of them. They’d arrived shortly before Benny left, and while some faces, those with distinct features, you can recall from nuggets of your memory, you’ve never spoken to them. You never got their names. 

“Why this table?” you ask your friends.

“Best view of the pool table, obviously,” Betty chuckles after snapping Johnny’s lighter shut. She nudges her head in that direction. “Nothin’ wrong with lookin’, I say.”

Flanking the table are Cal, Wahoo, and Benny; Wahoo watching and chattering from the sidelines as Cal and Benny alternate between shots.

Benny edges from one side of the table to the other, sizing up his options. Then, cue in hand, cigarette dangling from his lips, he bends at the waist and lines up the shot. 

He’s so stupidly beautiful. The lamp hanging above the table illuminates him, defining his muscles by highlighting the hills and casting the valleys into shadow. A haze of smoke coats your view, but his pure essence and magnetism break through it like rays of sun through parted clouds. 

Benny’s eyes flick up to yours and he winks as he shoots, driving two balls directly into their nets. 

Your mouth goes dry. You swallow sandpaper, leaving your throat all raw and scratchy.

“So, how’ve you been, honey?” Betty asks, and you turn your head. “How've you been feelin’? How’s that nausea?”

“Yea,” Kathy adds, leaning in close as if seeking out a secret, “and how’s it been goin’ with him? Any trouble?”

“Um, I'm fine,” you say, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Nausea’s manageable. 

As far as Benny goes, there's no trouble,” you tell them, “It’s just–” You pause. 

What can you say? That you haven’t fully forgiven him even though he’s working so hard to be a good husband? That some of the things he’s doing around the house are swoon-worthy compared to what most men you know would do but you’re too stubborn to express the depth of your appreciation? Any woman would look at you like you’re insane. 

When you think about it like that, maybe you are insane. 

“I don't know,” you say with a shrug and a shake of your head. “It's hard to explain.”

“Well, according to Johnny, Benny’s worried each day in the house will be his last,” Betty says, blowing a stream of smoke off to the side. “That boy’s so afraid he’s gonna mess up and let you down again that I'm surprised he hasn't lost his marbles. I read in Life that bein’ that anxious wreaks havoc on the body and mind.”

Betty’s always reading something in Life, and a good portion of the time you are hesitant to take her seriously. Not necessarily because you don’t trust what the magazine reports, but that Betty tends to exaggerate for kicks. 

You have a feeling she’s not exaggerating this time.

Your face falls. 

“Don’t you feel bad about it for one second,” Kathy scolds, placing her hand on top of yours. “You’re well within your rights to make him earn his place.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to be scared that I'm going to–”

You’re cut off by a male voice slipping through a brief lull in the cacophony of noise.

“If she don’t want Benny no more, she can bring her sweet ass right on over to me,” a Newcomer says in a slurring mess. “I’d sure take better care of her than he did.”

Every soul in the room falls deadly silent—the only remaining sound being the melody of Elvis's Baby Let's Play House from the jukebox—and the world around you freezes.

Cigarettes are held over ashtrays, their ashes yet to be knocked off. Beer bottles are raised to lips without the satisfaction of a sip. The bartender’s rag has only wiped up half of a drunken man’s spill. No one is breathing and everyone’s eyes are glued to either the Newcomer or your husband. Yours are on Newcomer, watching his features shift and tick as he soaks in the weight of what he just said, and what it’s about to cost him. 

Kathy sighs. “Oh, god.” 

The whole bar hears her—impossible not to; you could hear a mouse skitter across the floor—and her words seem to carry with them the wave of a green flag, because a moment later, Benny rushes the guy and tackles him to the ground. 

Chaos erupts. All at once, shouts, curses, and hateful name-calling explode like the impact of a bomb. Nearly every man in the club is taking sides in the war between Newcomers and Vets. Fists fly into faces. Faces are shoved against walls. Walls are cracked from bodies slamming into them. There’s the distinct sound of bone meeting bone. Blood splatters across your table.

“Jesus, fellas!” Kathy snaps as she and Betty hop up, dragging you out of the danger zone. 

In a panic, your head whips in all directions. You can’t find Benny, but you need to find him and you need to find him now. 

You’ve seen him throw punches at races and members’ houses but this is too public a space, and if the cops are called, he can’t be caught fighting again. Nor can he risk having fingers pointed his way for instigating. He already has a record, and though you didn’t know him during his few stints behind bars, you know he has exhausted the sheriff's leniency. If you leave now, Johnny will come up with something to excise Benny’s participation should questions arise. 

You take a step forward but Kathy’s grip is tight. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” she shouts.

“To get my husband.”

Betty gapes. “Are you crazy? You're pregnant!” But you ignore her, shaking Kathy off and heading into the storm. “Johnny! Johnny, grab her!”

You weave through fight after fight, stopping short when a body lands at your feet, but he’s up and out of your way in an instant, and you continue dodging and ducking until you spot a blond head. From what you can see, there’s hardly a scratch on him. The same cannot be said for the drunk guy beneath him. 

Before you can move another inch, an arm circles your waist and jerks you back. 

“Hey!” you snap. “Let go!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. You stay out of it,” Johnny says, lifting you off the ground and setting you down in a safer area. He puts his hands on your shoulders and dips his head to your eye level, locking on to your gaze. “I’ll get ‘im, ok? I’ll get ‘im. Stay right here.”

You nod in agreement, your brows knitted and teeth chewing on your bottom lip. 

From this location, you have a better view of your husband and the friend who is trying and failing to break up the fight. Johnny yanking on Benny’s dominant arm is not enough to stop the attacks. Neither is the forearm locked around his neck. 

When Cal notices Johnny’s struggle, he pushes his opponent into a table and races over to take hold of Benny’s other bicep. Together they pull him off the man whose face no longer resembles a human’s. It’s a bloody mess. His nose is dented in, eyes swollen shut, lips split and mouth hanging open to reveal an empty space where a tooth used to be. 

Benny’s chest heaves. Murder is in his glare. He jerks against his restraints but struggles to break free with the force of two men weighing him to the ground. 

Then Johnny mutters something in Benny’s ear that immediately halts his thrashing. His breathing slows. The fire fades from his irises, returning them to their soft cerulean, and his eyes tear away from the beaten man to dart around the room in search of you. 

As Benny spots you, Johnny's lips move, seemingly forming the words ‘Get outta here,’ before he pats Benny on the chest and lets him rise to his feet. 

Benny comes to you and without stopping grasps your hand and leads you out of the bar.

— 

“You think you fractured anything?” You ask as you slide the key into the lock and turn.

Benny stretches and flexes his fingers. “No,” he answers, trailing into the house behind you and shutting the front door. “Are you upset with me?” 

He’s been wanting to ask that question since you left the bar. As he'd placed the helmet on your head and clipped the strap under your chin, you'd observed his lips, how they were parting as if to speak but unable to get anything out. And when he'd helped you off the bike in front of the house, his expression was far away, his jaw shifting, teeth clenching—the look of your husband in intense thought. 

At least he finally spit it out. Normally, he would have run his fingers through his hair and sighed, opting not to bother you with the question; a behavior that used to drive you crazy. It took weeks after you met for you to accept that while Benny was willing to share a lot with you—things he didn’t intend to share with anyone; a life, for instance—there were things best not to pester him into revealing. 

So you’re a patient partner. If it needs to be said or asked, it’ll be said or asked. And you're glad he decided this was one question that needed to be asked.

You sigh, hanging your jacket on the rack, and Benny follows, selecting the hook closest to yours. 

“I mean, you nearly killed him,” you say as you make your way to the back of the living room and open the closet that houses the first aid kit. 

On tippy toes, you can barely brush your fingers along the metal tin, and you grumble each time you unintentionally push it a little further back on the shelf.

A muscled arm reaches above your head to grab the kit. Benny places it in your hands before stepping back into the seating area and dropping down onto the footstool, his standard perch when you’re fixing him up. 

Blue eyes are glued to your body as you take a seat on the couch. 

You pull the lid off of the tin and riffle through it for the small bottle of alcohol—you’ll have to buy more soon, it’s getting low—and a clean rag. With the alcohol-soaked fabric at the ready, you slip your fingers under his warm palm, bring his hand close, and get to work dabbing the wounds and wiping off some of the dried blood. He doesn’t so much as hiss at the shot of pain that makes any other human groan and pinch their eyes tight.

“He was out of line,” he tells you.

“I’m not saying he wasn’t out of line, but I really don't need you getting in trouble and being taken away from me, Benny.” You’re focused on his injury, but out of the corner of your eye, he winces in shame. “Besides, he was just mouthing off.”

“Mouthin’ off about my wife.”

With a huff, you drop your joined hands onto your lap and shoot him a look. “I know, but do you honestly believe what he said could ever happen? Do you think I would leave you for some other man?”

You ask with the full expectation of a whip-quick reply—‘of course not, baby’—but Benny adam’s apple bobs, and his teeth clench as his eyes flit to the undoubtedly less interesting carpet.

“Benny…?”

He runs his uninjured hand down his face and looks up at you. “C'mon, baby, it's not that wild of a thought. Not after what I did to you,” he says, his thumb slowly running over your knuckles. “You are so much better than anything I should be allowed to have. But me? You could throw a rock in any direction and you'd hit a man better than me. One that wouldn’t have panicked and left you pregnant and alone for six weeks.”          

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”   

“It is true.”

“It is not, and even if it was, I don't want another man,” you confess. A beat passes as you exhale heavily to stave off the stinging of oncoming tears. “It hurts that you left, but I am working through it, we are working through it, ok? You’re not going to lose me, Benny Cross. Not unless you leave me.”

“I'm never leavin’ you,” he says. 

You place your free hand on his cheek. “Then you’re never losing me.”

Benny swallows hard and scans your face—each and every feature—lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes. As your thumb strokes his cheekbone, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, turns his head, and presses a kiss to your palm. 

“Baby, I miss you so much,” he mutters, his brows pinched in anguish. “I miss touchin’ you. I miss holdin’ you. I miss sleepin’ next to you.” He lightly shakes his head. “I know I don’t deserve you, and I sure as hell don’t deserve our baby, but I fuckin’ miss you.”

The unit that is your heart and body and soul feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. This isn’t what the past month of your lives was meant to be about. It was supposed to be about building trust, not dishing out punishment. And yes, you’ve messed up before, said things that weren’t fair, but keeping him at arm's length is more than that. It’s a deeper pain. Stronger. More potent. Not just for him, but for you as well, and now you can’t quite see the point anymore. Staying away from his touch does not help anything if what you want at the end of the day is to be together. And that is what you want. 

When you touch your lips to his for the first time in almost three months, you whimper. You whimper and you melt and the tears want to come back because it’s so much easier to resist desire when you haven’t entertained it in a while. But now you’ve given in. You’re tasting him like you used to, tasting the remnants of gin and cigarettes and the blueberry pie you made for dessert, and it’s all Benny. Benny, who is so shocked that you’ve kissed him that it takes a handful of seconds before he kisses you back and becomes the Benny you know. And then he’s curling his arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap, and his hands are everywhere. Squeezing your thighs, sliding over your ass, tracing up your spine, holding the back of your neck to guide you closer so he can kiss you harder, and yea, you are never depriving yourself of your husband again.

