#deal of the day sale today offer all

[anmolsmsblog]

ECLIPSE Kendall Modern Blackout Thermal Rod Pocket Window Curtain for Bedroom or Living Room (1 Panel), 42 X 63, Cafe

Price: (as of – Details) Experience the darkness, silence, and beauty of Eclipse curtains. Eclipse ultra-fashionable blackout panels have been laboratory-tested to block over 99-percent of outside light and reduce unwanted noise for a better night’s sleep. The patented Thermaback technology and innovative design helps conserve heat in winter and keeps hot sunrays out in summer to help reduce…

[puckinghischier]

Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

[nouearth]

a day at the office.

jim halpert x male reader.

summary: what happens when jim finds out that there's a secret place in the warehouse that's used for sleeping? hint: it's not used for sleeping.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: coworkers, top!jim, bottom!reader, bigdick!jim, spit as lube, fingering, milking, over-stimulation, spitting, kissing, lots of french kissing, breeding, public sex, established relationship, au where pam is with someone else, jim has a bi-awakening, seasons 1-4 jim!

It was a call-back that he’d been expecting. It didn’t take much of an utter of the familiar client’s voice, the principal of Dunmore High School, to assure Jim that he had already secured another renewal of paper supplies for the school; an impressive three-year loyalty from the school, but who was counting?

Jim held the phone and watched you at your desk, two sections diagonal of him. He looked pleased when the client began voicing out compliments because of his efficient service, smiled because you were absolutely terrible at playing computer Chess despite lowering the difficulty settings, and beamed when you caught his gaze, warm like the mug of coffee sitting by the small picture frame of your dog on your desk.

It was impossible to know if you could hear what Jim was saying, but the grin on his face told more than a thousand words and you bid him a thumbs up when he looked up from his notepad after scribbling the client’s purchase.

“All right, and before I let you go, our customer service representative will follow up with a short survey regarding our products and services.” A question followed after. “Yep, similar survey as last time—you got it. All right, it was a pleasure doing business with you. Take care.”

Despite originally feeling aversion for his job, he couldn’t lie about feeling some sense of accomplishment whenever he secured a huge order. Not to mention how much of an ego booster it was since he earned a commission out of the sale. Gradually over time, Jim found himself to be one of the top salesman at the office, convincing himself that his stay at Dunder Mifflin would only be temporary.

Then the gratification completely ceased, weakly fluttering like a limp balloon, when he looked at the time on his taskbar.

It was only 10 AM.

This is going to be a long day. Jim groaned, slouching in his seat because the negotiation felt like forever, sucked out all of the energy left in him during the half-of-an-hour call despite fueling himself with caffeine and random fruits he’d stolen from his roommate. They were nearing that gross, wrinkly stage anyway.

When he turned his attention back towards you, the phone was in your hand, the other typing on the keyboard what Jim presumed would be the client’s answers to the survey questions. There was always a smile on your face, even if the client couldn’t see you. And then tone in your voice. It was inviting and personable, a voice that made people feel safe and heard, as if that mattered at all because how could buying paper feel anywhere near dangerous? 

Or maybe it was simply because Jim was too high on his own infatuation for you, that he was mostly projecting his appreciation.

A couple of hours had passed, 1 PM, and Jim managed to make a few sales here and there. A couple of clients hadn’t finalized their choice of supplier yet, but Dunder Mifflin was certainly being alluded as the option once he offered free deliveries on the count that they ordered a certain number of shipments of paper. That always sealed the deal.

To be honest, other than enduring many of Michael’s annoying antics with Dwight being his right-hand man, most days in the office were exactly as mundane as today was turning out to be. Usually, he would find himself passing time by hanging around your desk, catching you up on the weirdest news he discovered through a deep-dive in the internet.

And you wouldn’t believe what’s about to happen next…

What..? Don’t tell me they found the fing— Yep, they found the finger in the chicken tenders. Cooked. Medium-rare. Crisp to the bone. Blistering. Oh god—that’s horrifying! Jim—

And usually, they were lies that he made up on the way to your desk, mainly because he loved drawing a reaction out of you. And you were also extremely gullible, which made it all the easier to do so.

But as far as today was concerned, you were knees-deep into your responsibilities. Phone calls concerning shipment delays siphoned you into brief turmoil because—of course there were going to be delays, we’re in the middle of February where the earth was working in mysterious ways to conjure up snow days!

As much as Jim wanted to cut the phone line off when a client had suddenly erupted into an audibly loud one-sided yelling match—he was winning, of course—it always impressive how calm and composed you were under those circumstances.

Though, while he acted the same way regarding his approach to customers, he preferred to give people time and space to calm down. Whereas you accessed the situation and carefully structured how you sounded to hopefully pacify their anger. Your voice was gentler, but it never faltered into a frailness that made you a pushover for the client to rag on. Rather, it was stern, especially authoritative when you would assert, “Sir, I understand this situation is very frustrating for you, but I am here to help. And I cannot help you if you do not tell me your order number. And it would also be very much appreciated if you lowered your voice.”

You were fairly new to the company, a little over two years in your position, and every day, as a little more of you unfolded, you’d shown Jim why you were hired on the spot. You were practically the face of what Dunder Mifflin desired, of what any company expected really; friendly, collaborative, hard-working, efficient, all those cliché keywords on a résumé. 

A golden boy, Jim liked to describe you as. He didn’t mean anything negative by it, simply by evidence of your personality at first. But when he mentioned that moniker for you one day, of course you laughed like it was the funniest thing Jim had told you since you’d introduced yourself, because you were a people-pleaser. Easy to get along. Charming. Handsome. Bright. Golden. 

That was you.

Honestly, Jim never expected to cross ‘fall in love’ off his New Year’s resolutions right before the year even started. He also never thought he’d strike out ‘discover your bi-awakening’ in any timeline of the universe—only because he didn’t even know he had a type in men—but the future worked in wondrous, confusing ways. Though, if someone actually asked for him to describe his type, it would be indescribable because Jim doesn’t know exactly what made him fall in love with you, except for the fact that it was you. Your presence. Your personality. Your looks. You.

Jim liked how you would say greet everyone ‘good morning,’ but it was him that you held in high-regard. He liked how you were shorter, like many others in the office were compared to him, but you had a build, or maybe a presence, that made him want to take you in his arms and never let go. He liked how you would end up snorting at his jokes because he never found his jokes incredibly funny. It was mainly a tactic, or rather an invitation for you to know that he wanted to be friends. With every laugh that spilled out of your mouth, fortuitous snorts that would embarrass you when Jim kept the joking going, a mutual bond was shortly formed and it felt even better than scoring a huge sale.

He liked how you were generous, tossing a bag of chips on his desk after a visit to the vending machine, and he’d suspected that you’d been watching him too, because you always got his favorite flavor without Jim ever telling you the minor details of his insignificant life.

He also liked how confusing it was to like you, to suddenly develop a crush on a man like he had just discovered a new aspect of life. There was something exciting and new happening in his mundane world, giving him a newfound motivation to come to work other than to pay his bills. He thought he discovered everything about himself by his early 20s, but you’d shown him that life truly does throw you off-course, or in Jim’s case, on the right side of the path. 

He casted doubts about his sexuality early on, pondering that loneliness had caught up to him and constructed an entirely different narrative as a last ditch effort to set him on an expedition to find love again.

But would loneliness really be influential enough to compel him to suddenly kiss you in the parking lot after having dinner together? He recalled you gasping, pulling away, thankfully not because you were repulsed by him, but because you were in complete shock that Jim was even into men in the first place. 

Jim never realized how much he brought up his ex-girlfriends to overcompensate for this sudden attraction for the opposite gender until you brought it up.

I don’t know yet, about all of this… I’m still figuring things out, but I really like you, (M/N).

Jim, I think you had too much to drink.

All I had was a Sprite—

He pondered that night, then many more until it began weighing on his conscience.

But he oddly found himself kissing you again a month after, properly this time, in his Subaru when he took you home after your car broke down. He felt like a volcano erupting when his lips landed on yours, soft and delicate like the first time he kissed you. His breath rattled into your own hesitation with every exhale, but then you took him in, let him in, and Jim melted. 

And then calmed, stilled, when you led, cupping his jaw to keep Jim from pulling away, and instead closer, leaning over the armrests of each respective seat and center console. The leather pressed uncomfortably into his body, but when you slipped your tongue inside of his mouth, he was spellbound, then purged of any feeling other than the ones you’d enthralled him with.

As you assured him on that night, with a late night conversation that refused to let you out of his car and Jim out of your neighborhood street, that was when he found himself.

Huh.

What?

Nothing… Usually my gay-dar is pretty spot on, so if I knew you rocked that way, I would’ve flirted with you early on.

Okay, one; never mention gay-dar to Michael or Dwight ever, because then they’ll go ‘I told you so’ on me. And two; you had a crush on me? Tell me more.

You’d be surprised how much height can make a gay man go feral, Jim.

Seems like you managed yourself pretty well, don’t you think? That you know of.

You animal…

Another hour passed by as Jim willingly let himself be sucked into a black hole of thoughts recalling those moments with you, those ‘firsts’ that could keep him distracted for another two hours or so. Alongside his first kiss with you, there was the first time he touched you; clumsiness took his hands to roam around your chest, stomach, then erection until you blew from Jim’s increasing interest, and then profound knowledge in your body.

He kissed you elsewhere other than your lips. It started off with your neck, then your shoulders, chest, and so-on, until his lips suddenly began wrapping around your own length without warning, sucking you off with cloddish, yet enticing attempts that made you laugh, because Jim was greedy, awkward with his tongue, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him to yourself.

You pulled him off and made him lean back on the couch instead, settling on your knees and then rewarding his service with your own mouth, to show him how to properly work a cock. Jim was never a man that was enticed by blowjobs, only because a mouth never felt gratifying enough, but with every swirl of your tongue, every spit that dripped off of his thick cock and back into your mouth, he was fully convinced that he was a changed man by the time he filled your mouth. 

He then intruded deep inside of you because to fully have an understanding of your body, he needed to explore every inch, every surface, every crevice. It was on his bed, in his messy room that Jim tried to hurriedly clean before you came in, that could barely accommodate room for two, but it was you who made it work when you straddled on his lap and rode him instead. You’d never felt so full, you said it yourself he was balls-deep inside of you.

And jesus christ, Jim knew he was big considering the women he’d dated were apprehensive about taking him, barely taking his cock before surrendering. It gave him deja vu with the way you held your eyes shut, bracing your position by having one palms on his chest, and the other guiding his cock carefully into you, controlling the stagger of your breath to the best of your ability. 

In the moment where he’d expect you to stop pushing yourself and tell him to settle for a blowjob instead, determination set you aflame like the painful stretch Jim had been providing you with, and with three more pulses to your breath, a brief break to apply more lube on Jim’s erection and your hole, you were entirely breached when Jim aided your hips and pushed you down until you were flushed against his body, flesh sticky and sweaty from your persistence.

You’re amazing… Jim, I’m close. Harder—

It was a memorable night, a messy one where you offered to change his sheets, and Jim swore he could’ve gone all-night if they hadn’t had work the very next day.  Instead, he held you close, panting and continuing to fill you despite your protest to shower, gazing into your eyes while you held his stare with a warmth that might have rivaled his own infactuation for you, and smiled.

I really like you.

I really, really like you too, Halpert.

And now Jim was here, fantasizing in his seat with an aching hard-on, but absolutely guilt-free this time, because it’d been a few months since you two made it official.

It took several pings from Jim’s computer to put his musing to a halt. He leaned forward to view the unread messages, tending to his erection with a few gentle squeezes, then peeked over his monitor with a grin when he realized it was from you.

[M/N]: lunch? [M/N]: hellooooo

[M/N]: if you don’t answer i’m ordering ahead without you [M/N]: wow you’re really out of it [M/N]: stare deep into space if you hate me [M/N]: wow, jim.

“Hey,” A gentle kick to your shoe knocked your attention up to Jim, where he greeted you with a warm smile as soon as your gaze fell on him, a coat draped over his arm. “What are you feeling today?” The weather wasn’t too cold, the coat mainly providing an obstruction to the evident outline in his khakis.

Glistening, you returned his smile tenfold in brightness, sprouting from your seat to stretch your arms over your head, loosening the tuck of your shirt crinkle by crinkle until you felt a pleasing crack to your back and shoulders. “Anything’s fine. Sushi? Wait, no—we had that last week.”

“You have…” Jim rolled a sleeve up to check the time on his watch, and your eyes immediately pivoted towards the veins in his forearm, endearing and taunting. “…the two minutes it takes to get to my car to decide.”

“Wait, but that’s not even enough—“ He turned his body so you were complaining towards his back, broad and firm through his blue dress shirt. You’d never felt so envious of a piece of clothing hugging tight on his body when that could’ve been you.

“Up and at ‘em, a minute and twenty seconds now.” Jim began walking towards the entrance, chuckling as he could hear you scramble through your desk in search for something. “Gotta find my wallet first—“

“Seriously? It’s already been thirty seconds now!” 

Turned out, all that rushing was for nothing as Jim had other plans when he pulled you past the exit to the parking lot, and instead another floor lower, and then another, until you and him reached the warehouse. He acted on impulse, his sudden thirst for you taking the reign of his actions that he didn’t exactly know what to do had the warehouse not been empty. Luckily, it was and Jim would keep that in mind for the future.

“Uh… Jim, why are we down here?” The warehouse was bigger than you last remembered from the brief introductory tour you were given. Though, to be fair, you were running on a half-mug of coffee, and the adrenaline rush of meeting everyone for the first time hadn’t worn off yet.

“You’ll see,” Jim shrugged, nonchalant in his demeanor as his gaze was seemingly in pursuit of something above him along the rows of storage shelves and units. “Don’t want to ruin the surprise for you.” The words rolled off of his tongue suspiciously, and beneath the growing smile on Jim’s face that was supposed to keep you calm and composed like it did on normal circumstances, was something that did the opposite, riling a wave of conflicting feelings within you.

Especially when Jim began to climb a ladder and step into a shelf space in the back of the warehouse that was hidden impressively well from the entrance.

“What—What are you doing?! Get down here!” Your eyes widened in panic, scanning the space from left to right multiple times in case any of the warehouse employees were within vicinity. “Jim!”

“It’s fine, come on up!” He waved you up once he got himself situated, head awkwardly bent and shoulders slant because of the shelf barely accommodated for his height and build.

“No way. We’re going to get fired if we get caught.” You frowned, crossing your arms as you stared up at him, baffled.

“You know, it would help your case if you weren’t standing where everyone could see you.” Jim reasoned and you huffed after. “I promise, we won’t get caught. I’ll keep an eye out. And if it helps, Darryl told me about this area. Toasty in here too.”

Apprehensively, you took ahold of the ladder railings and climbed your way to the shelf space where Jim awaited for your arrival, anticipated with a smug smile as he held out his hand to pull you in once you took his palm.

The shelf was in the darkest corner of the room. A few lights above had been burnt out for quite some time, and the large boxes of paper supplies that surrounded the perimeter casted shadows that ultimately provided an agreeable space despite your original complaints. In this case, as you cataloged the pillows and one throw blanket around you and Jim; a comfy place to rest your eyes.

“You took me here… to nap.” You stated matter-of-factly and stared at him disengaged, but nonetheless foraged a pillow behind your head and snuggled up to his left side when he opened his arm up. 

“The things I do for you. Absolutely no appreciation whatsoever.” Jim joked, then pinched your nose with a chuckle. The gesture always managed to pull a smile out of you, and he already anticipated you mirroring it back at him, to which he keenly blocked with a strong hold of your wrist. Then another when you attempted sneak attack with a neck-chop with your other arm.

“You know…” Your voice wandered to a deepness, a slight hush as if anyone around you could hear. “You could’ve just told me you were horny.” You tugged your hands in resistance.

“What—How did you know?” Jim broke out into a toothy smile despite being caught red-handed.

“I mean, you weren’t exactly hiding your boner that well. A hand isn’t going to cover that.” You nodded your head towards the size of his bulge, the center of Jim’s khakis creasing when his erection greeted you with a throb. The boxes of paper supplies couldn’t shelter Jim had they tried.

“Hey, are you shaming me for having a big penis? Wow, (M/N). I thought you were different.” He loosened his hold on your wrists, but nonetheless kept them within his grasp to guide your right hand to his inner thigh, dropping the other after. He leaned in, his gaze pivoting to your wet lips when you licked your lips. The scent of his cologne, along with the way Jim’s eyes glazed over you like a piece of meat, stirred something inside of you. Your pants felt tighter than a couple seconds ago.

“If blowing you until you finish in my mouth is shaming, then…” Jim’s hand pressed on top of yours to move you upwards to his bulge, but you resisted, a teasing grin beamed towards the smug smile on his face before you enchanted his lips with a soft, languid kiss. “Call me a monster.”

Jim abandoned your hand to take ahold of your jaw, cupping the underside of it softly while his thumb caressed the structure with composed strokes. Your breath tasted like coffee, sweeter than how Jim preferred his own cup, but perfectly delectable when it came from your tongue. 

“You stole my line.” He joked again, then kissed you harder; a stroke of his tongue parted your lips again in desperate need to take you, in a sloppy pursuit of some kind of reward for his terrific work this month. His tongue explored your mouth, panting among both parties, your own wet flesh gliding and slipping against and around his needy endeavors, prompted by the gentle squeezes and strokes on his erection, and it didn’t take very long before you were completely captivated by Jim and the way he took you, your body going limp except for the growing tent in your pants.

You palmed him through his khakis. Your hand barely moved up his thigh before you could feel a long and thick lump residing beneath the crinkle of his left pocket, and a moan slipped from your throat because you could never stop marveling over the size of Jim’s cock. “We only have twenty minutes.” It was a complaint rather than a reminder. The clock ticking in your head peeled you away from the captivating kiss, frowning because there was so much you wanted to do to Jim, for him.

“Better get to work then.” You felt his hands suddenly begin to work at your belt, unbuckling them with deft and efficiency. Impatience left the leather hang loose, flopping stiffly as Jim unzipped your pants, and then pushed them down to your ankles after turning you on your side, your back facing him.

Jim snapped your briefs below the smooth curve of your ass, plumping them with the help of the tight restraining digging into your skin and pushing your mounds of flesh upwards. It was a delicious invitation for him to spank your right ass cheek once to watch how his slap reverberated off your flesh in soft jiggles, then another because your hushed whimpers were the perfect accompaniment to the force of his palm.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about your ass today.” He confessed while the strong kneads to your ass, palms of thick flesh groped and spread, provided proof to his confession.

“Yeah? Is that why you couldn’t keep it in your pants today?” You groaned when something wet and lean slid nimbly inside of your hole without warning. Tight and warm, you squeezed around Jim’s lone finger as it thrusted inside of you. Whimpered when it curled, another finger joining after a couple of flicks of his wrist, with the intent to wreck vengeance on the source of his erection.

“You know it,” His voice ghosted over your ear, closer than you expected, and your head knowingly turned to meet his lips for a yearning, sloppy kiss that Jim mutually had been craving all day for. He pushed himself closer to you, your mouth and his parting open and lingering as tongues mingled for an open-mouthed kiss. It was wet and sickly, enough to get you high on the act alone, cock throbbing when Jim closed his mouth around your tongue and sucked the spit bubbles off your tongue. All of that simultaneously stirring butterflies in your stomach while he worked your hole open, presently stretching you out with three fingers barreled into your cavity. 

Usually three fingers was enough to take Jim’s cock. It was uncomfortable, at times painful when you barely stretched yourself. But you liked that you could feel every inch of Jim’s muscly cock pushing you open. You likened it to rolling out a tight muscle after a tough workout. Painful, but incredibly satisfying once you felt him turning you out. Plus, it never failed to make Jim incredibly gratified, his cock somehow growing harder, thicker while he was shelved inside of you.

It wasn’t the most ideal position; you were facing boxes of copy paper that instantly evoked shame, the Dunder Mifflin logo plastered across the cardboard seemingly mortified by the lack of restraining when it came to your boyfriend. It wasn’t often that you two involved yourself in public sex, but when Jim was either too impatient to wait at his apartment, or you needed something to recharge you in the middle of the day, those circumstances mainly resided in his car. You bought extra blankets to cover up the windows too, though ultimately, they served no purpose because you were here—ass out, jerking yourself off to the hastened sound of Jim’s belt unbuckling, khakis and boxers shoved down to his ankles similar to yours in turn.

“Shoot,” Jim grunted irritably. You turned your head over your shoulder, curiously finding the source of his evident annoyance along with him as Jim began searching through his coat pockets, only after taking a long peek at the glorious throb of his cock.

“What? Having regrets already?” You grinned, and you discerned a vacant smile of his own, Jim’s mind occupied by a multitude of thoughts.

