#don’t at me about how the pictures are all not square in their little lines i did NOT do it in a good program

[mildmayfoxe]

lately

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Naughty or Nice?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: smut, fem!receiving

Summary: This year, you’re going to ask Santa for something only you have been able to give you thus far. Orgasms.

Square Filled: Christmas (2021) for @spndeanbingo

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

x

Normally, the mall is a place you and your friends avoid during the holiday season, but you heard that they were hosting auditions for Santa this year. Rumor has it, that someone super attractive got it. Again, you’re not one to go man-hunting at a crowded mall with children and families running everywhere, but here you are.

Your dating life hasn’t been all that great. It mostly consists of hookups and one-night stands that can never get you to orgasm. Only your pink ice cream clit vibrator has ever been able to do the job, so you’re hoping to come here and maybe meet a willing Santa to take home. Maybe if you sit on his lap and wish for orgasms, he’ll be inclined to give you one.

It’s worth a shot.

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this,” your friend, Beth, says.

“What? Men who audition for Santa usually aren’t men from this town. They’re all married and they don’t want to take the joy away from their kids. Whoever it is, is from out of town, which means he can be hot, single, and eager for a hookup.”

“I thought you were done with those.”

“No, I am done with hookups from men who only think about themselves. I’ll be able to take one look at this Santa and know if he can jingle my bells if you know what I mean.”

Beth laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think parents would allow their children to sit on a sexy man’s lap.”

“Only one way to find out. Come on.”

The area where kids are meeting Santa is already crowded with families, and the line is already three stores down from the start. When Dean heard about the Santa auditions, he put in his name when he was drunk. What harm would it do if he decided to be Santa for a night? On one hand, he can make a lot of children’s days by being Santa. On the other hand, he could meet a kid’s single mom or their sexy aunt and take them home. It’s a win-win.

“Okay, I thought you were joking before, but you’re really going to do this?” Sam asks his brother.

Dean pulls on the red coat and smirks at his brother. “Hot chicks, Sammy.”

“Kids, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “It comes with the job. Just go find something to do. This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“You’re relentless.”

“Dedicated, Sam,” Dean smirks.

Sam rolls his eyes and leaves the room. He decides to head back to the motel room instead of sticking around. Dean finishes getting ready and walks out with one of the mall coordinators. As soon as the kids see him, they cheer at the thought of being with Santa even for a minute. He stays true to his character and plays the best Santa he can be for the kids also while looking out for anyone single and willing to go home with him.

“Looks to me like he’s a regular guy,” Beth says to you as you inch closer to the front of the line.

“Beth, you are married so I don’t expect you to see this but I caught a glimpse of him as he was putting his costume on. I think he was carved by the Gods themselves.”

“You’re relentless,” she rolls her eyes.

“What? I am just trying to participate in Christmas traditions.”

“You don’t even have any kids.”

“I’m practicing…?”

“By asking Santa for,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “orgasms?”

“Yes.”

Beth laughs, and you get closer to the front of the line. Dean takes a picture with one of the little girls who just asked for a pony when he locks eyes with you. For just a few seconds, it’s like time has slowed down just for the two of you. Even from where you’re standing, you can see how green his eyes are.

“Next!” the mall attendant yells.

“Good luck,” Beth whispers and steps off to the side where the parents wait.

The mall attendant gives you a weird look, especially when you step up on the platform where Dean is. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it even though you’re getting some dirty looks from parents in line.

“Well, who do we have here? What’s your name?” Dean drawls when you sit on his lap.

“Y/N.”

“And have you been a good girl this year?”

You smirk when you hear the double meaning in his words.

“Oh, I’ve been a very bad girl.”

Dean’s eyes darken. “You know the deal. Bad girls don’t get presents.”

“Might you make an exception?”

He licks his lips, and you can’t help but watch his tongue. “I might. Depends on what you want.”

You lean in so that your mouth is close to your ear. You don’t need everyone in the mall to hear this.

“Orgasms.”

“Bad girl or not, I think I can help with that.”

“I’d hope you would,” you grin.

“Meet me after in front of Barnes and Noble.”

You forgo the picture and leave to give the kids what they came here for. Dean shifts in his seat to hide the erection you gave him. He’s not trying to scar any children or piss off any parents.

“Did you ask him?” Beth asks when you walk away from the place.

“Yes. God, he was so much more attractive up close. He was so… firm. I’m going to meet him after he’s done. Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime. I have to get back to Jared. He already started drinking eggnog without me.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know how it goes,” you wink.

You wait anxiously in front of Barnes and Noble until the very last child has had her turn with Santa. The more you’re by yourself, the more you psych yourself out. Was this a good idea? You don’t even know the man. He could be a murderer for all you know. Okay, maybe not that but he could have dark secrets in his closet.

Before you can convince yourself to leave, a man who you believe is Santa walks over to you wearing flannel, jeans, and a black jacket.

“So, have you decided if you want to be naughty or nice?”

“Whichever is more fun,” you grin.

“Naughty it is.” He holds his hand out and you take it. “I’m Dean.”

“Y/N, but you already know that.”

He even has a hot car. Once you see the shiny black Impala, you decide you’re going to milk Dean for everything he’s got before he leaves. He might very well be the best one-night stand you’ll ever have.

Dean takes you back to his motel room where Sam is reading a lore book. He looks up when the door opens, and he shakes his head when he sees his brother isn’t alone.

“Out, Sammy.”

“Dude.”

“Would you rather watch me fuck her?”

“That’s something I’m not opposed to if you’re into that sort of thing,” you say.

“No, thanks,” Sam pouts. “I’m going to get a room far from yours.”

As soon as Sam leaves, Dean pulls you into him and presses light kisses down your neck.

“So, are you going to unwrap me?”

“Damn right, I am, and I’m going to take all night to do it.” Dean lays you down on the bed and runs his hands down your legs. “Are you wet for me?”

“Undress me and find out.”

Dean practically rips your clothes away, and you don’t even think about needing them tomorrow at the moment. All you want right now is his mouth and fingers on you. Dean cups your pussy and runs two fingers through your slit to confirm that yes, you are wet and ready for him. He falls to his knees and you spread your legs open wide for him.

He grips your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed before burying his face between your legs. Some of the men you’ve been with hated going down on you, so you haven’t had a man down there in a while. Just the simple act of Dean sliding his tongue through your folds is enough to bring a squeal out of you.

“Fuck, Dean, that feels so good,” you moan and grab his hair.

“Good. I’m not stopping until you’re dripping down my chin.”

Dean massaged your clit with his tongue before sliding down to your entrance. He tongues you rapidly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can’t come unless your clit is stimulated, but you honestly think Dean could just lick you and you’d explode for him. Maybe you’ll test that theory later tonight when you go for another round. Dean is the kind of man you go multiple rounds with.

“Shit, Dean, that feels so good. I’m gonna come.”

“Come all over my face.”

You don’t wait another second before exploding around his tongue, and he laps up every drop you’re giving him.

“God, you taste like Heaven,” Dean moans.

He kisses your clit once before standing up. You stand and kiss him even though you can taste yourself on his lips. You undress him until you’re both naked, and he turns you so that you’re facing the bed. He gently pushes down on your back until you’re on your hands and knees, and he grips your hips and tugs you hard enough for you to lose your balance. You fall face first on the bed with your ass in the air, just how he wants you.

He grabs the base of his cock and squeezes to prevent his release from coming too soon. He pumps twice before sliding the head of his cock between your pussy lips.

“Dean, skip the formalities. Please, fuck me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He grabs both sides of your hips and slides into your pussy slowly so that you can feel every inch. You gasp from the stretch but he doesn’t stop until you’re completely full of him. You grip the sheets and push back into him as much as you can from your position. Dean pulls out only to slam back in, and you can’t help the loud moan from coming out.

“Fuck, Y/N, how are you so tight?”

“You feel so good, Dean,” you moan.

Thankfully Sam isn’t next door or else he’d hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and your beautiful moans.

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Get yourself closer to the edge. I want to come with you.”

You reach down and rub your clit in fast hard circles. It’s been so long that you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d thought you would.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m close again.”

“Come all over my cock.”

You do as he says and explode all around him. You squeeze his cock several times which brings Dean over the edge. He slows his thrusting to ride out both of your highs until neither of you can give anything more. He pulls out of you and falls onto the bed next to you.

“I hope you’ve got more than one round in you.”

He smirks. “Baby, I can go all night.”

You love Christmas time.

x

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[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done. 

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’. 

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face. 

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout. 

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh. 

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind. 

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further. 

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time. 

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her. 

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no. 

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused. 

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday. 

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner. 

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.” 

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true. 

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan. 

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy. 

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair. 

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly. 

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you. 

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response. 

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…” 

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands. 

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers. 

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand. 

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world. 

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist. 

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?” 

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.” 

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it. 

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face. 

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin. 

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt. 

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence? 

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms? 

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him. 

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm. 

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder. 

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on. 

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you. 

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast. 

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?” 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises. 

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment. 

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter. 

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt. 

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate. 

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him. 

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along. 

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

[therossgarden]

I am so so so so so TIRED to see people fatshaming two perfectly healthy girls because they have round faces. It’s disgusting.

The actresses of Mai and Azula are on point for their roles. Hell, if they were chosen there must be a reason, it’s not like there’s no Asian actresses out there they could choose from.

People can’t accept that Azula can have a characterization beyond “crazy and sadist sicko”. She’s a perfectionist. She’s an asset to her father. She’s jealous of Zuko’s birthright and of how it might take what she has away. Those are things that OG Azula too had. The only difference is that we actually see it in season one and have a background on her, rather than writing it in a rant. And what has been added only makes her a more complex character, given the change in the family dynamic as well.

And Mai? The actress is talented, she delivers a good Mai, and does justice to the character. She’s 17 and at the beginning of her career, of course it won’t be perfect. She gets to grow. Thing is, you guys won’t let her, because a square jaw scares you so flipping bad that you feel the need to shame her for it.

Everyone is a body positivity advocate until a girl with a rounder face shape is cast as a character in a live action you are NOT forced to watch? Seriously?

I’ve seen so many people on the internet calling them all sort of names, fatshaming them, insulting their work without even focusing on the acting. And I’m like, what’s to fatshame there? Let me tell you: nothing.

If I have to put it through your thick head like this, so be it. Even though I hate talking about and comparing bodies.

This below is a picture of Azula’s actress.

She has the face card, she has the jawline, and she has a fit, enviable body. And you still have the audacity to “fat-shame” her?

These two pictures are in costume. Again, face card and an enviable body. She even has the expression for Azula. You see a girl with a rounder shape of face and will automatically go “no she’s too cute to be Azula!!” Dude. No. When she will actually deliver as the crazy girl we know, she will devour. She will, and you all will switch back because that’s what you are, slimy switchers.

And now, onto Mai’s actress, a very beautiful girl with talent and looks. She is literally so pretty, and you dare hate on her? You dare shame her for how she looks? From what I’ve heard she’s a minor, too, so this makes you 100000% more slimy and undeserving of any sympathy in my book.

This is her, this is the girl.

She’s literally so pretty. Maybe she hasn’t got the same facial structure of Mai, but she delivered all her lines she had in the little screen time and with the discutibile scenes she was given. She was good. But you see a square jaw, a rounder shape of face, and are immediately triggered.

And you can’t even use the stupid argument of “she’s fat”, because this is literally her.

A very normal, very healthy young woman. Not as skinny as OG Mai? So what? She’s still a fricking thin girl. Nowhere as “fat” as you haters make her to be.

I shouldn’t have to explain common sense and basic decency to grown adults, and yet here we are.

This is honestly so frustrating. In the year of 2024 you can’t possibly justify insulting girls like this, with no shame. It’s absolutely idiotic and shows very a big lack of brain cells. I see you, haters, behind your device, with your insecurities and shame for yourself, laughing at two girls who made it farther than you ever will. You can critique the acting once you’ve seen it in full potential. Until then, shut your tramp up. This is very small dick energy of you.

I don’t see why I should treat you with kindness when you are so eager to make this kind of jokes about pretty and in shape girls you are very obviously jealous of. Go touch some grass, incels.

[pennyellee]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: champagne confetti pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 14K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 release date: 24.1.2024 23:00/11 PM CEST - 17:00/5 PM EDT

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, unprotected sex, jk is selfish af, jk is delulu, oral (fem and m receiving), spanking, implied cum swallowing, creampie, soft yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, choking, rough sex, pussy pounding, bruises, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

author's note: so, ehm, this story got way outta my hands, it was supposed to be a goddamn rom-com with enemies to lovers trope - i wanted to build around the character trope of Rachel Green from Friends because she is my favourite character of all times, what i wanted to build around was how Rachel was offered a job at Louis Vuitton but it was in Paris - that was supposed to be the whole plot (with slight changes ofc), well and somehow it went in a different direction. Nonetheless I really enjoyed writing this fic and i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much. See you on the 24th chummers, love you! 🩵

“I know you took it,” you said, crossing your arms on your breasts. The heels of your black leather boots echoed in the apartment when you turned to face him.

“Took your breath away by that heated kiss, sexy, certainly. Otherwise I did not take anything.” Jungkook scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. The tension in the room was palpable as you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. You blinked twice at his cheesiness. The tip of your tongue moved to rest on the bottom of your upper teeth, your smile spreading on your face. The chuckle came out of you so naturally, laughing at his ridiculously ridiculous behaviour.

“Don’t play dumb, I know it was all you. You malicious sabotaging petty boy—” You retorted, articulation perfectly clear while the words laced with underlying frustration and anger.

He sighed, weariness settling over him. “You think I stole your portfolio to sabotage your career? You’re giving me too much credit, love.” Here he comes.

“I said nothing about my portfolio, Jungkook.” You said playing with his name on your tongue. A tense silence hung in the air as he considered your words, clicking his tongue, clearly annoyed and you were just getting started.