Benny stands, taking you with him, supporting your weight as he keeps kissing you and you keep kissing him. He blindly turns and settles into the comfort of the couch with your legs on either side of his hips. 

You lean back, breaking the connection of your lips. “Benny.”

He’s staring at you like you’re hypnotic, mesmerizing. Like he’s drunk on kisses. His fingers trace the curvature of your face. A thumb ghosts over the swollen pillows of your mouth. 

“Yea, baby,” he says, voice gravelly, just above a whisper.

“Do you want to be back in our bed?”

Benny stiffens and he blinks away that glazed-over expression. “You mean it?” He asks. You nod. 

“Are you gonna be in the bed too?” he says, sifting his fingers through your hair. “We're not just swappin’, are we?”

You smile. “No, we aren't swapping,” you promise him, your forehead falling against his. “I'm making room.”

---

A/N: I kind of want to do a time jump Part 3 with lots of Dad!Benny stuff. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading that. Thanks :)

Taglist (if you wanna join)

[justmeeeehiii]

Care for me

You decide to do your girlfriend a little favor by buying new lingerie and surprising her…

Warnings: (slight)SMUT!! lactating, sex, fingering (r receiving), cunnulingus (r receiving), mommy!billie, sub!reader, fem!reader, top!billie, I didn’t proof read… lol…, this is my first ever post… have mercy on me!

Word count: 1315 words

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

It was a sunny day, the Californian sun having no mercy on the citizens.

You were at Billie’s and yours shared house, tanning by the pool, shirtless, of course.

Just how Billie liked it.

But Billie wasn’t here, she was working with her brother Finneas, trying to come up with a new song for her album “Hit me hard and soft”.

It was a lonely day, you did some chores, started a new painting, played with shark, but it just wasn’t the same without your beloved girlfriend.

On days like these, Billie would usually stay in the studio until sunrise, working hard.

You didn’t mind, you never did.

You love the work she does, it’s always amazing to listen to a new song, watch her edit it, cut it, come up with a cover for the album.

You loved that about her, her creative mind.

She was just as creative in bed…

You and Claudia decided to go shopping, get some new lingerie for your partners to fuck you in.

“Hey, Clauds? Do you like this?”

you asked her, waiting to for an answer.

You held up a black, Lacey lingerie-Set, dazzled with some sparks, but not too much, just how you liked it.

“Oh, Billie is going to freak out when she sees you in this!”

You bought the set after Claudia’s respond, excited to wear it for Billie tonight.

After you got home, you fed shark and got ready for bed, putting on the new lingerie, of course.

It was late, 2 am, to be exact, and Billie wasn’t home yet.

Just as you were wondering if you should call her, you heard the door open and close.

You decided to wait in your shared bedroom for Billie, sitting in bed with your legs crossed.

“Ugh, I had the worst fucking day of my life, today!”

Billie complained, not even looking at you, as she came through your bedroom door.

She angrily threw her bag on the floor and stripped just as aggressively.

“I can’t come up with one god damn song! And my manager keeps fucking things up! I told him to order confetti for the tour and he forgot! And then, he just tells me that it can’t be delivered till next May?! Dude, I’m going on tour in a few MONTHS, I don’t know what to do, I’m just so stressed….”

You listened to her complain, not saying anything and waiting for her to turn around.

“Hey mama, are you good, you haven’t said anythi-“

As Billie turned around, she stopped mid sentence, taking in your beauty.

It was like she was struck by lighting, trying to gather herself.

“Hi Billie…”

You sheepishly said, turning a little red when you saw Billie looking you up and down, stopping at your breasts.

“Hi, mama… what’s this for?”

“I went shopping with Claudia today, bought some new lingerie… do you like it?”

You asked her, knowing that she definitely did like it.

Billie crawled into bed, giving you a long, passionate kiss and deepening it by holding the back of your neck.

“Fuck, you look amazing…” she husked out breathlessly.

“I bought it just for you… I can relieve some of that stress you’ve got…”

Billie was getting wetter and hornier by the second, feeling like a hungry animal being teased with a perfect steak.

“Oh, I would love that…”

She replied taking off her bra, as she had already removed her clothes while complaining earlier.

Just as you were about to say something, she cut you off by kissing you.

She kissed your lips, then your neck, then wondered down to your panties, taking them off with her teeth.

She breathed in sharply, already wet for her.

“You’re so wet for me and I haven’t even touched you properly” Billie chuckled, while taking off your panties and shoving them in your mouth.

“If you keep quiet, I’ll reward you… if you don’t… well.. you know the drill.”

She was talking about your casual punishment, a spanking.

You secretly loved getting spanked by her, being bent over her lap, begging for mercy, being dominated by the only person who could make you feel this way…

Just as you were daydreaming about getting spanked, you felt Billie’s tongue on your clit.

Circling it clockwise, exactly how you linked it.

You let out a soft moan and a sigh, griping Billie’s hair.

Not being able to talk through the panties stuffed in your mouth, your moan came out muffled.

“Billie…”

“Shhh, didn’t I tell you to be quiet? Be a good girl for mommy…”

Billie’s dirty talking had no mercy on you, your wetness only growing with her words.

Billie continued licking, sucking and biting your clit, stimulating it just enough for you to get turned on but not enough to cum.

She thrusted two of her fingers inside you and you let out a long, lustful moan.

Billie was good at this, really good.

She knew when to speed up and when to stop to tease you and deny you of pleasure.

As she continued thrusting her finders in and out of you, you arched your back, gripping the white sheets under you.

Your moans got louder, and Billie’s finders faster.

“Come on baby, cum. Cum in mommy’s fingers…”

Were the last words you heard before reaching your climax, breaking completely underneath Billie.

Coming down from your high, Billie removed the panties from your mouth and replaced them with her two fingers, making you taste yourself.

“Suck.” She commanded, and you obeyed.

“Good girl, you did so good…” Billie whispered in your ear softly, biting your earlobe and placing a kiss on the small area behind your earlobe.

You were exhausted, obviously.

Having sex with Billie was one of the best but at the some time the most tiring things, and she knew that.

She knew that you loved aftercare afterwards, being babied by her.

She got up, leaving you all alone on the low cold bed and you complained by groaning.

“Billie, come back…”

“I’ll be right there baby, just hold on a sec.”

She replied from the bathroom.

Coming back, you saw that she has a bowl and a cloth in her hand.

She gently parted your legs, exposing your pussy to the cold air and started cleaning you up with the wet cloth.

You didn’t like the cold air hitting your warm, glistening pussy, so you whined, just like you always would.

“Shh I know, I know sweet girl, but mommy has to clean you up.”

After finishing cleaning you up, she placed a little kiss on your sensitive clit, making you jump.

Chuckling, she set the bowl and washcloth aside and gently placed you in her lap, holding you like moms hold their newborns.

Looking into your big eyes, she caressed your face, getting a few strands of hair out of the way.

“I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.

You know how to satisfy mommy,

you did a great job.

My sweet, sweet baby.”

She told you, making you feel validated.

You felt your eyelids get heavier and Billie noticed, placing a boob in your mouth, she nursed you.

It comforted you, having skin to skin with your girlfriend and lactating, feeling my the warm milk fill your mouth.

Billie wasn’t pregnant, no.

But after she found out you had a little thing for her boobs and nursing, she started taking pills to make her milk flow.

The things your mommy does for you…

Billie hummed a little melody, rocking you from side to side, helping you fall asleep.

“Sleep, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

After that, you peacefully fell asleep in your girlfriend’s arms, wondering you deserved to be loved like this.

[eowynstwin]

confessional offerings / neighbors

previous

On a cold winter's day in the early morning hours, you knock on your neighbor Captain John Price's door to make a noise complaint. - This is not where he meant for this call to go, but he couldn’t complain about the direction if he tried. - ao3

“Hi, love,” he replies. “Where are you? Still at dinner?”

“No, we left. I’m in my hotel room.”

“Good,” John says. He feels his own expression go soft at the sound of your voice, which is sweet and gentle even across miles and distorted by the phone. “I missed you this morning.”

He hears you shift—imagines you laying in bed, in your pajamas after a shower, skin warm and hair still a little damp. He can almost feel it if he imagines it; the rhythm of your breath with his mouth against your neck, his open hands across the soft expanse of your stomach.

He’s never seen your bed, so he has to supply his own in his mind. The idea starts up an ache that’s been building all day.

“Me too,” you say, at a near-whisper. You sound painfully shy.

John smiles. He likes that shyness, likes that you give him the chance to draw you out of it. “You know, if you want to know why I like you, love, all you have to do is ask. I’d tell you if you did.”

You don’t respond for a moment. He doesn’t press. You like that he does that, he’s found, that he gives you time to think. John has no qualms doing that for you; he wants you to feel comfortable with him. 

Finally, in a small voice, “Why do you like me, John?”

“What a question,” he says, unable regardless to keep from teasing. “Where do I even start? You’re putting me on the spot, here.”

“John!” you whinge, and he laughs.

“Hm,” he murmurs. “I like that you’re kind. You never have to spend time with me, but you do. And you’re smart, love, I like that a lot. You guessed I was bored without me saying anything, and did something to help me. I don’t think you know how much that means to me.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m forcing you to read my books. Just so I can have something to talk about with you.”

“If that’s what you think forcing is, I’d like to see what happens when you really try to get something you want.”

You laugh, so he knows from that sound that you know your fear is a little ridiculous. Good—if you really thought that nonsense, you might leave him alone.  

“And I like the way you say my name,” he says, hearing the desire in his own voice. Will that sound scare you? He’s got to show it to you at some point. You need to know how easily you can get him going.

“How do you mean?” you ask. 

“Like it means something to you,” he says. “Not a lot of people call me by my first name, love. And no one says it the way you do.”

“Oh,” you say, small and soft.

“I want to hear you say it more often,” he continues.

“…John,” you say, and it hits him like a lightning strike. His cock throbs suddenly and near-painfully.

His voice lowers, roughens. “Just like that.”

You say it again, still shy, but on a breath that is clear in its arousal. “John.”

This is not where he meant for this call to go, but he couldn’t complain about the direction if he tried. He shifts his legs, tries to convince his growing erection to sit a little more comfortably against his thigh, but does not touch himself. He isn’t there with you, not yet. 

“I like that you give me that, love. You let me have so much. More than you know.”

“I always think that,” you say, passionately. “I never understand. I don’t know why things mean so much to you.”

“Because it’s you,” he says. “There isn’t a lot of…gentleness, or kindness, in my life. And you—that’s all you are. You give me more of it than I’ve ever had. I’m a man starved, and all you ever do is feed me.”

He wants to see your face so badly. He wants to see the little crease that shows up between your brows when you get emotional. He wants to hold you again, feel the weight of your body on his, learn your shape with his hands and mouth. He wants to say all of this, but he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“I haven’t fed you yet,” you say, with a little waver of humor. “You’d remember my cooking.”

John blinks, and then barks a laugh. “Oh, love. I want to devour you.”