“I forgot the lube. I thought I put it in my pocket, guess not…” A sigh of disappointment came after Jim’s habit of clicking his tongue whenever he felt any kind of feeling. “Well, I guess we could try—“

You suddenly took Jim’s hand and spat in it, Jim watching wide-eyed, stunned, while you pushed a few more out with your tongue since saliva never had the ideal longevity and viscosity of lube. “Hurry before it dries.” You turned back calmly, beckoning for his cock with a push of your ass. 

“I’m in love with you.” Jim breathed out, a toothy smile you could imagine from the giddy tone of his voice. The spit in his hand was then used to lube his thick cock, in a thick sheen you presumed from the sticky sounds that tingled the tips of your ears, then the base of your tightened balls.

“Prove it to me.” You folded the arm you were lain on behind your head, cushioning the weight of it while your other hand reached back to lather his cock in your saliva after spitting a few more times into your palm. You felt veins pulsing strong with every stroke, a weight of thick cock that made your wrist sore, and then as you pivoted towards the pink glans of Jim’s dick, a bulbous head that intimidatingly maintained the girth of his shaft.

“You’re going to regret it.” He said smugly, adjusting himself closer and lower to match your smaller build. His moans were bitten back, swallowed down with hard gulps while you were carried away in providing him a temporary relief that you were too impatient to ignore.

Your hand continued stroking him off, your saliva sticking on his cock and then eventually in between your ass as you guided him towards your entrance, immense warmth emanating from the blood surging through his cock veins. “Have I ever?” 

“No,” Jim replaced your hand, making it return back to fondling your balls, and teased by running his cock over the crack of your ass. You felt his cock bolt with a spring, taunting when the plump head pressed its slick pre-cum to your pucker. He loved how he could see your ass clench in desperate efforts to lure him in, but it was futile as he’d return to sweeping over your hole with languid swipes, drawing out whimpers that signified that your impatience was running thin. 

“And I love you even more for that.”

He suddenly pushed. Your breath got caught in your throat from the abruptness of it all, and your body immediately tensed in turn, frozen in place when a burning sensation from beneath alerted you to stay put and just breathe. Jim groaned, already feeling the swell of your pucker refusing to let the head in, so he pulled himself out and restarted. Harder, he pushed his cock inside of you again, persistent despite your body naturally arcing forward to escape the emerging pain, but his hand on your hip pulled you back, anchoring your withering body, until the thick inch of his cock slid in.

“Careful—F-fuck, Jim.” Your stomach was in knots as it always was when he would first push inside of you. Feelings, conflicting ones of need, want, and regret battling for the throne of your body, of your mind, as Jim kept pushing, sliding in and out, rough and impatient because he needed you to open yourself up for him.

He was so big, too big at times, and you felt so pathetic because you thought you’d get used to him by now; used to the way you felt so full even when only his head had penetrated you; used to how your hole stung as more of Jim sheathed inside of you, slowly with a couple of thrusts aiding its insertion. 

“I know, I know…” He breathed with a rattle, the tightness in your cavity gripping pleasurably around him as he thrusted with only the first few inches in, absolutely riveting that he couldn’t help but let his desires dominant his methodical approach in letting you adjust to his large size and instead, making you to take it all at once with one long and deep push.

“J-Jim!” A scream abruptly left your throat and before you could let another slip out, his hand suddenly came up to cover your mouth, pressing his palm hard to your face and squeezing your cheeks. Your eyes shut, and your body writhed from how Jim’s cock roughly worked you opened. You felt uncomfortably full, beyond stretched to your limits as Jim was balls-deep inside of you now, but most importantly, you felt so wanted.

Bounded by the strong hold around you; his hand squeezing your cheeks in his palm to muffle your moans; his cock penetrating you deep and hard with fast and needy rhythms; his lips soft against your neck before they surprised with a painful suck to your jawbone; you were enraptured by Jim’s dominance over you, leaking from the tip of your cock in heavy drips while he fucked you from behind, the metal of his belt clacking with every precision of his thrusts.

“You’re so tight. Fuck. No one can take my dick like you.” Jim panted, embellishing your neck in hot breaths before climbing to kiss you on the lips again once you were prompted to turn your head. 

It was the small sounds from you that drove Jim nuts. They spilled into his mouth without restraint, an open-mouthed kiss again as he licked into you, suckled on your tongue, and let drool join your own slick mess at your chin. Tiny whimpers and occasional gasps when he hit your prostate fed his thirst for you, knowing that only he could drive you this mad; fumbling over your begs and surrendering because his cock was too good for you to think properly and find your words again.

“Harder. Harder.” You gulped, your demands muffled as Jim had his thumb in your mouth now. After, you went back to sucking his thick thumb off, tongue laving him in circular motions, as best as one could as Jim sped his pace and fucked you into oblivion. “Harder.” You gritted your teeth, hustling through the burn as the saliva had dried off his dick by now. You were beating your cock, pumping it with an ample amount of strength that rivaled Jim’s hips against you, motivated by the ticking countdown of your lunch break coming to an end soon.

It still stung. You barely had time to adjust to him before you were completely taking Jim’s cock as if you were a cheap flashlight he bought online, a piece of silicon that he’d break. Your hair bounced, sweat-dripping down your forehead while you felt his own sweat dripping of his forehead and staining your dress shirt. The back of your shirt felt damp, heat building up at your back-side as Jim had enclosed around you with an embrace that thawed any ounce of pain and replaced it with intoxicating pleasure. An onslaught of thrusts kept you writhing by your toes, then curling into the blanket that had bundled beneath your feet.

Harder. Your demands were immediately met after Jim pulled himself out completely, as if he was recharging his strength, lubed his erection with a spit to the palm, then shoved himself back into you with one strong thrust, sending your body into an arc that he’d immediately restrained back with a push to your abdomen, forcing you to take his cock in full stride. Your ass rippled like the rattle in your moans, flesh clapping loud whenever Jim met his groin to your skin, and you couldn’t get enough of it, the sounds glorious in your ear. Your hole clenched in vain as Jim always managed to power through and forced you open again, hollowing you out until your pucker shaped itself to the exact size of his thick cock.

He would marvel at the gape when he pulled himself out again, for his own sake as he was nearing his climax, and spread your cheeks open. “Just for me?”

“Just for you.” You used the small break to catch up on your breath, wetting your parched throat with multiple gulps as you turned over your shoulder to catch him staring, finding it futile as your throat felt brittle again.

He clicked his tongue multiple times, that habit again whenever he felt something, when the rim of your hole tensed up at the multiple spanks he’d given you, seemingly swallowing at nothing but air, until he breached himself back in, angling his hips perfectly to press at your prostate.

It was nearing—your climax. You rarely touched your cock, abandoning it because your arms tend to be locked behind Jim’s warm embrace around you, but it sprouted strong in between your legs, aided by the repeated violation against your prostate. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head multiple times, Jim’s large cock knocking the breath out of you with every snap of his hips, pounding into the swelling of your insides.

“Oh god, Jim—“

That spot again, he never missed once in hitting your prostate, a storm of delight torpedoing the pit of your stomach as Jim impaled into you like lightning. Jim muttered something under his breath, striking on your skin as he bit into your neck, then pressed hard against your hip bone.

“I’m gonna—“ Jim gripped at your hips harder, a slur of words near your ear making goosebumps raise all over your body, beneath the layer of sweat that had dampened your clothes. 

“Too, me too—“ You huffed, closing your eyes, but deftly finding Jim’s lips when you turned your head to kiss him one more time. An immediate tangle of tongues was enforced, your mouths mutually opening on impulse while he held your head comfortably to keep you from straining your neck. You moaned, reeled your tongue back from the slippery closure of his mouth, and cried out as your pucker clamped down on his large cock moving inside of you. Your hole throbbed around his girth with exquisite spurts that came from within, pulsated with the veins that had adorned Jim’s cock delectably, grasped him like a tight sleeve that refused to let him go. 

When you opened your eyes, you were blinded by the lights that had donned over you instead of casted shadows, a heavenly choir celebrating with holy bells when your balls tightened once before loosening when your cock erupted thick cumshots onto the boxes in front of you, painting the cardboard in thick layers of yourself, of your desires, with the help of Jim’s cock, pounding strong ropes of cum out of you until they’ve hit every box like target practice. 

“Fuck.” Jim let out a deep groan, pushing painfully into you, his hand reaching over to milk your cock until you were only spewing out the tiniest bits of cum left in your emptying sack. Your whimpering and the convulsion of your body, as he continued to milk your cock, triggered Jim to finally break within a couple more thrusts and a deep grunt, his cock exploding hot and thick in the confines of your ass, flooding your tender hole with his thick cum loads.

“Jim.” You whined, drawing out his name. His cum was dripping out of you, a few thick droplets rolling to the side of your ass as Jim’s thrusts were beginning to shallow, but never once pausing. “Fuck—“

“You feel so good like this.” Jim was creaming your insides, using your ass to ride out his orgasm and milk his hard cock inside of you, even when he was beginning to feel sore at the base of his balls. You whimpered quietly, knowing it was such a waste of cum dripping out of you like that, but also because you felt your cock hardening again despite just now recovering from Jim’s devious hold on you.

“We’re going to be late if you keep this up.” You should’ve known better. Any time you offered him a reason not to do something, Jim was motivated to do the opposite. 

His thrusts remained the same, shallow yet deep against you, and right when you thought you felt soaked in your ass, Jim pressed another low grunt to your lips, snapping once into you and rattling another moan out of you, before the convulsions bound his body to your backside once again, and let him spill another load inside of your creamy hole.

Jim shuddered, feeling drained and especially aching as his cock went limp and slipped out of you, the only connection between you and him being the sticky cum that had webbed his cock and your ass together as you involuntarily pushed his cum out of your tender hole in a daze.

“Think you can work the rest of the day like this?” The pleasure subsided into exhaustion, a wave of drowsiness hitting you and Jim like a truck despite the uncomfortable pool of cum sitting beneath you two. Jim kissed your shoulder, then pulled your briefs back up, your pants following after.

“No way.” You laughed, lightly punching at his shoulder after buckling your belt because now all you wanted to do was use what the shelf was actually purposed for: sleeping. “You owe me a hot bath later.”

“Tch, the things I do for you. You're ungateful.”

"You love me for it."

"I do."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[moonlight-records]

Black Friday Nightmare | CL16 (HAC #1)

pairing: cl16 x reader

summary: your boyfriend decides to join you for some black friday shopping. it goes nothing like planned but that's the chaos of black friday shopping, right?

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

wc: 2.5K

a/n: day 1 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar!

current | day 2

Now typically, after Thanksgiving, you love to go into your little food coma and just sleep. It was a Thanksgiving tradition especially since you flew into the States to celebrate holidays with your dad’s side as this was the only time you saw them but when you were 16, your mom had found out the Cricut was on sale and it was the hot item for crafty people so it was selling and selling fast. Your mom went on about how Walmart, which was about ten minutes from your grandma’s house, was already opened and she just had to see if there was any left. Debating for a moment, you shrugged and took the venture off with your mom and had a wonderful time browsing the store (after securing the Cricut which was a bitch to get home but your mom made it happen) and just bonding with your mom.

It happened again and again and again moving from Walmart to the Outlets that was only a 20 minute drive and it was now your new tradition to ring in the holiday season. Of course you were too old now to go to the stores at midnight and honestly much preferred getting up early to browse if it meant the employees got to celebrate Thanksgiving with their families, even for a little bit. Still, this was your tradition and it was perfectly mapped out in your head and nothing could go wrong.

“Mon Chéri!” A whine breaks out.

Except this year. Everything could go wrong, actually.

“Yes?”

“Do we have to go out so early?” You watch your boyfriend roll over dramatically to the side, arm gently smacking the empty side of the bed where you should be. His hair stood up in all different directions and you can’t help but giggle at his pout. “Can’t we go out later in the day to shop? Really it’s so early! The sun isn’t even up yet.” Tracing a random pattern lazily into the sheets, “and you know it’s just so cold without you in bed…”

“Oh no, Mr. Leclerc.” You start staring at your boyfriend, “don’t you give me that puppy dog face. It won’t work on me today. Besides, I told you that you don’t have to come shopping with me. I’m perfectly fine going Black Friday shopping by myself.” You turn as you pull a hoodie over your head and check yourself in the mirror, “you can go right back to sleep.”

You watch Charles shift and prop himself up on his elbows as he protests, “but it’s Black Friday! Mon soleil you know how crazy it could possibly get out there! What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let you out there to those—” Charles aggressively waves his hand as he tries to find the words, his English failing him so early in the morning, “animaux enragés?!" Shaking his head quickly, "Horrible idea." Fancy coming from Charles. "It is much safer and warmer in the bed,” he lifts the covers, “under the covers and in my arms, no?”

“As much as that is a tempting offer and you are correct, this is a tradition I do.” Making your way over you quickly lean down to give him a kiss on the forehead, careful not to let your boyfriend snatch you up into bed because you know it would be a losing battle after that, “though I’m serious. You do not have to come.” You remind him as Charles grunts and tosses the covers off of him.

“No no. I’m coming. I’m not letting you deal with those crazies alone. Besides, we promised each other that we would try each other’s holiday traditions. Even if it’s waking up early and walking around in the cold.” You laugh at Charles dramatic explanation knowing that he’s just cranky he’s not getting his beauty sleep, “with no morning cuddles—”

“We can get coffee and find an animal shelter to play with some puppies during our day of shopping, if you’re interested.”

There’s a pause. You giggle at Charles pretending to really think about this. Lips pressed together, eyes squinted slightly as he rubs his chin with his pointer finger and thumb before smiling brightly, “Okay. That is a very acceptable deal. Now, let me get dressed and we can go, okay?”

“Mon Chéri, please keep your face covered.” Charles gently pulls your scarf up to cover your mouth and nose, “I do not want you to catch a cold.”

You muffle something about ‘not catching a cold’ while you two walk through the outlets towards the Gucci store while holding your hot chocolate like a lifeline. You tuck yourself into Charles' side as he pulls you closer while rounding the corner and seeing a small line in front of the Gucci store.

“Oh my god," Charles whispers, “there’s already a line?”

“You should see the Nike store. It’s around the store.” You remark casually as you pull away to get on the line. Charles makes a noise of surprise as he follows after you quickly as he cuddles up next to you as you nod in agreement. “I know.”

“How long are we waiting for?” Charles asks as he shivers slightly.

Checking your phone, “should be any minute now.”

Charles lets out a breath of relief just as the doors unlock. One employee steps out as the line moves. She asks how many and clicks the counter.

“How many?” The employee asks.

“Two,” You answer.

“You two can go in.”

“Thank you so much.” You smile and go inside with Charles following after saying thank you.

You immediately start to browse the store while Charles is basking in the warmth. You hum gently as you browse the bags picking some up and turning them over before putting them down. Nothing is really catching your eye but there was a cute pink leather mini bag that you kept looking at and really examining it. You look over and cover your mouth giggling while watching Charles against the wall looking around quickly trying to find you. You catch his eyes and give him a slight wave as he b-lines over to you.

“There you are. I thought you left me in the store.” Charles wraps an arm around you before looking down at the bag. “Oh! This is cute. Are you going to get it?”

“I would never leave you.” You retort with a smile before looking back at the bag. “Maybe. I don’t know.” You shrug and put it back. “I mean I need a new bag but I don’t think pink is my color.”

“I think pink is your color.”

“You think every color is my color.”

Charles leans back, raising a brow. “Do you not think every color is your color?”

Laughing gently, you pat Charles' arm. “No I don’t. Did you find anything?”

“I did.” Charles starts and leads you over to another display with bags. You listen to him ramble on about this bag he found for his mom but he wasn’t sure if it was a good size. After some debating, you two find a simple purse for his mom and the two of you get in line to check out. When leaving, you look when Charles stops. “Oh, I forgot a perfume for ma. I’ll be right back.” Putting his lips together, “Don’t. Move.” You giggle and nod, standing off to the side and browsing your phone as Charles scurries back into the store.

Charles comes back about ten minutes later with the bag in hand. His other hand finds yours as he complains that the line had grown so long and that ‘these poor workers really deserve a raise for dealing with these antics’ which you agree with.

You two bounce between stores more so window shopping but you two did manage to find some things. You restocked your candle selection, got some Charles jeans (both baggy and non-baggy), matching pajamas. You giggle holding the door open as you leave Victoria Secret seeing Charles juggling all these bags.

“Darling I c—”

“No! I got it!” Charles says as you two walk. “Oh! Can we go to the Puma store?”

“So you can go see your and Ferrari’s merch fly off the shelves?” You tease with a grin as a blush spreads across Charles cheeks, “Of course we can. We should get lunch after this, it’s almost noon.” You lead them to the Puma store line. Eventually, you two make it inside and find the nearest employee to ask if they had any Scuderia Ferrari merch. Thankfully, you two ask someone who is not into F1 and they kindly direct you towards the back of the store. You swiftly follow Charles and start taking the bags from Charles so he can happily browse. You stand off to the side smiling before you spot a group of girls. They glance between Charles and themselves, whispering before one notices you and whips her head away as she whispers swiftly and excitedly to the group. Now they’re looking between the two of you and themselves before you offer them a smile and a wave. One finds the courage to come over nervously.

“Hi. Um, sorry to bother you but my friends and I were wondering if we could get a quick picture.”

“Sure! Do you want me to take it?”

“Pardon?” The girl asks.

“Of you and your friends with Charles.”

“Oh! Oh god I’m so sorry,” the girl laughs, “the nerves are getting to me. I mean a photo with both you and Charles.”

“Oh! Oh I’m sorry.” You laugh, “but you want me in the photo?” You had never been asked to take a photo with Charles and fans.

“Yeah! You’re our favorite WAG actually so honestly, we kinda want a photo with you more than Charles but that seems a bit weird.” The girl giggles which gets you to giggle as well. “Though seriously if you two are busy it’s totally fine and just seeing you two is good enough for us.”

“Oh no not at all! Thank you so much for asking. Charles.” You turn. “Charles!” A pause as your boyfriend is lost in his own world looking at the merch. “Charles!”

“Ah!” Charles turns swiftly, “yes dear?”

“These girls would like a quick photo with us if you’re up to it. You can say no,” you grin, “since I am the favorite.” Putting the shoe down, Charles makes his way over as he chuckles, “sure! Though do I need to be worried that I have to fight for your honor? Because I will.” You laugh softly as the others, about three more, quickly shuffle over and you all pose for a selfie. After, the girls quickly ask Charles how his sponsor with Puma came to be before thanking both of you profusely before shuffling off. It was like this for thirty minutes more or less until you could pry Charles away who ended up buying you a jersey with his number along with some sneakers and a jacket.

You take the bag swiftly from the employee thanking them before starting to head to the exit with Charles following. You occasionally glance back, giggling as Charles closes the distance as you two step outside into chaos.

The outlet is packed. You’re quickly engulfed into the crowd, barely hearing Charles shout for you. You turn around quickly and just see a sea of people and even though Charles is tall you can’t see him past the people. You bob and weave slightly as you move with the flow of traffic trying to either spot Charles or an opening. Finding an opening, you quickly slip out of the sea of people. “Charles!” You call out as you make your way back to the Puma store, eyes peeled for your poor boyfriend. “Charles!!”

“Y/N!!”

You whip your head around to see Charles in the sea of people. He tries to wiggle through the crowd to you but it seems to cause more issues and you watch as Charles is swept away. You try your best to match pace but the small window closes and you lose Charles once again. You swear and make your way back into the crowd, to lock eyes with a rather confused and horrified Charles who has just gotten out of the crowd. The two of you play this accidental cat and mouse game before finally you finally grab Charles’ wrist and tug him out of the crowd. “Gotcha!”

Immediately, Charles is wrapping you in a tight hug. “There you are.” He pulls away and starts checking you over, “are you okay? Nobody bumped you too hard did they? They’re packed in so tightly that it’s impossible to walk.” He rambles on.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” You repeat as you cup Charles' face. “Charles. I’m okay. Really.”

Charles nods. “Okay…” Frowning softly, “do we have to get lunch here? There’s so many people. The lines are going to be so long and if I lose you again I might cry.”

Laughing softly you wrap your arms around Charles neck and give him a quick peck. “No. No, we don't have to get lunch here. Why don’t we get lunch somewhere near the shelter and visit some puppies, okay?”

“Please.” Taking your hand Charles starts leading you two to the car, “Can we try cyber Monday next year? I don’t think I’m built for this Black Friday shopping.”

“Yeah,” you laugh gently, “we can try that instead.”

[normansnt]

Almost got you, bitch

(Hazbin Adam x fallen angel!Male reader)

No warnings I think perhaps cursing

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

You were a fallen angel.

You questioned heavens doings after finding out about the extermination, and of course heaven didn't like that.

When you fell, your best friend, Adam, was the most pissed off. Granted he was the one who told you about it one night when he was drunk and you had to get him home but he didn't know you were gonna make such a fuss about it.

You were in heaven, everything was fine you had your friends there, no one important to you fell before you, and most importantly you had him there, your best friend. Why would you care about those misfits in hell??

All though he shouldn't have been surprised, even though you put on a hard shell and make very similar jokes than himself you are a kind soul, a very kind one at that always helping others. But still, you fell, you are not here with him anymore. That sucked.