“I managed to figure that out. A drink?—” He offered, shrugging her statements of like snow in summer whilst he moved to the small bar that was a part of his spacious living room.

“I don’t want a drink, Jungkook. I want it back now,” you replied, your tone cutting through the casual offer. The anger in your gaze intensified, fuelled by the frustration of dealing with his nonchalant attitude.

“Let’s talk, baby.” He gestured towards the living room, as if trying to usher you into a more comfortable setting for the impending confrontation. He knew this was just a little shower, the real storm was still far away, giving him space to prepare.

As you moved, you couldn't help but notice the contrast between your demeanour and his. While your arms were still crossed defensively, his posture exuded a calm confidence that irked you further.

You took a seat on the edge of the sofa, not willing to fully settle into the illusion of camaraderie. Jungkook, on the other hand, sprawled onto a nearby chair, the picture of nonchalance.

“I need that portfolio to get a job because a certain someone has to be bitchy and sabotage my whole career because his big ass ego cannot take rejection. Give it to me,” you fired off, your words sharp and accusatory. He leaned back in the chair, smirking.

“Those are very bold words, Y/N. I would prefer to think of it as a wake-up call for you, not sabotage.” Your incredulous glare only intensified.

“Are you fucking serious Jungkook? A wake up call? You’ve just jeopardised everything I’ve worked for, and you’re calling this a wake up call?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked onto yours.

“I can get you a better job.”

You scoffed. The audacity of his response fuelled the simmering anger within you.

“You can’t get a shit, so give it back to me, and I’ll be on my way,” you requested.

Jungkook’s smirk remained, an infuriating mix of arrogance and nonchalance.

“No,” he said, smiling. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, the frustration reaching a boiling point. He leaned back, seemingly unperturbed by your rising anger.

“What do you mean no?!” you shot back, your voice sharp.

“You were about to make a decision that would have consequences beyond your imagination. I had to intervene.”

“What the fuck are you on again?” Jungkook’s gaze remained fixed on you, the intensity of his stare almost unnerving while your voice went an octave higher. Your frustration reached its peak, and you stood up, pacing the room as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, trying to calm yourself.

You needed that portfolio, it was a collection of years of a work and your best work to be specific. The lousy new version won’t get you a job at no high-profile fashion brand and you cannot afford to go lower than your last position.

“Alright—” You said defeated, turning yourself to face him again, you put off your black leather jacket and fixed your low ponytail, slumping back to his sofa. Spreading your arms on the backrest and cross your legs.

Jungkook took a moment to breathe in the sight before him; he was throbbing for you.

“—what do you want?” you asked. He leaned back further into the chair, putting his masculine tattooed arms to rest on the back of his head, showing his abs from under the white tank top he is wearing.

“What do I want?” he mused, as if contemplating the question but he already knew.

“Spill it out.” You barked and he chuckled at your eagerness. He got up from his seat and dangerously slowly walked towards you.

When he reached you, both of his arms pressed to the leather of the sofa inches from you, caging your body. Your breath stammered as you looked at him towering over you, the golden chain around his neck hanging.

“Firstly, I want you to be my good girl, apologise for being a brat the other day and admit there is an “us”. Secondly—” he whispered seductively, closing the approximate distance while doing so. He was right in your face, looking over at your lips evidently he was controlling himself to not attack them. He invaded your personal space. The sudden shift in atmosphere left you breathless, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intoxicating energy he exuded. “I won’t apologise for any shit, now secondly?” You said while trying to hold your horses. You hate to admit your pussy was clenching and leaking under his gaze. He was attractive, and no one could deny that.

His fingers grazed your cheek gently, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You swallowed hard, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

“I want these feisty little plump lips wrapped around my thick cock—”

.

.

.

read here

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy - @mylyus-blog - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim

ps: lemme know if you want to be additionally tagged! 🩵

lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

[luminoustarlight]

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Three

Lines are beginning to blur between you and Anakin.

◂ chapter two ▸ chapter four

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 5.2k | read on ao3

warnings: alcohol, age-gaps, body image insecurities (anakin), sexual fantasies/content, swearing, a little bit of mean anakin

“Tell me everything! Is he everything you thought he’d be? Totally dreamy? All stoic and boss-like? Oh, what does he smell like? Expensive?” 

Your best friend has barely taken off her shoes before bombarding you with questions about your first day working for Anakin Skywalker. You give her a welcoming hug before taking her hand and leading her into the living room. “Come on, I’ve already opened a bottle of wine.” 

Two empty glasses stand next to a middle-shelf Pinot Gris on your coffee table. Sabine takes it upon herself to pour the wine and pulls the granny square blanket from the back of your couch over her lap. She looks like she’s settling in for a bedtime story. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Lay it on me.” 

You situate yourself on the opposite end of the couch and slip your legs under the blanket. You take a small sip of wine before attempting to answer any of Sabine’s questions. Your first day at Skywalker Enterprises went by in a blur. Meeting your boss was not at all how you imagined it would go. It was all so clumsy. Anakin seemed more like an embarrassed school boy than the confident CEO you were expecting. He looked like he saw a ghost when he saw you sitting behind your desk. And then, in the car on the way to his house, he addressed your butt. 

“Let me know if your butt gets too toasty,” he said. It was so incredibly adorable because you could tell he let a little bit of his guard down when he said it. Obviously, he didn’t mean to. Because no sensible boss should talk about his assistant’s butt. Especially not when you’ve only just met each other. You found it endearing. 

But then, after the initial awkwardness faded and you continued talking to each other throughout the day, there was a sense of familiarity about him. The structure of his sentences when he spoke reminded you of someone. You’re just not sure who. 

“He’s not really what I thought he’d be like.”

“How so?” Sabine asks. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, unable to explain the stirring of feelings and emotions in your chest. “He’s… he was sort of awkward when we first met. Like, stuttering and fumbling over his words. Almost as if I made him nervous.” 

Sabine nods slowly with her eyes narrowed. “Go on…” 

“Well, that’s crazy, right? The fact that I could’ve made him nervous?” 

“Not necessarily. Look at you. You didn’t have a successful OnlyFans page for nothing.” 

“Yeah, but he’s in his forties,” you emphasize. You remind yourself of his age nearly every minute to remember how inappropriate it is to be attracted to your boss. Applying for the job was such a bad idea. What made you think you wouldn’t be attracted to him when you saw him in person? Your cheeks get hot as you think about him rounding the car to open your door once you got back to the office after dropping off his son’s pants at school. It was just a common courtesy, not a sign of interest. But damn, was it nice to be on the reciprocating end of something gentlemanly.

“And he’s a dad! I shouldn’t be making dads nervous,” you add. “I mean, I saw a picture of his wife at his house. She was stunning. Stunning, Sabine. High cheekbones, a nice straight nose, a gorgeous smile…” 

“Wait, he’s married?!” Sabine sets down her glass. 

“Widowed.” 

“Oh,” Sabine says sadly. Then her eyebrows perk up. “Oh.” 

“Don’t,” you hold up your finger. “Don’t give me that look. He’s my boss.” 

“But you like him,” Sabine sings. “And from what it sounds like, he likes you too.” 

You cannot let Sabine put the idea of Anakin Skywalker, engineering millionaire, having a measly little crush on you. Because it’s absolutely absurd. He’s him and you’re… you’re just a girl who was uploading videos of herself masturbating for money just last week. Not that there is anything wrong with sex work. It’s empowered you in so many ways, but it was time to find something a bit more steady and reliable. And less physically taxing, to be perfectly honest. 

“Sabine, be serious. I-” your phone pings with a distinct tone that makes you pause. 

New Message from Skyguy81 

“Oh, my God,” you say. 

“What?” Sabine asks. 

“It’s Sky,” you answer her while opening the message.

Sabine eagerly crawls on top of you to peer at your screen. “Sky as in Rich Guy Sky? Did you upload a new video or something? What did he say?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I haven’t uploaded anything since last Thursday. Get off of me so I can read his message.” 

Sabine retreats to her side of the couch as you begin reading to her. 

“I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.” Your tongue feels like sandpaper and your heart is in the bottom of your throat. 

“Oh, shit!” Sabine exclaims. “You’ve got this boy whipped! Honestly, you should just keep making videos for him. He was your best tipper, anyway.” 

“He’s never… he’s never messaged me out of the blue before.” You chug down the last of your wine, thinking you may need some liquid courage for whatever conversation is about to unfold between you and Sky. 

“He wants you,” Sabine says simply. “Make it happen.” 

“I can’t just meet up with someone from OnlyFans. It’s an episode of Dateline waiting to happen.” 

Sabine rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so cynical.” 

“I’m not being cynical, I’m being logical,” you counter. You’d be foolish to risk your life by meeting up with Skyguy81. No matter how nice and genuine he seems over private messages. No matter how much money he has tipped you. There is no guarantee he’s not absolutely creepy and going to kidnap you.

Okay, so maybe you watch too much true crime. That’s why you have to balance it out with The Great British Bake Off. 

“I don’t know. I’m just saying,” Sabine finishes her wine, “you never know. He could be the love of your life.” 

You’re quiet as you contemplate the love of your life. Sabine is the romantic. You’re the realist. You have a hard time believing there’s one person in the world who you’re destined to be with. How do you explain Anakin losing his wife? Was she the love of his life? Is he not supposed to move on and potentially find happiness with someone else? None of it makes sense to you and it’s quite possibly because you’ve never been in love. 

And the image of the person who you might like the opportunity to love is entirely unavailable. 

.

.

.

It’s times like tonight when Anakin wishes he didn’t raise such inquisitive, curious children. Leia is simply chock-full of questions about her dad’s new assistant. When do they get to meet her? Soon. Is she old like Auntie Dorothy? No. Does she like vintage Disney movies? (Anything before 2010 is “vintage” to Leia). I don’t know. 

Luke, on the other hand, was very disappointed to learn that you were in the car while his dad dropped off a new pair of pants. “You made her wait in the car like a dog?” 

Anakin snorts. “I wouldn’t quite say like a dog, Luke. I was gone for less than five minutes.” 

“Did you at least roll down the window? So she could have fresh air?” Leia joins in on the comical idea of their dad leaving his assistant in his car like a pet. 

“That’s enough out of you two,” Anakin says through a grin. These 9 year olds, man. What is he going to do with them? 

Luke and Leia nod, going back to stabbing their dumplings with their chopsticks. 

“I have one last question.” Leia watches her dumpling precariously dangle on the edge of her chopstick. 

“What is that, princess?” Anakin asks.   

“Is she pretty?” 

Anakin’s pulse is going to burst. It’s a simple question- one that always seems to be on the tip of Leia’s tongue. She wants a woman figure in her life. Soon, she’ll be at the age that is easier to navigate with a maternal presence. Anakin is really not equipped to talk her through menstrual cycles. 

But it’s the nature of who his new assistant is that makes him feel so exposed. He can’t very well tell his children you’re the most beautiful woman he’s seen since his wife. And he definitely can’t tell them that you’ve been in his life not since this morning, but since three years ago when he downloaded OnlyFans. 

Anakin cleans the corners of his mouth with his napkin while he formulates an appropriate response. He’s kept his answers short and simple because if he thinks about you for too long, your figure seeps into his vision, your voice burns in his ears, and he’s unable to focus. 

He feels like such a sleaze for getting hard just by thinking about you. You are so much more than a sexual object. And trust him, he can’t wait to learn about all that makes you you. But morals be damned. He wants you desperately. 

“Yes, Leia. She’s quite pretty,” Anakin finally answers. 

Leia can’t help but dance excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to meet her.” 

“I could’ve met her today,” Luke mumbles. “If Dad hadn’t locked her up in the car.” 

Anakin is laughing now. “I have a feeling you are going to be bringing this up for a while.” 

After dinner, the kids clear the dishes and load what they can into the dishwasher. Meanwhile, Anakin does something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. 

.

.

.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

I thought about you at work today. I thought about you more than I would like to admit. You have no idea what you do to me, Honey. No idea what I would do to you.

Now being 10 pm, it’s been 3 hours since Anakin— or rather, Skyguy81— sent you that message. 

And you still haven’t replied. But you read it. 

And the fact that you’ve read the message but decided not to reply makes Anakin feel so incredibly foolish. What was he thinking? What was he expecting from you? More meaningless flirting? 

Except now it’s not meaningless for him. He’s not sure if it was ever meaningless. But now that he knows who the woman behind HoneySuckle is, it’s completely different. You have a name— which he had to look up in employment records because he’s convinced he actually blacked out when you introduced yourself. You have passions and interests, favorite snacks, and a go-to karaoke song. He wants to know it all. 

And even though he’s going to see you tomorrow, he couldn’t resist the urge to message you on OnlyFans. But since you’ve opted not to reply to him, he’s now wallowing like a teenage boy. 

Ridiculous. He’s better than this, goddamnit! 

Finally deciding to stop staring at his phone, Anakin strips down to take a shower. It’s hard for him not to feel disappointed when he looks at himself in the mirror. Arguably, he’s still in great shape. He lifts weights at the gym at least twice a week, sometimes three if he has the time. He doesn’t have a beer belly, which he considers an accomplishment at his age. But he does have some extra fat around his love handles. He has sun spots on his shoulders from the countless pool days when the twins were younger. And then there are the undeniable lines around his eyes, which are incredibly prominent when he smiles. 

Anakin has never felt particularly insecure about his image before. He’s accepted that his body is not the same 20 year old body it once was. But there’s a new nagging insecurity in the back of his mind.

Is it good enough for you? 

Anakin turns on the water in the shower, needing to wash away all delusions of you and him ever getting together. As soon as he steps one foot on the tile, his phone buzzes. He grabs his phone off of the counter and his heart rate immediately ticks up. 