You make a little noise, and yes, John is painfully hard now, able to feel the beat of his own blood in his cock against the tight crotch of his pants.

“Is…is that what you’d do?” you ask. “To me?”

“Yes,” he says, letting his voice sink deep into his chest. “For hours, if you’d let me. Sweet girl, I want to spoil you rotten.”

You make a humming sound, high and from the back of your throat. “I didn’t think men really liked that.”

“I’m going to find and kill whoever taught you that,” he promises. “There’s nothing I want more than to get my mouth on you, love.”

“Nothing?” you say, and he grins, recognizing a prompt when he hears one.

“You want me to tell you what else I’d like to do? How I’d like to have you on my cock, drag it out for as long as you can stand? I want you in my bedsheets, pretty girl, making a mess of them because I’m fucking you so good. I want you wrapped around me and holding on so tight, because that’s all you need to do. Because I’m taking care of everything, and all you need to do is take it.”

“John,” you say, shakily.

“Should I stop?”

“I—” you stammer, “I just don’t know how to respond, John. I don’t know what to do.”

“You could tell me how that sounds to you,” he purrs. “Be nice to know if you like the idea.”

“…I do,” you say, ���a lot, John.” 

And he has to grin at the breathless way you say it. He knows you now—he knows how hard that must have been for you to say. He’s so goddamn proud of you for saying it.

Then, you continue, tentatively, bravely. “What else…what else would you do?”

“Mm. I had some thoughts about that vibrator.”

“No!” you cry, groaning long and disconsolate as he laughs. “No, I thought I’d gotten it, oh, John…”

“It was bright pink,” he says, needling you further.

“You didn’t say anything!” you protest. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, love. Were you thinking of me, that night?” he asks, breath shallow in his lungs. “Did you get off with that vibrator between your legs, imagining what I could be doing to you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, John.”

“Except it wasn’t very good, was it, love?” he continues. “Because it wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted me there, wanted my hands and my mouth and my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you reply, and it sounds like a whine.

“You can have them,” he promises. “The moment you’re home, I’ll give you everything you want.”

You don’t respond immediately. He doesn’t think he’s pushed too far, this time; rather, he thinks with not a small amount of satisfaction, you might just be recognizing the scope of his offer. 

It’s a moment John always enjoys with potential partners—that quiet, trembling realization that yes, they can ask for anything from him, because he really will give it to them. Because they know that they can rely upon him, that they can trust him. That he wants nothing more than to be someone they can fall into, freed of worry or concern.

“I do want it, John,” you whisper into his ear. “All of it.”

Something uncoils in John’s chest. Appetite, yawning wide, swallowing your confession whole. His balls clench, hard. He wants to see the look on your face. Both when this finally happens—when you give in to him—and right now, as you’re realizing you can. 

John is not one to employ absolutes lightly; he wants to see you now more than he’s ever wanted to see anyone in his life.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, hearing a rasp in his voice. “Will you come to see me when you get home, then?”

“I—” you say, sounding breathless. “Yes. I will, John.”

“Good,” he says. “Now do something for me, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“I’m going to let you get back to your evening,” he says, adjusting his hips. “And when you lay down to sleep, I want you to think about me. Think about what I’ll do for you. Because I’ll be thinking about the exact same thing.”

“Yes, John,” you say. There’s a…floaty, far-off quality to your voice. It will not take John very long at all to finish tonight.

“Did you bring your vibrator along with you?” he asks.

“No.”

“Pity,” he says. “I guess we’ll both be using our hands, then.”

“Oh.”

He laughs. “Good night, love. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Good…good night, John.”

He says goodbye again, and ends the call. He lays his phone down and sits back, staring up at the ceiling. The football game is long over, some late night talk show playing now. He turns the TV off.

He’s not sure whether it’s going to be easier now to make it through the next two days—or much, much harder.

next

[agirlnamedstar]

Imagine you and some of the TWST guys are preparing for a little party. Whether it be a tea party, or maybe an unbirthday party, idk but THERES A PARTY GOING ON OKAY?

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Obviously Ace and Deuce are there, and so is Grim and Jack and Epel. They practically follow you everywhere so of course they’d help you set up!! Even if they really don’t wanna.

Riddle, Leona, and Vil are there too. Leona doesn’t really wanna be there, but he can’t let his poor weak herbivore do it all on their own, can he?

No, he can’t. He likes you too much to leave you alone because he knows only like, 3 people are gonna help you out.

Riddle is there to make sure no one breaks any rules and behaves accordingly and Vil is there to make sure everything is absolutely perfect. It’s a big party after all, and anything other than perfect could ruin his reputation!!! And we wouldn’t want that, would we??:(

You’re setting the table, trying to make everything as perfectly set as possible. Yet no matter how straight and how perfect you put down those plates and silverware, Vil is correcting it and criticizing you.

“Is it really that hard to set the table correctly Prefect? I know not having magic shouldn’t effect your ability to set a table..” he’d complain, fixing yet another fork you apparently laid down incorrectly.

And you’d stay quiet, getting more and more upset by the minute as you continued setting the table.

And everyone could tell you were getting fed up, but decided to stay quiet for their own good, because they know how Vil is.

“Prefect, at this point it might be better for me to set this table. You’re doing it all wrong. It looks absolutely hideous.” He complained again, making you look up from the fork he asked you to adjust.

“Vil, it looks fine. Can’t you go bother somebody else? I know how to set a table.” You finally talked back, making everyone look up and turn to you two.

“It doesn’t look fine. It looks horrendous. Just like your skin. Have you been doing that skincare routine I showed you?” He fussed, reaching out to touch your face, “and besides, the table only looks a little bit better because I fixed it. Like I said, it doesn’t take magic to set a table, now does it? You should be able to do this with no issues, right?”

You backed away from him, huffing as you did so. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been too busy planning this party and with school and with you guys. I don’t have time for that stuff right now.”

Leona then interrupts, getting in between you two.

“Leave the herbivore alone, table looks fine,” he mumbled with a yawn, “if it looks so awful, maybe you should do it yourself.” He leaned against you, closing his eyes as he spoke.

You sent Leona a thankful smile, looking at Vil as he glared sharply at the both of you.

“Are you being serious? Leona, look at it. It’s a mess. Great Seven, you can’t even set a table correctly. What are you good for, anyways? You’re magicless, you lack strength in general, you can’t even take care of yourself, and your grades are slipping!”

“You’re awful. I will never, never understand why the Black Mirror brought you here.”

The room went silent. The dishes in your hand went clattering to the floor, some shattering on impact.

You knew he can be an asshole, but fuck man.

That hurt.

That hurt a lot.

“You know what, Vil? Fuck you. I’m fucking trying, okay? But it’s hard to focus on things when I’m tackling one overblot and problem after another. I know you’re stressed out and shit, but you don’t need to take it out on me.” You took a deep breath, glaring at him as you teared up.

“I’m so fucking done.”

Before you knew it, your eyes were filled with tears and you were running out the door, hearing your friends shout for you as you ran.

God you wanna go home..

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Oh how I love angst!!

I really wanna make a part 2!! Would you guys like that? Lemme knowwwww!!

If I do make a part two, we’ll see Neige and get a lil more info about Vil and why he said what he said🤞🤞

[gottaluvharry]

Tossing & Turning

Charles Leclerc x Female Reader

Summary: Charles coaxes you back to sleep when your cramps keep you up.

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

Tossing. Turning. Tossing. Turning. All night long you haven’t been able to get comfortable, your cramps irritating you behind belief. You were envious of your boyfriend who was still, somehow, sound asleep behind you. While he does sleep like a rock, he always gravitates toward you when you move around. If you roll out of his embrace, he blindly feels for you until he can pull you back in. He had no idea he was doing it, it was an act he committed subconsciously, yet it made you smile every time. You huff and look up at the ceiling with your arms clenching your lower stomach, so fed up with not being able to sleep. The worst part was that you couldn’t wake Charles about it as he had early training in the morning- you would feel terrible if you woke him up just to complain. With a groan, you spin around to sit with your feet on the floor of your room, looking behind you at your boyfriend sprawled out and fast asleep. Your love. Even in pain, you still took the time to admire him. You wait for your pain to die down before you get up to go to the kitchen. Unlucky for you though, as your reaching up to get the tea from the cupboard your pain returns, amplified more than before. A groan of pain escapes your lips as you simultaneously double over and drop the box of tea to the floor. You don’t even acknowledge how the sound of the box hitting the floor might wake Charles. You crouch down, unable to hold yourself up as you wait out the pain. Unbeknownst to you, Charles is awake down the hall trying to figure out why his girl isn’t in his arms anymore. He can feel the warmth on your pillow, indicating to him that you haven’t been gone long. He starts to rise slowly, but picks up the pace when he hears quiet sobs from across the house. He quickly makes his way towards the sound, his heart sinking when he sees you folded over on the floor silently crying next to a spilled box of tea bags. He knows you’re on your period, and he also knows how bad ylur cramps can be. He frowns as he comes up behind you slowly, trying not to scare you. “Amour” he whispers, “why didn’t you tell me you were in pain?” he asks as he sits and leans against the counters, slotting you between his legs. “I didn’t want to wake you, you have training tomorrow” you say as you wipe your eyes. You try your hardest not to lean into him, you don’t want to make him feel like he has to stay with you- and he doesn’t like that one bit. “Y/n” he pleads. “I’m not mad at you for waking me up, please relax and let me take care of you”. At that, you finally lean into him and let yourself feel comfort in your boyfriends embrace. You sigh when you feel his warm hands start to knead the skin over where you hurt. “Thank you” you whisper. “You don’t have to thank me amour. This is what boyfriends are for” he says as he leans down to kiss your neck. “Are you feeling better? Do you want to go back to bed?” he asks. With the nod of your head, he gently picks you up and carries you back to your room, placing you in the same spot you were in a half hour ago. Before you even have the chance to ask him where he’s going, he comes back into the room with the heating pad in his hands. You just smile at the caring man who plugs it in next to your bed and places it over your lower stomach. As he crawls back into his side of the bed he pulls you into him and your head immediately finds the crook of his neck. With the feeling of your legs intertwined and his arms wrapped around your shoulders and back, you finally feel comfortable for the first time tonight. As your on the brink of sleep you hear him whisper “Je t’aime tellement. Je t’aiderai toujours quand tu auras mal. Tu comptes tellement pour moi, y/n, et je vais t’épouser un jour.” I love you so much. I will always help you when you hurt. You mean so much to me, y/n, and I am going to marry you someday. The last thing you feel before you fall into a much needed slumber is the soft feather of his lips on your forehead, and the light comfort of his hands brushing up and down your back.

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

being touch deprived and on your period at the same time is so painful😪 lonely girlies rise!!!!!!!

also, i didn’t edit this so sorry for mistakes, the gif is not mine, and i used google translate for the french:)

[scary-lasagna]

HEYY! Wondering if you do everymanhybrid and if so could you write a HABIT x reader headcannons? Relationship in general I don’t have specifics in mind

I might have mentioned him in passing before, but I'll definitely write something about him for his place in my AU, it's a bit ooc from EMH but it's very interesting.

HABIT

Habit is...not mentally stable in the slightest.