*flashback*

Heaven was a pretty new invention and adam and eve were trying to settle, for that god sent an angel, you.

When you knocked on the door adam went to open it.

"Who the fuck is here this early?" Was the first sentence he ever spoke to you.

Now you aint gonna take shit from nobody.

"Im the fuck who is here get you asses moving cuz we're going to heaven" you said with an equally annoyed tone.

Thats when Adam knew he liked you. And with the same amount of sass to each other the two of you became fast friends.

"I Almost got you, bitch" yelled Adam. You guys were playing flying tag cuz he just got his wings and they were completely new to him.

"You wish, fucker" you answer with a shit eating smirk. You were the one to teach him how to fight, the one who helped him through his divorce withe eve, you were his best friend.

*end flashback*

"...Shit" adam called seraphim, an idea occurred to him, how about they move up the next extermination, that way he has a reason to get down there sooner and bring you back, also slather some demons.

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

When you woke up in hell, the first thing you saw was someone trying to cut out your organs.

"WAAHH...MOTHERFUC-- WHAT THE HECK R U DOING??" You jumped up and started yelling at the demon.

"Calm down pretty boy, the cannibals pay good money for fresh organs like yours."

"Well guess what jackass I dont give tiny rats ass how good those fuckers pay you my organs aint for sale" and with that sentence you quickly kicked him in the nuts and when he fell to the ground brocke his neck. Yeah...you were kind but god help people who mess with you...literally.

"Well shit, never had to fight without wings."

"...Interesting, and here I thought I would have to come to your rescue in exchange for your soul." Came a...static voice from behind you.

"Uhhh...thank you?? I guess, but there will be no taking my soul." You looked at the grinning man in a red suit.

"Such a shame, you'd be my first fallen angel"

"...Ok, listen can I help you with something ooooorr??"

"Not particularly I just wanted your soul, but alas that ship has sailed, however since you just fell I assume you have no where to stay" his grin stretched a bit as he said that.

"Well, you assume correctly but Im not gonna agree to any deal you have to offer just for a place to stay"

"Well, well, you are smart one even though angles can be so gullible, but no there is no deal the only thing you'd have to do is perhaps act nice"

"I can do that." you answered finally smiling at the strange man.

"They are coming" you whispered to yourself. After you arrived in hell, Alastor offered you a place in the hazbin hotel and you were happy to take it. This was over 7 months ago, in that time you grew close to everyone who was there, they were your found family and now you will protect them even if its against you first family.

Today was the day of the extermination, the day you'd have to fight heaven, the day you's have yo fight Adam. Even though you never admitted to yourself you had deeper feelings for him than friendship, but since he literally went around fucking bitches that kind of lowered your hopes.

The fight was raging on. Since you were the one who literally trained these exorcists they were no match for you. However Alastor was supposed to take on Adam, and that worried you. You knew how powerful Alastor is supposed to be but you have seen Adam's powers first hand.

Just as you suspected Alastor couldn't take on Adam. So Charlie had to take over which made you even more worried. You climbed up and saw Adam hitting Charlie into the hazbin hotel sign.

"NO" you yelled

Adam turned towards you with a smile that said he was ready to kill, that disappeared however when he saw that it was you.

"(Y/N)...."

He looked at you for a moment when someone punched him out of no where.

"Oh shit" you said while looking at Adam flying away and than back at who punched him. Lucifer.

"Lucy?" U asked baffled. You met him when he was still in heaven. Personally you loved his creative ideas while the making of earth so you guys would talk a lot. You also found it highly unfair when he fell and considered going after him, but Adam held you back.

"...Who--? SHIT (Y/N)? Omg why tf are you down here??" He asked half pissed half happy to see you.

"Well a little this, a little that, you know, also I fucking fell so." You replied while hugging him.

"How many of you fuckers do I have to beat before I can take (Y/N) home with me" said Adam very pissed after crawling out from the window he was punched into.

"What?" You asked

"I'm the only one that matters, you messed with my daughter and now Im gonna fuck you" said Lucifer proudly smirking. Everyone went silent while you were trying to hold back your laughter.

"Khmm...its fuck you up, dad" corrected Charlie

"Wait what did I say?" Asked Lucifer confused.

After this a kind of...fight started between Lucifer and Adam. Well, only adam was fighting Lucifer was mostly changing forms.

It was quite funny to watch.

At the end Lucifer won over Adam and he wanted to kill him, but your body moved on its own and you threw yourself at Adam.

Charlie also told his dad to stop.

You stood up from Adams body.

"Take your angel army, and go home" you told him in a soft tone.

He painfully stood up and looked at you with sadness...and something you couldn't quite place.

"(Y/N)..." come with me, please. Is what he wanted to say, but he knew you are still mad at him and that your answer will be no. Or he just didn't want to seem vulnerable in-front of demons.

"I Almost got you, bitch"

Your lips twitched upwards a little bit.

"You wish, fucker"

And with that the angel army and adam flew up to heaven.

When adam arrived in heaven, something downed on him.

"Fuuuuuuckkk..IM GAY-"

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

Is he an (at best) mid white man who thinks he is the shit?

Yes.

Is he a fucking loser though and a lil bitch

Also yes.

BUT YK WHAT.

HE IS FUNNY AF I LOVE HIM AND HIS SONGS R FUCKING AWSOME.

HOPE MY FELLOW ADAM ENJOYERS LIKED IT THOUGH😎

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🦖🧡

[emeritusemeritus]

omg! saw your requests opening, glad to see you writing and I’ve read nearly all of your works! your writing style and fics inspired me to write more and motivate me so I thank thee for that!

i didn’t know if I would be able to request something like this, but you be willing to write something for both of the Weasley twins? you come home from a bad day, it was absolutely horrendous and overwhelming and you just want to forget about it. would you be able to write both of the Weasley twins willing to blow their mind away in bed to try to make them forget about their day? 🙌

Hi lovely Anon! Thank you so much for your kind words, I’m so glad I could inspire you to write more, I’d love to read your work! I hope it’s okay that I added a little Christmas twist. Hope you enjoy! P.s. my own personal headcanon is that Angelina would become a healer after hogwarts, so I made the reader a healer too🖤

Warnings: where do I start… smut, pinv sex, graphic smut, oral (both), fingering, masturbation, slight sub/dom elements, rough sex, overstimulation. Threesomes (no twincest) Readers feeling a bit of a grinch. Healer reader. Christmas stress. Can you tell I’ve worked retail with how much I hate Christmas crowds. Not spellchecker nor beta read.

Word count: 6.7k (some of it is plot I swear)

Fairytale of Diagon Alley

You were turning into the Grinch.

It appeared that when you had kissed your boyfriend's goodbye this morning upon leaving your shared flat above the shop, you had also kissed goodbye to your good mood and any semblance of patience you had left.

There were people everywhere, the whole street of Diagon Alley was packed with frantic christmas shoppers wanting those last minute bargains, forgetting all of their manners and regular etiquette as their heads filled with 'what to get little Timmy' and how Flourish and Botts hadn't even started their sales yet, Godric forbid.

You pushed through the brainless crowds, cringing at the attention you were receiving having walked out of the closed store, protests of unfairness echoing through the street as if you were some VIP patron with early access before the store had opened.   The line of people waiting for Wheezes to open was eye watering and you felt a complex mixture of happiness and sadness for your boyfriends knowing that they would have such a busy day once again, though business would be booming and they'd inevitably make a killing. They'd been exhausted these last few weeks, working extra hours to accommodate the expanse of people whilst importing more stock than ever to see them through peak trade. They'd started the sale two days ago, an offer of buy 3 get 1 free that had skyrocketed sales and had plunged through their stock even quicker than expended, leading to more light nights spent dealing with manufacturers and suppliers to rush through more orders. They did it all with a smile, so warm and welcoming to each customer that it filled you with awe seeing them, knowing that they were running on very little sleep.

You simply huddled down, pulling your coat tighter against your collar to ward off the biting cold and pushed through the crowds with facetious attempts of politeness as you muttered excuse me repeatedly , trying to make your way out of the crowded street. Christmas music was blaring out from the cafe at the top of the street and you cringed as you walked past, the volume almost deafening.

It didn't cheer you, not today. You were just overwhelmed by the amount of people, overstimulated by the ridiculous noise of the music and the constant chatter around you as you were just trying to make your way to work for what you knew would almost certainly be another dreadful day.

You paused outside the entrance to the abandoned looking department store Purge and Dowse Ltd, heaving a heavy sigh to prepare you for the day, having successfully made it through the crowds... eventually. You loved your job usually, but something about Christmas time just seemed to make people more stupid, less careful and much more irate.

The welcome witch was unpleasant as ever as you stepped into the entrance of the building, seeing a bustling waiting room of people with various maladies and injuries that were certain to keep you on your toes today.

"St Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries," the receptionist Barbara welcomed the next person waiting to be booked in, her usual overly-cheery voice ringing out along the corridor, pausing her speech to wave at you warmly as you walked past. Her hair was transfigured into a Christmas tree shape though it was leaning at the top with tinsel wrapped around for good measure and a couple of illuminated lights in her hair that were flickering on and off in an uneven pattern, which you noticed she kept trying to fix with her wand though she was largely unsuccessful.

"Ready for another fun day?" Angelina asks sarcastically as you change into your uniform, casting the usual enchantments upon the regulated clothes to protect them from all manner of horrors. Knowing that you don't have to hide your real emotions from Angelina, you sigh and let out a long whinge, resting your head dramatically on her shoulder. She laughs whilst stroking your hair, the two of you sharing a moment together as you prepare for the day, enormously thankful that at least your best friend would be on the same shift as you today, both of you successful in following your calling to become a healer.

"Just think, 12 hours to go and you'll be back fighting your way back to the flat through the Christmas crowds!"

The whinge that fell from your lips was louder and longer than the first and held nothing back of how you truly felt.

Angelina didn't need to be part seer to foresee the future but she sure got it right in predicting with almost perfect accuracy the horror of Diagon Alley upon your return. If anything, she had downplayed the horror of your return as it seemed even busier than this morning, with people covering almost every square inch of the cobbled street. You briefly wondered if everyone stood on a singular cobble, if there'd be any room at all for more people.

Children were squealing with excitement, some crying at the top of their lungs about being denied early gifts. Three boys in the corner near Fortescue's had found a small patch of untouched snow and were crafting snowballs to throw at each other though their sense of aim was way off and had instead found it much more enjoyable to cast the snowballs into the crowd to hit unsuspecting shoppers who most appeared indifferent to the attacks, probably not even noticing.

It was sheer mayhem and all you could think of was getting home, taking a bath and soaking away the stresses of your very long day. It had been none stop from the second you arrived on the ward, with new challenges and issues that often rendered you speechless. You were beyond stressed and weary, the long days and the disregulation of routine completely throwing you off. You'd barely spent any time with your boyfriends these past weeks, even after they'd employed temporary staff over the busy period. The flat was increasing in mess and clutter everyday and you found yourself caring less everyday, completely void of motivation. Presents needed to be wrapped, some still left to be bought, Christmas cards to be written, food to be ordered and collected. You needed to confirm with Molly what time you'd be arriving on Christmas Eve, the plan on everyone staying at the Burrow in their old bedrooms ready for a big family Christmas seeming more and more welcoming with each passing day as you craved simpler times, away from the stresses of an adult Christmas. You lamented the days at Hogwarts when everything was easy, when it was just you, the twins and your friends around a perfectly elf-prepared Christmas dinner with gifts that were more gestures of love before money and being an adult ruined everything.

Your feet were hurting, you were exhausted, you were sick of fighting through crowds morning and night each time you left the flat. You needed to sort the Floo network but each and every time you resolved yourself to asking Fred to have a look, you'd see him walk in exhausted and the request would fall from your lips upon seeing the deepening purple bags under his eyes. You didn't know the first thing about floo networks or where to even start on fixing it or asking someone to look so you left it alone, the entire thought process dropping from your mind the second you were home every time without fail until you were faced with the unpleasant crowd once again.

The sights and sounds of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes flooded out into the dark street like a lighthouse at sea, the bacon of light that guided you home. As overwhelmingly pleased as you were to see it in all its glory, knowing you were so close to being home you were also a little downtrodden at the sight of so many people still out shopping. The closer you got, you could see George on the third floor near the explosives section, helping yet another customer with their purchases as he pointed out various whizzbangs on the wall between Fred's blaze box and George's compendium box of pyrotechtrix. You couldn't see Fred anywhere but you could spot Verity through the window looking frazzled at the till. You snook around the back and let yourself in with the appropriate charms, begrudgingly taking each painful step up the back staircase near the storeroom to make your way to the flat, the noise and the bustle from the shop falling silent as soon as the door was closed.

You sighed in relief as you toed off your shoes and hung up your bag and coat, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer number of layers that you were wearing as you frantically unwrapped your scarf and tugged off your hat with very little care of what your hair looked like underneath. You wanted to make a cup of tea but couldn't even muster the energy even with magic and so you walked straight to the bathroom and began running a bath, ignoring any messes you could see along the way.

You pulled off your clothes with determination, desperate to rid yourself of the day and soak in the bath full of bubbles. The bath was huge, one of the many benefits of being in love with two very tall men who had both insisted on a bathtub that could accommodate their whole bodies without question.

You lit a candle and placed it on the windowsill to illuminate the room, praying that the outline of your naked figure couldn't be seen by all of Diagon Alley.

Slipping into the hot bath felt like heaven. Your skin was pleasantly tingling from the warmth and you felt your eyes closing instinctively as you head tilted back to rest on the edge of the tub. You felt soothed, both in body and soul as you sank deeper into the water, finally finding peace in your day.

You don't know how long you are lay there floating somewhere between relaxed and dozing until you heard a gentle knock on the bathroom door.

"Well this is a welcomed sight," you hear George say as he steps into the bathroom after you'd told him to enter. He looks tired but happy, his eyes roaming over you in the bath, no doubt trying to see exactly how much of your body was covered by the bubbles. You smile, holding your hand out for him to take as you look up to him with heavy eyes.

"You should have joined me," you smile, knowing that it wouldn't have even been an option, but it was nice to think of.

"I'd have burned down the shop to have jumped in there with you," he says with a deep chuckle, perching on the side of the tub with you, his hand still holding yours.

"You're going to get wet," you say as a soft warning, eyes roaming over his work suit.

"Don't care," he replies quickly, his other hand scooping up some of the extra bubbles, eyes lighting up with mischief as he suddenly blows the bubbles back towards you. You squeal seeing the bubbles flying towards your face and flail slightly to get your face away from the incoming bubbles as George laughs.

"Hello ladies," George smirks, staring at your breasts as they become exposed by your flailing, the bubbles no longer concealing you. Your eyes widen and you scramble to cover your chest with your arms instinctively.

"Angel," he says, one brow slightly raising as he reaches to stroke your concealing arm, gently beginning to pull it away from you, though his touch is gentle enough for you to keep it there if you're uncomfortable. "I've been looking at these pretty tits for years, don't go shy on me now."

With the look in his eye and his smooth voice, you're helpless to resist and pull your arm away from your body with a slight bite of your lip. Seeing his eyes feast upon your exposed chest is instantly arousing, your naked form so vulnerable to his fully clothed self. The mood in the small room has shifted almost instantly, the calm and peaceful atmosphere now filled with a need, the tension between you both so overwhelming. His eyes are half lidded but it's no longer from tiredness as he looks up to your eyes again, pausing as if he's considering his next move before he leans forward, capturing your lips in a dangerously loaded kiss. You want to reach out for him, to run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer to you by his tie but you're wet through and you'd inevitably soak his favourite suit.

"George! Where are you, you're needed out here!" You hear Fred calling up the stairs and pull apart, a quiet sigh of disappointment falling from your lips as your shoulders sink like a deflated balloons. George growls as he pulls away, his head resting on yours with his eyes still closed, evidently we wound up and frustrated as you by the sudden interruption.

"Hold that thought baby okay? 30 minutes and we're all yours, I want you right here when I'm done."

With one last smirk and a delicate kiss placed upon your forehead, George steps out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

You throw your head back onto the side of the tub in frustration, arousal swirling through your body with no outlet now to relieve that need. The thought of having to wait for at least another half an hour was killing you but there was nothing you could do about it.

You tried to stay in the bath just as George had requested but you found yourself growing cold even after enchanting the water back up to the warmth of before once again but you were no longer relaxed, unable to find that sense of peace. You were too wound up, too aware of your naked body, the hardening of your nipples and the ache between your thighs that seemed to be calling out to you for relief.

You heaved yourself out of the bath with a frustrated groan, not even sure what you were annoyed at. Before George had walked in you'd been perfectly content to just lie there and put your day behind you. If Fred hadn't had called out for him, if the shop wasn't open so bloody late, if the customers would just go home. You were spiralling but didn't care, for once you just wanted the night to go how you wanted it to go, for your needs to be met and to come first for a change. Groping for the towel, you quickly dried yourself off and walked into the bedroom, cursing Merlin under your breath at the state of the room. Wardrobe doors left open with various ties scattered around as if someone had been looking for a specific one this morning and simply discarded all the rest. Your pyjamas from last night were thrown in a pile in the corner of the room, the bed wasn't made and various pieces of clutter decorated the vanity that had become a dumping ground for all three of you. You cursed again when you stepped on the corner of a pin badge, one of the many iconic 'W' badges that your husbands wore in the shop discarded on the floor. You reached for your wand and cast numerous cleaning charms, not even caring on how they would clash, just praying that they would sort out the room.

You threw on your comfiest, baggiest clothes and threw the towel towards the rough direction of the bathroom, watching briefly as it got caught up in the crossfire of the charms you'd used.

Gone were the thoughts of a quiet night or any hope of some stress relief fucking that you'd so desperately needed. Apparently your lack of sexual relief had caused you to become increasingly frustrated and short, your lip fixed into a near permanent pout as you sulked about your day. You wouldn't entertain ideas of making dinner, despite your stomachs grumbling protest and opted instead to flip down onto the sofa, pull out your book and ignore the rest of the world- especially the 'Christmas to do list' that lay infront of you almost mockingly on the coffee table.

"You were meant to be in the bath sweet girl," George says as both he and Fred entered the flat after close. Your eyes flicker up to the clock on the wall and saw that it had not been thirty minutes as promised but instead it had taken nearly double that for George to get back to you. You don't reply, only offering a noncommittal shrug as you fix your eyes back to your book, rereading the same sentence for the third time.

"Hey princess, good day?" Fred asks as he throws himself down onto the sofa beside you, arm immediately reaching across the back to where his fingers reach out to run your shoulder.

"Busy."

"Tell me about it," Fred answers, reaching up with his spare hand to undo his top button and loosen his tie, missing the true meaning of your words completely. "So what's for tea?"

You slam your book down onto the coffee table and march off towards the bedroom without a single word, barely holding in your groan of annoyance at his lack of sensitivity. It wasn't just down to you to think about meals all the time, to do the bloody shopping and start preparing a meal when you'd already worked twelve hours, having to fight through the stupid crowds morning noon and night just to go about your day. You knew they'd had a long day too but it didn't trump yours, didn't mean that they automatically got a pass from adulting because they'd been working hard because you had too.

"Angel?"

You rolled your eyes, knowing what was coming. You didn't answer, hoping that George would just go away. You didn't want sensitivity or broken promises right now, you didn't really know what you wanted but you knew that if George came in here to try and reason with you, you'd go mad.

The second he slips through the door, you know that you'd gotten it very wrong. He wasn't coming to reconcile or to ask you what was wrong to fix the issue, instead his eyes told a completely other story.

"Where did my sweet girl go?" He says, eyes fixed hard as he looks at you, suddenly seeming to be even taller than you pictured. "I kept you waiting too long."

You don't reply, knowing that you'd only say something that you'd later regret.

"I agree it was mean of me, getting you all worked up and leaving you like that, so beautiful and needy."

He knew exactly what he was doing, and unfortunately for your pride, it was working.

He moves closer to you now, his firm towering over you as you sit on the edge of the bed where you'd slumped down, neck craned to stare up at him with a look that is softening more with every passing second.

"But there question is," he says as he squats down in front of you, your eyes lining up once again as you threaten to cower under his blazing eyes and dangerous smirk. "How needy are you?"

You can't help it, your chest heaves at the very same time you have to swallow down your nervous energy, altering George to how well his words were affecting you.

"That bad huh?" You don't know if you want to slap or kiss that smirk off his smug face but all you know is that the fire from earlier had been reignited in the most sinful way possible.

"You think Freddie could help with that too?"

At the very mention of your other boyfriend, you feel your eyes widen slightly with the sudden influx of sinful possibilities crossing your mind, your need and arousal doubling as you fight the need to squirm under his forceful gaze. You nod gently, hardly daring to look away from his mesmerising eyes, your breathing rapidly increasing though it's shallow breaths only.

"You need us to fuck away your day sweetheart?" A second voice says from the side, alerting you to the presence of your other love, his eyes just as fiery as his words. You nod again, biting your lip under the scrutiny of them both.