Hi Sky, I’m sorry for the delay. I had a friend over. Here’s a special little something for you ;) 

Attached is a picture of you on your bed, sitting on your heels with the thin straps of your panties pulled over your hips. You’re lifting an oversized t-shirt above your breasts, which also expertly hides your face. Right. Because you don’t know that he knows who you are. 

Still, the picture was worth the wait. It’s almost embarrassing the way his cock is already standing upright, the tip pressing against his lower abdomen. He focuses on your hard nipples, picturing himself enclosing his mouth around one of your mounds. He’s rolling his tongue over your bud while massaging your other breast. Your hands are in his hair and you’re anything but silent. You’re moaning his name, begging for more, whining for him to put his cock inside of you. 

Anakin is too preoccupied to even reply to you. He gets himself under the steady stream of hot water and grabs the base of his length. Now he’s picturing you on top of him, tits bouncing in his face while you fuck yourself on his cock. 

“Mmm, yes! Anakin, please. Feels so good.” 

Your hands are pressed against his strong chest for support. He loves you like this— in control but still pathetically needy for his dick. “How much do you love it?” he asks. “Tell me how much you love this cock inside of you.” 

You throw your head back when he slaps both of your ass cheeks. He grabs onto your flesh firmly and your cunt clamps around him while you proclaim it to be the best feeling in the world. “I love it so much, Ani. Nobody's cock feels as good as yours.” 

“Damn right,” Anakin grits. He holds your chin with a strong hand, forcing you to look at him. “This pussy is mine. You understand that?” 

“Yes, sir,” you moan as Anakin bucks his hips up, hitting deep inside of you. “Only yours.” 

“Yes, sir,” huh? That’s a new kink unlocked. Anakin presses a palm on the shower wall to steady himself as he cums. It’s anything from pretty. It happens suddenly and quickly, thanks to the vivid images he was creating in his mind. He bites down on his bottom lip to keep from moaning too loudly. But your name is rolling off of his tongue effortlessly. As if it’s always been in the recesses of his mind, just waiting to be said intimately and passionately. 

He tries to list off the hundreds of reasons why he should never utter your name in a less than professional manner while shampooing his hair. 

You’re his assistant.

You’re significantly younger than him. 

The power imbalance (see 1 and 2). 

That’s all he can come up with for now and it’s enough. Nothing good will come out of pining for you and fantasizing about you. It still doesn’t stop him from messaging you back after he gets out of the shower and settles in bed. 

Now I feel guilty for not responding sooner. Thank you for the spectacular photo. It is unfortunate that I had to take matters into my own, ahem, hands. I would have much preferred to have your help. 

You flatter me, Sky. Do I really get you that worked up? 

Impossibly so. 

When you said you thought about me at work… What exactly did you mean? 

To be perfectly blunt, you were bent over a desk with your skirt pushed over your ass. I was fucking you well and hard, with my name being the only thing falling from your pretty lips. 

Anakin lets out a heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Why does he keep putting himself in situations that result in an erection? He just needs to have a good fuck. Get it out of his system. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. But under no circumstances will it be with you. 

I think I’d like that very much. 

Goddamnit. Anakin needs to stop while he’s ahead. While he’s not succumbing to jerking off for a second time tonight. This was a disastrous idea. Because now when he sees you at work tomorrow, he’s going to think about how you would like for him to fuck you over your desk. Except you don’t actually know that it’s him who wants to fuck you over your desk. 

Maybe in another life. 

Anakin leaves it at that. He puts his phone on do not disturb and attempts to get some reading in before going to sleep. He also prays for G-rated dreams. 

.

.

.

The morning fog of late November in Northern California is still hanging in the air when you get to work at 8 am. Anakin won’t be in until he drops off Luke and Leia which means he should arrive around the same time he did yesterday. It gives you an hour to go through voicemails, reply to emails, and brew a pot of coffee in the breakroom. 

Ben Kenobi arrives shortly after you, sharply dressed in dark blue slacks, caramel leather Oxfords, and a white collared shirt with small polka dots that match the color of his pants. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kenobi,” you greet.  

“Please, call me Ben. No need for formalities around here,” Ben replies. “You’ll soon see we operate very much like a family. There will be shouting and likely some name calling, but it’s all in the name of love for engineering and innovation.” 

“Got it,” you nod. “It’s just that Dorothy always called Mr. Skywalker by, well, Mr. Skywalker. And yesterday he didn’t tell me to call him otherwise.” 

Ben strokes his nicely groomed beard. “Interesting. Well, I suppose you can continue to address him as such until he tells you to call him Anakin. Which I’m sure he’ll do this morning when he gets in. Have you brewed the coffee yet?” 

“Not yet.” you stand. “I wanted to check messages first, but coffee is next on the list.” 

“Excellent.” Ben follows you into the breakroom. “How are you enjoying your time here?” 

“Well, it’s only been a day,” you remind him with a light lilt to your voice. “But it’s been good! Everyone I’ve met is super friendly.” 

Ben leans back against the counter, crossing his ankles and arms over his chest. “And you and Anakin? You two getting along? He’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?” 

You nearly spill the coffee grounds as you bring the spoon up from the container to the machine. “No!” you say a little too loudly. “I mean, no. He’s been very nice. Quiet, but nice.” 

“Anakin? Quiet?” Ben almost laughs. “I’ve never heard that word used to describe Anakin before.” 

“Oh.” you continue scooping grounds into the machine. How many spoonfuls are you supposed to put in? You’ve lost count. Maybe two more for good measure. You’d rather make the coffee too strong than too weak. Nothing is worse than weak coffee. “Maybe I caught him on an off day. He did seem a little weird when he brought me to his house. And then I sort of told him off in the car…” 

This gets Ben away from the counter and walking over to you. “You did what?” 

“Well, I mean, I didn’t tell him off per se. I just asked him to give me a chance. It seemed like he’d already made a decision about me and we’d only known each other for a couple of hours.” 

“Good for you,” Ben replies. “Anakin is headstrong but he can be reasoned with. If the reason is worth being reasoned over.” 

“Am I?” you ask. “Worth being reasoned over?” 

Ben appears to give you a once over and then nods once. “Yes, I’d say so.” 

“Thanks…” you say with uncertainty. Ben takes himself and his briefcase to his office, which is the next door over from Anakin’s. He leaves you alone in the breakroom with a dozen questions. Was Ben assessing your appearance? Surely not for himself. He’s insanely in love with his wife— the mayor. Then who for? Anakin? No. No way. 

The coffee has begun to brew— the nutty notes of Philz Philtered Soul bringing you back to your college days. There’s one in walking distance from campus and you and Sabine spent every finals week there chugging back Mint Mojitos and Mocha Tesoras. 

Those days were not that long ago for you. For Anakin, on the other hand… 

You shake your head, effectively shaking thoughts of Anakin taking any interest in you away. And why would he have an interest in you? He’s bound to have a list of more age-appropriate women he can bring home to his children. 

Stop thinking about it. 

But it’s so damn hard not to. A forbidden office romance with your boss who’s 20 years your senior? Yeah, it’s cliché and sort of sounds like the plot to a porno but it’s sort of fun, too. As long as you keep yourself in check, what’s the harm in pretending like he’s secretly in love with you and wants to take you home? 

.

.

.

When Anakin gets into the office, he doesn’t even greet you before saying, “Call Rose. Tell her to come as soon as possible.” 

So much for him being nice yesterday. Now he won’t even look at you. “Who’s Rose? What- what is the appointment for?” 

“You don’t need to know what it’s for,” Anakin snaps. “Just find Rose in your little phone book, call her, and tell her I need to see her immediately.” 

“Y-yes, sir,” you say while thumbing through the contacts Dorothy left behind for you. Without another word, Anakin goes into his office and slams the door. 

What the hell was that about? That was once again another awkward morning of Anakin slamming his office door after talking to you. You thought you left work on good terms yesterday. What changed? 

.

.

.

Rose Montgomery arrives 47 minutes after you call her. You hear her Louboutins clicking on the floor before you see her. Your eyes trail up from her long legs to her slim waist and perky boobs until you reach her face. Good Lord. She is strikingly beautiful. Her fiery red hair falls in loose curls over her shoulders. As she walks closer to your desk, you are drawn to her perfectly round green eyes. She’s like the real-deal Jolene from Dolly Parton’s hit song. Seriously, did she grow up being called Jolene solely based on her looks? 

“Aw, look at you,” Rose smiles down at you. “You must be the new Dorothy.” 

“I suppose I am.” 

“Aren’t you just the most adorable thing.” 

Uh… What the hell are you supposed to say to that? “I’ll let Mr. Skywalker know you’re here.” 

“No need,” Rose informs. “I’ll let myself in.” She begins to walk away with an extra sway to her hips. You want to hate her but she’s got such an air of confidence that you actually want to be a little more like her. 

“Oh, um, actually I’m not sure about that,” you come out from behind your desk. “He seems to be in a mood so I don’t want you barging in his office to make it worse.” 

Rose turns on her heels and purses her lips. “Actually, sweetheart, I’ve known him longer than you and this isn’t my first ‘appointment’ with him. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go make his mood a little better.” 

Okay. Now you hate her. With that, Rose leaves you standing outside of Anakin’s office with a dumbfounded look on your face. Is that… is she… a booty call? 

All of the insinuations are there; from the air quotes around “appointment” to the way she said she’ll make Anakin’s mood better. Coupled with her outstanding looks, you’ve decided that Rose Montgomery is a friend with benefits of Anakin Skywalker. You trudge back to your desk and do your absolute best not to think about what’s happening behind your boss’s door. 

.

.

.

At the sound of his door opening, Anakin quickly closes his computer tab and turns off the monitor. He pulls his headphones off of his head and puts them in the drawer. 

Rose is none the wiser as she drops her Birkin bag on the table beside the chaise. “Ugh, who is that child you have sitting behind Dorothy’s desk?” 

“My new assistant,” Anakin answers through a dry throat. Rose sits herself on his lap and drapes her arms over his shoulders. She begins playing with the ends of his curls, which normally, he would enjoy. But he really just wants to get this over with. He draws down the zipper of her black dress while she kisses along his jaw. 

“She seems incompetent,” Rose says between kisses. “What is she? Like, 15?” 

Anakin twirls Rose’s hair around his fist and yanks her face away from his. This makes her gasp with pleasure, and despite his annoyance, he loves the reaction he gets from her. “I didn’t fucking ask you here for your opinion on her. Do not talk about her again. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Rose breathes. “Where do you want me?” 

“On your knees.”

.

.

.

When Rose leaves Anakin’s office, you can absolutely tell she and Anakin had sex. Did she even bother looking in the mirror or her phone camera before coming out? She avoids looking in your direction at all costs and knowing how awkward those walks of shame can be after a one night stand, you decide not to watch her walk to the elevator. 

You busy yourself in a filing cabinet until you hear Anakin’s door open again. You tell yourself not to look up because if you look up at him you might actually burst into tears. Which makes absolutely no sense to you but you feel that stinging in your nose and you’re trying to think of the time you got Panini because at least those were happy tears. 

Anakin says your name. 

Damnit. Get it together. You take a deep breath and plaster on a smile. At least he doesn’t look like he just had sex. His hair is combed back the same way it was when he walked in and his clothes are wrinkle free. “Yes, Mr. Skywalker?” 

“Would you like to go get lunch?” 

It’s only 10:45 but of course, he’d be hungry after having sex. “Oh, sure. What can I get you?” 

“I meant me.” 

You furrow your brows together. “Sorry?” 

“I mean us. You and me, together. Fuck,”  Anakin mumbles that last part. It’s like he loses the part of his brain that forms proper sentences when he looks at you. Think back to the car, Anakin. Things weren’t so bad in the car. Wait, yes they were. He told you to tell him if your butt got too toasty. 

You can’t help but smile as you start to see the Anakin who let his guard down in the car. He’s nothing like the Anakin who walked into the office this morning. “You want me to get lunch with you?” 

“Yes. If you would like.” 

You grab your thrifted black leather bag and your coat off of the back of your chair. “I think I’d like that very much.” 

I think I’d like that very much. 

That is the second time you’ve said that to Anakin. 

On the drive to the farm to table restaurant he suggested, he thinks about telling you the truth. That he’s Skyguy81 and you’ve been messaging each other for three years. Oh, and that he’s seen you naked. 

He weighs all of the pros and cons and all of the ways the situation could play out if he tells you. He decides the only way it’s going to end is with you quitting and never wanting to see him again. Telling you who he is is out of the question. 

Your face is buried in the menu, effectively blocking you from looking at Anakin. Your nerves are irritably on fire as you sit knee to knee with your boss. You go out to lunch with someone to talk. To get to know them. But you have no idea what to talk about with him. Either he’s super blunt or incredibly awkward and you don’t know what to make of it. 

Could Sabine be right? Does he have a crush on you? Do men in their forties even get crushes? 

“You are awfully quiet behind there,” Anakin finally says. “Are you hiding from me?” 

You slam your menu down nervously. “What? Oh, no. Just… looking at all of the options.” 

“I’m kidding,” Anakin chuckles. “If it helps, Leia likes the poke rice bowl. Luke likes the flatbread with artichokes. And I normally just get a burger.” 

“Wow, a 9 year old who likes poke? You’ve got some interesting kids.” 

“You have no idea,” Anakin replies bashfully. He really calms down when he talks about his kids. Maybe that’s your key to him. Keep him talking about his kids. 

“Well, I think I’ll try Leia’s favorite. Do your kids enjoy trying different types of food?” 

Anakin gives you a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose so. I didn’t raise them to be picky eaters. They eat what I eat. We had dumplings last night. They’re shit at using chopsticks but it makes for an entertaining meal.” 

You laugh along with him, feeling yourself relax the more you see Anakin relax. “I love dumplings!” 