The only time he would fall in love is if it either a.) benefited him or b.) you were smokin' hot and he obsesses over you

And be prepared to hear him mull and complain over both Slender and Zalgo, both who equally piss him off but he's forced to be nice to one of the two.

But when Habit falls, he will fall hard. You will sit on a royal pedestal, and HABIT your knight in shining armor. There would be nothing he is against doing for you.

He grovels at your feet, swearing to always protect you, to keep you fed, to keep you safe and warm, to-

“I KNOW you only asked for Kirspy Kreme, but darling my point still stands.” And he pulls his unsettling, ear-to-ear grin out of his back pocket to plaster on his face.

But all-in-all he’s your little guard dog.

Most of his working hours are spent obsessing over Slender’s history and origins, striving to find any bit of information that will lead to his downfall.

The rest of his work day is spent over tea with Zalgo, not that he ever drinks any, he’s really just there for the lemon squares and latest celebrity news that haven’t hit the 6 o clock channels yet.

After all, Zalgo has close ties to all of the higher ups. He always has the best gossip.

He might shove some pastries in his pockets for you if anything looks of your taste, but they’re usually melted or crumbled by the time he gets home. Usually he licks the remains out of his pocket (gross).

There’s also a room in your shared space that you are never allowed to go in, two if you’re counting the closet.

A room filled to the brim with ancient texts, books, artifacts, and knives hold a red herring for a closet in that same room filled with many different types of guns, weapons, cursed artifacts, and a haunted McDonalds coupon from 2008.

HABIT and Evan function similarly to Liu and Sully, however HABIT has the upper hand in the body. It’s a once in a blue moon occurrence that Evan will peek through and attempt to escape the house and/or try to kill you, thinking you kidnapped him.

Freaked the hell out of you the first time it happened before HABIT managed to grab hold of the reigns.

Safe to say, Evan was properly dealt with that night in the dimension of HABITs brain, being held in a void of endless whispering and torment while you sat with HABIT, watching Twilight just to make fun of it.

He’s also kind of…not the brightest. He always has the right idea, but never quite sure how to execute it properly. This is the explanation of the many failed assassination attempts toward Slender and his brothers.

He has been sucker punched more times than he can count by 3/4 of them. Splendor just talks him down with a therapy session and it works in more ways than one.

But this also applies to relationships. You want roses? He gets you daisies because they look better, even though you specified roses.

A fancy restaurant date? Takes you on a cruise. You didn’t want or pack for a cruise. Neither did he. Don’t ask where he got the money.

Right idea, wrong execution.

He’s also extremely clingy, even though it’s been implied, but he will quite literally hover around you, waiting to be acknowledged or asked to do something for you, because if he’s not working, he doesn’t have anything else worth tending to except for you.

You’ve once asked for alone time and he quite literally sat in the floor of the kitchen and twiddled his toes until you got peckish for a snack and stumbled on him.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I was waiting for you to ask me to get you a cookie.”

[tiredfox64]

At your service

Prior notes: I’m such an indecisive bitch. So half way through writing this an earthquake hit so…y’all I’m so scared ;-;

Pairing: Rain(MK11) x Servant! afab reader

Warnings ‼️: NSFW, fingering, biting (ya freaks), pussy magic (that’s not really a warning but like you got it or something)

Being a servant to the Prince of Edenia should be a privilege, right?! While yes you get fed and you have a roof over your head, it can be a hassle.

He requires so much attention. He needs worship, and that could mean anything. More specifically, the servants really gotta put in the work. Kneeling before him, listening to his every request, having them praise him, and of course have his way with them.

Now you’ve gotten used to the sounds of ladies moaning at night and hearing in the morning how great he is in bed. But it doesn’t tempt you. You played it safe, only focusing on your work and nothing else. And you were an amazing servant. Great at cleaning, wonderful at prepping and cooking, you truly were a useful one. You thought all your efforts would go unnoticed. Oh how wrong you were.

Out of all the ladies, Rain had his eyes set on you for a while. Very hardworking and committed to duty. Well, when it didn’t involve pleasuring the prince at all. It almost infuriated him that someone is not falling for his charm. More like he never even had the chance to charm you. You always seemed out of reach. Even the other servants told him to stop wasting his time on you but we all know how stubborn of a man he is. No, Rain instead tried to keep an eyes on you from a distance. A distance where you could feel eyes on you yet never find who those pair of eyes belong to. Who would even be interested in watching you clean?

It’s like you were deliberately avoiding him. Every time he requested you, you sent another servant. The servants never complained but they would witness how upset Rain got. You have a job to do and you can’t let the prince himself slow you down. Except he can. He’s the prince. He made some demands that all would have to listen to.

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The guards alerted you that Rain requested, no, demanded for you. Before you could even say you’ll send another servant they repeated themselves. He is DEMANDING for you! They grabbed both your arms and dragged you to the throne room. You protested, questioning them on their rudeness and disrespect. They are just following orders. They hate to do this to you.

You fought but it was all in vain. You were thrown in front of the arrogant prince, forced to come face to face with him at last. And oh how adorable you looked to him. The way you looked up at him all nervous. Your hands clenched at the your uniform skirt to keep calm. You’re absolutely clueless about what this man wants. How ready he is to make this difficult for you.

“Finally, you’ve emerged from hiding,” He says it like the guards didn’t just drag you in, “It’s a shame I haven’t been able to see that cute face of yours so clearly. Tell me, why are you always being sneaky and hiding?”

You thought hard before answering as you were afraid of saying one wrong thing, “I’m sorry if I have upset you, my prince. I was simply just focused on my duties and I would hate to bother you.” You said politely.

Not good enough for him. But it was worth a try.

“You would hate to bother me? When I’m the one requesting you?” He said it so condescendingly that you knew there was no excuse for your actions. He makes it sound like you were disrespecting him by not listening. The last thing you need is to get on his bad side.

“I meant no harm. Please, is there anything I can do to make you happy and show my loyalty to you?” You’re making this too easy for him. That wicked smile Rain gave you left you with a bad feeling about this.

“Well since you’re so desperate to do so and I’ve seen how hard working you are, I think I have something in mind. Something that can be a reward for your hard work and can make your prince happy.” That arrogant tone let you know what he means.

“O-oh…I see. I guess I’ll be seeing you later tonight in your…chambers.” You struggled to get the words out.

“Why should we wait? I have all the time in the world to reward my most loyal servant. And she should have all the time in the universe to serve her prince well.”

There was no argument to be made. Rain would not wait for an answer. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you in the direction of his bedroom. You better hope all those servants right about him being great in bed cause you’re next. Though they seem pretty jealous of you now.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You’re surprised that Rain was taking it slow with you, if you can call it that. He had you on his lap with your back against him. One hand was shoved into your underwear where two fingers were pumping into your pussy. His thumb pressed down on your clit and rubbed it lightly. His other hand kept your leg open since you kept trying to close them before. Your breathing was shaky and you shivered from his kisses on your neck. He dragged his tongue against the side of your neck just to get you to react more.

“I don’t understand why you would ever hide from me. Do you not find your prince to be charming? Were you afraid I’d capture your heart and you’d never want to leave me?” He actually believed that.

You struggled to answer, occupied with not moaning out loud. You wanted to snap your legs shut to prevent him from continuing but his hand had a tight grip on your thigh. It didn’t help the fact that your body acted on its own. You moved your hips in a way to hopefully get more out of it whether it be his fingers going deeper in your or his thumb pushing down on your clit more. As enjoyable as it was to see you struggle Rain felt like he should push this further. Plus, he was desperate to satisfy himself as well. He stopped and pulled his fingers out of you which made you whine in frustration. Don’t do that he’ll know you like it.

���There is no need to worry, I always take good care of my ladies. Now, be a good servant and undress.” He ordered.

And like the good servant you were you did just that. You got off his lap and started to strip down. Layer by layer you took more off till you were only in your underwear. Your head was down as you felt shame for doing this. You’re not innocent or anything you just don’t do one night stands. You deserve care and love. Don’t feel bad, Rain did say he will take good care of you.

You felt his chest press up against your backside, feeling his skin against yours. You could tell he took his clothes off as well. Rain’s hands roam around your body. Feeling your hips and squeezing them before wrapping his arms around your waist. He’s back to leaving kisses on your neck and shoulders.

“Are you ready to serve your prince? Get on the bed.” He said before placing a kiss on your cheek.

Well, time to get to it. You got on his bed where you felt the silk sheets beneath you. Rain was quick to get on top of you and look down at you. Those pretty lips, those gorgeous eyes, your luscious hair….your fantastic tits. He’s gonna have fun with you.

You took deep breaths as you prepared yourself for what was to come. You slipped the last of your dignity off, which is your underwear, and threw it to the side. Rain loved the sight of your soaking pussy. He spread your legs more just to see it, looking at it like it was the finest meal he’s even seen. His cock twitched from the excitement and the need to be in there. He pulled you closer that his cock rubbed up against your wet folds. The tip pressed up against you before being pushed in. You gasped as you felt every inch going inside you. You didn’t expect him to be so…big. Keep your mouth shut, you’ve already stroked his ego enough.

Oh but don’t think you’re the only one who is amazed here. Rain sure was surprised by how good you felt. So warm and tight, squeezing him so nicely. He even shivered a little from the feel of your pussy. You surprised him thought when you wrapped your arms around his neck. You were only doing that out of natural instincts. Bold move considering no other servant dared to touch Rain without his permission. He’s not complaining though.

He started thrusting into you. The sound of your moans drove him crazy. A vocal encouragement that he was doing fantastic. Your moans weren’t annoying to him which he never realized how bad the other servants sounded. You weren’t screaming like some bad porn but instead letting out these cute moans that brought some sort of primal urge in him. An urge to keep going and spill all his cum into you. A desire to keep you in his bed so you can always serve him whether that means pounding into you or holding you. Someone to return to.

Rain was lost in his own mind at this point but he was still going at it. Your legs wrapped around his waist like you never wanted him to leave you. Your nails were scrapping against his back as you tried your best to control yourself. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt such pleasures so it’s overwhelming to have Rain’s thick cock ramming into your pussy.

You brought him close to your body. Rain was in love with the feeling of your soft skin against him. Body to body as he went deeper into you. In that moment something told you to do something risky. Whatever powerful force was behind this decision would get you killed if it weren’t for the fact you were so into the moment and in need of a way to quiet yourself. You bit down on his shoulder. And what a reaction the prince gave. So surprised and turned on he thrusted roughly into you which made your eyelids flutter and your eyes roll back. Rain stopped for a moment to say something.

“Is that how you treat a god? My dear servant, it’s supposed to go the other way around.” He whispered in your ear before biting down on your shoulder.

You yelped before moaning loudly as he went back to fucking you. Since you want to mark him up he will do the same to you, except way more. He marked your neck with little love bites to show who you belong to. You are Rain’s servant. Loyal and hardworking. All his. His! His! His!

The passion of the moment was getting to him. You were about to cum soon. Your hands, so soft and delicate, took his face and made him look at you. You had no words to say you could barely catch a break in between moans. You were so close at this point and you brought the prince in for a kiss.