"Words princess," Fred warns, eyes dark as he prowls over to you.

"Please," you say as if on command, submitting to them so willingly that it's almost alarming.

Their smirks are completely identical as they briefly share a look before turning back to you, stalking closer and capturing you in their arms. George attacks your lips again, his tongue snaking around your lips before mingling with yours in a sinful battle of dominance that he inevitably wins. Fred's lips attack your neck as he joins you on the bed, hands snaking around your waist and up to your breasts where he cups and squeezes with just enough pressure that you gasp onto George's lips. Your hips begin to cant on their own accord, too aroused for you to remain stationary as their hands begin to wander. George's hands replace Fred's on your breasts, his favourite place to play on the wonderland of your body whilst Fred's begin to stroke across your legs, caressing your thighs through your baggy clothes that you deeply regretted wearing.

George pulls away from your lips and tits for only a second as he rips your oversized shirt over your head, leaving your tits exposed to him once again. His eyes glaze over as he looks at your bountiful flesh, his eyes tracing the curves of your body and fixating upon your rosy nipples, so hard and aching for his mouth. You cry out when you feel Fred's big hands snaking around your waist and reaching to cup your breasts, squeezing them together and raising them up for George to take into his mouth, his full lips wrapping around your bud as his tongue pokes out to circle it seductively.

"I want you naked beautiful girl," Fred whispers in your ear, his right hand beginning to toy with the waistband of your sweatpants, long fingers edging closer to your heated core with every stroke.

"Please."

George pulls away from your breasts once again and gives you a devilish smirk as his fingers reach into the top of your waist band whilst Fred pulls you back to recline on him as he slips behind you on the bed. They share a brief look of utter mischief before George rips your sweatpants away from your body leaving you completely exposed to their eyes.

Your legs squeeze together as you look between the three of you, seeing them both still fully dressed in their suits with you wearing nothing but a smile between them, like the prey and the predators together.

Fred's lips trace the lines of your ear down to your neck and your chest rises, back arching in pleasure which seems to welcome George back to caressing your tits, his mouth latching back onto the hardened buds. He breaks away from sucking on your nipples to press a line of kisses up the column of your throat until he captured your lips in a blazing kiss once again, his hands caressing your breasts now instead of his mouth.

"Don't know about you mate, I reckon she's soaking wet for us," Fred says to George almost mockingly, as if you're not lay between them.

"Oh I know she is mate," George says as he pulls away, casting a cursory glance over at you before replying to his twin, "I can see that little pussy glistening from here."

"Ah ah ah," Fred warns with a firm grip of your thigh as your legs squeeze together to offer any relief you can find as their words catapult you towards dangerous levels of arousal.

"That was naughty," George chastises, one single finger on his right hand now trailing down the length of your body towards your core, teasing you.

"Will you be our good girl tonight?" Fred asks in your ear, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through you.

"I'll be your good girl," you say breathlessly, needing more than what you were getting.

"Then prove it," George says, standing up in front of you and undoing his belt. You watch with rapt attention as he undoes the belt, looping it out of his trousers and throwing it off to the side, nimble fingers undoing the buttons on his tweed trousers and dragging down the zip.

Your mouth waters when you watch him reach into his underwear and pull out his hard cock, already so swollen and throbbing. You force yourself to look away from the delicious sight, up into his eyes to look for his consent, seeing his eyes dark and predatory.

He holds out his cock towards you, gripping it hard in his big hands by the base, offering it for you to take. You waste no time, slipping out of Fred's grasp to crawl forwards on the bed so that your face as near perfectly aligned with your reward. You kick a tentative stripe up from the bottom of his cock towards the tip, circling the bulbous tip and moaning when you taste the faint salty liquid already leaking from his little hole. You lap it up greedily, allowing his cock to rest on your flat tongue as your lips wrap around the entire head before giving him a long and deliberate suck. The growl that you pull from his lips only makes you want to do better, to suck his harder and take him deeper. You allow your mouth to fill with saliva, knowing how sloppy he likes it, how he likes you messy. You push him deeper into your mouth, tongue working over the sensitive veins and ridges until you open your eyes, looking up at him with big, wide eyes that you know he can't resist. His mouth is open, face contorted into pure pleasure as he pants, nose scrunched up as he watches you pleasure him. He pulls away his hand now, knowing that you can take more of his length and his now free hand reaches out to stroke your hair in a way that shows his love for you even in his dominant state.

You take him deeper still, fighting off the urge to choke as you slip him into his throat, immediately rewarded by the most delicious moans and gasps from above, his hand slipping into your hair to gather it. He doesn't force you nor guide your movements but simply holds back your hair in a way that forces you to know that he holds the power here.

Fred, who had been stroking your body as you gag on his twins cock suddenly sits up, unbuckling his own belt as he moves towards you, no longer content just to sit there and watch.

You're acutely aware of your nakedness between the two men who are still fully dressed and suddenly have a desperate urge for them to be just as naked as you, to see their perfect bodies taking yours. Defying their usual expectations, you take it upon yourself to reach out for Fred's trousers, giving a slightly pull trying to silently communicate your needs whilst still pleasuring George.

"Think our girl wants something," Fred says, the smugness in his voice allowing you to almost hear the smirk upon his face.

George's fingers tap gently on your chin and you look up at him as you pull off of his cock with a resounding 'pop', his whole body fighting off a shiver of arousal.

"What does our princess want?" George says, the dominant edge to his voice almost mocking you.

You don't answer verbally, your hands reaching up to fumble with the buttons on his waist coat, wanting his naked. He's still wearing his full suit, jacket and all except for the long cock hanging free from his unbuckled trousers. Fred's equally as clothed only without his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

"You want us just as naked as you sweetheart?" Fred murmurs in your ear, hands wandering again.

"Please," you say sounding desperate, "want to see your bodies as you fuck me."

"Merlin," Fred curses behind you. George's fingers instantly hook under your chin to force you to look at him and he leans down to place a blazing kiss upon your lips with so much force that it knocks you backwards, your words clearly affecting him too.

You can hardly believe your luck when as you get to watch them undress, having a moment of confused sentimentality that this was your life, that only you were in this position. They were so similar and yet so different, even as they undressed. You watched transfixed as their braces were pulled off their bodies, shirts quickly unbuttoned by long fingers and trousers pulled down their long legs until they were bare.

"Is that better sweet girl?" George mocks, moving to stand in front of you. Fred slips back behind you on the bed, maneuvering you so that he can slide in. You can feel the prominent bulge of his erection as his rests on your hip and you fight to control the urge to squeeze your legs again, feeling largely untouched. "Now because you've been so good."

"Lean back on me darling," Fred coos in your ear, handling you backwards until you're resting against his chest, head thrown back onto his shoulder.

"Let me make you feel good."

His hands slip down over your breasts, his fingers reigniting the hardness in your nipples as his gorgoeus, veiny hands cup and squeeze your supple flesh. His fingers trail down your chest and across your tummy making you squirm, hips raising on their own accord as his fingers trail down towards your dripping core.

You gasp when you feel his fingers dip lower, legs spreading wide as you allow him access. He strokes over your outer lips, barely ghosting your pussy as he teases, touching your thighs, your outerlips- simply anywhere except where you need him.

When his finger suddenly dips within your folds, collecting the juices that are freely flowing from you and beginning to draw a line right up to your throbbing clit. You cry out as he makes contact with your clip, back arching at the pleasure as he begins to circle it slowly, knowing just how you like it.

Your eyes open and you gasp seeing George sitting directly infront of you, his hand wrapped around his cock as he slowly strokes himself, eyes fixed upon your spread pussy as Fred works his magic.

You're close to the edge already, aching for it, the teasing already too drawn out. Fred senses it right away as your breath catches in your throat, hips canting as you fight back the urge and stops his ministrations. You whine at the sudden loss of contact but stop when you feel his hands on your hip.

"You need my cock darling? I'm aching for you."

"Please Freddie," you gasp, rubbing your ass against his throbbing cock, desperate to have him inside of you.

"Up baby," he instructs, tapping your hip as he kisses your cheek. You lift your hips and Fred scoots down a little, lying flat but propped up on the pillow. He reaches down and holds up his cock for you. You stay facing away from him, lying on top whilst holding your weight on your hands as you align yourself with his gorgeous length.

You can hardly contain the moans as his tip begins to penetrate you, the tip slipping in easily with the wetness between your legs. You're breathless as you push his cock further into you, slipping down until you were taking almost every inch of his cock. He's moaning and breathing heavily underneath you as he keeps a firm hold of your hips to guide you, picking you up slightly only to bring you down a second time, his entire length inside of you. You cry out in perfect synchronisation with Fred as you begin riding his cock hard, bouncing up and down in his lap.

You feel sexy, empowered and yet submissive being so spread out and naked, completely open for George's view as he sits with his cock in his hand almost drooling as he watches you get fucked.

Fred's grip is almost bruising but it only serves as a reminder of his control over you, even if you are the one on top as he stops your hips bouncing, choosing instead to pound you from below as he keeps you still, the feel of his cock overwhelming. He bares the brunt of your weight as he forced you to lean on his chest instead of your hands. His thrusts are forceful and powerful with perfect aim as your head falls back from the overwhelming pleasure, your moans and cries unable to be contained.

You whine as you feel George join you on the bed, his hands grabbing hold of your thighs as he attempts to hold some of your weight whilst keeping you spread open for them. His lips find your clit from above, tongue running over that swollen little nub, latching on giving sharp, quick sucks. You're completely done for, the pleasure taking over your entire body.

Your walls are squeezing Fred who's moaning out your name and growling from below, long fingers still brushing your hips as his thrusts get harder as he approaches his end. George's lips suckle your clit with perfect precision, doubling your pleasure and propelling you towards your orgasm in no time at all.

"I'm, I'm," you try to warn but it's pointless, your climax ripping through your body in a fit of blinding light as you scream out Fred's name, hardly able to hold your head up any longer.

You're lost in pleasure, barely registering fred's orgasm that follows yours within seconds until you feel his cum filling you to the brim, cock lodged in you so deep that you feel he's in your tummy.

He waits for you to get your breath back before slowly pulling out of you, shifting you gently so that you're almost lay beside him, his lips pressing a cool-down kiss onto your own as you feel a stream of cum slowly leaking out.

You're breathless and panting but you still need more, turning to George with expectant eyes, seeing that he's waiting impatiently for you to come back to him.

"On your knees," he commands. You sit up onto your knees and turn away from him now, looking back towards Fred who offers you a loving smile as he leans against the headboard, giving you room.

You gasp when George's hands wrap around your hips, his fingers digging into the marks that Fred had left as he pulls your ass right up to the edge of the bed and presses a hand to the skin between your shoulder blades to push your body down. Your upper half falls forward, ass high up in the air as he grips you with force, his cock already pressed up against your core.

"George," you breathe out in desperation, too worked up for teasing.

The cry that falls from your lips sounds almost non-human as he suddenly pushes forward, his entire length slipping inside your already overworked pussy. The curve of his cock drags purposely against your inner walls and your head drops down onto your arms with the force. He shows no mercy as he pounds into you from behind, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing around the room, his balls hitting your clit with every deep thrust. It's agonising pleasure and you scramble with your fingers to reach out for the duvet beneath you to ground yourself. You look up into Fred's eyes when you feel his hand entwine with yours, offering you that support you so desperately needed.

It's a delicious contrast of personality as the usual menace tenderly holds your hand tenderly in support whilst the normally more sensitive twin takes you roughly from behind. He's growling and groaning as your walls stretch and constrict with the pleasure, your body becoming quickly overstimulated as you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer sensory overload.

"George!" You cry out, earning a swift spank to your right bum cheek that seems to echo around the room multiple times. The force of the smack, the jarring of your nervous system and the deep growl that emits from George as your pussy clenched on him is enough to renew your arousal to heightened levels. You can feel that telltale feeling in your lower stomach rising, as if it's slowly taking over your entire body, your skin erupting in goosebumps and your hips suddenly trying to squirm against George's hold. It rises within you quickly until you're squeezing Fred's hand, clawing at the sheets and fucking yourself back onto George's cock, your orgasm erupting. You're silent this time, the slow build of the white hot heat rendering you silent.

"Fucking Merlin!" George cries out, pulling out of you and quickly pulling you down into the bed, turning you over with one slight shove to your shoulder. His fist works quickly on his cock as he looks upon your squirming body, breasts heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, legs wide open and a slight line of drool coming from your mouth. You scramble forwards, your mouth wide open for him as you look up into his eyes with a look that you know will finish him off. You watch closely as his face crumbles, eyes squeezing tightly shut as his fist moves quickly along the long column of his cock, catching against the bulbous tip that looks bright pink.

He cries out as he cums, the viscous liquid spraying your face and shooting into your waiting mouth. You taste him on your tongue, leaning forward to engulf his throbbing tip in your mouth to lick up every drop of the salty liquid that addicts you as you watch him shudder.

You fall back onto the bed in an exhausted heap, flanked by two satisfied men mere moment later who instinctively reach out to touch you, their lips pressing against your slightly sweaty hair and any skin they can reach. Fred offers you his handkerchief to wipe off your face which you gratefully accept, wiping off the quickly drying cum from your cheek.

"You did so well sweetheart," Fred murmurs into your ear, his voice soft and quiet as if speaking louder would shatter the bubble you found yourselves in.

"So good for us," George echoes, his hand reaching out to yours to entwine your fingers as you all fight to regain your usual heart rates.

You're exhausted. Unable to reply back to them no matter how many ways you want to compliment them but can't bring yourself to muster the energy to talk and so you sink down into their comforting hold in complete contentment.

"Not that I mind how it's turned out since I asked the first time," Fred suddenly says, his softness disappearing from his voice as he sounds just as mischievous as usual now. "But what's for tea?"

You smack him on the chest playfully, not wanting to answer his question.

"We could go out," George suggests. You instantly groan thinking of the crowds of people that were inevitably still shopping somewhere, all the craziness of London in general and the number of layers you'd have to put back on. You needed a bath again, cum leaking from you and onto the sheets below, your skin covered in a thin sheet of sweat and most of all you just didn't want to leave the flat again.

"We can order in," George offers, hearing your groan. "Order in and work on getting that Christmas joblist sorted, plenty we can get done before bed."

You don't answer, you simply reach down and pull the covers above your head to hide yourself, wishing it was Harry's invisibility cloak, thinking to yourself  that you'd never heard a worse idea in your life.

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[queen-of-the-avengers]

After All This Time

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Car trouble puts you and your boss in an awkward position, especially when you two have so much history together.

Squares Filled: car trouble (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

It’s a straight shot from your house to your job. Instead of taking the main roads and confronting traffic, you take the back roads which takes an extra ten minutes, but you make up for that with your speed. The windows are down, your hair is blowing in the wind, and your music is on full blast. You pass the halfway point when the thermostat goes from the neutral position to the big bolded H. Smoke immediately starters pouring out of the engine, and you slam on your breaks to prevent the car from blowing up.

“Shit! No, please don’t do this to me,” you beg to no one.

You get out of the car and pull your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your face while you inspect the damage. You pull the hood up and a cloud of smoke bellows in your face. You quickly turn and cough violently.

“No, no, no, this isn’t happening now,” you gasp. “Not today of all days.”

You don’t have time to wait for an Uber or Triple A, so the only other thing you can do is walk to work… in heels… on a dirt road. The time it will take to walk to work will be the same time or more waiting for an Uber or Triple A. Not only are you going to be late for work but you’ll have to apologize to your boss about it. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you but your boss just so happens to be your high school boyfriend.

Steve was the perfect boyfriend. He treated you with respect, didn’t undermine your values, supported you through everything, and loved you unconditionally. Everyone in school thought you two would be together forever and there was a point where you thought that, too. Right before graduation, you got an incredible opportunity to go to a different country and do a study abroad in Russia.

Steve got into Harvard for business and wanted you to go with him. You two applied for Harvard and you both got in, but you really wanted to go to Russia to study for a semester. To spare the sad details, you two broke up. It was one of the most difficult things you have ever done because you were still in love with him.

After coming back to the States, he was already in another relationship with someone. You never thought your story would end the way it did but you forced yourself to move on. For years, you thought you did. You had a few boyfriends but none of them had an impact the way Steve did.

Then one day, you got an amazing offer to work for Captain Industries as a sales director for the entire sales department. One of the job duties as a sales director is to report everything to the CEO, and luck had it that Steve was the CEO. You often had meetings with the different department directors who touch base with Steve so he knows what’s going on with his company.

The first day on the job, you and Steve locked eyes in the first meeting of the day. It had been years since you two have spoken much less seen each other, so you didn't want to make a big deal in front of everyone. You thought he would have said something after the meeting but he left like you didn’t mean a damn thing to him. Maybe he didn’t remember you, but how can someone forget the person who was their first for everything--first kiss, first date, first time you two held hands, first time you had sex, and the first time you ever gave anyone a promise ring. He was the love of your life but maybe you weren't his as much as he was yours.

When you finally reach work, you immediately head to the bathroom to fix yourself up. You must look like a sweaty mess, and your reflection confirms it. Despite the headache forming from how high your ponytail is, you keep your hair up. If you were to put it down, you’ll look worse. You look at the time and curse when you realize just how late you are for your morning meeting.

Forty-five fucking minutes. Steve is going to chew your ass out. You leave the bathroom and interrupt the morning meeting with an embarrassed look on your face. Everyone turns to look at you including Steve. He looks at your hair before locking eyes with you. Time seems to slow down the longer he looks into your eyes but you break eye contact.

“Sorry I’m late. Car trouble,” you mutter.

You quickly take a seat, and the director of marketing slides her notes over to you. You look at her gratefully and look over the notes just as the meeting resumes.

“As I was saying,” Steve says, peeling his eyes from you, “statistics show a slight decline in demand for products. Frank, have you hired two more manufacturing engineers?”

“Yes, we’re training them right now. We have been working hard creating more product.”

“Good. Y/N, how is your department doing?”

You snap your head up to look at Steve and sit up a bit straighter.

“We lost Marissa since she went on maternity leave but we won’t let that stop us from not picking up the slack. Her duties have been spread out throughout the different managers to give to their employees. I have seen a rise in sales by ten percent.”

“Make it twenty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Meetings only last an hour since Steve is so busy so the next fifteen minutes go by easily. Jules lets you keep her notes to look over and copy if needed. Most people filter out immediately but you’re one of the last ones in so you can apologize to Steve directly.

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry for being late. My car stalled on the side of the road on the way to work. I had to walk the entire way here.”

“I need your reports on my desk by the end of the day.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He must not be over your breakup because this isn’t the Steve you knew. You gather your things and head to your office. You almost cry from how stressed you are because you still have to deal with your car. Not to mention your headache is getting worse and you don’t have a brush to fix your hair.

It takes all day to work on the reports for Steve so you’re one of the last ones in the office even though you still have two more hours until the end of the work day. You could leave since you’re salaried but you need to make up time for being late. You walk to his office and knock once on the door, entering when he gives you permission.

“I have the reports for you.” You walk over to his desk and place them there but you don’t leave just yet. “Again, I’m sorry for being late.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. It happens.” Steve looks up and sees you squeeze your eyes tightly from the headache you have. “Come here.”

Steve stands when you approach him, and he gently takes the elastic out of your hair. He threads all ten fingers into your hair and starts massaging the area, and you close your eyes in relief. You open your eyes and look at Steve to see him already looking at you, and he sees the question in your eyes.

“High ponytails give you headaches.”

You’re shocked he remembered that. You were on multiple sports teams in high school and instead of putting your hair in a ponytail like the rest of the girls, you put it in a tight bun at the base of your neck.

“You remembered,” you whisper.

“There’s a lot I still remember.” Steve takes his hands away but doesn’t step back from you. “Go to my personal conference room and take a nap on the couch. You’re overworking yourself.”

“Steve--”

“I don’t want to hear it. Go take a nap and then I’ll drive you home. I’ll pick you up and drive you home until your car is fixed.”

He must not be in a relationship if he’s offering to do this for you. You’re not sure how you feel about that--scratch that you do know how you feel but you’re not sure if he feels the same about it. You slowly walk to the door but pause before you can leave the room. You look at Steve who is already typing away on his computer.

“Now, Y/N,” he says without looking up.

You jump and immediately leave with a smile on your face. The time for you and Steve wasn’t right back then but there’s nothing stopping you from making it right now.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[chelseaknoo]

25 days with Eminem

Eminem x reader

Day 7

The soft glow of morning light barely peeked through the curtains as you lay nestled under the warm covers. Marshall was still sound asleep beside you, one arm draped protectively over your waist. Jackie, unusually cooperative, had slept through the night in his crib, giving you both a rare moment of uninterrupted rest. The peaceful silence was blissful—until a sudden burst of noise shattered it.

"Mom! Dad!" Hailie’s voice called from the hallway, followed by a rapid knock on your bedroom door.

"Wake up!" Stevie chimed in, her voice equally insistent.