“Yeah? We’ll have to have you over some time for dumplings, then.” Anakin doesn’t even realize what he’s saying until it’s hanging between you, awaiting your response. 

“That would be nice,” you admit. “I can’t wait to meet them. Of course, you know… if they even want to meet me.” 

“Are you kidding? Luke almost threw a fit over me leaving you in the car yesterday. And Leia… well, Leia gets excited about any new woman in my life. I mean, not that you’re my new woman, just you know, in terms of you being Dorothy’s replacement and-” 

You place your hand over Anakin’s without a second thought. And it’s more than just skin on skin. It’s electric. You resist the urge to pull away because the overwhelming feeling almost keeps you from saying: “It’s fine, Mr. Skywalker. I get what you mean.” 

Anakin is looking down at your hands and you wonder if he feels it too. Or if it’s entirely inappropriate to put your hand on his and he’s going to go back to being standoffish. You remove your hand from his and sit on it. 

“You don’t have to call me that,” Anakin murmurs. “Mr. Skywalker. I would much prefer you to call me Anakin.” 

You look up at him timidly. He’s being sincere. One corner of his lips are quirked up to form a sideways smile and your heart— your stupid, stupid heart adores it.  Perhaps there is harm in pretending like your boss is in love with you. Perhaps keeping yourself in check is going to be a lot more difficult than you thought. Because now that you’re on a first name basis with Anakin Skywalker, you fear simply being his assistant is not going to be enough.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter four (coming soon)

[wildsupernova]

mistletoe kisses.

prompt #4 on scealaiscoite’s christmas prompts list: “hidden bunches of mistletoe”

summary: it’s christmas time in the city, a time full of holiday cheer and celebrations. when you refuse to do anything about your feeling towards steve, robin comes up with a festive way to pull you two together.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: no use of y/n, fluff, some language

a/n: hey everyone! my sincerest apologies for my total disappearance from my blog for like 4 months. this semester absolutely kicked my ass and i’ve had no time or motivation to write much of anything, but now that i’m in my last two weeks for the semester i finally have some time and energy. i’ll be posting some small holiday stories likely until the end of december (if i can manage to stay consistent) and hope to get back into the groove of things. i hope you enjoy this little drabble, and thank you for sticking around! expect more in the future (if my brain allows it) —— nova

masterlist | prompts list

December. A month filled with festive decor, frantic holiday shopping, Christmas parties, and the same five holiday songs playing on every store radio. As annoying as it could be, it truly was a time that filled you with excitement and joy, especially now, after you had long since graduated from walking the halls of Hawkins high and moved to the cold and windy downtown of Chicago with your best friends. 

Christmas in Hawkins was definitely something special, but not like it was in the city. Back home, the small downtown squares decorated their exteriors for the holidays, sure, but here, where expensive department stores and extravagant cafes lined the seemingly endless streets that made up downtown Chicago, lights and music and tinsel were almost never out of sight. The lamp posts lining the sidewalk were wound with shimmering red and silver garland, nearly every storefront with a big front window had a Christmas tree on display, and street performers played Christmas carols on every corner. Even the subway cars had been decorated for the occasion, advertisements now covered with pictures of Santa Claus wishing all the riders a happy holiday. There was only one thing that put a damper on your holiday spirit. 

Not having that special someone to celebrate the holidays with. 

You had your friends, sure, but the holidays were supposed to be a time for romance, for spending the day trapped inside of your shitty apartment watching the snow fall with only a thick blanket and a loving body to keep you warm. It had been the subject of your frustration for a good few years now, and even became more frustrating after you finally came to terms with your feelings for a certain Steve Harrington. 

“It’s fine, Robin. The holidays will continue whether I have a boyfriend or not.” You sprayed a bit of perfume into the air in front of you and took a sniff, scrunching up your nose and putting it back on the shelf as the offensive floral odor invaded your nose. 

“But the holidays would be the perfect time to finally tell him how you feel!” You had to swerve the shopping cart around Robin as she stepped in front of you, a pointless effort as she simply ran right back in front of it. 

“He doesn’t like me like that, Robin.”

“You don’t know that! But, if you tell him how in love with him you are-”

“I am not in love with him.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” You rolled your eyes at Robin’s teasing, threatening to run her foot over with the cart if she didn’t move out of the way. “All I’m saying is that you always complain about how you don’t have a date on Christmas and that now would be the perfect time to get one.”

“Look, Robin, I appreciate your focus on fixing my love life, but I’m fine, really. Let’s just get the rest of this shopping done before it gets too late, I don’t want to try to squeeze through all the late shoppers on the train ride back.” You picked up a box of Christmas ornaments off the shelf, ready to put them in the cart until you saw the price tag. Eyes widening and letting out a soft whistle, you put them back and continued moving down the aisle. 

“Both of you are completely insufferable, you know that? Always complaining to me about this shit and then when I give you an easy solution you just- OH MISTLETOE!” Rushing forwards like a little kid seeing a toy, Robin launched towards a shelf at the end of the aisle, nearly knocking both you and the shopping cart into a shelf full of Christmas lights. She grabbed several bundles from off the shelf and bounced on her toes in front of you, eyes wide and twinkling.

“Robin, we are not getting mistletoe to hang around the apartment.” Her face dropped into a pout and you swore you saw her eyes begin to get watery with tears. 

“Why noooot?” She dragged the last word out like a child, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at her like a scolding parent. 

“Because we don’t need to hang up mistletoe. This isn’t one of those cliche Christmas movies where the couple kisses in the doorway before a fade to black. Now put it back, we still have to find the ornaments.” 

Robin huffed, throwing the bundles back on the shelf. 

“Fine.”

As you turned your head to look at another box of ornaments, you didn’t see Robin take the bundle back off the shelf and hide it underneath the tree skirt with a smile.

Putting up Christmas decorations in you and Robin’s small apartment certainly wasn’t a task you needed more than the two of you for, but when Steve and Eddie offered their help, and Nancy and Jonathan showed up at the door with a warm batch of fresh Christmas cookies, it turned from a two person job to a six person job quickly. The sheer amount of decorations Robin had made you buy certainly made sure there was enough for everyone to do, and before you knew it, the apartment was busy with bodies hanging garland above the door and trying desperately to figure out how to put up the fake Christmas tree. 

Your task of helping Eddie put up the tree had kept most of your attention off of Steve, but the longer it took, and the more whining you heard from Eddie, the more your focus started to drift. He was just barely out of your line of sight, lingering in the corner of your eye as he climbed the small step ladder to start hanging the Christmas garland around the perimeter of the living room. Robin said something to him as she handed him the garland and whatever it was had him tipping his head back with a groan, hair flopping out of place and muscles in his neck straining as he did. He ran a hand down his face and then through his hair, and you nearly groaned when he balled it into a fist at his side, gold watch glistening on his wrist. 

As he reached up to hammer the nail into the wall, you saw the bottom of his tight fitting red sweater lift up past the waistband of his jeans, showing off the toned muscles on the side of his abdomen and just the smallest hint of his Calvin Klein boxers. You sucked in a breath as it kept creeping higher and higher the further up on the wall he tried to reach, and without thinking, your hands completely let go of the part of the tree you were holding. 

Which caused the whole thing to tumble over right on top of Eddie.

A muffled ‘help’ came from underneath the mess of fake pine needles, Eddie’s legs peeking out from underneath in a way that would certainly be comedic if you weren’t absolutely mortified. You were quick to rush to Eddie’s aid, face flushed entirely red with embarrassment, in the hope that you could get him up quick enough that none of the attention would be pulled towards you, but one look to your left showed you that all eyes were already on you. Steve's face looked more worried than anything, but Robin was behind him holding in a laugh, and you had to send a glare her way to get her not to say anything. 

Setting the tree back in its place and reaching down to help Eddie up, he mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms and glaring at you in annoyance. 

“Never asking you for help again, not until you can learn to stop staring at St-” 

“I should go get the ornaments now that the tree is set up!” You cut him off loudly, much to his dismay, watching as Robin kept trying to hold in her laugh from over Steve’s shoulder. Shooting her a sharp glare, you jabbed Eddie in the ribs when he tried to make another comment. “Robin, why don’t you come help me grab them from the closet?”

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ll be able to reach them. Maybe Steve should go help?” The Cheshire grin on Robin’s face paired well with the way she patted Steve on the back and nudged him forward, Steve’s eyes going wide and his cheeks quickly going red. 

“Uh, y-yeah, I can help, if you need me to.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, giving Robin a glare as she pushed him forwards again. 

“I could use the help, sure.” You gave him a smile, which he returned, and started heading down the hallway, throwing one last look to Robin over your shoulder. 

Digging through your bedroom closet, you tried to find the bags of Christmas decorations you had put there only a few days before, coming up empty handed after throwing nearly everything in it to the side.

“I swear, I just put it in here two days ago.”

“Maybe you put it on the top shelf by accident?”

“I doubt it, I can’t even reach up there.”

“I’ll look anyway, maybe Eddie moved it when he got the tree down-” Steve cut himself off abruptly, clearing his throat mid reach up to the top shelf of your closet. You threw a few more things to the side, not yet looking up. 

“What? Did you find it?” When you did finally look up, you saw Steve’s gaze trained on the top of the closet door frame, hands still reaching to grab the bag of Christmas ornaments you could see sitting on the top shelf. You pulled your eyes away from where his sweater was riding up again and instead followed his line of sight, eyes widening and face going even redder than before when you saw exactly what it was that had stopped Steve in his tracks. 

A small bundle of mistletoe, hidden just behind the door frame and hanging right above the bag of Christmas ornaments. 

“Oh.” Steve swallowed thickly when you spoke and he finally let himself move, grabbing the bag full of ornament boxes and handing it to you softly. “I told Robin not to buy that, she must have hung that up there to be…funny, or something.” You grabbed one of the boxes still inside the bag, the plastic crinkling as you gripped it tight. Steve’s hands remained hovering in the air after you took the bag from his grip, eyes soft as they looked down at you over his nose. 

“Yeah, sounds like Robin.” The air grew thick as you looked at him, clearing your throat to try and cut through the tension the best you could. You let out a dry laugh, turning away from him and starting to travel towards the door.

“Well, got the ornaments, we should probably get back out there-” You were cut off when Steve’s hand wrapped around your wrist to stop you, pulling you back just a few inches. 

“Wait.” You turned to face him again, the redness in his cheeks and ears not going unnoticed. “Can’t break tradition.”

“What do you mean?” He let out a low chuckle and flashed you a smile. 

“Come on, I know you know what I’m talking about.” When you didn’t respond, he pulled you closer, the bag of ornaments softly falling to the floor as you let go of the handle in surprise.

“I can assure you that I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You kept playing dumb, hoping it would let you talk your way out of the situation, but Steve’s grin only grew wider. 

“You know what happens when two people walk under the mistletoe.”

“Do I?” Steve took another step towards you and you could feel your heart skip a beat, his body so close that his own heat radiated onto you. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think you do.” He was slow as he brought his hand up to the side of your face, gently tilting your head up towards him as he leaned down to meet you somewhere in the middle. You could smell the expensive cologne on his skin as he moved down closer and closer, your eyes darting across his face when you became unsure where to look. It felt like hours before your lips finally connected, slotting between each other like perfectly matching puzzle pieces. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest, so loud in your own ears that you weren’t sure Steve couldn’t hear it himself, but the way his hand had started to tangle in your hair pulled all of your focus entirely to him. Standing up on your toes to reach him, you let your hands fall naturally against his chest, fists tightly gripping on to his sweater for balance. The kiss was soft and slow, as if he were testing the waters, but when you finally had enough sense to kiss him back, it changed into something different. Butterflies swam in your stomach when his other hand came up to hold the other side of your face, and he let out a groan when you melted into him with your arms draped over his shoulders. 

The kiss lasted until neither of you could breathe, Steve chasing your lips as you lowered back down on your heels and pulled away. It was silent in the room for another minute, the only sounds that of the reverberating conversation down the hall and the shared rhythm of you and Steve catching your breaths. 

“Merry Christmas.” Steve was first to speak, words breathy and hands still holding the side of your face. 

“Merry Christmas.” Your hands traveled to the front of his sweater in an effort to fix where your hands had left it wrinkled, his own thumbs softly running along your flushed cheeks. You leaned up to meet him in another kiss, but just as your lips were about to touch, Robin’s voice echoed loudly from down the hall. 

“Did you find it yet?” You both stopped your movements with a laugh, pressing your forehead to his before finally taking a step apart. Picking up the bag of ornaments, you took one more glance at the mistletoe hanging in the closet, laughing under your breath. 

“Yeah. Yeah, we found it.”

[barbswo]

THIAM prompt: “PDA”

They weren’t really big on PDA—public displays of affection, that was. Stiles knew that there was nothing wrong with that, after all, all couples were different, but.

They were Liam and Theo.

No, sorry, not like that.

They were LiamandTheo.

As in, together.

When Stiles first heard about it, he was still in Washington, and it happened during a group call they tried to put together at least twice a month, which was a real bitch to accomplish, counting different time zones and personal schedules. Stiles was peacefully organizing some documents, listening to Malia complain about weird french customs, when Mason let out a mocking whistle, and Stiles lifted his head.

Of course, he knew that Theo was hanging around Beacon Hills. He knew that Liam’s parents, being real-life saints, let Theo to stay with them, knew that the chimera got close to the Puppy pack (Liam still hated that nickname, but Stiles thought that it was hilarious and on point), but knowing and seeing were two very different things.

Theo never joined their calls, acted like he didn’t even exist, always silent, hovering on the periphery of everybody’s minds. Theo was the blurry picture one deleted before trying to focus their camera, a word in a dictionary with no definition attached. And now Theo was just there, shirtless, a towel wrapped around his hips, walking around Liam’s room like it was the most normal thing to do.