When you came it was like the heavens opened up and blessed you with new feelings in your body. Your kisses got rougher and your moans louder. Rain wasn’t a fool he knew he just made you cum hard. Your pussy was squeezing his cock to the point he was about to cum as well. A few more thrusts and soon his cum started filling your pussy. The kiss between you two was passionate and rough. After, the only sound left in the room was heavy breathing. You didn’t let Rain go at first, enjoying his body pressing against yours. But you knew he never lets servants stay in bed with him after he is done.

“Are you satisfied, my prince.” You asked so sweetly.

“Incredibly satisfied. You’ve served your prince well.”

“Should I get going then?”

What are you crazy? You think after that amazing experience Rain is just gonna let you walk away, if you even could. He won’t say it out loud but this has been the best experience he’s had in bed. So much passion and roughness. No one dared to touch him, kiss him, or even get rough with him. You’re a gem in his eyes and that’s rare.

“Like I’d let my pretty servant get away from me again. No, I would prefer if you’d stay.” He answered back before kissing you again.

This was a shock to you. Letting a mere servant like you stay in bed with him. And to kiss you back? Well you just felt like the most special person in this reality. And is that your heart beat going fast? And are your cheeks burning up? This is a confusing time but you will enjoy it to its fullest.

“As you wish, my prince.” You bit your lip to prevent yourself from smiling.

Rain can see though that you are quite giddy about this. He pulled out of you and laid next to you. He grabbed you and basically used your chest his pillow for the night. His muscular arms were wrapped around your waist so tight it’s like he was preventing you from escaping. Wow, Rain sure does like you now. You held him close to you with one of your hands rubbing his back. You’re making all the right moves by giving him attention. And after that amazing sex you two fell asleep quickly and both satisfied.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The next morning sure was fun. Rain never let you go once! You woke up to him spooning you which restricted you from getting up for another whole hour. When he finally did decide it was time to get up that was another challenge. You stumbled out of his room with his goofy smile on your face. You looked high.

The other servants were shocked beyond belief. You stayed in his bed all night! Not only that but you left scratch marks and a bite mark on him. He sure showed them off with his outfit for the day. You had a good amount of marks on you as well. They asked how you even did that but all you could give them was a shrug. But you did have something to say.

“I think you guys were wrong about him being great in bed. Me personally, I think he’s fantastic in bed.” You walked away, still having that smile on your face. Rain was sure glad to hear that. He’ll have to reward you for praising him. Maybe tonight. And the next night. And the next night. And the next night…

After notes: 🍊👀 HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS KEEP GETTING INTO MY DEN! 👁️👁️ oh you’re back hello! Ah geez I’m sorry I posted this late in the day. I wanted to fix my raccoon tails (the hair thing). Then the minor earthquake happened which I had to think about for a bit cause we don’t get those. And then I struggled to stay awake. Great news my anxiety is gone cause I took Xanax. Bad news is I think it will make me sleepy for a while. Anyways I’m yapping. Well, I hope y’all can enjoy this one. You KNOW I love MK11 Rain that bitch. I’m sorry if it ain’t all that great. I will say I’m working on something for Havik. I’m not abandoning Rain but I do wanna mix it up a little. So enjoy and no earthquakes for anyone. Adiós!

[goldenlionprince]

Prongsfoot Week 2024 - Day 7

Trapped Together

“Here you go.” The voice behind the mask sounds suspiciously like Lucius Malfoy. James resists the urge to kick him in the shin. He’s in enough trouble at the moment so maybe later.

The corridor they are in is dimly lit by the torches Maybe-Malfoy and one other Death Eaters in the back are carrying and it smells a bit damp. Looks like a cellar, at least what James can make out through the cracked lenses of his glasses. He’s not entirely sure where the cellar is though. Although if it's really Malfoy who's playing the boss here he has sort of an idea at least.

James is kind of suspicious though. They haven’t done much to him yet since they captured him outside the wards of the estate. Roughened him up a bit, sure, but no Cruciatus. Which James is not complaining about. His rips hurt on his left side, probably a few of them broken. He doesn’t really need a torture curse right now, thank you very much.

But knowing Malfoy and his lot he might end up in a kinky torture cellar very soon, soundproof and all. Wouldn't want to get any blood on the good carpets, the fancy fucker.

Worth it, tough. James is inside those stupid wards now.

Maybe-Malfoy unlocks and opens a door in front of James and James braces himself for all kinds of medieval torture devices on the over side of it.

But there are none. The light from Malfoy's torch illuminates a small and bare room and a person sitting on the floor on the far end of it, his right hand chained to the wall, the heavy chain pooling around his feet.

A very familiar person.

A grin spreads on James' slit lips. Perfect. Just trust stupid Death Eaters to make his work a lot easier instead of harder.

The person on the floor doesn't seem to share that thought though. Grey eyes go wide as they see James in the middle of his little harem of Death Eaters.

“No,” Sirius breathes softly before his eyes snap to Maybe-Malfoy, grey almost seeming to glow in the dark. He gets up and moves towards them in a blur until the chain pulls tight about halfway to the door. “You absolute fucking asshole!” he growls. Actually growls. “I'm going to end you!”

There is a flash of fangs.

James stares.

Maybe-Malfoy chuckles like the posh asshole that he is. “I think you're going to end this one first.”

Two of the three Death Eaters that were escorting James down into the cellar alongside Maybe-Malfoy give James a shove in the back and he stumbles forward into the room, nearly falling, but Sirius catches him.

One of the torches gets thrown in after him. It lands on the earthen floor, flickering.

“Happy reunion,” Maybe-Malfoy sneers and then the door closes with a snap and locks.

James stares at Sirius, who is staring right back at him. His eyes still glow eerily, like they are lit from within, and James can see a hint of fang poking at his lower lip. James swallows hard. Sirius lets go of him like he got burned, stumbling back a step or two.

“This is bad,” Sirius says after a moment of silence. “Very fucking bad.”

James shrugs and ruffles a had through his hair. He winces slightly when the movement pulls at his tender rips. “Could be worse.”

Sirius raises one eyebrow at him, looking unimpressed. James grins and shrugs. Sirius rolls his eyes. “Only you would say 'could be worse' while sitting in a literal death trap.”

“I mean, it could totally be worse,” James says with another little shrug. “I could not have found you at all. That's worse.”

“That would actually be better for you in case you've missed any of the obvious signs,” Sirius snaps, pointing at his face. James once again stares at the tips of the fangs he can see between Sirius' lips.

Sirius narrows his eyes at him. “Stop that.”

James snaps his eyes away, a flush spreading on his face. “Stop what?”

“I can hear your heartbeat speeding up. Which, in case you were wondering, is not a good thing since they don't keep me well fed.”

James looks back at Sirius, really looks at him. He's pale, paler than usual. There are shadows under his eyes. Those strangely glowy eyes. The fangs that are clearly there. There is only one explanation to all this. James doesn't want to ask. If he doesn't hear it, it's not true. “They really... turned you?”

Sirius looks away, lifting his right hand and tugging absentmindedly on the chain that connects to the wall with his left. “Bella thought it would be more.. amusing instead of just letting me die.”

James flinches at the mention of death and Sirius in the same sentence. Although he knows that this is what must have happened. One doesn't turn vampire without dying first. But hearing it is something different. It makes it real. Too real.

James is going to kill Bellatrix. Slowly and painfully.

But first they have to get out of here so James has to pull himself together for now. He can fall apart later when they are somewhere save. Later he can think about it all, that he was too late, that he didn't find Sirius fast enough after he had disappeared from an Order mission gone wrong. Later he can think about Sirius being essentially dead...

But not now.

“What's with you and that chain?” James asks instead, getting back to business. “Can you get rid of it? Turn into Padfoot and step out of it?”

Sirius lifts his right hand, chain rattling over the earthen floor. “Something in it dampens my magic. I can't shift and it's fucking annoying.”

James' frown and looks at the metal of the chain. The cracks in his lenses get a bit annoying so he quickly takes off his glasses and concentrates while brushing his fingertips over them. The cracks knit back together as if they have never been broken at all. The glasses are a little smudged now, but that's far better than seeing everything with cracks running through.

Satisfied with his work James puts his glasses back on. So much better. He takes a step closer to Sirius to get a better look at the chain but Sirius takes a step back immediately to keep their distance the same. “Don't.”

James' frown deepens. “Don't be difficult. I need to get a closer look at that.”

“And I need not to bite a chunk out of your neck, James.”

James pauses, then lifts his eyes back to Sirius. “How bad is it? How hard is it for you to not jump me right now?”

“A little.”

Which, in Sirius' language, means bloody fucking hard. James curses under his breath and rakes a hand though his hair, pulling at the roots. “Okay. First things first.” Dropping his hand he pushes up the sleeve of his right arm, past the small tracking rune tattoo he used to track down Sirius' matching one. “You need a snack. Then we work on the chain. Then we get the fuck out of here. I have your wand. Hid it with mine in a tree outside of the wards. Didn't want to risk losing them so we have to make do without them until we can pick them back up.”

Sirius stares at him, trying very hard not to look at James' exposed skin. James pauses, his sleeve pushed up to his elbow. “What?”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like.” James grins. “Turning myself into a buffet.”

Sirius glares at him, which combined with the glowiness of his grey eyes does look a little spooky. “That's not funny, James.”

James sighs and lets go of his sleeve. “Come on, you know I'm right. If we want to get out of here I need you to be able to think clearly and not have a munchy problem.”

“Munchy problem,” Sirius repeats like he can't believe James just said that.

James shrugs. “Munchy problem. Furry little problem. I collect interesting friends. Now come on, eat up. Well, not up up. I need some blood still in me but.. you know.” James lifts his arm towards Sirius. “Cheers?”

“You are the bane of my existence, Potter.” Sirius grumbles but takes a step closer to James' arm so James sees it as a win. “What if I can't stop?”

James huffs like that was a silly thing to ask. “You're the most stubborn asshole I know. If your mind is set on not draining me, I think we're good.”

Sirius still hesitates.

“Really now,” James murmurs, a soft thing just between then two of them. “We had a whole conversation in here while you're basically starving and you didn't even try to nibble me yet. I know you can do it. I trust you, Sirius.”

Cold fingers close around James' wrist, sending a shiver though him. Sirius looks at him and James can feel his heart stumble in his chest. Of course he's nervous about this, but it's Sirius after all, so he holds Sirius' gaze and nods.

Sirius swallows and lowers his head and then cool lips brush over James' skin just below the rune.

It's a soft distraction, just for a moment, and then there is bright pain and -

It's like floating. Like dipping into warm sunshine. Like flying. Like a warm embrace. A bubble bath. There might be a moan slipping from James' lips, he's not entirely sure.

It's fizzy, it's warm, it's heady. It rushes though James' veins like champaign bubbles -

And then it's over, all of a sudden. James' gasps, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes had fallen shut somewhen, he hadn't even noticed.

Opening them now he sees everything a little fuzzy, including Sirius who is looking at him, James' arm still cradled in his hands, his eyes glowing, but it's a warm glow now. Not the cold, eery light from before.

Holding James' gaze Sirius licks over the two little punctuation wounds in James' arm, licking away the blood that still seeps from them. James feels hot all over and a little dizzy.