You groaned, burying your face into your pillow. "What is happening right now?" you mumbled sleepily, your voice muffled.

Marshall stirred, his hand sliding off your waist as he rubbed his face groggily. "They better not be waking me up for something stupid," he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

The door creaked open, and the girls didn’t bother waiting for an invitation. Hailie, Stevie, and Alaina marched in, still in their pajamas, their faces lit with excitement.

"Guys, come on," Hailie said, tugging on the blanket covering you and Marshall. "You have to get up. There’s a huge Christmas sale at the mall today, and we *have* to go."

Marshall groaned, pulling the blanket back over his head. "Y’all woke me up for *shopping*? On a Saturday?"

"Yes," Stevie said firmly, crossing her arms. "You promised we’d do something fun today, and this is fun. Plus, the sales are insane. Like, 50% off everywhere."

Alaina nodded eagerly. "We’re talking once-a-year deals. You can’t say no to this."

You peeked out from under the blanket, your hair a mess. "The mall? Right now? It’s not even 8 a.m."

"Exactly," Hailie said, as if that was the most logical reason. "If we go now, we beat the crowd. Do you know how packed it’s gonna get later?"

Marshall pulled the blanket down just enough to glare at them, his hair sticking up in all directions. "You think I wanna spend my Saturday fighting over parking spaces and getting trampled by Christmas shoppers? Pass."

"Come on, Dad," Stevie said, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. "It’s not that bad. And we’ll let you pick somewhere for lunch after."

Marshall snorted. "Oh, wow, lunch. What a deal."

You couldn’t help but laugh at their back-and-forth. "You guys are relentless," you said, sitting up slightly. "But what about Jackie? He’s not exactly mall-ready."

"We’ll help with Jackie," Alaina offered quickly. "We can take turns holding him or pushing the stroller. Please, Mom, it’ll be fun."

Marshall flopped back onto his pillow dramatically. "How come every time I try to sleep in, y’all come up with these plans to ruin my day?"

"Because we love you," Hailie said sweetly, climbing onto the edge of the bed. "And because we need you to drive."

You laughed, nudging Marshall. "Well, Dad, looks like you’re outnumbered."

He groaned again, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Fine. But if I get stuck holding bags and taking pictures in front of the giant Christmas tree, I’m charging you all interest."

The girls cheered in unison, practically bouncing with excitement. "You won’t regret it!" Stevie said, already heading for the door. "We’ll be ready in ten minutes!"

Marshall watched them leave, shaking his head. "Ten minutes? It’ll take them an hour just to pick outfits."

You laughed, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "They’re excited. Besides, maybe we’ll find something for Jackie’s first Christmas."

Marshall sighed, pulling you back down into the covers for a moment. "Fine, but you owe me. If they drag me into any candle stores, you’re buying me coffee."

"Deal," you said with a grin.

---

By the time you got everyone dressed and ready, the mall parking lot was already bustling. Marshall groaned as he circled for a spot. "This is exactly what I was talking about. It’s a madhouse out here."

"Relax, we’ll find one," you said, scanning the rows. "Look, there’s one up ahead."

Marshall muttered under his breath but pulled into the space. As soon as the car stopped, the girls were out, bubbling with excitement. Hailie grabbed Jackie’s stroller from the trunk while Stevie adjusted her purse, and Alaina was already making a mental list of stores to visit.

Inside the mall, the festive decorations were in full swing—giant garlands draped across the ceilings, twinkling lights everywhere, and the sound of Christmas music echoing from every store. Jackie, snug in his stroller, stared wide-eyed at the sights and sounds, clearly fascinated.

"This place is a zoo," Marshall said, holding your hand as you weaved through the crowd.

"It’s festive," you corrected, smiling. "Besides, look at Jackie. He’s loving it."

"Yeah, well, he doesn’t have to worry about getting shoved into a Bath & Body Works line," Marshall grumbled.

The girls had already darted into a clothing store, leaving you and Marshall to follow. While they browsed racks of sweaters and jackets, Marshall leaned against a display, looking bored.

"So," he said, turning to you, "what’s the over-under on me getting roped into carrying all this stuff?"

"Guaranteed," you said with a laugh. "But hey, think of it as cardio."

He smirked. "Great. Exactly what I needed—mall cardio."

Just then, Jackie let out an excited squeal, pointing at a bright, flashing Christmas tree in the center of the store. You smiled, leaning down to kiss his head. "You like that, baby? It’s so pretty, huh?"

Marshall watched you with a soft smile, then leaned in to kiss your temple. "At least he’s easy to please."

Hailie appeared suddenly, holding up two sweaters. "Mom, Dad—red or green? Quick!"

Marshall raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Christmas dinner," she said impatiently. "Duh. Red or green?"

"Red," you said at the same time Marshall said, "Green."

Hailie groaned. "You’re no help!" She darted back into the racks, leaving Marshall laughing.

"Why do I feel like this is gonna be the longest day of my life?" he muttered, but his smile said he didn’t really mind.

Marshall let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against the stroller while Jackie babbled happily, smacking his mittens together. "How did I get dragged into this again? Oh, right. *Blackmail*," he muttered, shooting a look toward the girls, who were now debating over scarves.

"You’re a dad," you teased, nudging him. "You signed up for this the second you had kids."

Marshall raised an eyebrow. "I signed up for changing diapers and keeping boys away from my daughters. Not for becoming a human shopping cart."

"Look on the bright side," you said, grinning. "At least you’re not the one trying to decide between sixteen shades of red."

Marshall crossed his arms. "They’re all the same color. They’re just scamming us."

Before you could respond, Hailie appeared out of nowhere, holding up a ridiculously fluffy sweater. "Dad, does this scream ‘Christmas chic’ or ‘I got lost in Santa’s beard’?"

Marshall blinked at the sheer volume of fabric. "That screams, ‘you’re gonna overheat and pass out in the living room.’ Next."

Hailie groaned. "You have no vision."

"I have vision," Marshall argued. "It’s called *common sense*. Go pick something normal."

Alaina wandered over, holding a pair of fuzzy reindeer slippers. "Dad, should I get these for you? They scream ‘grumpy Christmas dad.’"

You burst out laughing as Marshall stared at her, unimpressed. "If you buy those for me, I’m giving them to Jackie and telling everyone he picked them out."

"Don’t drag Jackie into this!" Stevie called from another rack, holding up an enormous sequined Christmas dress. "What about this one for me? It says ‘festive,’ right?"

Marshall squinted at the dress, which was practically blinding under the store lights. "It says ‘disco ball at Santa’s rave.’ You’re not buying that."

"You’re no fun!" Stevie pouted. "Mom, back me up."

You shrugged, biting back a smile. "Your dad’s not wrong. That thing could double as a signal flare."

Stevie groaned dramatically and wandered off to find something "less boring." Meanwhile, Jackie started fussing, clearly bored with all the fashion debates.

"See?" Marshall said, scooping Jackie out of the stroller and holding him against his chest. "Even Jackie knows this is a waste of time. He’s team Dad."

Jackie responded by grabbing a fistful of Marshall’s beanie and pulling it off his head.

"Hey!" Marshall said, laughing as he tried to wrestle his hat back. "Traitor! You’re supposed to be on my side."

You couldn’t stop laughing as Jackie waved the beanie triumphantly like he’d just won a battle. "He’s clearly team chaos," you said, wiping tears from your eyes.

Alaina popped her head around the corner. "Is Jackie attacking Dad? Because I support that."

"Real funny," Marshall said, finally getting his beanie back and placing it firmly on Jackie’s head instead. "Fine, you wear it. It looks better on you anyway."

Jackie squealed in delight, and you grabbed your phone to snap a picture. "That’s going on the Christmas card."

"No, it’s not," Marshall said, but he was smiling anyway.

---

After what felt like hours (and probably was), the girls finally made their purchases, which somehow translated into Marshall carrying three shopping bags while pushing the stroller.

"How did this happen?" he muttered, looking down at his hands. "I told them I wasn’t carrying anything."

"You’re a softie," you teased, linking your arm with his as you walked. "But you’re a cute softie."

"I’m an idiot," he corrected, though his smile gave him away. "Next time, we’re staying home."

The girls walked ahead, whispering and giggling, clearly plotting their next shopping stop. Marshall stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh, no. Whatever they’re planning, I’m not doing it," he said firmly. "I draw the line at Sephora."

"Relax," you said, laughing. "Let’s bribe them with pretzels. Food is the universal distraction."

"Now *that’s* a good plan," Marshall said, steering the stroller toward the food court. "Let’s stuff them full of carbs so they forget about dragging me into another store."

---

A few minutes later, you were all seated at a table with soft pretzels and drinks. Jackie was happily gnawing on a tiny piece of pretzel while the girls scrolled through their phones.

"This is the best part of shopping," Marshall said, leaning back in his chair. "Sitting down and eating."

"You’re so dramatic," Hailie said, rolling her eyes. "You’ve barely done anything."

Marshall raised an eyebrow. "I’ve been your pack mule all day. I deserve a raise."

"Raise?" Stevie asked, laughing. "What are you getting paid for this?"

"My sanity," he said, taking a bite of his pretzel. "And y’all are draining it by the minute."

You laughed, reaching over to steal a piece of his pretzel. "You’re surviving, don’t worry."

"Yeah, barely," he said, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

As Jackie babbled happily in his stroller, Marshall leaned over to kiss your temple. "Alright, as much as I’m hating this mall trip, seeing him this happy kinda makes it worth it."

"Admit it," you teased. "You’re having fun."

He smirked. "Let’s not get carried away. But maybe... a little."

As you all finished up your pretzels, Hailie suddenly perked up, glancing around the food court. "Oh my God, I just remembered—there’s a mall Santa here! We should totally take Jackie to get a picture with him."

Marshall froze mid-bite, slowly turning his head toward her. "A mall Santa? You mean one of those sweaty dudes in a fake beard who smells like eggnog and bad decisions?"

Hailie rolled her eyes. "It’s for Jackie, not you, Dad. And he’s not sweaty! It’s festive and adorable. Come on!"

Stevie nodded, already looking up the location on her phone. "Yeah, they’ve got the whole setup with fake snow and a sleigh. It’s super cute. Jackie would look perfect in a picture."

Marshall groaned, setting his pretzel down. "You mean to tell me you woke me up, dragged me here, and now you wanna top it off with a photo op with some random dude who probably doesn’t even like kids?"

You laughed, wiping your hands with a napkin. "It’s just a picture, Marshall. It’ll be fun. Plus, it’s Jackie’s first Christmas—we need this for the scrapbook."

Marshall leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I don’t know. Jackie seems pretty happy just chilling here. Right, buddy?"

Jackie, oblivious to the debate, babbled something that sounded vaguely like agreement, making everyone laugh.

"See? He’s on my side," Marshall said smugly.

Alaina grinned. "Dad, it’s one picture. You can survive for five minutes."

"Five minutes, my ass," Marshall muttered. "You know there’s gonna be a line a mile long, and I’ll be standing there holding half of Macy’s inventory."

"I’ll hold the bags," you said, standing up and brushing crumbs off your coat. "You just worry about not scaring Santa off with your grumpy face."

Marshall sighed heavily but stood up anyway, adjusting his beanie. "Fine. But if this Santa tries to talk to me, I’m walking away."

---

When you arrived at Santa’s setup, your suspicions about the line were confirmed. It snaked around the winter wonderland display, complete with fake snow, reindeer statues, and overly cheerful elves directing traffic. Marshall took one look and groaned audibly.

"Y’all didn’t say it was gonna be *this* bad," he muttered, glancing at the girls. "We could’ve just Photoshopped Jackie onto Santa’s lap and called it a day."

Stevie laughed, nudging him. "Where’s your Christmas spirit, Dad?"

"I left it back at the pretzel stand," he shot back, earning a round of laughter.

As you all shuffled into the line, Jackie started to get fussy in his stroller. You leaned down to pick him up, bouncing him gently. "It’s okay, baby. We’re almost there."

Marshall leaned over to Jackie, speaking in a mock-serious tone. "Listen, little man, you better behave for this Santa. If he gives you a candy cane, that’s a win for us both."

Jackie responded by smacking Marshall’s face with his mittened hand, earning another round of laughter from the girls.

"Dad, you’re losing the argument with a baby," Hailie teased.

"He’s got my genes. What do you expect?" Marshall said, smirking.

---

After what felt like an eternity (but was probably only twenty minutes), you finally reached the front of the line. Santa was seated on an oversized throne, his fake white beard perfectly fluffed. He waved enthusiastically as Jackie stared at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Alright, Jackie," you said, handing him to the elf. "Time to meet Santa!"

Marshall folded his arms, watching skeptically. "If he cries, I’m saying I told you so."

Jackie, to everyone’s surprise, didn’t cry. Instead, he looked up at Santa with fascination, his tiny hands reaching for the fluffy beard. Santa laughed, playing along and gently holding Jackie’s hand.

"Looks like he’s a natural," you said, smiling as the photographer snapped pictures.

Marshall leaned toward you, his voice low. "He’s probably trying to figure out why this dude smells like peppermint and regret."

You elbowed him playfully. "Stop it. He’s doing great."

When it was time for the family photo, Marshall reluctantly stepped up, holding Jackie as you stood beside him. The girls joined in, arranging themselves around the sleigh.

The photographer adjusted the camera. "Alright, big smiles, everyone!"

Marshall gave the most forced, exaggerated grin you’d ever seen, making the girls burst into laughter mid-photo.

"Marshall!" you scolded, trying not to laugh. "Take it seriously!"

"I am," he said, smirking. "This is my serious face."

The photographer snapped a few more shots before announcing you were done. As you walked away, the girls crowded around the screen to see the pictures.

"Look at Dad’s face!" Stevie howled, showing you the photo. Sure enough, Marshall’s grin was the most ridiculous part of the picture, though Jackie’s curious expression almost stole the spotlight.

Marshall glanced at the screen and shrugged. "What? I thought I looked good."

"You look like you’re plotting Santa’s downfall," Hailie said, still laughing.

"That’s because I am," Marshall quipped, taking Jackie from you. "Alright, let’s get out of here before they try to make me sit on his lap."

The girls laughed the whole way back to the car, and even Marshall couldn’t help but crack a smile. Despite all his complaints, you knew he’d secretly enjoyed every second.

[boyfhee]

ALWAYS ⋆ lhs

prompt · “this—” [ points at their chest ] “—belongs to you. always,” requested

g · fluff warnings · vegetable mentions lmfao wc · 0.6k

note · i tried something new ( sticking to the point instead of over explaing the scenes )

“you’re upset,” heeseung finally says after a series of sighs dancing off his lips, walking up from the couch to the kitchen, taking a seat opposite to you by the counter as you start preparing dinner. “what happened?” 

you start putting vegetables in a bowl to wash them, taking an onion from his hand as he passes you one, eyes lost amidst the unreadable expression on your face, looking for answers. “nothing,”

“did i do something?” he asks again, voice softer than before. 

you shrug, “perhaps,”

“you need to be more specific there, love,” 

you pause, wondering if it’s actually worth telling him— the reason is quite embarrassing, honestly. the look on his face resembles hesitation, you can tell he’s thinking if he’s doing something wrong, along with the slightest of guilt with panic that gleam in his eyes. on other days, you would cup his face and discard every second thought intoxicating his mind, but not today. 

“i went to jake’s aunt’s flower shop to see how you and the boys were holding up with volunteering,” so, you get back to your vegetables, letting the words fall off your lips ever so nonchalantly while heeseung listened with extreme care. “and i saw you being all smiley with a certain someone,” 

“oh,” and you understand that he has gotten the hint in the way his lips curl into a smirk, knowing how you are referring to, and the way he gets up and walks next to you, putting his arms around your waist to pull you closer. “do tell me more,” 

“and i wanted to have a little talk with you guys but,” you continue, as per his request, the frown on your face fighting back to morph into a smile at heeseung’s playful gaze that lingered upon you while your own is busy travelling walls and ceilings. 

“but?” the smile on his lips grows wider. 

“but—” 

“but, you got jealous and left,” he finishes your sentence for you with a mocking smile, knowing exactly the direction this conversation was heading in. “is that right?” 

it isn’t wrong to be jealous, neither is it wrong to accept that you’re jealous, but you know better than saying yes and giving him yet another reason to tease you. “no, heeseung, i was not jealous. i was just concerned,” 

“i see. i was too, about the sales,” he explains, pressing his lips into a thin line. “she was getting lilies, and jake’s aunt particularly told us to smile and greet customers to make them feel welcomed so that they visit again,” 

it had become a saturday routine for heeseung to lend jake’s aunt a hand or two at her shop, along with jay and sunghoon. the boys had been hunting for part time jobs and she offered a perfect deal after her previous employees left almost three weeks ago. it was surely difficult to assist everyday due to classes so they settled for tuesdays and saturdays, with sundays if there is ever an influx of customers. 

“and what if she gives those flowers to you tomorrow?” your question makes him look at you with a blank expression as if he was to say, not again, sweetheart. “c’mon, hee, we both know iseul likes you,” 

“well, that might be true but this—” he points at his heart, looking at you with eyes full of all the love present in the universe, as if you hung the stars in his sky. “—this belongs to you, always,” 

“oh, then i must be the luckiest person in the world,”

you laugh at his corny and yet sweet words, getting lost in his gaze as if nothing else is worth looking at, getting caught up in surprise when he leans down to plant a soft peck on your lips. “i think i’m luckier to have you own my heart,”

[uno-san]

True to His Word (Stanley Pines x Reader)

Greetings! @princeasimdiya12 requested a special Aladdin Inspired short that was a delight to write! I didn't follow the prompt to the tee but I hope that you enjoy what I cooked up regardless. And to those in my inbox, have no fear! For YOUR 🫵 request might be next. Stay turned!

On dry and scorching days like this, traversing through a crowd of folk buying and selling wares was like a death sentence. Not only did the added body heat of the crowd make you dizzy but the added cramped space reminded you of the very prison you were trying to escape from. Your home. The palace to be more specific, but certainly where you grew up.

It was only from your place of privilege that you could call your position as princess a curse. Knowing that your life didn’t simply just hold fancy banquets that filled your belly or expensively imported fabrics from countries that most peasants couldn’t even conceive, it also held a role for you to play. A script that you shouldn’t dare stray from in fear of everything around you crumbling into nothing. The pressure of failing hundreds of years worth of ancestors.

You know. Easy responsibilities of a princess.

Perhaps that’s why as of late you’ve taken to finding your way out from behind the palace’s walls. Without protection of your family and city guard you could simply exist. Not practice another language, skills to attract a suitor, or bend under the will of your parents.

This was your chance, even for a few hours, to be free. With either being yourself or even discovering what kind of person you are without outside pressure. Even getting the chance to know the citizens that you will one day rule beside your partner was a gift that most royals often refuse.

Your attempts at rebellion had been successful only a few times which wholefully gave you a disadvantage when visiting a street market for the first time. Was it always this busy? Or was today a celebration of something far beneath your station that you weren’t even aware of it? Admittedly it did make you miss your palace servants. That pang of homesickness frustrated you after all that talk of freedom. Though perhaps old habits die hard.

“We have newly brought in dresses from our sister nation, for the low, low price of-”

“Fresh fruits and vegetables are available here! Straight from the ground and into your hands for the best prices. Fill your basket and get-”

“Offering trades for any one of my wares!”

Hearing one sales pitch after another was like hearing a cacophony of balls all at once. Maybe you were even being rung yourself as you struggled to walk without getting knocked around by someone far sturdier than you. The hustle and bustle of the market didn’t even allow you the chance to give apologies from the invasion of space.

Your heart raced with all the stimuli you had yet to grow accustomed to, pounding away at your chest as if you didn’t have enough things bumping into you already. It was nearly too much for a pampered princess. Almost. After all, if this is what the general populace have to deal with on a day to day basis, shouldn’t it be your duty to understand their plight on a more personable level?

Suddenly a hand shot through the crowd to grasp onto yours. The contact was enough to knock both the wind and confidence out of you before you were dragged out of the market and off your feet. Looking ahead to see who had grabbed you proved fruitless with everybody you were being brushed past. Even your cries of protest were outbid by the various merchants already calling for attention.

Have you been found out? Was it the guards? Or worse? Some criminal looking to make a big buck with the kidnapping of a princess. The thought made you pale. That, and the ever looming alleyway that you’ve just now realized you’re pulling into to get out of sight from the main streets of the open market. At least it wasn’t claustrophobic.

“Hey!” Your voice finally boomed in the stone alleyway, “I demand that you release me immediately or else I-”

You were shoved against the wall. Your shoulder blade nearly scratched against the coarse surface but a large hand covering your mouth stopped your wince of pain. Staring back into your wide eyes were a pair of brown ones that were dark and foreboding. The man had tanned skinned from days spent out in the sun while his long brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail that hung off of his shoulder. There was a roughness to the man that made you scared, yet…intrigued as the hand used to silence you lifted itself. In its stead the man raised a finger to his mouth for a ‘Shh’

Just outside where you two hid the sound of rushing footsteps dragged your attention to the source. In small groups were guards dressed in armor you could recognize from being from the palace. Your family’s personal colors. Not the city. Though they did not have their blades drawn they still traveled with an urgency.