“There is a naked chimera of death behind you,” blurted out Stiles, and it was fascinating how fast Liam’s head whipped around. Laughter pulled the lines of his mouth when he turned back to the camera, shaking his head.

“You almost got me there.”

Stiles blinked. Frowned. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“Stiles, I swear, you don’t want to be around Liam when there is a naked Theo nearby,” grinned Mason from his square on Stiles’ laptop, Corey’s head on his shoulder. Even cut by the camera frame, they looked so disgustingly sweet Stiles wanted to lick their faces.

Liam flipped Mason off. Scott nervously chuckled on his end, looking away for a second, and Stiles felt like he had to fight for his life while putting two and two together. It was his thing—to know stuff. To see it before everyone else did.

And maybe it would’ve been more obvious had he been around more after Theo’s… resurrection?.. but instead, realization hit him in the middle of the pack call, and Stiles almost fell off his chair.

“For all that’s sweet and pure, Liam, are you two an item? And why is everybody acting like you knew, did I miss the announcement of Theo seducing our baby wolf, and why in hell—”

“You didn’t tell him?” Asked Corey, lifting his head. “Liam, you said you would weeks ago!”

“Weeks?” Squeaked Stiles.

Liam sighed like someone had deposited the weight of the world on his shoulders. “First,” he lifted his index finger, “not your baby wolf. I’m eighteen, thank you very much. Second,” there went the next finger, “us dating is our business, and there was no announcement, Stiles, for god’s sake…”

“You called me in the middle of the night and wouldn't calm down for two hours,” dryly reminded Mason, and somewhere behind Liam’s back, Theo scoffed.

“Two hours, really? That’s kind of pathetic.”

And hey, maybe it was a little bit pathetic, but Stiles still remembered how it felt when he realized that the girl he’d been crushing on for ten years liked him back, and he wasn’t the one to judge, not really. Even if the subject of Liam’s affections was a murderer raised in sewers. Tastes differ.

But, because the subject of Liam’s affections was a murderer raised in sewers, Stiles couldn’t help but take his sudden revelation with a grain of salt. After all, he’d watched the kid grow, and in some ways, felt protective not only of Liam overall, but of Liam’s heart, too.

And Theo was known for stealing those.

“Pathetic, huh?” Liam turned his head, presenting everyone with the view of his sharp jawline, “Says the guy who whimpered when I—”

A book that looked like it could’ve taken Liam’s head off if thrown at a slightly different angle hit him in the nose, and Liam yelled, waving his hands around to steady himself. That, unfortunately, resulted in him knocking off his own laptop, and the picture of his room circled around, blurred and went totally dark.

“Maybe they will kill each other and we won’t have to deal with their weird flirting anymore,” concluded Malia, and Stiles gaped at her.

“Flirting? You call that…” he struggled to get the rest of the sentence out by choking on his own tongue, “are you absolutely sure they are together-together, because that didn’t look—”

“Oh, we are sure,” Corey wrinkled his nose, “more sure than we’d like to be.”

“I second this,” chuckled Mason, and just like that, no matter how hard Stiles tried to circle back to the potential danger of Theo dating Liam, conversation shifted to the future summer break, plans, hang-outs and trips.

And honestly? Ever since that call Stiles couldn’t wait to be back home.

Not because of the summer break. Summer, of course, was good as a concept, and it highlighted Stiles’ freckles and made his skin strawberry pink while Scott paraded around with the most picture-perfect tan ever, and it smelled like ice-cream and all-night hangouts and freshly cut grass, and for some reason made Stiles’ dad smile more, as if all the warmth and sun brought him back to the good times with less monsters and cares.

However, Stiles had a talent for getting obsessed with things he didn’t understand. No, even better—he had a talent for investigating the things he didn’t understand until he could confidently say that if needed, he could write a whole book on the subject. It just happened so that currently, LiamandTheo made absolutely no sense.

Stiles recognized that his tendencies of going deep into the trenches of “observe, think, pin down, look, understand” weren’t… well, common. Normal kids didn’t spend their nights reading every article on hair follicles just because they were fascinated by how age turned black and red and gold into silver and wanted to know how and why it happened. In Stiles’ line of life and work, meticulousness never hurt anyone.

And it wasn’t that he thought Theo would go off the rails and slit all their throats one night. It was nothing like that. Stiles was stubborn, but he wasn’t an idiot, and neither was Theo. He had countless opportunities to turn his back on the pack, yet he stayed—as Stiles was well aware, to drive Liam around and help him to do his homework.

Homework didn’t have an evil ring to it. Stiles could’ve subscribed to the idea of Theo being a chauffeur and a tutor, but Liam’s boyfriend? Theo Raeken? The same nine-year-old kid who once looked Stiles dead in the eye and said that he believed love was nothing but a concept invented by desperate people? The teenager who grew up in the sewers of dozens of cities and was raised by three faceless psycos? Same Theo who killed his own packmates because he was hungry for power before recognition?

Granted, Theo had changed, and Stiles even admitted it once, but still. Theo didn’t do anything unless there was something he could gain from it. His ever-calculating, manipulative mind would never allow him to be just selfless. It had been injected into Theo’s veins to be a perfect weapon and to survive no matter what, so excuse Stiles for not buying the cute-caring-honest-boyfriend act.

Liam certainly had a thing for mean people, but Liam was a freaking golden retriever puppy. He would let Darth Vader pet him. Stiles was not trusting his judgment, because while Liam wasn’t exactly dumb, love did weird things to human brains. Stiles would know. He was friends with Scott McCall.

Thus, upon arriving at Beacon Hills, Stiles started doing what he did best. Investigating.

And that was how he ended up glaring in frustration at his current dilemma. Also known as the pack’s movie night.

You see, Stiles was an awkward person, and he sure as hell couldn’t keep it together around his crush, but even after he did a lot of thinking and grew up, there was still a part of him that wanted to reach out to Lydia and just touch. Make sure she was real. That he hadn’t imagined her by his side like he used to do before Scott got bitten and Stiles was fourteen and helplessly in love with the most popular girl in school.

And Stiles wasn’t even a werewolf, or chimera, or—anything freaky. But he knew how it was when a lupine creature found a mate (the term tasted like pure cringe in his mouth, but there was nothing Stiles could do about that): scenting became a primal instinct, a tradition to follow of sorts. He was fairly sure every member of the pack started smelling at least a little bit like Scott on the second day of their summer break, because Scott was the alpha and they belonged to him (there was that cringe again, but Stiles’ entire life had become cringe so... whatever), but it tended to be even more intense when romance was involved.

And Stiles was starting to question whether there was any romance between Liam and Theo, because really—they didn’t act like it.

At all.

“No, we are not doing Lord of the Rings marathon,” Mason rolled his eyes at Liam’s offended face, “each movie is like, three hours long, Li, nobody has that strength of will!”

“Those movies are classic,” argued Corey, and Mason’s gaze shifted to him.

“You will be the one to fall asleep on me in twenty minutes.”

Corey sent Liam an apologetic smile. “That’s true.”

Liam let out an irritated breath and pulled Theo’s sleeve to get his attention. “Help me convince these idiots that the best saga of all time should be savored whole—oh, and we can watch the director’s cut, too!”

Theo threw Liam the most unimpressed glance Stiled had seen in his entire life. “I don’t want to know what the director’s cut even is. You and your nerdy brain should’ve really stayed home.”

Liam scoffed. “It was you who wanted to stay home, Theo.”

“Hoped to get a break from you, really.”

Stiles immediately felt offended. He, of course, believed that the best saga of all time was Star Wars, but he wasn’t going to argue on the topic, because his mind was elsewhere.

Now, sarcasm might’ve been Stiles’ first line of defense, but there was a balance between being sarcastic and mean. He wasn’t sure Theo got the memo of the said balance.

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was expecting to change, having given the idea of LiamandTheo quite a lot of thought, but he certainly didn’t expect to encounter… that. Theo behaved like he was forced to be in Liam’s presence. Reserved, cold, irritated nine times out of ten, Theo was willingly waving red flags in front of Liam’s very nose, Liam turning a blind eye on every single one of them.

It was the first time Stiles got to hang out with not just Liam and Theo, but with LiamandTheo, and he didn’t like it. They ended up watching the first Narnia movie, (which was Lydia’s favorite, so Stiles knew it by heart,) and instead of keeping his eyes on the screen, he found himself studying the new happy couple. Or, “happy” “couple”. Quotation on both words for the irony.

And that was how Stiles discovered they weren’t big on PDA in the first place.

And listen, it wasn’t like he yearned to see the chimera of death sucking on the beta’s tongue. Stiles was many things, but a creep wasn’t one of them, and in his head, Liam was still a freaking baby. He didn’t even expect to watch them make out like the world was ending—but he was starting to think that they barely did at all.

There was no peck on the lips when Liam grabbed a cherry coke not only for himself, but for Theo, too. No touch of gratitude, not even a glance, just a dry “thanks” that must’ve escaped Theo’s lips by some gruesome mistake. They sat next to each other, but didn’t even touch—not their shoulders, not their knees, not even their knuckles. Nothing.

If Mason had kept his mouth shut during that call, Stiles would’ve never guessed they were something more than enemies turned allies. And it was messing with his head.

“Something is wrong,” blurted out Stiles when the pack started migrating to their respective houses, leaving him, Scott, Malia and Lydia in the McCall kitchen.

Scott, who was stacking pizza boxes atop one another in a way that made them look like the Tower of Pisa, turned his head, his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Theo,” pressed Stiles, and Lydia sighed a small “here we go again” from where she was sitting at the kitchen island. Stiles passed by her, his hand involuntarily brushing over her shoulders, because it was the most normal thing to do and because Stiles was allowed, and nodded at the window. There, the Puppy Pack gathered around Theo’s truck, talking about… something.

Scott followed Stiles’ gaze and shook his head.

“I know you don’t trust him—”

“It’s hard to trust someone who did what he did,” snapped Stiles, “but it’s not his loyalty to the pack I’m worried about. It’s…” he paused, staring at the window. Mason and Corey, apparently, were giving Nolan a ride, their trio getting in Mason’s car and leaving Liam and Theo to their devices.

Technically alone, the couple didn’t try and move closer—if anything, they drifted further apart and, if gestures and body language were anything to go by, arguing. Liam’s side was pressed into the truck’s hood, and Theo was leaning onto the driver’s door, leniently responding to Liam’s remarks.

“I don’t think he is good to him,” he said at last, his gaze drifting back to Scott. “Liam.”

“Want me to punch him?” Malia lifted her head, and Scott shook his head.

“Nobody is punching Theo,” he looked at Stiles, “it’s their relationship. I don’t think we have a say in who Liam dates, Stiles.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “But you agree that if we had, Theo wouldn’t have made the list?”

“He changed,” spoke Lydia, snatching the last piece of brownie from the plate before Malia could swallow it whole, “I know you don’t like him, and nobody is forcing you to, but Theo is different now. More… real.”

“We thought he was real senior year, and look where it almost brought us,” mumbled Stiles, reaching out and grabbing the Tower of Pizza Pisa (ha-ha) before it could fall down, “look, I know he isn’t a psycho maniac anymore—but you can’t convince me that Theo has an inch in all 5’8 of him that actually cares for Liam. As in, wants to hold his hand and stare lovingly into his eyes and kiss him until the moon dies. You know, typical teenage romance shenanigans?”

Lydia chewed her brownie, looking thoughtful. “But do we think that Theo—and Liam too, actually—are typical teenagers?”

“Exactly,” sighed Scott, closing the dishwasher soap dispenser and pushing the door shut, “I can sense Liam in my head, remember? And he is happier than he ever was before, I promise. I don’t... really feel Theo, because he is an idiot and keeps pushing me away, but what I do feel doesn’t alert me—quite the opposite, actually.”

Stiles bit his lip, looking between his friends. He did trust Scott’s senses, but it was also true that Scott had been wrong before. Crucially wrong. And it was water under the bridge now, because they all found a way to move on, push past their offenses and differences and mistakes, but it didn’t change the fact that Scott trusted people easily and was as naive as a princess in a tower.

And Liam, obviously, turned out exactly the same.

Maybe Theo didn’t want to really hurt him. Maybe he had what he always wanted to—a pack, but he realized that he needed some sort of validation, admiration, actually, and twisted and turned Liam’s barriers until the boy fell in love with him. Liam always liked people who were mean to him. And had a tendency to fall for his anchors. Theo surely knew that and used it for his own advantage, like he always did.

Of course, there was no way Stiles could say his thoughts out loud without coming out as paranoid, and to be honest, he didn’t want to burden anyone with his raw theories. His dad always said that proof was steel that nothing could break, so Stiles would have to look for that before making further advances on the topic.

After all, it was summer break. They all deserved a little rest.

The problem was, Stiles was restless.