Sirius looks down at the little wound and nods. The breaking of their eye contact makes James able to breath again. “Well, at least this part is true.”

He lifts James' arm a little so James can see too how his flesh is already knitting back together like magic. Soon there will be no mark left on his skin.

James tries to push down the disappointment that rises in him.

Sirius lets go of James' arm and licks away the remains of James' blood off his fingers. James has to force himself to look away.

“So”, Sirius says once he's done. “What's your clever plan now for getting out of here?”

A grin spreads on James' face and he bends down to retrieve the knife he had hidden away in his boot before getting himself into trouble with the Death Eaters. The very same penknife that Sirius had given him for his last birthday – designed to open any lock. The knife that the Death Eaters were too dumb to look for once they had realized James had no wand on him.

Sirius laughs at seeing it, the sound sending a giddy rush through James. “Well then, let's wreak havoc on those idiots.”

[destielfanfic]

Group Ask #214

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Ask #1 ( @thestartofsomething8059 ): there’s this fic…#1

Hello! Sorry to bother, but I’ve been trying to find this fic for ages and it beginning to drive me insane. I’ve checked all the tags it would be under but still no luck. The fic was essentially about Dean and Cas being overly coupley (but without actually having gotten together yet) and Sam being frustrated. I’ve checked the POV Sam tag, Oblivious Dean/Cas tags, and others like 5+1 things but nada 😞 Here are the specific scenes I remember from it: - Dean and Cas share a twizzler back and forth which grosses Sam out enough that he calls someone to complain (I pretty sure Charlie) - Shortly after this Dean and Cas argue about Cas having used Dean’s toothbrush - I’m pretty sure this fic also includes a scene where Dean is taking a shower and Cas comes in to just sit and talk to him and Sam is like “hey wtf?” And Dean just goes “no this is normal” That’s all I can remember with accuracy. I’ve read through several other similar fics like “Dude being Dudes” and “Sharing is Caring” and am sure it’s not those. Any help would be greatly appreciated!! Thank you so much 😊

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Please! You're my last hope 😭 I'm looking for a fic that I read years ago I'm pretty sure castiel was like. Pregnant or sick?? Either way he kept denying dean affection and Dean got fed up and left saying like "I'll get it somewhere else" and the whole fic is just cas being super sad and missing Dean It was haply ending and Dean didn't actually cheat tho

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Hello! I’ve been looking for a fic for years and i can’t find it 😭😭 The only thing I remember was that Dean sang Heaven by Bryan Adams on his and cas’ wedding. If anyone knows which one it is plssss i need it

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looking for a specific fic, of course I can’t remember the title or author. It’s in the Alpha Beta Omega universe, dean steals the impala from cas(technically kidnapped him and baby pulls a gun on cas) he left his abusive alpha who I think was one of Castiel brothers and he is making his way to Sam, they go on a road trip together and fall in love. I think they end up being true mates, hopefully it can be found and if it got deleted hopefully someone has a copy. I appreciate you all very much!

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hey! ive been trying to find a fic that ive read years ago but i haven’t so far. it was a college au where dean was all ready to sleep his way through college and have as much fun as possible. on his first day though he bumps into cas and it’s like love at first sight. they start dating and i remember cas was a virgin and the fic was about 10-15k i think? i was hoping you guys could help me find it or that maybe another follower recognizes it

It takes a village to find a lost fic, every reblog is appreciated!

[maladaptivedaydreamery]

Midnight Snap Part 2 (Konig Fic/Short)

A/N: Sooo, I know I kinda said I might write a short about the cake (LOL), but honestly, I haven’t figured out the cake situation yet. Instead, I thought, why not show you what you (Y/N) gave/cooked for König as his midnight snack? Hope you enjoy this one, and as always, let me know what you think! Cheers!

Again, this is inspired by the amazing illustration by @lahnabelle. And if you missed it, Part 1 is right here! Hope you enjoy this one, and as always, let me know what you think! Cheers!

König is just happy to be fed with good food. Despite complaining about just wanting toasted bread earlier.

[sitkowski]

elusive dream ( jolly karlsson x nick folio )

pairing: jolly karlsson x nick folio cw: none. this is purely self indulgent fluff. word count: 852 author's note: please take some soft riptide boys i wrote to make myself feel better. title comes from the rain city drive song, divider by @saradika-graphics ✨

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || riptide verse masterpost || read on ao3

It’s been raining for hours, the kind of weather that leaves Nick wanting nothing more than to stay beneath the blankets all day. Barely lifting his head from his pillow, he picks up his phone off the nightstand. No notifications yet, but it’s still early morning hours and eventually, someone else will want his attention. He sets his phone to ‘do not disturb’ and puts it back down before rolling over and pressing his face between Jolly’s shoulder blades.

Jolly mutters something not in English, before shifting around a bit. “What time is it?”

“Time does not exist, there is no such thing as time,” Nick says as he wraps his arm around him and nuzzles closer. “Going back to sleep now.”

He starts to drift off again, and he feels the blankets shift higher as Jolly pulls them up around them more firmly. Jolly laces his fingers through Nick’s, and that’s the last thing that he remembers for a few hours. When he wakes up again, the other side of the bed is empty and cold. He’s not a fan. They did manage to sleep a few more hours at least, but Nick still feels tired. He steals one of Jolly’s hoodies and goes in search of his boyfriend.

Jolly’s in the living room, buried in a hoodie of his own watching what looks to be House Hunters reruns. Nick crawls onto the couch, snuggling up to him. “What’s going on in this one?”

“This guy can’t afford his family home on his own after the divorce. The realtor is also his ex-wife apparently.”

Nick nods and hums, and when Jolly shifts around so that he’s half laying on top of him, he feels content. He curls his fingers through his hair, over and over, enjoying this whole ‘doing nothing’ thing. They work their way through a couple episodes of the show, making fun of the people complaining about aspects of the houses they’re being shown. Eventually Nick’s stomach starts to growl and he realizes they’ve just been laying around almost the entire day and haven’t eaten.

“Are you trying to communicate to me that you’d like to be fed?” Jolly asks from where his head is laying on Nick’s stomach.

“We can just order out. I wanna continue to be useless as the g in lasagna.”

“You do know that without the g, the word wouldn’t sound the same, right?”

Nick makes a face at him he thinks he doesn’t see, but then Jolly looks up at him and he’s not quick enough to put on a sweet smile. Narrowing his eyes at him, Jolly sits up enough to get his hands between them and promptly digs his fingers into Nick’s sides. He yelps and tries to scramble away but there’s nowhere for him to go and he shrieks with laughter, unable to get ahold of Jolly’s wrists to stop him.

“No no no no! Uncle, what’s the Swedish word for uncle?”

Jolly only stops tickling him long enough to lean in to kiss him and Nick smiles against his mouth, wrapping his arms around him. He keeps kissing him until his stomach growls again and he pulls away, laughing as Jolly presses his face into his neck. “Takeout.”

“Or I can cook us something?”

“Oh, you’re trying to get me to marry you before we go back on tour.”

Jolly lifts his head, looking at him with wide eyes and Nick realizes what he said and how it sounded. He doesn’t have the words to say it right now that all Jolly would have to do was say yes, and he’d do it. Instead he cards his fingers back into his hair and pulls him closer for another softer kiss.

“For the record, when I ask you to marry me, you’re never going to see it coming.” he says against Nick’s mouth.

He pulls himself up off the sofa and heads towards the kitchen, leaving him there a little stunned. It takes him a minute to be able to get up and follow him. He’s not done with this conversation.

“You’ve been thinking about marriage?” he asks.

Jolly smiles a little, “Yeah, I mean. That’s the plan, right?”

“Yeah, yes. It is absolutely the plan. I have every intention in the world of marrying you, Jolly,” Nick can’t keep his own giddy smile from his face and he sees Jolly’s smile widen. “So, tell me more about this stealth proposal?”

He shakes his head at him, turning towards the refrigerator in search of ingredients for a meal. “Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Nick wraps his arms around Jolly’s middle, “Come on, Joakim, tell me all these big ideas about how you plan to woo me into being your husband.”

At the word husband, Jolly turns around in Nick’s grasp, pushes him against the counter and kisses him. It draws a surprised noise from Nick’s mouth but he goes with it, grabbing into his shoulders and keeping him close. Jolly pulls back, pressing his forehead into his.

“The element of surprise, pretty. It’s all about the element of surprise.”

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[rinwritiesbutitssecret]

chapter two ig?????

—--

I want to bring both Rae and Aspen along, but again, that would include me telling xem. 

My court date is January 4th. It’s currently December 21st. That gives me two weeks to tell Aspen and figure out what excuses I can give.

I’m spending Christmas with Aspy this year. Rae’s parents are getting a bit fed up with me, I think so at least. 

Maybe I can tell xem then?

I don’t know, I haven’t felt too good recently. Holidays always make me feel alone, I have no parents, no family other than Rae and Aspen. 

I chose not to have guardians, back in the afterlife. It would make me so sad for them to die. But, it also means I've been alone my whole life. Little second-time-around newborn me was cared for by the afterlife nurses and then plopped into a special home for a few years. After that it was just.. Me. If I’m homeless, they help, I get my allowance and stuff, but no one really cares for me. 

I feel like I can't complain though. I’m so fucking lucky. I’m so fucking special. 

Today’s one of those days when I feel extra lonely. Aspen is busy and Rae is on a date. I just lie in bed and do nothing. 

Nothing is interesting I guess. Sometimes nothing is crying, sometimes it's driving my motorcycle off a bridge, but it’s nothing. It doesn’t affect me, it doesn't mean anything, it doesn’t change anything.

Aspen:

Aster is so cool. I love him, just not.. Romantically. Well I think not romantically.

I don’t truly understand what I feel for him. We’re more than friends, less than lovers, some weird thing in between. 

Just sometimes, I feel like he’s not fully here with me. He’s distracted, in a new place. Maybe he’s in love with Rae. 

Aster isn’t very good at school. But he also doesn’t try. He’s never taken me home. I don’t even know if he has parents.

He’s my best friend but I know nothing about him. 

I’m too scared to ask. I love what we have. I love our conversations. I love laying in my bed with him and watching shitty tv and talking about gender. 

I don’t know what he’s hiding.

“Astie? C- can we talk?” My voice is shaky. 

“Yeah of course, what’s up?” He sits next to me, fidgeting with his hoodie strings.

“I- ok this sounds really dumb.. B- bu- but are you hiding something from me? A- I- I just feel like you’re not telling me something..”

He goes pale. Like really, really fucking pale. 

“Ast?”

“We need to talk.”

He shoots up, sprinting out of the lunch hall.

I follow.

…

What the fuck. 

So a little bit about me… I'm kinda sorta a demon. Not like a demon demon. But I have been alive for 3500 years. Once I start looking old I go back to hell and just reset. 

A little bit about Aspen.. Apparently they’re fucking immortal.

Like what the actual fuck.

I never thought I would meet someone like me. I never thought it would be my best friend.

Yet here we are.

—

[kybercrystals94]

The Hostage

(Part 3)

Read here on Ao3!