“Gah, where did she go?” One voice growled while they skulked passed while seemingly not noticing or caring to check the alley you were hidden in, “Scatter and find her now.”

With a scattering of ‘Yes, sir’ the sound of their ever growing search became distant. You still held in your breath as your gaze cautiously slid back towards the stranger. His attention was still towards the entryway to the alley, leaving the positioning of the light streaming into cast harsh shadows across his face to highlight his sharp jawline. The sun nearly made his eyes glow gold.

In spite of the situation at hand you found yourself turned red.

Thankfully only an eternity passed before the man let out a sigh of relief and turned to address you, a wide grin nearly splitting his face in half while he allowed air to flow between your bodies again.

“That was a close one, eh?” He winked at you, “Saw them tailing ya for awhile now. Luckily your pal Stanley was here to help out or who knows what might have happened.” The man, now identified as Stanley, patted your shoulder before stepping out to the entrance to look both ways for any incoming trouble. “What’s got palace guards so hyped up about ya anyway? Must have stolen something good, or…”

His gaze swept back to your still bewildered form and hummed. Was he trying to judge your character at this moment? Or maybe even recognize you as the princess of this city and realize what a prize he’s just passed up.

The palm of your hands finally grew sweaty and you moved to wipe them off on the fabric of your cloak that hid a majority of your form, only allowing your finer curves to shine through. Had you really been so reckless? A part of you was beginning to understand your family’s paranoia a bit better.

“-princess?” “WHAT?”

Stanley gave you a look, “I said, ‘or pissed off the princess’ since you’re, well…y’know…attractive, or…” Now his own pause gave way for awkwardness. His eyes wandered to anywhere but your growing smile before he coughed, “Forget it. Anyways, I’ve got some stuff of my own to attend to so I gotta get-”

“Thank you,” You politely interrupted, raising a hand to tuck away a strand of hair when a ray of light hit the golden bracelet wrapped around your wrist. It had been a gift from your family last year for your birthday and since then you’ve hardly taken it off, even with your peasant disguise. Again he began to stare so you quickly added, “You didn’t have to go to the trouble of helping me out, but you did. I hope to one day pay you back.”

“Oh, pffft, don’t worry about it! Besides, the street trash has to stick together, don’t we? We’re a rare species, me and you.”

‘You and I’, you internally corrected.

He stepped forward with an arm outstretched to wrap around your shoulders, guiding you further into the alley without much resistance from you. Though he did not draw you in, Stan did take charge in what was soon becoming a casual stroll through the streets. Every now and then you’d catch him eyeing your surroundings as if more palace guards would jump from the shadows at any moment to drag you away once and for all.

“Listen…How about your pal sticks around for a bit longer? You might be a rat like me but I can tell you’re new to these streets. I’ll just keep an eye on ya. Make sure the heat has gotten off your back.” Again he winked.

You blushed in return and you caught his grin from the corner of your eye while you glanced away to gather yourself, “At any point should I be worried about you as my guardian?”

“Eh, was gonna rob ya at the end of the night so you’ll be fine ‘till then!” The uproarious laugh that followed afterward made you join in with your own, though not as powerful as Stanley’s.

__

The two of you conversed for a long while. At first it was mainly comprised of Stanley telling jokes that you’d have to either genuinely or politely laugh at, or he’d take his time telling a daring story of some petty theft he’s done in the past with an excitable gleam in his eye. Having no actual street experience of your own you did your best to contribute to the conversation with a few embellished stories of your own.

Though the mood remained light you did catch the occasional glance of Stanley actually trying to take care of you. Either with keeping an eye down the path you both walked, or drawing you into his side in a near embrace when somebody brushed past you to attend to their own business. You felt selfish in relishing in the attention. Especially when you had loathed the same sort from your family.Yet despite all of his talk, Stanley still felt so…safe.

Eventually a silence fell between the two of you that was only filled with the soft dragging of your shoes against the paved ground beneath you. With the sun beginning to fade away you could also just faintly hear the chirp of the bugs that came out at night. It was the exact sort of peace you were hoping to find outside of the palace.

Stanley broke the silence first, “So, ever plan on telling me why?”

“Hm?” You cocked your head.

“The guards,” He reminded you, “Why were the palace guards chasing ya?”

Choosing not to respond straight away you kept your gaze fixated on the ground, drawing in air from between your teeth. You’ve had all this time to come up with a lie. Had you been so preoccupied in his presence that basic safety wasn’t a priority? In the face of your silence Stanley fell out of step with you, instead standing with a stern look in his eye that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

“Don’t try and tell me ya stole something. Else they would have made a ruckus when they found ya, but they didn’t. They tailed instead.” The thoughtful expression he held felt almost unfitting on the man you hardly knew, “Not that I’m paranoid or anything, but-” “THERE SHE IS!” Before the shock could even hit your system Stanley was dragging you behind him again. This time you were able to scramble on your feet faster than before. The peaceful sounds of the night were replaced by the pounding of your heart in your ears. Glancing over your shoulder you could just make out the silhouettes of your pursuers who were hot on your tail.

Stanley’s attention remained ahead. He’d take you left from right without a moment's thought as to where the two of you were actually headed. That became abundantly clear when Stanley finally made a wrong turn. A dead end that branched off to another dead end filled with discarded crates from shipments long past. You heard him curse beneath his breath before trying to find an alternative route. It was too late.

Sensing that the jig was up you unceremoniously placed your foot on the curve of Stan’s ass, shoving with all your might to kick him back into the alley and plummeting into the boxes below. He was left swearing from the fall while you hurried to smooth out your outfit as if to suggest you hadn’t done anything wrong by evading the guards all day who, at this point, managed to catch up to you.

You stepped forward to the clearly out of breath party to stop any perceptive eyes from spotting Stanley. The leader of the pact, whom you unfortunately did recognize, was the first to step forward. Not with a sword in hand but a furrowed brow. “Princess,” The man emphasized as if to ensure Stanley heard, “You’ve been fleeing from us all day. Do you have any idea how worried your parents are?” His tone was polite despite the venom hiding behind it. He didn’t like playing babysitter for someone like you.

“I apologize for making you run around all day. I was being selfish for wanting some outside air. Your dedication in doing so however will be rewarded by my father,” A part of you truly did feel sorry, and prayed that your politeness would soothe over what was sure to be a fight the moment you stepped behind palace walls. When he didn’t reply right away you bit the inside of your cheek.

His eyes must have burned themselves into your soul before he faced away from you. Immediately he began to bark orders to his still recovering guards. Secure a path to the castle, inform his royal blaah, blah, blah blah, blaaaaah…

You were back to being a treasure to protect. Without voice or opinion. For having people’s lives revolve around you it felt like a karmic justice to have none of your own. Deciding to play further into your role you folded your hands into each other, offering no opinions or comments. It would have been infuriating if you weren’t given the opportunity to slide your gaze towards the branching off alleyway where you had kicked Stanley into.

Stanley’s presence nearly made you gasp aloud as you had expected him to have abandoned you long ago. While he still made an effort to hide from the sight of your guards you could barely make out his head poking out from between boxes. It appeared he had time to process the reveal of your status as a princess as his face had a clear look of ‘Really?’

There was an almost embarrassment to it as well, considering all that he had to say about you earlier. Yet in spite of the fear that you would retaliate against such behavior he still stayed. From the shadows he made an obscene gesture that made you giggle and cover your mouth, your bracelet clattering soundlessly against your-

Soundless?

Your eyes snapped to your bare wrist that sported a light tan line. Immediately you search the area around you in the hopes of a light reflecting back from its metallic band. A soft whistle dragged your attention back to Stanley who had swirling on his finger-

Your bracelet.

His grin was infectious as you soon copied it. The bracelet may have been a gift yet it wasn’t one to be robbed with abandon. You had many more like it back at home.

Stanley winked at you while taking a step back into the shadows, out of reach of both the guards and you with each passing second. It was just as you heard the murmurings of your group beginning to prepare for their trip back that you noticed Stanley mouthing to you before he was gone himself, “Told ya so.”

[slamminslamminmcgill]

I LITERALLY ONLY FINISHED EP 1 OF TLOU BEFORE WRITING THIS 😭 this man just has me going fucking insane rn i had to word vomit. spent my whole day on this bc im delulu

warning: homophobia and transphobia, trans fetishization, degradation/humiliation, slurs, vaginal sex, rough oral sex, NASTY daddy kink (like… borderline incest rp and ddlb maybe idk i just work here), hanky code, spit kink, breeding kink, gags, drug dealing (weed and opioids), reader is a sex worker/weed dealer with clit piercings

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/kitty, clit/(t-)dick

It started as a drug deal. A bad habit picked up after top surgery. A rumor that this guy sold opioids. A wink and a nod of the head from across the plaza during a hanging. A few hankies tucked in your jeans, two shades of blue on the right, light green and a flag on the left. You were never sure if he knew what they meant. You’d never had the chance to ask. Until today, you happened to have a favor to ask him.

“Look, you know I’m usually reliable, right? If you could just gimme more time, I promise I’ll get you an ounce on Monday, on me.” That was a pretty decent offer. You usually gave him a quarter of bud every trade, so an ounce for the same price was surely nothing to sneeze at.

“If you’re not ready today, you ain’t gettin’ shit today. Sorry, kid.” Fuck. Ah, well. At least he wasn’t mad at you. Plus, he always called you ‘kid’. It made sense, since he was definitely old enough to be your dad. Maybe he had a soft spot for you. And he certainly met the diagnostic criteria for DILF, but goddamnit, your gaydar couldn’t get a reading on him. You figured the best way to find out for sure would be to offer up your other goods and services and see if he takes the bait.

“Well, uh… maybe there’s…” You took a step closer to him, putting all your weight into your hips hoping they’d jump out at him, “…something else I can offer you?”

They didn’t. His stare never shifted from your face. “Like what?” Joel asked unclockably.

You took the tips of your hankies between your fingers and held them out to him, spreading your wings, a display for attracting mates not unlike that of a peacock. “You know what these mean?” You asked with a quirk in the brow and some devious faggotry in your voice.

Joel crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a cocky, almost sort of try me type stance. “What do they mean?”

You named your hankies, one-by-one. Green, “This one means I’m a sex worker,” Trans, “This one means I have a pussy,” Navy, “This one means I get fucked,” and Cyan, “This one means I suck co-“

“I’m sorry, that one means what?” Joel interrupted, and pointed at your trans flag. He wasn’t just gonna let you gloss over that, just as you’d hoped.

“Oh, this one?” You pinched the tail of the trans flag and let the rest fall to your sides. A cheeky, cherubic, chaotic smile on your face as you taunted him. “It means I have a pussy. I’m trans.”

Joel’s face contorted in a few spasms of different emotions. A blink of shock, a blip of disgust, a second of intrigue, ‘til he landed on confusion. “So, uh…” His eyes crawled downwards to your crotch, then back up to you. “…how’s that work?”

Sure, you could give him the polite conversation explanation of the transmasculine identity, gender dysphoria and its treatments. Or, you could give the simplest and sexiest possible definition that would appeal to Schrödinger’s Straight Man over here. “Was born a girl, cut my tits off, shot up testosterone, and now I’m a man, but I kept my cunt.”

“Fuckin’ Christ…” He grunted, then cleared his throat, trying his damndest to remain calm and bloodbend his newfound erection away. Today was the wrong day for the light wash jeans. His growing bulge was the visual feedback of your influence on him.

A by-the-book boypussy sales pitch. Testing well with the focus group. You took another step with a sway of the hips, encroaching on his personal space but not penetrating it just yet. “Well? Whaddaya think?”

Joel bit his lip and said nothing for a moment. It seemed he was taking his time to figure out what exactly he did think about your revelation. “…Just 2 pills?”

“Just 2 pills…” You nodded, “Just enough to last me the weekend…” and took another step closer, then one more, until you could reach out and rub his bicep. “I’ll bump you up to an ounce, get it to you on Monday…” Your curious fingers started to trail down his arms and over to his delightfully soft dad-bod tummy. “And I’ll show you a good time today… Show you something you’ve never seen before…”

To say you were coming on pretty strong would be a massive understatement. And, hell, touching him? You were coming on like you had a death wish. Your hand slid downward, down to the heat he was packing in his pants, and stroking his rifle in your game of tactile Russian Roulette.

You loaded the chamber…

“All for just two little pills. So?”

Spun the barrel…

“What do you say?”

And pulled the trigger.

“Please, Daddy?”

And with those two whorish words, he snapped. Joel grabbed you by the wrist and slammed you into the brick wall behind him. You gasped in shock and winced in pain. It happened so fast, you barely had any time to think about the mistake you’d just made, but before you could choke out an I’m sorry, his lips were on yours. You moaned into the kiss and he snarled into it, slobbering all over each other in a fit of lust.

“Bratty little fuckin’ queer. So you’re saying you have a cunt, huh, boy? No bullshit?” Joel sneered as he shoved his hand between your legs. He grabbed your crotch and squeezed it tight, delighted to find no bulge, nothing in his way but a few layers of clothing. “Ooh, damn, kiddo, guess you’re right. Ain’t you fuckin’ special…” He let your wrist fall so he could grab your jaw. “Open,” he commanded, and your lips obliged. He spat into your open mouth, and then his lips were back on you.

Your hands scrambled for purchase on his back, eventually clutching his hair and his shirt for lifelines. The second you’d laid eyes on this guy, you knew he’d be a good fuck, and you couldn’t believe your luck. That monumental gamble you took just now had won you the jackpot, and now it was time to bask in your victory.

Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you out of the kiss. “You want your fuckin’ pills, cuntboy?”

“Yeees…” That was why you originally came to him, yes, but now you wanted a whole lot more.

“You want those fuckin’ pills?”

“Yeees, yes, I wan-em…”

“Say please.”

“Pleeease…”

“Please, what?”

“Pleeease, Daddyyy… P-Please, Daddy, I wan- I wan’ the pills…”

“You gonna suck your Daddy’s cock for ‘em?”

“Y-Yeees, Daddyyy…”

“So do it.”

Joel dropped you and let you stumble onto your knees in front of him. You rocked back and forth impatiently as he undid his belt and fished his cock out of his jeans. As you suspected, it was massive, flushed an angry shade of red, and throbbing painfully. He gave it a tantalizing stroke, peeling back the foreskin and pulling it taut on the rebound. You licked your lips at the precum leaking from its slit, waiting for his instruction.

“Open,” He demanded once more. You acquiesced, opening your mouth wide enough for him to stuff his cock in your throat. He let out a deep, husky, growl as he slid down your airway. “Yeahhh, that’s it… That’s it, kiddo…”

Even in your dickdrunk, cockgagged haze, you could guess what was coming next. In preparation, you braced yourself with your hands on his hips, and relaxed your throat as best you could for him to fuck it. Turns out, your intuition was right.

“Fuck, yeah, fuckin’… Fuckin’ choke on it, whore… Choke on Daddy’s cock.” He grunted, grabbed your hair, and held you still while he thrusted into your mouth unforgivably. Tears, snot, and drool were running down your face in no time, and Joel was loving it. “Aw, look at that, yeah, good boy…”

You whined reflexively at the praise, accidentally sucking some spit into your windpipe and choking you in a less sexy and more dangerous manner than intended. Your eyes bulged open and you slapped his thigh twice, tapping out. Thankfully, he got the hint and let you go.

You coughed up the spit and smacked your own chest to clear your airway. “Sorry… Wrong pipe…”

“Take your time.” Joel replied, “Not try’na kill ya.”

Once you could regulate your breathing and you were sure you weren’t at risk of death by blowjob, you got back to work, at your own pace this time. You had the chance to explore him. Stroking and squeezing his shaft and his sack, fluttering your tongue underneath his tip, licking long stripes from the balls to the head. Less force, but no less intensity.

“Ngh, little faggot sure knows his way around a cock, don’t he?” Joel snickered and ruffled your hair. “So good at this, I would’a never believed you don’t got one yourself.”

True, you may not have been blessed with a cock attached to you, but you’d gotten plenty inside you. Not exactly your hometown, but familiar terrain nonetheless. When you felt like you could, you swallowed his length whole, swiping your tongue along his balls as you gagged. Joel threw his head back and moaned into the air, and then, you rode him with your throat again.

“Fu-u-uck, oh, shit, yeah… Yeah, you suck Daddy’s cock… Suck your old man’s cock for pills, and you’ll get ‘em, son... You’ll get ‘em, you fuckin’ junkie.”

You’d honestly forgotten this was about pills. You just got so caught up in the love of the sport, it had totally slipped your mind. Though dangling the carrot of oxies in front of your spit-drenched face was as good an incentive as any, and despite the burning in your windpipe, you sucked him with more power, more speed, more emotion, and more determination. You could taste victory leaking and throbbing on your tongue.

“F-Fuck… I-… I can���t…” Joel’s face was a picture of overwhelming pleasure. He had to pull you off. His wet, pulsating cock popped out of your mouth, and he huffed and puffed wiping sweat from his brow. “As much as I’d like to dump a load in your stomach…” He nudged his boot in between your legs, right up against your burning cunt. “I need to see your specialty, first.” He extended a hand to help you off your knees, then when you stood, hugged you to him and spanked each of your ass cheeks, jiggling them both as he gave his next order. “Take off your pants and bend over. Let Daddy see that pretty kitty of yours.”

You giggled, a goofy, stupid slutty smile on your face, and nodded. “Hehehe, okay… Okay…” You unbuckled your pants and let your jeans drop to the dirt. You stepped out of them and kicked them aside. You turned 90 degrees, put your hands on the brick wall, and stuck your ass out to Joel. He took his place behind you, grabbed your ass, and spread you open to take a peek at your holes. You shivered as the cool breeze ran over your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, I can’t even remember the last time I saw a cunt like this…” Two of his fingers traced your slit then spread your lips, exposing yourself even more to him. He chuckled when he saw your dick piercing. “‘Specially not one with these fancy hood ornaments.” He couldn’t resist the urge to tug on the jewelry.

Naturally, your knees buckled beneath you and you slid down the wall. “A-Ah!” You squeaked, “F-Fuck! S-Sen-Sensitive!” You tried to warn him, but really you were showing off your weak point with the conspicuousness of a video game boss fight.

“Oh, yeah?” Joel scoffed and supplemented it with a smack on the ass. You could feel him kneel down behind you, and he said, “Good.”

And then his lips were on your t-dick and sucking it like a leech.

You had to scream, bad, but it was broad fucking daylight and FEDRA could show up at any second. Instead, you bit down on your hand, sinking all the energy into your teeth as your body collapsed in on itself. Before long, your cunt was dripping down into his mouth, so much so, that there was an audible splash when his lips let you go.

“Christ, you’re a mess. Gonna ruin my fuckin jeans, ‘f I don’t take ‘em off.” Joel stood up and out of his own pants then tossed them beside yours. You heard some more rustling of clothing, felt a swipe up your pussy, then a tap on your lips with wet fingertips. “Open,” he instructed yet again.

You opened your mouth to lick and suck at his fingers, or so you thought. Instead, they pulled away and gagged you with one of your own hankies. Judging purely by the texture, you deduced that it was the trans flag. You relaxed and let him tie the gag more comfortably.

“There.” Joel said, patting you on the ass affirmatively. “Now I don’t gotta worry ‘bout you bein’ a fuckin’ screamer.” Two strong hands took your hips and lined him up with his target. You could feel his head prodding, but not breaching your hole. “Ready?”

You bit down on the gag and nodded feverishly at him. He poked your hole once, then twice, then started to push in and ohmyfuckinggodhe’shugeimeanyouknewthatalreadybutfuckitfeelsbetterthanyouthoughtitwould.

Without the ability to articulate any of those words, you whimpered through the gag and clawed at the wall like a cat trying to get in the bathroom.

“Biiig stretch, kiddo, that’s it…” Joel groaned, “That’s a good boy… Daddy’s almost in…”

Almost in? What the fuck did he mean by-ohshitthatswhatthefuckhemeantbyalmostin… He was so fucking thick that the stretch nearly burned, and long enough to feel like he was excavating your pussy to make room for himself. It was mind-numbing how big he was. He took up not only all the space in your cunt but in your brain as well. You’d never had someone dig so fucking deep.

“There you go, nice and full.” He leaned down to kiss your neck and pin your wrists together above your head. “Daddy’s perfect little cocksleeve…”

He withdrew his hips, practically taking your cunt with him on the way out since it refused to let go, and then speared his cock back into you. His thrust was a shockwave that rocked through your whole body. You let out a garbled moan into the spit-drenched fabric each time he did it. Eventually, he had a steady tempo going.