[canarysage]

…make a psd look interesting?

aka, how to fuck up a psd no glue no borax. have you ever looked at your psd and gone, damn, this shit doesn’t fuck? happens to the best of us. here are easy ways to spice up your psds so you don’t end up with the editor equivalent of communion bread

for example purposes, i made a simplistic psd to test these methods on. they should work with most psds, but, as always, fuck around and find out on your own for best results <3

i. threshold + gradient map

this one is an easy way to add specific colors to your psds. step one: add a threshold layer, and adjust it your liking. typically, i set mine to somewhere between 60-40. if you’re making a psd to work on dark skintones, you may want to set it even lower, but if you’re working with, say, pjsk characters, you can go pretty high

wow flashbang. you can see on my example behind that it doesn’t work super well on irl pictures, and my pjsk images don’t have threshold at all lol. next thing you want to do is set the blending mode of your threshold layer to either multiply or darken—they’re basically the same thing

(psst, if you want to know more about blending modes, check out this post!)

waow crunchy! but still boring right? still boring. not to worry, here’s the fun part: add a gradient map layer, tap it, and go to the slidey icon on the side, which’ll bring up a page like this:

click the gradient in the middle there to edit it. once in, edit the black color to be at about 80-90%, and then change the white color to whatever you like. edit out, and tap the little square next to the text that says “reverse” which should make your gradient look more or less like this:

then change the blending mode on your gradient map to ‘screen’ which’ll axe all the black and just leave your color. now your image looks like this:

boy howdy, isn’t that fucked up! it is more interesting, but if you don’t want to be looking at that abomination, change your color in your gradient map to be darker, which’ll give you something more along the lines of:

…which is much more reasonable. this is a fun way to add color to your shadows slash lineart, and can be a quick and easy way to make a psd look less flat.

ii. noise gradient map

some of you may be thinking, but, canarysage, what the fuck is a noise gradient map? to which i reply: you’re boring. let me show you.

kinda fucked up, right? well, that’s the goal. unfortunately, there isn’t a way to directly edit a gradient map, but you can just click that little button that says ‘randomize’ a couple times until you get something you like! you can also mess with the percentages but i don’t do that because it looks weird

boy howdy, that’s weird looking. not to worry, though. once again, our best friend blending mode is going to come in handy

i typically go to soft light and set the opacity to about 20-30%, but, as with anything, feel free to mess around and do whatever you want. luminosity is also a fun setting for noise gradient maps, just make sure to crank the opacity way down for the sake of my eyes

wow, much better! you can see that the gradient map added a bit of purple coloring and a funky little texture. super cool! thank you, gradient map!

iii. channel mixer

i already have a post on channel mixer and i’m not rewriting all that so if you don’t know how channel mixer works check that shit out but the tl;dr is: ideally, all your channels should add up to 100 (including negative numbers) but that rule can be broken if it looks cool enough. capiche?

iv. color lookup

photopea has a few default color lookups that are pretty easy to use, but i have a couple of presets that i like to add if i’m feeling stuck. to make your own color lookup, open up a psd, and go to file > export color lookup

then save it and open it from your files. when you open a color lookup layer, you’ll see an arrow next to the text saying LUTs—click that and your new color lookup should be there

once you tap that, you’ll get a compressed version of your psd added to your folder. it’ll look something like this:

holy orange and blue, batman. luckily, you can apply blending modes to color lookups just like any other layer—mess around with them until it looks how you want!

waow much more reasonable! i set this one on color and about 55% opacity, but that is really dependent on what your color lookup looks like and how you want your psd to look. remember, there’s no right way to do things!

an additional note: if you want to, you can save the psd you’re working on as a color lookup instead. if it looks too simple or just isn’t turning out how you want, that’s a good way to incorporate it later :3 just follow the same steps as above!

v. no shame in starting over

if you’ve added and taken away, duplicated and removed, fucked around and found out, and your psd still isn’t how you want: it’s alright to just axe it. the edit police aren’t gonna kill you for it, i promise. if you’re worried about wanting it later, just save it as a psd and come back when your brain is refreshed ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

psd-making isn’t an exact art, so, obviously, there’s no real simple solution to making it look how you want. you just have to mess with it and see what you’ve got. these are just my methods of making my psds less blagh, but, obviously, my editing is moderately more deranged than your average editor.

…so that’s how you do it.

[jake-g-lockley]

Only for You (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Playlist

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected p in v, popping someone’s cherry, dirty language, swearing.

Word count: 3.8k worth of filth and fluff, yay

A/N: I wanna lay on his chest fr (also his fucking hands just-) I’m fucking sorry but I just realized that I have never written Steven Grant smut, holy shit. Here it is, soft, first-time sex with Steven <3

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. “Don’t laugh Steven! I'm not scared of sex, I’m just saying that there are other things that I want in a relationship too.” you pout, elbowing Steven square in the stomach.

“It's not like I know how good sex is anyway.” You grumble as Steven chuckled.

You and Steven were curled up on the couch, a forgotten movie playing softly on your laptop. Your head was settled comfortably on his chest, a fluffy blanket over the both of you. If anyone had walked into Steven’s flat then, they would see the picture of your perfect version of a couple.

Except, well, you and Steven weren’t together.

You and him had been watching a movie when a particularly sexy scene came about and you moved to bury your face into Steven’s chest in embarrassment. Part of you had just wanted to stay there, all warm and comfortable but Steven had started to laugh, and is now prodding you slightly about your abstinence from the act of fornication.

He also had been nagging you about how you ditched your Tinder date to instead come to Steven’s flat bearing gifts of wine and chocolates.

“What are the other things you’d want then?” your best friend pushed on, sitting up slightly to close the laptop and place it on the coffee table before gazing down at you.

You shrunk slightly under his gaze, suddenly feeling shy.

Despite being the sweetest human being on the planet, sometimes when he was really into a conversation, Steven would have a sparkle in his eyes that made you feel slightly intoxicated. The first time that happened, you were surprised with the way your body reacted to him, in a fluid way, as if it was totally in tune with the nature that he had presented to you.

Forget sex. You had never been in a romantic relationship. In fact, Steven’s probably the first person in this big blue world who has been this close to you. You cherished him and held him oh so close to your heart, but that made you fall so incredibly hard for him.

But Steven was older, more mature and probably had more experience than you could ever uncover. Why would he want someone as inexperienced and young as you?

Instead you choose to avoid his eyes, staring at your hands that fisted the fluffy blanket.

“You’d think it's stupid.” you mumbled.

“Now, love, I never in a million years would think that. Come on, let's hear it then.” he urged, his hand finding yours for comfort.

You hold his hand in both of yours by his fingers, his hand comically bigger than yours. The weight of his hand in yours was reassuring and safe. You found yourself tracing his life line as you stared into space.

“I’d want them to dance with me in the rain even if both of us have two left feet. I’d want to go on long walks with them and talk about the stupidest things in the world. I’d want to hold their hand and run errands. I’d want them to sing me soft, made up songs, or read me poetry. I’d want them to make me smile even during my darkest days. I’d want them to just hold me in their arms and whisper sweet fluffy things. I’d want them to be my safe place, my comfort person. I’d want someone who can heal me, Steven.” your voice breaking a little when you got to the end of your list.

The both of you sat in silence for a while. You turned your focus entirely to the beat of Steven’s heart and the way his body was pressed to yours. You continued to toy with his fingers, brushing your thumb over a small scar over and over. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want him to fulfill all that you had just said.

“Is that too much to ask for, or am I going to end up being an eternal virgin, eternally alone?” you laughed a little as you said it.

“Would you like me to try?” Steven whispered suddenly, the words spilling out of him in one breath.

At that very moment, you froze. You felt as if the world ceased to exist at the sound of his words.

Steven took a deep breath before continuing.

“You have already given me the opportunity to know you, in the best way possible, as your best friend. Darling, I’ll let you step on my feet while we dance in the rain. I’ll be your book of stupid facts while we walk around London aimlessly. I’ll never let go of your hand and I’ll sing you songs of my love for you and read you poetry about your pure beauty. I’ll make sure that beautiful smile doesn’t leave your face and I’m not a doctor, but I swear to you, on my life, that I’ll do my best to heal you.” He says as his free hand lightly runs up and down your arm.

“And I hate to be so frank, but I’m already holding you in my arms and I’m trying my best to whisper sweet things to you. Besides, if you didn’t feel safe, I doubt you’d still be slotted next to me holding my hand in yours.” He simply stated, as if he was proving a point.

You didn’t realize you were breathing rapidly until your eyes caught the movement of your chest. You licked your lips, attempting to say something back to Steven.

“Fuck.” was all that you managed instead.

“I could do that very well too if you like.” Steven said without missing a beat.

“YOU COCKY BASTARD!” You wriggled away from him and laughed, sitting up slightly to watch as a smile bloomed on his rosy face.

“You’d do that for me?” you whispered, the second the laughter died down.

“I’ll do anything for you, only for you.” He reassured as his eyes searched yours, bringing a hand up to cup your face. “I want to be the constant in your life, so, my darling, would you like me to try?”

“Yes, please.” You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, before feeling yourself pulled close to him.

Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself staring into dark orbs that you had constantly found yourself lost in on a daily basis.

“Can I kiss you and show you how hard I’ll try then?” Steven whispered, his eyes drowning you in his own sanctuary.

“Yes, Steven.” was the last thing you heard yourself say before you lost yourself in him.

Steven’s lips were soft and forgiving against yours as your mind scrambled to comprehend that you were having your first kiss. Your hand shook as you tried to find purchase, settling to grab Steven’s t-shirt. His nose slotted perfectly against yours and you could smell his aftershave and feel his stubble against your skin.

You could tell Steven was trying hard to take it slow but as you straddle his lap, he brought his hand to your hip to push you further into him. The friction made you gasp, allowing Steven to lick into your mouth, creating a symphony of sounds from the both of you.

The both of you stopped for air, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from him, choosing to breathe the air that he heavily breathed out.

“How was that?” Steven asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears.

“For my first? I couldn’t have asked for more.” you hissed slightly as Steven still kept an iron grip on your hip to push you against him, feeling the dynamic shift between the two of you.

You kissed Steven with all your last might and you could hear and feel a deep groan erupt from him as you pressed yourself against him, the wine you had edging you on. He kissed you back with equal fervor, as if he couldn’t get enough of you by the second. You ran your hands through his curls tugging them slightly causing him to whimper. You pressed yourself down on him, hard, realizing that you relished in the sound he made when you tugged on his hair. You could feel him, hard against you and a part of you felt absolutely victorious but the other part that was unsure slowly started to win over.

“I’ve never done this before, Steven.” you whisper as Steven moans, and you could tell that he was holding back from rutting his hips against you.

“That’s alright, love. Do you want to stop?” Steven says with a worried tone in his voice.

You gazed at Steven, at the state that you had put him in. His curls were astray and his lips were parted. Lust had blown his pupils wide open and you swear you could see a galaxy in them from your vantage point.

“No, I don’t want to stop. Not with you. Could you show me?” you plead.

“Let's take things slow,” Steven soothed you, slowly lifting you off him and laying you on your back. “I’m going to eat you out, love, but I need you to promise me that you’ll stop me if it gets too much for you.” he said while his large fingers hooked the waistband of the sweats that you stole from him.

Your face burned furiously at his words, not expecting the forwardness. You wanted to cross your legs and pull away but this was Steven. Your Steven. He would keep you safe.

“I promise.” You whispered back, your heart thumping in your chest.

Steven kissed your inner thigh, pushing your thighs apart to reveal your clothed cunt as you propped yourself onto your elbows to watch him make a mess of you. Your legs hung limp on either side of him, and you felt like a rag doll, absolutely powerless.

He started lightly marking your inner thighs, his tongue soothing out the evidence of his ministrations everytime your moans got a little too out of control. You swirl your hips, not content that your cunt wasn’t getting what it had been initially promised. Feeling a little bolder, your hands flew to his curls as you tried to direct him to what you really needed.

You felt yourself go dizzy as Steven’s fingers suddenly pushed your panties to the side, feeling your already dripping slit.

“Gods, you’re already so wet for me, darling. Such a shame that no one else will get to see how pretty this pussy is now that it's mine.” he mumbled as he trained his eyes to your core.

Blood rushed simultaneously to your face and clit, making you cry out loud at Steven’s lewd commentary.

“Steven, I-” you try saying but you choke on your words as he catches you off guard by pushing a digit into you, pumping it in and out at a slow pace, a vulgar squelching sound reaching your ears. He curls the finger without a hint of sorrow, hitting that one special spot that makes your legs turn into pure jelly, enlisting a shaky moan from you.

“You feel so soft, my love.” he says almost darkly, taking the finger out of you and inserting it into his mouth, eyes not leaving yours and your eyes widen, taking in every square inch of what you were seeing in front of you.

He lowers his head to you until his nose brushes harshly against your clit, sending a shock through your body. Your back arches back as you bring his face closer to you by his hair. Steven didn’t seem to be bothered by the way you were literally suffocating him, instead he lapped a broad stroke along your slit, tasting your juices straight from its source. Your knee jerk reaction to the pleasure you were having was to clamp your thighs together, but Steven was faster than you, holding your thighs open with light pressure, as he pushed his tongue inside you. You felt like you were drowning in a pool of delight as Steven continued to absolutely devour you.

“So much for going slow, Mr. Grant.” You thought as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You loved it. Nothing you’ve tried on yourself has felt anything like this. You could tell Steven was studying the pattern of your pleasure, choosing to change tactics when your moans were more hollow and sticking to what he was doing when you wailed and pushed yourself against him. His name rolled off your tongue like a prayer more than a plea and Steven relished the way you spoke it under the change of circumstance.

“Bloody hell, baby, keep saying my name like that. Make everyone know that I’m yours.” Steven groaned into your core as he paused for a breath.

Without meeting much resistance, he pushes two thick fingers into you, covering your clit with his mouth and starts to pump at a steady pace. You brought a hand up to your mouth to stifle your cries of pleasure, only for the hand to be pulled back down by Steven. The steady stimulation of his tongue instantly pushes you up and over your breaking point. You felt yourself clench around his fingers as his tongue runs soothing circles around your clit.

“Gods, I can feel you squeezing my fingers. You like that, angel? Trust me, you’re going to like my cock more.” he says, directing his filthy words into your cunt.

You came with his name echoing in your screams, your body convulsing uncontrollably as Steven helped you to ride out your high. After cleaning out the remnants of the first orgasm that he gave you with his tongue, Steven kissed your thighs softly as you bathed in its afterglow. Your eyes focused on his face, a shy smile encapsulating his wet lips as a soft shade of pink danced over his cheeks and nose.

“That was amazing, Steven. Thank you.” You stretched your arms out for him and he obliged, letting you grab him by the t-shirt and pull him down for a kiss as you wrapped your legs around his torso.