Master Post here!

Rated: T | Words: 1736 | Summary: The boys wait, and unexpected consequences are met...

Hunter approaches their prisoner chained to the lower rack, and holds out a ration bar and canteen. The twi’lek man, Cenrar Kedess, sits up, shifting so that his back is against the wall. “It is not too late to accept my offer,” he says. 

Hunter scoffs. “Not interested.” 

“But I can give you twice whatever the price on my head is.” 

Hunter narrows his gaze. “Are you hungry or not?” he asks. 

Kedess snatches the meal, glaring up at Hunter and baring sharpened teeth. “You are very foolish, refusing me,” he growls.

Hunter ignores him, turning to Wrecker slouched in the crash seat across from Kedess. He hands his brother two ration bars. “I’ll come take the watch in an hour,” Hunter mutters. 

Wrecker nods. 

Hunter hesitates a moment, then reaches out and grips Wrecker’s shoulder, shaking him softly. “We’ll get her back.” 

Wrecker frowns down at ration bars in his hand. “They still haven’t made contact,” he rumbles softly. “It’s been five days.” 

Five days. Five long, terrible days…the monotony only broken by the small effort it had taken to track down Kedess. Between Tech and Echo, they’d quickly pinpointed the twi’lek’s location in a nearby sector, on a small, disreputable planet with little Empirical influence. Wrecker and Hunter had then convinced Kadess that it was in his best interest to come quietly…with the encouragement of Hunter’s blaster gouged into his spine, and Wrecker’s iron grip latched around his arm. 

“He’s just giving us time,” Hunter reasons, the same reason Tech gave him when he’d fretted over the delay in contact himself only a few minutes ago. 

“We’re us,” Wrecker says, “We don’t need this much time.”

“He doesn’t know that.” 

Wrecker tears open one of his ration bars, but doesn’t eat it, just turns the brick around in his fingers. “Do you think he’s giving her enough to eat? I’d hate for her to be hungry.” 

The question is only one of the many that have haunted Hunter ever since Omega was taken. Is she warm enough? Is she getting enough sleep? Is she being fed and hydrated? Does she have injuries? Is she scared? Does she wonder why her brothers hadn’t found her yet? Does she know they were coming, that they were doing everything they could to find her? 

Does she know they would do anything for her?

Does she know that they love her? 

Unable to find any words of comfort, Hunter doesn’t say anything at all. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Echo is mindlessly reading through old reg manuals, not even sure when he’d opened the file on his data pad. The familiar documents feel safe and comforting, losing himself in the lingo and wording that had occupied so much of his mind as a cadet. It is better than where his mind tries to wander when it is left unoccupied. 

“We have coordinates,” Tech announces.

Echo pushes himself up, coming to stand over Tech’s shoulder. “About kriffing time.” 

“I’ll tell Hunter!” Wrecker is about to barrel out of the cockpit and nearly collides into the sergeant himself. 

“No message from Omega?” Hunter asks, pushing past their bulking brother. 

Tech shakes his head, already transferring the coordinates into the navigation system. “No, but they are close. Only three hours from our current location.” 

“Why wouldn’t he ask for proof that we’ve got Kedess?” Echo asks suddenly. “Seems strange that he would simply give us the coordinates to his location without ensuring we have the bounty.” 

“I’m not complaining,” Wrecker says. 

“It could be a trap,” Echo states. 

“To what end?” Tech asks. “If the kidnapper had wanted us specifically, why send us to find Kedess at all? It would have been advantageous to simply give us the coordinates from the start and ambush us then.”  

Echo crosses his arms. “It still feels like something is off.” 

“We’ll be ready for a fight,” Hunter says, “but those coordinates are the only connection we have right now to Omega.” 

Tech nods and prepares for the hyperspace jump. Echo slides back into the co-pilot’s seat, trying to squash down the uneasy feeling rattling in his chest…his brothers are right. This is their only link to Omega. 

What other choice do they have?

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The ship is small, unassuming. 

Hunter isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting the monster-that-stole-his-kid’s ship to look like. However, he is relieved to see that it is not equipped with any sort of heavy weaponry. It is also alone. 

“What were you saying about an ambush, Echo?” Wrecker chortles. “I’d like to see that tiny little thing try and take on the Marauder.” 

“I never said I thought it was an ambush, I said I thought something was off,” Echo retorts. “I still do. I don’t like this.” 

A transmission chimes and Tech patches it through. Omega’s voice, frantic and breathless, filters through the speakers. 

“Hunter, I don’t have much time…something is wrong…you need to–” Her voice breaks when the transmission cuts out and the kidnapper’s ship explodes. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Tech cannot prise his gaze away from where only moments before, a full ship had been. Shock and horror permeate to the very core of his being. His mind had calculated dozens of outcomes to the matter that was Omega’s capture. Not one of them had concluded like this. Even with the evidence quite literally splayed before them in mind staggering destruction, he finds himself unable to comprehend this version of reality.

“Scan for survivors.” The voice is Hunter’s, but the emotion behind it is foreign to its speaker: desperation. 

“Hunter…” Echo begins. 

“She can’t be dead,” Hunter growls. “She’s not.” 

“No one could have survived that,” Echo says. 

Tech begins the scan anyway, even though he knows that Echo is correct. There will be no survivors. He scans again, and again. 

[No lifeforms detected]

[No lifeforms detected]

[No lifeforms detected]

Tech forces his hands into fists to prevent himself from starting another scan. The result will be the same. Over and over again. 

Omega is gone. 

“Maybe she wasn’t on the ship.” Wrecker’s voice shakes. He is most certainly crying. 

“She hailed us on a short range transmission. There is nowhere else she could have been.” Tech hates how indifferent his voice sounds, as though he doesn’t care. 

Because nothing has ever been further from the truth. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter’s mind is silent and roaring. The static of a comm left on an empty channel. A droning hum numbing and excruciating all at once. Breaking through it all, a small voice whispers, curling around the chaos, gripping with sharp claws: She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead…

He is aware of arms wrapping around him, holding him too tight. He is aware of familiar voices speaking, saying familiar words and names, but his mind will not comprehend. He is aware of his own throat constricting around sounds that might be words or sobs or screams. He is aware, but he doesn’t understand. 

The only clarity is the whisper. She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead…

You couldn’t save her. 

She’s dead. 

She’s dead because you didn’t protect her.

She’s dead because of you. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Wrecker wonders how many times Echo has felt this ache. It is so raw and physical that Wrecker looks down at his chest to make sure that there isn’t a gaping wound where his heart is. It isn’t the same pain he felt when they left Crosshair on Kamino. That is a dull throb, a constant reminder that Crosshair is separated from them. However, the little sliver of hope that he will come back makes the pain feel temporary and tolerable, like it will heal and leave a welted scar. 

This agony though, is deadly. Life ending. Bleeding out. A black hole consuming any past or present or future Wrecker can imagine. How can he keep breathing when Omega isn’t; his heart keep beating when Omega’s doesn’t; mind keep tripping over thoughts and memories when Omega’s won’t…ever, ever again. 

We were designed to resist emotional stress, Tech had said once, when they’d seen natborns in a village become distraught – inconsolable – over the death of several of their men who had fought alongside the Batch for a short time during a mission. Wrecker had sympathized, but had mostly felt bad that he didn’t share in their grief. That, Tech had continued, and we did not have a bond with these individuals. I’m sure we would feel differently were it one of our own. 

Somehow, they’d gone an entire war without losing one of their own…that is, one of their own. Clone Force 99 remained intact, even adopting a reg along the way. Echo was haunted by ghosts, but he always kept fighting, always moved forward. 

But how? How had he done it? Over and over again? 

Maybe Tech was wrong. Maybe the Batch hadn’t been equipped with that ability to resist emotional stress. Maybe that was part of their defect.

Wrecker rubs at the salty residue of tears on his face, long dried. Tucked under one arm is Hunter, having finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. He’d fought and snarled like a cornered, feral tooka when it’d first happened. He hadn’t cried as Wrecker had, or gone silent like Tech, or resigned like Echo. 

It had terrified Wrecker at first, seeing his composed brother about-face. He was scared of what Hunter might do, so he’d done the only thing he could think of…wrapped him up tight in an embrace. Hunter struggled against him, biting out indecipherable words, but Wrecker didn’t let go. Couldn’t let go. It felt like he might be the only thing holding Hunter together, and if he let go, Hunter would burst apart from grief. So Wrecker had held on until Hunter sagged into his grip with deep, gusting breaths, then he’d led his brother to the hold, made him sit down in a crash seat and sat next to him, pulling him close. 

Wrecker feels Kedess watching them, remembering their prisoner for the first time in maybe hours. Wrecker doesn’t know how long it's been since their whole world ended. 

“The girl,” Kedess says when Wrecker meets his eye. “She is gone?” 

Wrecker growls out an affirmative noise.

The twi’lek is quiet for a moment. “My sister died during the war on Ryloth. It is a pain I would not wish on my greatest enemy.”

Wrecker’s heart bleeds anew. “Me neither,” he manages to say, voice barely above a whisper.

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[sirowsky]

--Turning Corners--

Description: You're working at an electronics store and you're not having the best day. But an interesting encounter might just change that. Javier Gutierrez x named Female Reader.

Rating: Teen Warnings: Meet cute, reader has some serious issues with her name, some swearing, mostly fluff. Word Count: 2775 Author’s Masterlist

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   Whatever had possessed your parents to name you Samson, like the biblical character with the magic hair and all that, will forever be a source of anger to you.    Especially since they’d had the audacity to die when you were just thirteen years old, leaving you unable to question them directly, and feeling ineffably guilty about even considering changing your name, even now, twenty years after their demise.

   Having to explain to every single person you have even the briefest encounter with, that “no, it’s not short for Samantha, actually” has become such a massive irritation to you that you’ve stopped explaining it.    You give them that phrase and then nothing more, leaving them to try and guess, which no one has yet to succeed at.    It’s the only amusement you know how to derive from the disaster of a circumstance.

   You work in an electronics store, meaning you have to wear a nametag, which is probably why the subject comes up more often than one might think. Your customers certainly seem to think that each of them is the only one to ever bring it up.    And today is no different.    Little old ladies, while cute, are the worst customers you encounter.

   “No, ma’am, this blender is a basic level one and doesn’t have those features, I’m afraid,” you explain when she points to the one that she wants to buy, asking if it has an ice-crushing function.

   “But I need that for my smoothies,” she persists, so you direct her to the cheapest one of the products that does have that feature, because you’re sensing that this is gonna be a money issue.

   “That’s twice the price of this one!” she exclaims, proving you right.

   “Yes, ma’am. The machine needs more stability and a better engine in order to work hard enough to break ice, without overheating.”

   “How preposterous. A hammer can do it without a problem, and those costs almost nothing these days,” she huffs, and you refrain from telling her that, unfortunately, a hammer won’t fit inside such a small machine.

   “I’m afraid that’s just how it works, ma’am.”

   “Well, then I’m not buying,” she says, acting all offended, as if it’s somehow your fault that you can’t magically produce a cheaper version. “And I must say that I’m very disappointed, Samantha.”