“Nghhh, so fucking tight… Real fuckin’ tight for a whore. And you’re fuckin’ soaked…” He gave your ass another swat, then stopped moving for a moment. “C’mon, slut, fuck yourself back on your Daddy’s dick. Ride your Daddy’s dick, now-yeahhh, that’s it…” He purred as you started to bounce your ass on him. For a little extra encouragement, he reached out to pet your hair. And for some guidance and a little extra oomph, he slammed his hips forward in time with yours, making his cock hit you twice as hard. “That’s a good boy…”

It was unbelievable, almost intolerable how good he felt. You almost couldn’t bear the thought of fucking any of your regular clients ever again. This was a Flowers for Algernon-type dicking, the absolute pinnacle of nasty sex for just a little while, and you’ll spend the rest of your sex life downhill from here. You’d like to hope that wouldn’t be the case, but none of the other dick you’d gotten in the past could even compare.

And it all stemmed from asking for a front on some oxies.

Joel reminded you of that when he said, “Next time you’re needing a front, I’ll-ngh… I’ll make you work for it, whore… Take you home and fuck you in the ass instead… Let you scream as loud as you need to… Let that little pussy weep for me and it’s gettin’ nothin’… You want some painkillers, then you gon’ hurt for ‘em, son…”

Honestly, the idea of a ‘next time’ had you excited regardless of what hole he wanted to bust open. If you were lucky, maybe it’d be out of mutual enjoyment rather than an exchange. Soon, he struck that special spot inside you, that inner button that has you seeing stars and screaming obscenities into the flag gag. Your hands balled into fists and pounded at the wall. It was getting to be too much to bear. Of course, with your flag in the way, your cries of Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna come! sounded as, “Auck! Auck! Ah gah-ah cah!”

Luckily, Joel spoke fluent slut. “You’re gonna cum? Gonna cum for your daddy?” He knotted his fingers in your hair and yanked you up against his chest. He shoved you both forward until you hit brick, and without an inch of space for you to squirm, he rutted into you relentlessly. “Then do it, slut. Cum on your daddy’s cock. Daddy wants to feel his little man cum all over him.”

God, how could a sentence be so nurturing and so nasty at the same time? So sweet and yet so fucking sick? Regardless of Sigmund Freud screaming ‘I told you so’ somewhere in your head, you came buckets, splashing Joel’s thighs with pussy juice on his every thrust. Your legs gave out around the fourth or fifth gush, and Joel had to hold you up for him to finish.

“Fuck, yeah, keep coming, keep coming, baby, Daddy’s close…” Joel groaned. Every word he said grew more vile and more primal than the last. His only need was to breed. “Daddy’s gonna knock you up, son… Gonna dump some brothers and sisters into ya… ‘N’ you’re gonna fuckin’ take it… Ngh, gonna take my fuckin’ load in ya ‘cause you’re a little cumdump pussyboy whore… ‘S what you’re meant for-shit… Shit!”

He squeezed your body tight and growled into your ear. Hot spurts of his cum flooded your battered cunt. On any other occasion, you’d cringe at some rando calling his load your siblings, but it just felt so good. You couldn’t give less of a fuck what he called it. And it’s not like he was your actual father. He was committing to the bit, a bit that had you mewing and sobbing with pleasure and repressed emotion, but that was a problem for your therapist later.

The world went still as you both came down from orbit. The rest of the QZ didn’t exist in that moment. It was just you and your “daddy”, a man twice your age that you trade drugs with and who just busted a nut in you. Honestly, still a better father figure than most. Closest thing to a dad you had for damn sure.

You felt that paternal vibe from him as he kissed the side of your neck. “You okay, little guy?” Joel asked tenderly. He untied the gag and tossed the flag by your jeans, letting you answer him.

“Mm… Mhm… I’m okay…” You stuttered, still counting on his grip to keep you standing.

“Good boy.” A few quick pecks to your neck and he slipped out, a few drops of his kids pooling in the dirt below you. “Now get dressed. I got shit to do.” He demanded with a final slap on your ass.

You stumbled over to your pants, leaning onto the wall to guide yourself. Even after dressing himself, Joel got to them first, and held them out for you to step into.

“Yeah, there you go, kid. You’re okay.” He cooed, and then clapped you on the shoulders to get your attention. Your head snapped up to see him reach into his pocket and pull out a plastic bag wrapped in tinfoil. He fished out two white pills and gave them to you, just as you agreed to.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” You gave him a shy smile, feeling grateful for the front and the frenzied faux-father-son fucking he just bestowed upon you. “Oh, and, uh… I… I had a good time, s-so if you ever wanna-“

“I’ll see you Monday, kid.”

[anmolsmsblog]

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[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Seven: All Dressed Up @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // Part One // Part Two // AO3

Doesn’t fit in with today’s prompt, but, I did finish this story one year later so...I think that counts for something.

Warnings: nothing major, ~3.5k words

The Words We Share--Part Three

Rowan Whitethorn grew up on the stories of his homeland.  Little myths and legends that fueled his imagination since he was a child.  It hadn’t taken him long to learn how to create his own stories, how to twist tales and give a voice to his musings.  He just never thought it would get him to where he was now.

He stared at the projected numbers for his new release, already there had been two calls for reorders and the official publication date was still a month out.  It was set to be his biggest release yet.

And still he felt…unsettled.

If that was even the right word.  He could spin a villain’s origin story that could chill anyone’s blood.  He could paint the Scotland highlands with vivid accuracy and enchanting detail.  He’d won awards and been featured on dozens of sites and bestsellers lists.  He’d even been offered an adjunct professor position at the local state college to teach creative writing.  But he couldn’t put a name to this emotion roiling through his chest.

Nothing came.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text on the table beside him and Lorcan’s name flashed on the screen.

>>u see this?

A link to the comment section on a website followed.  Aelin’s website.

Rowan’s stomach dropped as his thumb hovered over the link.  He tried to imagine just what he was getting himself into.  He’d experienced his share of feedback in the form of book reviews and he’d seen plenty of other comments from other shows he’d been a part of.  But this…this felt different.

He clicked the link before he could second guess himself.  And he opened himself up to hell.

It ranged from the usual notes from his fans, those that kept up with his books and how he wrote.  And then he found the comments from Aelin’s fans.  Which was where he found the crazies.  The TikTokers, the influencers, the people who absolutely devoured any form of content with their theories, their headcanons, their passions.  Rowan never begrudged a person their hobby, in fact, he encouraged finding something that brought you joy.  But this…this…

xxgalaCREWfan99xx: ok but was no one going to tell me ROWAN WHITETHORN HAD A SEXY VOICE?? Do I have to change my reading habits now??

Readingbaebe: Does he write romance at all?? I refuse to read anything else.

TheMidnightBookClub: to much historyyyy YAWN

BOOKS4LIFE: but y wuz there banter so on point?? Talk about sxxxyy!

Letsreeeeead: @BOOKS4LIFE: I KNOW RIIIIGHT? Tlk abt meet cute??

Jdashbywriter: would love to hear more of your craft Rowan! Thanks for your books.

Some of the commentors were not as crazy as others.  There was a reason he refused to get a TikTok account no matter what Dorian tried to tell him it would do for his sales.  And there was a reason he’d hired an assistant so he didn’t have to deal with any of this.

He reached for his phone, fully prepared to call Aelin and see if she’d seen any of this.  He stopped himself.  He couldn’t let himself do that.  Not after everything that had happened.

Just as he pulled his hand back from his phone, the screen lit up.  His heart made an uncomfortable leap until he saw the name.

“What, Fen?” he demanded.

“Dude, I didn’t know you were dating Galathynius,” Fenrys said from the other line. “Congrats!”

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop reading random comments on the internet.”

“But they’re so entertaining!  Probably doing my job better than I can,” Fenrys replied.

Indeed, Rowan had made the remarkably stupid decision to let Fenrys be his media manager.  It wasn’t that Fenrys couldn’t do a job properly or was stupid himself (an idiot, sure, but that was different) he could.  It was only that Fenrys had a different vision for just about everything when it came to his books.

“Please don’t let the TikTok win,” Rowan said.

“It’s just TikTok,” Fenrys said.

Rowan cursed. “I hate you.”

“I’m just saying,” Fenrys continued, utterly unaffected by Rowan’s disdain, “you’re getting more hits on your recent Instagram reels and followers.  This whole thing will be good for you.”

Rowan wasn’t sure about that. “Is that the only reason you called?”

There was a pause from Fenrys and Rowan felt a distinct rise in dread.  Nothing good came from a silence like that.

“Remelle St. Moore wants you on her podcast,” Fenrys said, the words coming out in rapid fire.

“Oh for shits-sake,” Rowan muttered, “no.”

He remembered the last time he had interacted with the book influencer at a launch party for one of his fellow writers.  Between the alcohol and suggestive comments on her part, he’d barely made it out alive.  Really, it was because of that experience he preferred to keep to his own group of fans, or too himself.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, but she’s got a lot of viewers,” Fenrys said.

“Which is why I agreed to the podcast with Aelin,” Rowan groused, “at least she didn’t try and grope me at a party.”

“No, you just tried to play hero and save her from being stood up.” Rowan could practically hear the grin growing on his friend’s face. “Which must have worked out really good for you based on some of these comments.”

“I’m hanging up,” Rowan said, “no more podcasts.  Or interviews.”

“What if Aelin’s the one asking?”

He hung up before answering.

Leaning back in his office chair, he tried to ignore what Fenrys had said.  Especially the bits about him and Aelin.  He knew that nothing had happened between the two of them.  And nothing ever would.  He’d known it even before he stepped in to help Aelin save face after being stood up.  That hadn’t stopped him from stepping in though. 

He didn’t know what had come over him that night at the restaurant, only that he couldn’t believe someone had stood her up.  He hadn’t known it was her, at first.  Only that Lorcan and Fenrys were commenting on the fact a woman was dining alone and they were taking bets on what she would do.  When he had finally grown tired of their antics, he’d turned to find Aelin swirling a glass of water in her hand looking utterly dejected.

It was a far cry from the Aelin he’d gotten to know over the years.  Headstrong and stubborn, wild and untamed, charismatic and independent.  Something had shifted over the last eight months, though.  He’d been sure to keep his distance, relying on the illusion of finishing his book.  It was mostly a lie.  His book was going along well, remarkable even.  But then Aelin had gotten a boyfriend.  And from the sounds of it, it had been everything she’d wanted.

Pining after women had never been something Rowan did, but after Aelin and Sam had gotten together it felt like that was all anyone ever talked about at the office.  The only response Rowan could think was to take his work elsewhere.  He went back to Scotland to visit his mother, he travelled the continental U.S. He did everything in his power to put some much needed distance between him and Aelin Galathynius.

Which did absolutely nothing.

She had already wormed his way into his manuscript.  And like a fool, he’d insisted she read it.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised she never caught on to his rather blatant illusions.  She didn’t like him, made it clear.  Which was another reason his stepping in at the restaurant was psychotic. 

But she was Aelin and there was something about her that he couldn’t ignore or let go.  And seeing Sam stand her up?  Hell, it made him angry.  And Rowan didn’t even know Sam.

Rowan shook his head and shut down his computer.  He was being foolish.  On so many different levels.

He knew he wasn’t going to get any writing done.  Instead, he grabbed his jacket, keys, and wallet.  He needed to get out of his apartment even if he didn’t have a destination in mind.

.*.

The manuscript stared innocently up at her.  The Times New Roman font was evenly spaced, paper fresh and crisp from the office printer.  She’d used Dorian’s own code to print all these pages out so no one would trace the mass printing back to her.  Technically she shouldn’t have done this.  It was a lot of paper and she wasn’t even on the editorial team for this author.

But Aelin never did like listening to rules.

I thought it was obvious.

Rowan’s words from earlier that afternoon rang in her head.  They bounced around in a relentless beat and refused to be dismissed.  Because they meant one thing and one thing alone: she had missed something while reading his book.  And she didn’t miss things.

So, red pen in hand, fresh coffee on her desk, and a newly printed manuscript before her—Aelin set to work.

Just like with the first time reading Dead Man’s Game, she was drawn into the world immediately.  The setting, the characters, the subtle tones of magic all worked to create a plot that gripped her by the throat.

During this reread, Aelin focused more on Celaena.  Celaena who was reckless and selfish.  Celaena who put her life on the line too many times.  Celaena who loved fiercely and didn’t let anyone hold her back.  Celaena who killed witches and broke curses. 

She stopped reading somewhere around chapter five when something started to prick the back of her mind.  Something she’d tried desperately to stamp down all these years.  Even the past few months.

Though, it had been easier as of late because Rowan had disappeared into whatever writers’ nook he had.  That night at the restaurant had been one of the first times she’d seen him since learning about his new book.

She took a long drink of coffee before she fired a text off to Elide.  She needed someone to rant to about this because she had no idea what was going on or how to put into words what she was feeling.

When her phone rang a few minutes later, she picked it up on instinct. 

“Elide, did you see what I sent you?” she demanded, still staring at the cliff hanger of chapter five.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t her friend on the other line.  It was Sam.

“Aelin.”  He sounded relieved, which only made her blood pressure boil. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, baby.”

Aelin glanced at the Caller ID.  He must have gotten a burner phone and she’d been too distracted to make sure she knew the number.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said.  “I broke up with you, end of story.”

“You didn’t even let me explain—”

“Explain what, Sam?” Aelin demanded.  All the pent-up anger she’d been trying to ignore and push aside rose too quickly to the surface. “That you stood me up again without bothering to try and call, hell, even text me?  Instead, I was left alone. Again.”

The anger burned away the tears she might have shed.  He didn’t deserve her tears; he didn’t deserve anything from her.

“You’re blaming me?” Sam scoffed. “I have a job, Aelin.  I’m a lawyer, I don’t get to sit around all day reading books—”

“Lose my number, Sam,” she said, eyes squeezed shut, “or I swear I’ll give your lawyer ass something to work over.”

She ended the call before flinging her phone across her office where it clattered against the wall.  The pain that ripped through her chest was more than just anger, but sorrow and pain.  She’d wasted so much time over Sam that coming out of it she felt like she was drowning.  She was barely treading water, she was—

“Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

Aelin nearly jumped out of her skin at the deep, careful voice coming from the doorway.  She spun in her chair, nearly careening out of it at the force, and found Rowan standing there.  How much had he heard?  How would he laud this over her head?  Did he judge her at all for the things she’d said?

“Rowan,” she said, far softer than she meant to.  Her skin was blazing over the phone call with Sam and she felt the flush deep in her cheeks, horrified that she was actually on the verge of crying now.

He jerked his chin over to where she’d tossed her phone. “Bad call?”

Aelin huffed a breath. “Sure, if you wanna call it that.”

Rowan stepped into her office, slow and careful as though he expected her to toss him back out.  He was dressed far more casual than Aelin had ever seen him.  With a pair of dark washed jeans and gray sweater, plain leather jacket—he seemed relaxed and at ease.  Not at all how she’d imagined him on a regular week day.

And then, because he seemed to know her so well, he made another comment. “Your boyfriend really seems like a keeper.”

“Not my boyfriend, not anymore.” Aelin didn’t look at him as she grabbed her coffee.  It was shocking how good it felt saying the words, like a weight was lifted off her chest. “Just doing some late-night reading, right now.”

Rowan frowned glancing at the manuscript.  The title page was tossed to the side so it was obvious what book it was.

“You already gave me your edits,” he said.

“Yeah, but I thought I was missing something.”  She shrugged and set the coffee aside.  “What about you?  Why bother coming here?”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, messing the easy style it had settled into.  He didn’t answer her question immediately, choosing instead to fall into one of the chairs before her desk.  The movement was so easy, as though he’d practiced it a hundred times, as though he belonged right in that chair.

“Did you see those comments on the podcast?”

Aelin’s brow furrowed.  Then, startling not just him, but her too—she laughed. “Oh, Whitethorn, you don’t actually read those comments.  Those people are insane.”

“A warning might have been nice,” he grumbled.

Another laugh tore through her, dispelling the sick feeling roiling in her gut. “Oh, poor little buzzard.  Are you traumatized?”

“Yes.”

Dissolving into another fit of giggles, Aelin clutched her stomach.  She couldn’t catch her breath as she kept laughing.  It didn’t help how affronted Rowan look, how confused.  It was…it was actually cute.  Not that she’d tell him that.

“What’s the madhouse got to say this time?” she asked once she’d gotten a hold of herself.  She also reached for one of her desk drawers and pulled out a bag of chocolate she only saved for rainy days.  She popped a truffle in her mouth and shook the bag at him.

Rowan declined the chocolate.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re blushing,” she said, leaning towards him. “Oh, I’ve got to see these.”

“I’m not—no—” he tried protesting but Aelin was already motivated to see what had gotten him so riled up.

It didn’t take long to get the gist of what he’d gotten so riled up over.

“Oh, these people need to touch some grass,” Aelin muttered.  Many of the insinuations and comments were…out there.  Far worse than when she’d interviewed an audiobook narrator known for his smut and spice scenes.  And that was saying something. 

“You deal with this a lot?” Rowan asked.

Aelin looked at him. “And you don’t?”

“Fenrys filters a lot of them,” Rowan said absently, he paused just a second. “You think I get a lot of these types of comments?”

“I—” Aelin only then realized what her comment sounded like. “You’re a famous author, the crazies exist everywhere.”

She fought down the heat rising in her cheeks while Rowan only smirked.

“That’s it?” she asked, tightly, “you wanted to compare notes on comments?  You could have called.”

“Seeing what you do to your phone, I don’t think the call would have gone through.”  He met her gaze, green eyes intent.

Hell.  He must have heard more of that phone call than she’d have liked.

“Yeah,” she said dryly, “I guess I don’t like phone calls.”

They sat in silence together for far longer than Aelin would have thought possible.  She couldn’t help but shake her head at the fact.  Drawing a finger over the last few lines she’d read of Rowan’s manuscript; she snatched another truffle.

“So,” she said, “can I ask you something?”

Rowan raised a brow. “As long as it’s not gonna make it on another podcast.”

She rolled her eyes. “No need to fear, buzzard.  This is off the record. It’s about Celaena.”

Rowan shifted in his chair. “Why?”

Was he annoyed?  She couldn’t quite tell.  He wore a frown, that charming shit-eating grin long gone.  It was replaced by something guarded.

Aelin drummed her fingers on the manuscript, wetting her dry lips. “She’s based on someone close to you.”

“Close enough,” he shrugged, but Aelin had long ago learned how to read people.  He was tense, worried. 

“Does she know?  The woman she’s based off of?” With far more bravado than she felt, Aelin rose from her chair and came around the table.  She leaned against the desk, facing him, and crossed her arms.

“Aelin—”

“Or is she just supposed to figure it out along the way?”

She wasn’t mad, really, she wasn’t.  More, shocked than anything.

“To whatever end,” Celaena said, pointing the sword to the horizon where the ship holding her captive lover could be seen retreating. “I will find you.”

And Aelin remembered the last time she’d reviewed Rowan’s book.  Where she’d told him to raise the stakes, to let his characters face the unspeakable, to let them be reckless, to let them love.  And here was Celaena.  It wasn’t just that, but Aelin had shared those exact words with Rowan. That had been eight months ago.

Romance, Whitethorn, should be consuming for a character.  Let them have a purpose, let them have a duty to fulfill, to whatever end.

“To whatever end, Rowan?” she asked.

“I’m not allowed to find inspiration in real things or people?” He was still sitting, looking up at her the almost perfect picture of innocence.

She nudged his foot with her own. “Rowan.”

“Why does it matter?” he insisted.  He rose from his chair and it struck Aelin then how big Rowan was.  He was practically a tree—broad shoulders, thick muscles, at least six feet, probably six-four.  Aelin had never really felt small before, delicate, or breakable.  But next to Rowan? 

She lifted her chin to meet his gaze.  She didn’t want to hedge around this question, this tension brewing between them anymore.  She would wait out his answer no matter how long it took.

Rowan leaned closer to her, close enough that Aelin could smell the pine and salt on his skin.  He was close enough that she could see the flecks of deeper green amid the light in his eyes.

Her heart rate picked up.  It would have been embarrassing if she thought about it a little more.  But now, all she wanted was for Rowan to answer her.

He shook his head, just barely, and muttered something under his breath.  It was something in Gaelic if she had to guess.

“You really don’t get it,” he said.

“I want to hear you say it,” she insisted.

“You really are impossible, you know?”

“So I’ve read.”

A small smile quirked his lips and before Aelin could say anything else, he reached out to run a thumb down her jaw.  A shiver ran down her spine with anticipation. 

“I like you, Aelin,” he said, thumb still tracing her skin, “and I have for a while.”

Something clicked in her mind at those words, an understanding of sorts and she furrowed her brow.

“Is that why you disappeared for seven months?  You were here practically every day and then you just weren’t—” she trailed off slowly as the pieces fit together. “Sam.”

Rowan shrugged as though her words had no effect on him, but she felt the barest hint of pressure as his fingers tightened along her jaw.

“I had a manuscript to finish,” he said, “didn’t help that you hated me and then you were happy with someone else.  So, yeah, I left.”