You pulled him further down with your legs so that his body was flush to you, only to have his clothed bulge grind into your sensitive clit making you gasp.

“Shit! Sorry, love!” Steven groaned as he tried to pull himself off you.

You were having none of it. You kept him down and grinded upwards, grinning at the look that passed his face.

“Are you sure, darling? I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed.” he breathed as you ducked your head into the crook of his neck to kiss him.

He smelled like sandalwood and papyrus, twisting your brain with a desire you never knew you had in you.

“I know you’ll be gentle, I can take it.” you said clearly, wanting him to realize that you wanted to see and feel his pleasure too.

Steven searched your eyes only to have you stare back, full of silent determination, before cradling you close to him and lifting you up as he stood from the couch, as if you weighed like a sack of potatoes. Steven’s strength never failed to surprise you. You remembered the time he helped you move into your new apartment, how he lifted several heavy boxes at once without breaking a sweat.

He settled you down on his bed softly, and you knew from that moment on that he was dead set on being gentle with you. He smoothed your hair on the pillow and kissed your forehead before sitting down beside you.

“Can I take your top off, darling?” he asked, his large palm kneading your hip as you smiled up at him.

“Yes, please, bra too.” you said as Steven raised his eyebrows at your shy demand.

He did as he was told and wasted no time in absolutely worshiping you.

“You’re fucking beautiful. Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Steven groaned, letting his hands roam your bare body as his eyes sparkled like a teenage boy.

His mouth and tongue traced patterns on your skin that made you start whimpering. You could feel your arousal grow between your legs again as Steven captured one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked softly, releasing them with a pop, only to knead at your breast with his large hands.

“Need you inside me.” you breathed as he sucked soft hickeys onto your skin, hickeys that only he could have an access to.

He moaned at your words and looked at you with hooded eyes, before proceeding to take off his clothes one by one. Your eyes widened as Steven pulled his boxers off and grabbed a hold of his length. You’ve obviously watched porn before and you’ve never seen a more beautiful cock in your life. He looked absolutely perfect to you, soft trimmed curls boarding the hilt of his long and girthy length with a pink head that was leaking pre-cum.

Your breathing quickened as you watched him pump himself a few times before rolling a condom on. Kneeling in front of you, he grabbed the bottle of lube from his bedside and coated his palm before stroking himself again.

“Steven, you’re a god.” you heard yourself saying as you scanned his body that was literally sculpted to perfection.

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t say that, I’m not gonna fucking last with your words.” He says as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, catching your clit and making you throw your head back against the pillow.

“In, now.” you punctuated as Steven tried to take his time with you.

With the help of the lube and your slick, Steven slid inside of you with relative ease, shocking you and himself with how fast he bottomed out. There was a sharp pain as Steven stretched you out, followed by the sweet sensation of pleasure that made you whimper with ecstasy. You had never felt this full in your life and Steven’s cock was pressing deliciously in all of the spots you had never thought you had. His hands held you down with bruising strength, allowing you to adjust to his length, and only started moving when you started to grind your hips impatiently.

He showered you with praises as he moved with slow fluid movement, his hand inching towards you for you to grab onto. Instead of lacing your fingers together with him, Steven pulled your hand towards him and pressed it gently at the lower part of your belly. You moaned at the feeling of his cock inside of you, the tip bulging through your skin. He pressed down slightly harder, getting off at the feeling of your hand massaging his cock from the outside.

“Steven, you’re too good to me. Feels so good.” you slur as he pushed on slightly harder and deeper.

Tears started to flow from your eyes as your free hand gripped at Steven’s biceps, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his skin as he started to speed up his thrusts. His hand on your belly leaves yours, only for his fingertips to end up on your clit, the action causing you to shake. From the extra stimulation and the way his cock speared you, your second release came faster than your first, blinding you yet again with its powerful waves.

You could feel Steven’s movements start to stutter the second you came, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chased his release. He folded his body over yours and with a few more solid thrusts to your cunt, he groaned into your neck as he spilled thick ropes of cum into the condom.

It took the both of you a few minutes of heavy breathing to gather your thoughts. Steven came to his senses first, slowly pulling himself out of you before taking off the condom and discarding it. He then slowly stroked your hair as your breathing became more labored before taking a bottle of geranium oil from his bedside and dripping it all over your spent body.

You smiled at Steven as he massaged the fragrant oil into your skin. He focused on the points of your body that were sure to be sore tomorrow and silently pressed out all of the tension you had in you. Your body felt warm and you had a buzz running through you as if you had just ran a marathon. He massaged a silent thanks into you with every squeeze of his hand and you just laid there and stared at the man before you, wondering what kind of miracle had allowed you to get to this point. You looked past him and squinted into his apartment, giggling slightly at where your underwear had ended up.

“Hmm, am I really that funny, baby?” Steven said before following your line of sight and gasping at the sight of your underwear draped ungracefully over Gus’s fish tank.

“Oops, sorry Gus, mate.” He said sheepishly, his face turning red. “It's alright, darling, he won’t remember it.”

Steven flipped you over gently and started massaging your back, pulling small hisses and moans out of you. He kneads your lower back with his knuckles, providing you with stronger precision that knocks the wind out of your lungs with pleasure as you sink further into the mattress. He skims over the globes of your ass, making you giggle again. Flipping you onto your back, Steven pulls you into his lap as he settles himself against the headboard, covering the both of you up with a blanket to provide you with some privacy. You cuddle close to him, feeling safe in the small cocoon that he had created.

“Do you always end … it with a massage?” you asked suddenly, the question creeping up into your fluffy thoughts.

“No, actually.” Steven says, sitting up a little. “This was the first. I remember how you would say that massages were your favourites and that you would get a weekly massage if you had some disposable income.”

You blink up at him, realizing that he had been listening to you all along. Your heart swelled with the awareness that you had found your perfect man way before you had even comprehended it.

“Thank you, Steven. I love you.” you say before you could stop yourself as an unknown emotion settled upon Steven’s face.

Horror pulsed through you, your cock-dumb brain still too foggy for you to think anything coherent.

“Shit, sorry, I mean we only just had sex a few minutes ago. This is so uncool-” you stutter before Steven places a finger to your lips.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Steven says, genuinely as a chuckle reverberates through him and into your heart.

You calmed down immediately with his confession, your face blazing as you kissed him, finally feeling at ease with everything around you.

“Told you I can fuck really well.”

“FUCK OFF, STEVEN!”

Tagging: @romanarose @mintpurplemnm

Reblogs are appreciated <3 love you all so so much *muah*

[elliott-the-creature]

My request requirements!✨

.•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°•. .•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°•. .•°°•..•°

What I do requests of:

Moodboards

Wallpapers

Banners

Userboxes

Flags (pride flags, plural flags, agere/petre flags, etc.)

Pfp (basically the image with line redraws on it and any little icons you want + pride flags if you want)

Outfit boards

Topics of requests I do:

Therian

Otherkin

Theriomythic

Physical nonhumanity/holothere/clinical lycanthropy/zoanthropy

Otherlink/copinglink/funlink

Plantkin/phytanthrope

Objectkins

Conceptkins

Elementkins

Aesthethickins

Divinekin (includes angels, demons, gods/goddesses, fallen angels, and other divine beings)

Placekin

Unnaturalkin

Celestial/spacekin

Fictionkin/fictionflicker/fictive

Otherhearted

Hearthomes

Pet regression/dreaming

Age regression/dreaming

Aesthetics

Objectum (sfw ONLY)

POSIC+

LGBTQIA+ identities (any and all identities, I don’t discriminate!)

Plural stuff

And more! Feel free to suggest any more topics, I’m pretty open to any suggestions.

Topics I DON’T do requests for:

Anything nsfw (including kinks, paraphilias, nsfw objectum, and other sexual stuff)

Adult/adult oriented comedy cartoons (like family guy, the simpsons, south park, big mouth, bojack horseman, american dad, king of the hill, etc.). I find these shows to be often crude, gross, and overall unappealing, so please find another blog if you want to request stuff like this.

Harmful/mocking sexualities/gender identities (like super straight, dreamsexual, MAPS, animesexual, etc.)

DSMP stuff (or any minecraft smp stuff) (regular minecraft is completely fine though!)

Anything roblox or roblox related (it can be very hard to find pictures of characters to use for wallpapers/moodboards without using fanart, and I want to avoid fanart as much as possible, so I sadly can’t do it)

Harry Potter (or anything else made by or associated with JKR)

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss stuff (basically anything made by and/or associated with vivziepop)

Countries or nationalistic stuff. You should’ve read my DNI/DNF before asking me stuff

Real people. I don’t feel comfortable making stuff related to real people (like artists, celebrities, youtubers, writers, etc.). That basically means no factkins; I’m factkin neutral but I don’t want these kinds of requests.

If you have any questions about whether the topic you want is ok or not, please dm me beforehand.

Things to add in your ask:

For moodboards

What the topic is (like if it’s a kintype, favourite animal, aesthetic, hearthome, object companion, etc.)

What the main subject is

What theming/colour palette you want

How many pictures you want

Whether you want a standard (regular square pictures) or fancy (different shapes for pictures) moodboard

Anything you DON’T want in your board

For wallpapers/banners

What the topic is (like if it’s a kintype, favourite animal, aesthetic, hearthome, object companion, etc.)

What the main subject is

What theming/colour palette you want

Whether you want symbols/extra stuff on it

Formatting of your wallpaper (like whether it’s a phone, ipad, desktop, etc. (saying what specific kind of device you have is best))

Whether you use tumblr for mobile or desktop (banner sizes change depending on device)

Anything you DON’T want on it

For userboxes

What icon you want

What you want the text to say (or a sorta vibe to what you want the text to say if you don’t know exactly what you want)

What kind of font you want (I use ibis paint btw so keep that in mind)

What you what the background/theming to be

What colour you want the text box to be

Whether you want stickers (a little png of a related object near the corner of the box) or not

Anything you DON’T want on it

For flags

What flag you want

Whether it is a redesign or something new

What colour scheme you want

How many stripes you want (I mainly do 4, 5, 7, and 9 stripes)

What kind of icon/symbol you want

Anything you DON’T want on it

.•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°•. .•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°•. .•°°•..•°

Please only request TWO (2) things per ask! And if you’re requesting only wallpapers, then only ONE (1) wallpaper request per ask.

Anonymous questions are currently unavailable. If you wish to remain anonymous, please just mention it in your ask, I’m happy to do so :)

Anything I make for someone is ONLY FOR THAT PERSON. You are NOT ALLOWED to use anything I make for someone for yourself. If you want anything similar, please send a request.

.•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°•. .•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°•. .•°°•..•°

↓ some examples of my works below! ↓

click here to go to my side account (I ONLY take requests from there)

Enjoy, and ask away! ✏️

[ariesqueencobra]

what we used to be | Xll

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kreese begins slithering his way into Cobra Kai and you're not so sure about it. It only makes matters worse when your friend gets hurt and your boyfriend can't be there for him.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, slight bullying, mentions of assault and battery, mentions of stitches, play fighting, sparring, mention of a dick pic

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This is when things start getting good!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“You gotta understand, the Mogadishu in the ‘90s was a hellhole,” Kreese explained. “Warlords controlled whole swaths in the city. My team and I were charged with cleaning the place up.”

You sucked in a breath, only imagining the hell Kreese went through while in the military.

“How many warlords did you kill?” Eli asked, smiling as he took interest in the conversation.

“You keep track of every ant you stomp on?” Kreese questioned.

“Woah,” you and Aisha said at the same time.

“Badass,” Eli grinned.

Kreese began another story, your attention span dwindling as you couldn’t picture where Kreese was as he listed other countries.

“They were outgunned, we were outmanned. I tell ya, Rwanda was no joke,” he sighed.

“Don’t you mean Somalia?” Miguel stood up. “Mogadishu’s in Somalia, Rwanda’s a whole other country,” he pointed out the man’s mistake.

“Of course, Somalia. I spend so much time in the sandbox, it all just bleeds together,” he said, cautiously stepping around his next words.

You nodded, attempting to understand.

“Listen up!” Sensei ordered, drawing your attention to him. “I see we got some new recruits,” he scanned over the crowd. “Everybody fall in. In neat rows and lines,” he said.

You caught his elaboration, a big step up from your first day. You face forward, face slack but you were giddy inside, already catching a few girls in the class.

Sensei stalked between the students until he paused, talking to someone. 

You heard an older voice and turned your head to see a grown man was present. He wanted to learn karate. You sent a glance at Eli, interest piquing you.

“I thought my last group was pathetic but if you do what I tell you to do you’ll at least have a chance of becoming a fighter,” Sensei boomed. “But to do that, you gotta fight. So who has the balls to take on the champ?”

Silence filled the room. 

“I’ll take him on,” a girl’s voice spoke up. 

You turned around to see a blonde with brunette roots stand in the back, her aura radiated power and dominance. You already liked her.

“I saw your little demo at Valley Fest. You guys put on a good show, but can you actually fight?” She smirked.

Oh, you definitely liked her.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Sensei said, taking a few steps closer to her.

“I like a challenge,” she responded.

Your smile grew, glancing at Aisha who shared the same sentiment.

“Mr. Diaz, show Little Miss Hotshot here what Cobra Kai is all about,” Sensei ordered, turning around and walking back to the front.

Miguel nodded but hesitated when he approached her. “Look, are you sure you wanna-,” he didn’t get the chance to respond when she charged toward him, kicking him square in the chest. He chuckled before he got serious. “Game on.”

They began fighting, Miguel having to block most hits. This girl was intense and she managed to stay even with him. 

You could also sense the heavy tension between them. 

It was cute. 

She body-slammed him onto the mat before he swept her legs out from under her. He stood up, offering a hand. “My name’s Miguel.” 

“Tory,” she breathed, grabbing his hand before she flipped him over, pinning his head to the mat. “With a y,” she said.