   She says it like a grandmother admonishing a family member. They all do, and that’s exactly why you hate the little old ladies.    And because you’re fed up with it, your response ends up being extremely rude.

   “Actually, my name is Samson, and although I know all about magical hair, I still can’t make money appear out of thin air, and I sure as hell don’t have any say in how a single item in this store is priced.    So, don’t make it personal, ma’am. I’ll happily direct to our manager’s office if you wish to make a complaint, but don’t try to punish me for something that I am not responsible for.”

   She stares at you in utter disbelief, both during and after your little tantrum, so you walk away, leaving her standing in the aisle with her mouth hanging open.    If this gets you fired, you couldn’t care less. This job is soul-draining and you’re already looking for other opportunities.

   But later in the day, you still haven’t gotten any reprimands or notifications, so you assume that she was simply too stunned to complain, and you decide to try and just shrug it off.    Still, the confrontation has left you feeling hurt, for some reason, so while you wander around the store in the afternoon, supposedly available for customers to ask questions, you’re actively trying to avoid everyone you see.

   That is, until someone nearly runs you over.

   You’ve just turned a corner, coming out of the vacuum-cleaner aisle, when a tall man rushes past you so quickly and frantically that he shoves you backwards without even trying to. Just from the force of his movements.    He realizes his mistake, however, and somehow manages to reach out and catch your hand, just as you’re about to fall backwards.

   “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, please forgive me, Señorita,” he babbles while he steadies you, placing both his hands on your upper arms once he’s stopped you from tipping over backwards.

   You’re not the least bit angry with him, though. This sort of thing happens now and then, when people are rushed, looking in all directions instead of where they’re actually going, and the only time that it vexes you, is when they just keep going as though nothing’s happened.

   “No worries, sir. I’m fine,” you assure him, just as your eyes meet his, and suddenly you’re locked in place in between his warm palms on your arms.

   He’s absolutely gorgeous.

   Hispanic and deeply tanned, with golden brown curls framing his chocolate eyes, wearing a white singlet underneath a pale green short-sleeved shirt which is hanging completely open, with crème colored linen shorts on the bottom.    You half expect to find him wearing flip-flops on his feet, but he’s actually wearing really nice sneakers that match the color of his shirt.

   “Are you sure?” he asks, sounding more desperate than you’d expect from someone merely inquiring about a stranger’s wellbeing.

   “Is there something I can help you with, sir? You seem… rushed,” you try, not sure if he’s in a hurry, scared, or perhaps just lost in the maze of aisles.

   “Oh, you work here!” he blurts out after finally clocking your nametag. “Yes, yes, I need to find a dinosaur!”

   For a moment, your mind goes blank with that, because this is an electronics store, not an archeological museum. Do you even have anything that relates to dinosaurs?    He sees your befuddled expression and starts hurriedly trying to explain.

   “Is a toy, but not really a toy. More like… a little robot! It sings and changes color and… Fuck! I am not explaining this right…” he rattles off, and then takes a breath to re-center himself.

   He lets go of your arms to put his hands together in front of his chest, probably in an effort to help him focus, despite his stress.

   “It sits on a wall and helps children go to sleep,” he explains, and you finally get it.

   “Oh! Yes, I know exactly what you’re looking for, follow me,” you declare, happy to be able to help him, since he’s clearly out of his depth.

   You could simply show him which direction he needs to go and which signs to look for, but you honestly don’t trust this guy to find his own keys right now, much less get to the other end of the store without getting lost.    It has nothing at all to do with getting to be in the presence of his sparkling eyes, enchanting scent, or extremely huggable chest.

   “Thank you, Señorita. Thank you so much! I am sorry for cursing, it’s not how I usually treat people,” he scolds himself while he falls in beside you.

   “Don’t worry about it, sir. You’re far from my worst customer today,” you reply honestly, remembering the rude old lady.

   “Javi,” he says then, and you settle for just giving him a polite smile instead of answering, because he’s already seen your nametag and you’re not in the mood to get into the whole name situation again.

   “So, Javi, why the rush? I assume you have an unhappy baby at home?”

   “Ay… yes. I was helping to clean up his room and I knocked the thing off the wall, and it broke, and now the baby won’t sleep, and his mother is angry with me,” he answers, and he sounds really sad about it.

   “She’s angry with you about something that small? That seems harsh,” you observe, hoping he isn’t in a bad relationship, because he appears to be such a sweet guy.

   “My sister is under a lot of pressure, it takes very little to anger her right now,” he clarifies, and you have to keep yourself from grinning widely, because that means that there’s a chance that he’s single.

   “Oh, I see. Well, you’re sweet for trying to help her,” you say softly, hoping that your tone will help him feel better, and it does make him smile, albeit shyly.

   “What else is family for?” he poses the question, but into the ether, not to you specifically.

   “No kids of your own, then?” you prod, hoping he won’t think that you’re being nosy, which you totally are.

   “Not yet,” he answers, still sounding very shy, so you decide to drop the subject since it clearly makes him uncomfortable.

   But then he surprises you.

   “What about you? Any children, or spouse, or just special someone?”

   It’s an innocent enough question, but there’s something in his tone that makes you feel like he’s flirting. You might be imagining it simply because you wish that he is, though.    And you’re glad to hear that he isn’t automatically assuming that you’re straight, using gender neutral terms instead of the usual crop. It makes you wonder if that’s because he isn’t straight either, or if he’s just that considerate.

   “No, on all counts. I don’t really have the motivation to date right now, and most guys I’ve been out with in the past few years have been… well… unable to handle my personality, I suppose,” you offer, letting him know where your preferences lie, just in case you’re not imagining his interest.

   “Why? Is there something particularly difficult about your personality?” he asks, and you sigh, because you don’t actually enjoy talking about this and you suddenly wish that you hadn’t mentioned it.

   “I don’t think so, but apparently guys do. I expect to be respected and appreciated, and when I feel like I’m not, I speak up about it, and apparently that’s enough to label me difficult,” you gripe, but more sadly than angrily.

   You’ve reached your destination then, and point him to the correct shelf, which seems to surprise him.

   “Oh… Yes, this is what I need!” he says, and then darts off to collect the dino of the color he needs, before coming right back to you. “Thank you, but I will need help to find my way back to the checkout, I think.”

   Raising your eyebrows at him, you silently turn to the left and point to the giant sign that indicates that he’s only two aisles away from the registers.    It does seem like he genuinely hadn’t noticed that. His gaze drops to his own feet, and he scrapes the floor with the toe of his right shoe, looking adorably sheepish.

   “Busted…” he comments under his breath, followed by something in Spanish that you don’t catch, but by the tone it sounds like he’s calling himself out on his idiocy.

   You can’t help but giggle at him. He’s so disarmingly cute and generally fumbled.

   “I won’t hold it against you,” you smile, meeting his eyes when he looks up again, and there’s newfound confidence in his frame when he sees that you’re not about to reproach him.

   “If I ask you for your number, is there any chance I might get it?” he asks, and he’s back to sounding shy now, which somehow only makes him cuter.

   “Only if I get yours too,” you playfully respond, earning you a grin so wide that it makes his entire body shine.

   “Is no more than fair,” he shrugs casually, even though that grin remains unchanged.

   “There you are! What do you think you’re doing, Samson? You were supposed to swap over to the registers twenty minutes ago,” your supervisor suddenly appears from one of the aisles behind you, making you jump.

   Glancing at your watch, you realize that she’s right. In your eagerness to help out the interesting stranger, you’ve completely forgotten to relieve Annie from the checkout.

   “Ay, I must apologize, miss,” Javi immediately answers her before you can get a word in. “I got lost here, in my hurry, and I have not allowed this lovely woman to leave my side until I found what I was looking for.    I am so very sorry.”

   Taken aback by his apologetic and kind demeanor, she quickly sheds her irritation with you.

   “Alright, well… just make sure you don’t dawdle,” she admonishes, and you start heading for the registers at once, since that’s where Javi’s going anyway.

   “Thank you,” you whisper to him once she’s out of earshot.

   “Hey, you practically saved my life today, it was the least I could do,” he hums in return, and his deep voice makes your temperature rise just a fraction.

   But he’s only quiet for a couple of seconds following that, and then it comes.

   “So, your name is Samson? Like the biblical dude?”

   You wanna scream at the ceiling, even throwing your head back and rolling your eyes in a needlessly dramatic fashion, but you keep the sound from escaping you.

   “Sam. It’s just Sam. There’s no story, nothing funny, no cute anecdote, my parents were cruel morons, that’s all,” you growl, and he seems quite startled by your abrupt switch in mood.

   “Forgive me, I did not realize this was a sore subject,” he immediately backtracks, making you feel bad, because it’s obviously not his fault that this is the single most annoying thing of your entire existence.

   But before you’ve had a chance to voice your regret, he continues.

   “I only wanted to tell you that I think it’s a beautiful name for you,” he says quietly, as if he’s trying to let you know that he’ll stop talking the moment you even hint that you want him to. “It suits your strong personality. And it is much more unique and interesting than Samantha.    I really like it.”

   Not one person that you’ve ever met, throughout your time on this earth, has ever heard your name without laughing, making fun of it, or telling you how much they don’t like it or how badly it sounds as a woman’s name.    And that’s regardless of whether they’d had a chance to get to know you before learning about it, or not.

   Which is why, hearing Javi react like this makes you want to cry.

   “Thank you for saying that,” you reply, barely audibly as you’re struggling against the lump that’s settled deep within your chest.

   Instead of answering, he starts to sing loudly, and it’s bad enough that it causes laughter to break out of the overwhelming multitude of emotions that are trying to strangle you, effectively pushing them aside until the joy just completely chases them away.

   “See?” he grins at the return of your smile. “We all have that one thing we don’t like about ourselves. But that does not mean that we should let it stop us from having fun.”

   You could kiss him for reminding you of that. Or just for being such a wonderful person in general.

   Getting to the checkout, you apologize to Annie, who’s actually a really sweet young girl, and kind enough not to be angry with you.    You take over her station and since there aren’t any other customers in line at the moment, you set about charging your new friend for the baby sleep-helper.

   “That’ll be 29,99$, sir,” you chirp, and he pays with a blank card, which only adds to your interest in him, because you’ve hardly ever seen those kinds of cards before. “Would you like a receipt?”

   “Yes, thank you,” he smiles, and when you hand him the little strip of paper, he picks up a pen from your workstation and writes something on it, before handing it back to you.

   As promised, it’s his number. And since there are still no other customers waiting behind him, you pull out your phone from your pocket and dial it.    Sure enough, a ringing starts in one of the pockets of his shorts, and his smile widens.

   “Can I call you tonight then, Sam?”

   “I should hope so. I mean, you just missed my call, I’d be offended if you didn’t at least call me back.”

   He laughs softly at that, and then he reaches for your hand. When you let him take it, he merely holds it at first, as though it’s some exquisitely rare gift, and then he bends down and kisses it over the knuckles, looking up at you as he does.    You can’t tell if it’s a gesture of respect, or a taste of what intimacy with him would be like, but either way, it makes every inch of your skin tingle.

   “Until next time, Señorita.”

THE END

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