As if on instinct, Aelin reached out and fisted a hand in his sweater.  Somehow in the last twenty-four hours since the podcast, the last week since the pseudo-date—she’d gotten attached.  Which was both hilarious and terrifying.  But was she surprised?  No, no, she really wasn’t.

“I was going to tease you for writing romance into your book,” she began, head tilted to the side, “but I think being the brilliant inspiration behind Celaena will be a lot more fun to hold over you.”

Rowan cursed, shaking his head. “I’m never going to live it down, am I?”

“Nope.”

They moved at the same time, coming together in a kiss that Aelin would later describe as the best first kiss she’d ever had.  One of Rowan’s hands delved into her hair, the other dropping to her waist to pull her closer.  Aelin wrapped one hand around his neck, just as desperate to keep him close. 

His lips were hard, bruising against her own, but Aelin couldn't find it in herself to care. All she could think about was the fire burning within at the feel of him, the taste of him.

“You gonna take me on a date first, Whitethorn?” she gasped, breaking the kiss.  She shivered as on of his hands slid along the bare skin of her thigh. Wearing a skirt did seem to have its perks.

“Already did that,” he replied.

She gaped at him, ready to tell him off. He cut her off with another kiss, which Aelin supposed was just as well.

In the end, no one would get the real story about what really happened that night or how it happened.  But maybe, along the way, a future book would hold some of the details.

end.

[corruptedcaps]

Eco Warrior

I can't believe the nerve of those corporate jerks! All we were doing was peacefully protesting their evil company and they threw this gross sticky chemical stuff all over me! I should wash it off but I need the evidence for when I go to the cops tomorrow. It's infuriating how they think they can just silence us like that. But you know what? This won't stop me. I'll fight even harder now. We're in this together, and we're going to make sure they're held accountable for the damage they've done to people and the environment.

Change of plans with going to the cops, I woke up to find the chemicals had soaked into my skin. They haven’t left any evidence in me. I guess I should be thankfully. Although I think they may have contributed to this tan I have now. But that's not the point right now. I need to focus on getting to the new protest today. We can't let their tactics deter us. We have to keep standing up against their injustices and fighting for what's right. Let's get out there and make our voices heard again.

You won't believe how well the protest went today. Our voices were louder than ever, and it felt like a turning point. But here's the craziest part – those corporate guys actually came over to apologize for splashing me with chemicals! Can you believe that? They said it was a mistake and that they want to make amends. They even offered me a role as a protest liaison within their company. It's wild, right? I'm torn though. Part of me wants to take the chance to make change from the inside, but another part worries it might just be a ploy. What do you think babe?

So, I just got back from my first day as a protest liaison, and I'm kind of surprised. The corporation is actually really nice, and they went out of their way to make me feel welcome. They even gave me a bunch of free makeup, creams, and lotions to try, as a way to show their products aren't harmful. I've already put some on, and I have to admit, they feel pretty good. They make my body tingle all over, especially my boobs. Bigger? No I don’t so. It's probably just the outfit I'm wearing today. I think you just like what you see, mmmm come closer baby.

It's frustrating to deal with some of my protestor friends calling me a scab and a corporate shill just because I'm working with the corporation now. I have no sympathy for their attitude. If they can't see that I'm trying to make a positive change from within, then that's their problem. Honestly, it feels like jealousy more than anything. I mean, the corporation even gave me a raise already and has let me use all their products for free. That must mean I'm doing something they value. Plus I’m sure it doesn’t help that I look so much better then them now as well. The company’s products really are like magic. Mmmm all this talk of how good I look I’d getting me in the mood, take off your pants.

Like my new car? My company bought it for me for doing such a good job. Protest liaison? No they’ve moved me into marketing and sales where I’m excelling. It helps that I’m a walking billboard for them. As for the protest, honestly, I don't really care about it anymore. Things change, priorities shift. This is where I am now, and I've got better things to focus on than those who still think shouting on the streets will make a difference. It's all about playing the game right, and clearly, I'm winning. So, if you'll excuse me, I've got more important matters to attend to than the past.

Ugh, those protestors are getting on my nerves. Yesterday, they nearly ruined my new fur coat as I was walking into work. Can you believe their audacity? Pathetic losers, the lot of them. I need to find some muscle to deal with them, get them out of my way once and for all. It's like they're stuck in a never-ending cycle of futile resistance. Well, I won't let them stand in my way or mess with what I've built. I am vice president now after all, I deserve respect. Time to take control and show them the real power of influence.

Oh, look at you now. Splashing you with those chemicals did wonders, didn't it? Just like they did to me. Of course at first I had no idea the chemicals were changing me into the mega bitch you see before you but once I realized what my companies products were doing to me, I couldn’t get enough. It’s so hawt to see the concentrated formula change you so quickly. You've become quite the imposing figure, muscular and mean. It's good to see loyalty in action. From now on, you're my enforcer. Those protestors won't stand a chance with you by my side. Let's make sure they understand that challenging me comes at a price. Together, we'll show them what happens when they fuck with me.

You know what? It turns out, it was a much better plan to turn those protestors into my new executive board. All it took was a little splash of those chemicals, and their loyalty was sealed. With them backing me, it was easy to ascended to the position of CEO. Funny how things work out, isn't it? They thought they were fighting against me, but now they're working for me. It's a powerful reminder that sometimes, the best way to bring about change is from the inside. And now, I've got the influence and control I've always wanted. Make less products? No dear we’re doubling our output now, I want an army.

[lilimalia]

ROSE HIP TEA // multiple characters

SPECIAL EVENT // POST !

MALE CHARACTERS [batch I]

SYNOPSIS... Valentine's Deals you say? Well... We do have a special tea brew just for the occasion!

CHARACTERS... diluc, zhongli, ayato, alhaitham (al-haitham), childe, xiao, kazuha,

DISCLAIMERS... fem/afab reader, valentine's special! This is the batch, and batch II will be genshin's most popular females. Xiao's part has a bathing scene, and Kazuha's has a flute playing reader.

BARISTA'S INTEL... I went after the most popular characters so I apologize if your favorite isn't on here... blame google statistics... And also, I may have chosen a song that sounded 100% like Diluc singing it, am I simp? Yes.

CAFE TUNE... Sway // Michael Buble

DILUC RAGNVINDR

The manor shines like jewels across the grassy plains of Mondstadt. Sunrise rays reflecting off it's clear windows. A beautiful morning, only right for such a sweet day.

Waking up, you shift towards your left, the bed creaks under your body, as you search lazily for your husband. Mind still groggy from the morning rising.

"Diluc?..." you call, finding that your side has been left by your husband. Startled, you rise, searching frantically for your lover.

"Diluc?... Did you leave for work again?", disappointment laces your face, your eyes furrowing as you begin to rise. It seems that even on the day of love, your own lover holds no bias.

Throughout the day, the glistening hope you had held that Diluc would come home, began to fade. The day goes by slowly, as you drag your burdens on your shoulders through the city of Monstadt, watching as lovers and friends a like smile and jump for joy as they receive flowers. But, Valentine's Day doesn't have to be lonely... Right? You don't have to depend on Diluc. You've got Klee! The sweetest girl in the world!

Except that Klee is with the Dragonspine Alchemist that Kaeya speaks fondly of...

The day seems to pass slowly, sun to moon, your mind is preoccupied... Your legs carrying you like feathers, threatening to snap at any moment. Sadness carries your body like a leash, leading you through out the day, gloomy under the lack of your lover. Perhaps it had been to much to hope he would put aside work for you... Arriving at the Manor, you open the door,

"Adeline... Could you please prepare a salt bath? It's been a rough day..."

"The maids of all left to celebrate the occasion dove... Are you alright?" Warm hands wrap around your waist, grasping at it slowly as your lifted off your feet. Oh, your wide awake now.

You look down to see Diluc, a soft smile fading onto his lips as he holds you up, large hands firmly gripping at your body as he speaks.

"Happy Valentine's, now, I believe we are due for a 5 star homecooked meal my love."

And a saccharine smile blooms across your face, face lining with wrinkles from your joy, as you grasp his face within your hands. <3

ZHONGLI A.K.A MORAX

The consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor walks across the bustling city of Liyue. Left free from his tasks, his eyes gaze upon the sales of the day.

It seems that many of the shops have opened sales, tempting, and appropriate for that of Valentine's Day. Who was he to deny the offer?

"Greetings Mr. Shitou, if you don't mind, I would like to see the wares you have for today..."

"Ah! Mr. Zhongli, what a pleasure to see you here again! Yes, yes, we do have some lovely jewelry for the day of love sir!"

Shitou opens a case, glittering black it shines in the afternoon sunlight; setting out three pieces of jewelry that shine across the table. Eye-catching to any and every that passes. Studying his selection of choices, Zhongli examines the cut of each jewel, from swiss to dahlia, before his eyes lay upon a particular necklace. Refined it is, a green jade glistening in the rays of sunlight, the gold around it embracing it like a newbord.

"This necklace... The quality is indeed impeccable... I will take it!"

"Lovely choice sir! Would you also like our special packaging just for this Valentines? It'll only cost another 10 mora!"

Of course... Only the finest material for his lover. How could he refuse. Zhongli returns that night, presenting his gift, towards his lover, who only deserves the best of the best.

AYATO KAMISATO

Kamisato Ayato craves nothing more but to be within the soft comforting touch of your body. To find his solace in your own, to wrap his arms around your waist and curl you up into his own body.

But... The duties of a Commissioner do not cease.

His eyes wear tiredly, drained and dragged downwards by the extent of his work.

"Sir Kamisato, your wife has registered a room within the Komore Teahouse and has put it on your tab. She had told the staff to personally deliver this purchase to you..." his right-hand calls calls, poise and proper as a small awkward chuckle lifts from his lips.

Ayato is no fool. He knows your games, and like a fish to bait, he plays along.

"Thank you Thoma, I will... Deal with the message accordingly." The Commisioner chuckles, his eyes darting playfully towards his servant as he watches the blonde fidget from the clear daring intent of the message.

Excusing the poor victim, Ayato lifts from his seat. Body crackling as his bones unstiffen. Free from it's bonds of constriction.

Poise and elegant, the Kamisato greets Taroumarou at the front, closing the door behind him to avoid the gazes of the public.

"Why hello there Taroumarou... Would you happen to know which room [Y/n] ordered herself?"

"Woof woof! Woof!"

"Room 7? Why thank you kind sir." Ayato teases. How he understands the animal, is out of his understanding...

Walking down the hallway, he knocks on the door, before entering in, pleasantly surprised to be greeted by your smile, cheerfully lit in the yellow light of the sectioned off tea room.

"Ayato! Ayato! Come sit, I knew you would come to find me. Lay down, allow me to massage your back and relax. You've been working to hard..." you call, patting your lap with your hand, motioning -also- to the warm cup of tea that sits freshly prepared right in front of you.

Kamisato Ayato smiles sweetly. How lucky he is to have a wife so endearing. And so, on the night of White day, Kamisato Ayato breathes freedom, and he is grateful for your gift of comfort.

ALHAITHAM / AL-HAITHAM

The humid sweet air of Sumeru makes its presence known throughout the tavern. The scent of sweet muddled berries and alcohol combined entices the men and women alike. Like sticky honey, the people swarm like bees.

Sitting across, you gaze lovingly towards the man. The -newly recruited- Acting Grand Sage. Who glares back at you unwavering as the drinks are poured beside you both.

"What is it that you find so peculiar about my face that entices you to constantly glare at me?" Alhaitham speaks, his slim hands grasping over the drinks to pass over to you.

"I'm not glaring! I just think you have very... Distinguished facial features. Frankly, it's quite the worthy trait!" You argue, smiling at the gesture of the drink as you sip on it. The spicy and sweet taste of alcohol rushing over your senses.

"There is nothing interesting about my face... It is simply fresh from constant morning washes."

"Only you would brag so carelessly about clear skin dear Alhaitham..." you mutter, now glaring playfully at the Sage.

Maybe it was the trick of the light, but from your seat, you swore you saw the faintest hue of rosy pink against the tip of his cheeks.

"Tch... If that's all you have to argue about my facial features... Then perhaps I have won this debate by default." He grins, twirling the frosted glass of alcohol in his hand; defined by veins that just barely crawl towards the tips of his fingers. His other hand, placed boredly against his cheek.

Perhaps he was fishing for compliments...

"Well fine! To start, you have beautiful emerald eyes! Perhaps it is an acquired taste... But I find them quite the attractive feature. Furthermore, you also have the coolest gaze, like a fox from the lands of Inazuma... Not only that, but you have the softest looking cheeks!"

Alhaitham pauses.

"...Softest?..."

"Of course! Your cheeks are adorable! Like a little child, I just want to squish them!" You giggle, taking another sip of your beverage.

"[Y/n]... Perhaps the alcohol has gotten to your head..." he states, his voice meekly hinting concern.

"No... I think I'm alright... It's only been an hour..."

"No... I think that's enough for the night. The Akademiya does not heed its progress because of one drunken student..." He responses, pulling your now empty glass away from you as he sets out the mora for the bill. Sliding his body towards yours as he lifts your now weakened state up.

"Come on... I'll walk you home."

"When did you become such a gentlemen?! Are you sure you don't plan to just walk yourself home and leave me stranded?"

The Sage does not respond. Already supporting your body against his own as he steadies himself. Had you not been so drunk... You may have been able to witness the pink hue on the Grand Sage's soft cheeks.

What a shame...

CHILDE / TARTAGLIA / AJAX

The smell of baked apples blossoms out of your mud oven. It's aromatic scent spreading like fire across your home. The cold Sneznhayan air clouded over, protecting your home like a blanket.

The sound of the door creaking draws your attention away, like a bird call.

"Ajax! Is that you?" You call, hastily throwing your mittens to the table as you run towards your husband.

"Hey girlie, what's got you so excited? Miss your great and formidable husband already?" He chuckles, throwing his bow and sword which bounce nimbly of the wooden floors.

You glare at him playfully, nudging his shoulder as you pull him away from the door.

"The house smells good... What did you make? I also got you some fish personally lined in by yours only!" He grins, roughed up hands tugging at a course bag that drags heavy by weight.

You can't see him, back turned to him as you pull out the apple pie but...

You know, he has those sweet Azul eyes, gazing at you like a puppy. Endearment practically pooling out of them... Has he trenches into your shared home. Bag over shoulder, work clothes stained red.

But it doesn't matter. He is with you, by your side, and alive, and that is all that matters to you.

XIAO / ALATUS

The translucent colors of rainbow are etched out in front of him, their life beginning and ending; he thinks.

The night is young, the calls of the wind usher him, but he is unable to answer.

"Xiao... Are you alright? Bubble baths are supposed to be fun... Not a way for you to test your death stare..." You inquire, melodic voice lacing with concern.

His back is too you, and for this he is grateful... Xiao does not know why, but his face burns, not a sharp pain, but a fleeting burn, one that spreads like wildfire across the whole of his complexion.

"I am not "death staring" anything mortal... Dare you accuse the Adepti of such trivial things?!"

"I am no mortal Xiao... And even you know it..." You hum, your voice gaining closer to him, until it is right at his ear...

He does not reply. Scared that his own voice may waver in the heat of the moment. He feels your soft hands rubbing against his body, massaging all his aches and wounds he never knew were there.

For a while... No one says a word, not the trees, not him, and not you.

He likes it better this way, he thinks. The way your body is so close to his, as he watches the bubbles in front of him fade away slowly, popping every second.

He likes it this way, he knows. How you stay your distance, but soothe him, nonetheless. How you begin to hum your signature tranquilizing tune, slowly eases the aches of his Adeptal body out of him.

Xiao does not know love. And he does know humans.

But you aren't human... You are a divinity.

And he will forever love you for it.

KAZUHA KAEDEHARA

 Kazuha lays comfortably beside you, back supported against the dark tree trunk.

He listens to the winds, that hum to your tune, as he watches you play the flute. Watching as your nimble fingers flick upwards and back down, sending forth the sound of the hollow wooden instrument.

Your eyes are closed, entranced by the music that you play. Soul and body devoted to your craft. When, unfortunately, the song comes to it's ending.

"So? Any thoughts dear Ronin?"

"None at all my dove... Your music is as enchanting as ever..." He murmurs sweetly, reaching out to pull your hand into his own, curling the tips of his fingers around yours.

"You flatter me to much Kazuha... Surely there was some sort of noticeable mistake?" You mutter, glancing at him and then your captured hand.

"None at all... None at all." He says, reaching out.

His hands clasps against your cheeks, the fresh spring Sakura petals falling around you and him. He smiles, like nothing else matters.

As if you are his world. And him, yours.

And perhaps that is true... As you nuzzle yourself into his grasp, laying your face against his rough hands, scattered with scars, but still your home.

And your forever world.

SPECIAL BREWS...

Room 7 // a reference to Japan's beliefs of the lucky number 7, which is tied to prosperity and Buddhist tales

Apple Pie // snow white reference, and a symbolic way to represent the red color commonly seen for Valentine's day and love

White Day // the more commonly celebrated holiday in Japan instead of Valentines. the day traditionally is a holiday towards the female partners of the relationship gifting their lovers a present and appreciating them (like [Y/n's] gift of comfort to Ayato)

BARISTA'S INQUIREMENT... Late Valentine's Day post because I was out on a date but!! Hope you enjoyed, have constructive criticism? Please do tell! I haven't written fluff in a long while... Also I may or may have not been biased towards Al-haitham's part...

word count. varying

Tag List Form !

©-FUTURIST... Please do not plagiarize, themes are edited by me, reblogs allowed, do not repost on any other platform!!

Banner credits: @ERIIMYON

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Day two: Contemporary

Ao3

Kurt wasn’t supposed to be baking today. Sure, it was Black Friday and he could’ve been up at 3 am and gone with Rachel and her new boyfriend to line up outside of some store. But frankly the deals being dished out aren’t the same as his childhood. Where is his 75% off televisions, America? Long gone are the days of waking his dad up to go to the mall on Black Friday. The sales just aren’t worth it when you can get a much better price thrifting or learning to sew your own clothes, which is exactly what Kurt has been doing since he got his sewing machine. Ironically, one of his last Black Friday purchases when he turned 16.

Plus, cooking Thanksgiving dinner is exhausting. Rachel is little to no hope in the kitchen. Kurt even cooked tofurkey for her and a small real turkey for himself. All Rachel added to the meal was a store brought pie; “Kurt the little grocery up the block is so cute!”

So, he wasn’t supposed to be baking but the apartment was empty and he was putting off writing an article for his internship at Trend-Z, a fashion magazine trying to appeal to the younger generations. This week’s topic “Fashions of Old Yore in the Contemporary World” was supposed to be a transitional piece from everyday wear to holiday. But Kurt doesn’t believe simply using the word “yore” makes it holiday themed.

Anyway, he’s baking and avoiding. The oven is well heated and his first batch of Christmas shaped sugar cookies actually look like trees and reindeer; a huge improvement over last year’s dicks and blobs.

It’s nearing 3pm when Rachel and Charlie (the new boyfriend) emerge from her bedroom. They came back from shopping around noon and gone straight back to bed but not without stealing a fresh sugar cookie.

“Good you’re up!” Kurt says, “try this.”

He hands her a spoonful of batter.

“New recipe?” Charlie asks.

“Experiment more like it,” Rachel replies, “needs less flour and I think you should add honey.”

“We don’t have any honey.”

She shrugs unhelpfully.

“I can run to the store,” Charlie offers.

Kurt shakes his head but is grateful for the offer. He kinda hopes Charlie sticks around because he’s the nicest of his roommate’s boyfriends thus far.

“I’ll go, just do me a favor and take the cookies out of the oven when the timer goes off in seven minutes.”

Charlie salutes him.

That’s how Kurt ends up doing a little shopping on Black Friday. Hopefully the grocery stores aren’t full of crazies.

Speaking of crazies, Rachel texts him the minute he steps into the store.

Rach: can you please get me heat protective spray I just ran out

Rach: oh and dental floss!

Rach: and apples! I think the ones in the fridge are bad

Kurt tells her “sure thing” and puts his phone in his back pocket. It vibrates again while he grabs a basket. This time it’s her boyfriend.

Charlie: Rachel is also requesting semi-sweet chocolate chips for the experimental cookies. But didn’t want to bug you again

He rolls his eyes but replies back that chocolate chips were already on his mental list.

Lining his items up makes Kurt realize just how bizarre they are: semi-sweet chocolate chips, flour, heavy cream, honey, apple sauce, apples, dental floss, heat protective spray, orange juice, and lemons.

He barely looks at the cashier, slightly worried to see his reaction to such items but the cashier, name tag says Blaine, starts up a casual conversation with him. Having worked in retail himself, Kurt knows how rough the job can be especially after a holiday so he’s polite and keeps up the conversation.

It’s nice to talk to someone new. It’s easy and over a little too quickly. Plus, Blaine is unarguably adorable.

Kurt wishes he wasn’t worried about cookies burning in his oven or maybe he could’ve asked Blaine when his shift ended and if he liked coffee.