You snickered, impressed.

After class, you were in the mini-mart, getting some snacks before you headed off for a date with Eli. Aisha sighed behind you, staring at her phone. 

“Let me guess, dick pic?” Tory walked passed her.

You laughed, grabbing your favorite candy from the shelf before you joined both of them. 

“No, my mom wants me to go to the beach club with her,” Aisha sighed.

You and Tory stared at each other before laughing. 

“That sounds so miserable,” Tory mocked. 

“It’s not that,” Aisha smiled. “This girl Sam’s gonna be there and she and I are not on good terms,” she said. “Anyway, I’m Aisha, this is Y/N,” she jutted towards you.

“Tory,” she smiled at you two.

“That’s a cool bracelet,” you pointed at the spikey one. 

She smirked. “This? It’s not just for show. Some creepy guy at the mall tried to grab me once, but I managed to block him and give him a gift he won’t ever regret,” she jabbed her arm.

“Absolute badass,” you said, amazed. 

“You seem like you know how to kick ass pretty well, why did you join Cobra Kai?” 

“I’ve taken a few kickboxing lessons but I always wanted to smash boards blindfolded,” she mocked. 

You laughed. 

“The secret is poking little holes in the blindfolds,” Aisha whispered. 

“Cool,” Tory said. She walked towards the front of the store before Aisha stopped her.

“You guys wouldn’t mind joining me at the beach club? It’d be nice to have some backup,” she said.

“I’d love to, but Eli is taking me out on a date,” you smiled.

“Eli?” Tory furrowed her brows.

“Mohawk,” you said.

“You’re dating him?” She was surprised by it. “Seems intense,” she joked.

“Keeps me on my feet,” you responded.

“Well I guess I can suffer through a day at the beach,” Tory smiled, turning to Aisha.

“Have fun you guys, but we should all hang out together soon, it’s nice to have another girl on the team,” you grinned at Tory. You left the two, paying for your snacks before walking out.

Eli was leaning against the pillar outside, putting his phone away as you approached, talking to Miguel about something that clearly wasn’t making the other boy happy. 

“What’s going on?” You asked enthusiastically, glancing between the two boys. 

They glanced at each other, Miguel sending Eli a look that was only understood between them.

“Just talking about Kreese,” Miguel sighed. “I don’t trust him,” he admitted. 

Understanding, you nodded, patting Miguel on the shoulder. “Hopefully he doesn’t stick around much longer.”

Miguel agreed before he walked back inside the dojo, leaving you with Eli.

He kissed you on the lips, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before making his way to his car.

~

“Tory can kick ass, she proves girls are stronger than boys,” you snickered, ducking under a tree branch. 

The weather was sunny, with not a cloud in the sky. It wasn’t windy so it wasn’t that hot. It encouraged a good mood that your conversation drifted into one in which sex was stronger. 

“Sure she beat Miguel, doesn’t mean shit,” Eli retorted.

“I can beat your ass any day of the week,” you scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. 

He was pulled back by your resistance, his brows furrowed at your words. “In your dreams, babe, I’m stronger than you, it’s okay to admit it,” he sucked in a breath, tugging on your hand to pull you along. 

The dock on the lake came into view and you were glad no one was around. This made this moment even more perfect.

“You’re on,” you pulled away, shrugging your backpack off.

He looked at you confused before he realized. “Winner gets bragging rights?” He smirked

“Definitely,” you grinned, raising your fists. 

He did the same but you didn’t even give him a chance until you were swinging your first punch. He blocked it, swiping your arms out before he aimed for a kick to your stomach.

You reacted, blocking him easily. You threw another punch, distracting him and managing to sweep his legs from under him. 

The leaves rustled under him and as he rolled onto his back, you swung your leg over, hovering over him. He was taken aback, visibly gulping. 

“Told ya,” you hummed, hands pressed onto his chest. The shit-eating look you had in your eyes was swiped the instant he flipped you over, a yelp escaping you.

“Wouldn’t call a victory that soon,” he grinned, hands holding him up on either side of your head. “Better luck next time, babe,” he smirked, moving off you and offering a hand.

You frowned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Does the loser get a kiss?” You grabbed onto his hand, your other wrapping around his forearm as you brought him close. 

He smirked, leaning in to kiss you but the next second, you grabbed him, throwing him over your shoulder and flipping him onto his back. He hissed in pain. 

You laughed. “Pucker up, loser gets a kiss,” you smirked, still holding onto his hand. 

A few minutes later you were now enjoying a tranquil day out on the dock, your leg crossed underneath you while the other dangled over the ledge.

Your stomach fluttered as Eli’s hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head to the side as he kissed you. Your hand rested on his wrist, the other pressed against his chest. No matter how many times you kissed him, you grew giddy, your face growing hot. It was a feeling you didn’t want to go away. 

“I think if we keep kissing, our lips are gonna fall off,” you snickered.

“Shh, I’ll take that risk,” he smirked against you, pulling you closer. 

The moment was beautiful but was cut short when your phone buzzed. This was the fifth time in the last ten minutes and you grew worried about who it was.

“Hang on,” you paused, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

“Just ignore it,” he brushed off, chasing your lips. 

“It’s Demitri,” you said, growing worried, knowing he only called for emergencies. 

Reading the messages he sent previously helped you relax, but seeing his urgency told you it was important.

“He’s probably only calling to bitch about something,” Eli scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist to stop you but you pushed a hand against his chest. 

“Stop it,” you furrowed your brows, straightening and facing out onto the lake as you answered. “Are you okay?” You asked your friend.

“Eli didn’t tell you?” He asked.

“No, tell me what?” You furrowed your brows, sending your boyfriend a look.

“Your new Sensei attacked me in the dojo the other day, I had to get stitches,” he explained.

Your eyes widened. “He what?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” he said. “I thought Eli would’ve told you, but I guess I was wrong,” he sighed. “I wanted to let you know.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll stop by when I can, do you need anything?” You chewed on your lip, a feeling bubbling in your chest.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he said before hanging up.

“I told him to let it go,” Eli spoke up.

“Eli, our friend got hurt!” You exclaimed. “I knew Kreese had something off about him,” you said, thinking back to his slip-up at the dojo today. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve been checking on Demitri like good friends instead of coming out here,” you gestured around you.

His brows furrowed. “Demitri will be fine. Besides, why would you put him over me? I thought our dates were important,” he argued.

“They are but things happen, he’s our best friend,” your voice cracked. “You should’ve told me,” you stood up, walking towards your backpack.

“Why are you acting like this? He’s the one acting like a bitch,” he sneered, standing up and following you. 

You couldn’t believe what he had said. “No, he’s not!” You turned around to look at him. “You’re the one acting so insecure! I’m not choosing him over you and it hurts that you’d say that,” you huffed.

You hated that you were arguing again. It’d been a while since the tournament but you hoped you were past it.

“Babe, stop,” he reached for your wrist, pulling you back. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed. 

“I don’t want to fight about this,” you breathed. “I just want to see Demitri and make sure he’s okay,” you gulped. 

He was reluctant but after a beat, he agreed. “Okay, I’ll drive you.”

~

Disappointment filled you when Eli didn’t want to come inside to visit Demitri. First, it was the “nerd shit” stuff at the victory party but being so insensitive when he was assaulted?! 

You were trying to understand why Eli was losing himself. It hurt you in more ways than you could imagine.

After his mother let you in, you made your way to his room. You found him sitting at his desk, playing a game and when you knocked on the door, he turned around, showing you the bandage on his nose.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” you went over and hugged him. “And I’m sorry for how Eli reacted, I didn’t think he’d be defensive about it.” 

He nodded, patting your shoulders as he moved to sit on his bed. “It’s not your fault, at least one of my best friends still cares about me,” he shrugged.

Your gaze dropped, knowing you couldn’t even argue it. 

“I’ll talk to him,” you said. 

“Didn’t you already?” He looked at you. “It’s obvious he won’t change his mind. I’m just a big pussy according to him,” he sighed, licking his lips. 

“I think Kreese is getting into his head. He hasn’t been around long but he’s already slithering his way into Cobra Kai. I gotta be honest when I say I don’t like it,” you frowned. 

Valley Fest was his idea, he punched Demitri, and now your boyfriend is getting swooped up into his ideologies. Sure, he was Sensei’s sensei, but you had a feeling he was trying to revert Cobra Kai to its original state. 

“At least you’re not getting assaulted because of it,” he spoke.

“I know,” you nodded. “I guess you’re not joining Cobra Kai then,” you stated the obvious.

He shook his head. “I’m thinking of joining Miyagi-Do,” he confessed.

Your brows raised in surprise. You knew if Eli heard of this or anyone from Cobra Kai did, they’d be pissed but all you could find yourself doing was feeling proud of him. 

“Their demonstration did seem pretty cool,” you smiled. “I think you’ll fit right in,” you beamed. “And I promise I won’t say anything to Eli.”

“Thanks,” he sighed out in relief. “What about you?” He asked.

“What about me?” Your face scrunched in confusion. 

“Isn’t Kreese one of your sensei’s now? Don’t you want to get out before it’s too late for you too?” His voice was filled with so much concern. 

“He’s not my sensei,” you shook your head. “I don’t agree with what he believes,” you said. “Besides, someone needs to watch Eli, right?” Your tone was playful. 

He agreed. “Sure, I guess. Until he turns completely toxic and takes it out on you,” he warned. 

“I’m strong enough to not let that happen,” you cocked a brow. “Miyagi-Do will make you strong, so don’t worry about Eli, I’m proud, okay?”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiled.

Later, he offered for you to stay for dinner, which you accepted. It was a nice distraction from the worry you held when it came to your boyfriend. You just hoped he’d change once you talk to him.

~

The next day at the dojo, practice ran like usual.

“The back thrust kick works like this,” Sensei demonstrated. 

“What about if your opponent attacks you from behind?” Eli asked.

“Excellent question,” Sensei pointed. “Sensei Kreese, you wanna take this one?” 

You frowned slightly, eyeing the older man. Where were you when he was appointed as a sensei? You weren’t sure about this.

“Certainly Sensei Lawrence,” Kreese said, uncrossing his arms and making his way to the front.

“The key to making this move is to trick your enemy into thinking you’re retreating,” he began. “But just as they’re letting their guard down, that’s when you strike the hardest,” he demonstrated the kick. 

You took in the lesson, but the glance you shared with Miguel told you all you needed to know.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Im not sure how this works but can I request Steve for the secret admirer bingo square if it's still available? I can just picture him being so sweet and thoughtful with notes and gifts or drawings. Thanks<3

Oh, this was such a cute idea! I don't know if I did it justice with the little piece I created. I hope you enjoy anyway. 💗

Secret Admirer (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

College!SteveRogers x Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: fluffy, shy Steve, just very sweet

✨ college steve playlist ✨

A small knock on your dorm room door and another piece of paper slipped through the gap at the bottom of it. It wasn’t the first one you’ve gotten. It happened all the time, to be honest. Sometimes it was a note, saying something along the lines of ‘You look beautiful today’ or ‘You make me smile’. Sometimes it was little drawings, hasty sketches but laced with so much precision, you could really see the talent behind it. And they were all signed by ‘Grant’. 

It was super sweet, but the problem was, you didn’t know a Grant. 

The first time it had happened was a Friday, about two months ago. Wanda had picked up the paper on her way to the closet and handed it to you with a smirk. 

“Wo’s Grant?” She had teased with excitement, thrilled to finally see you getting yourself out there again. But her face had fallen when you answered with an equally surprised look on your face. “I don’t know who Grant is.”

By now, you had gotten used to the little messages you received almost regularly, even missing them a little when ‘Grant’ had not sent you anything that day. It was exciting to figure out the mystery of your secret admirer, as Wanda had proclaimed, you wanted to know who it was. Who wouldn’t, right? 

But you had no idea. And after another two weeks of Wanda obsessively searching for your secret messager, you slowly began to give up, just enjoying the little gifts and accepting the forever unknowing of this mystery. You made peace with it. And besides, it wasn’t like the people you wanted would want you back, anyway. There was this one cute guy in your elective class, Steve Rogers, but he was kind of ignoring you. And who would blame him, you’ve heard many people talk about how cute he was, he had plenty to choose from. The people you’ve seen him hang out with on campus were very hot, too. And super nice. But they never held anything more than small talk with you. 

You weren’t very lucky when it came to relationships and dating. Which was why it was so nice to have those little messages passed under your door from time to time. It showed you that you weren’t totally undesirable. Which you weren’t. There had been one guy that had asked you out last semester but he was a total weirdo. And then there was A girl named Yelena, but she just disappeared halfway through the date - said there was an emergency, well, you knew what that meant. 

So yeah, to say you were lost was an understatement. Which was why you resumed pining for the hunky blonde in your class that smiled at you from time to time. Today, you had said class again and after yet another uneventful lecture, your professor had asked each of his students to sign up for the fundraiser he organized this semester. And as you stood in line, someone suddenly tapped your shoulder. 

“You dropped this.” You turned and came face to face with Steve who was holding a pen out to you. You were frozen for a second, just looking into his blue eyes and fighting not to get lost in them. 

“Oh, thank you.”

“No worries.” He smiled and then looked away, almost shyly.

You turned back and made another step as the line in front of you got shorter. But your mind was racing, your hand clenching the pen in your hand as you thought about the tiny interaction with Steve. This was your chance, right? He was literally standing right behind you. 

You turned around again. “Steve, right?”

A small smile snuck on his face, his eyebrows raising slightly, “Uh... yeah. And you’re Y/N, right?”

“Yeah... hey I don’t want to come off weird or anything, but would you maybe wanna grab a coffee with me?”

“Now?” He asked surprised. 

 You laughed nervously. “Well, preferably after we signed up. I’m not standing in this line for fun.”

Steve chuckled as he bit his lip and it was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen. “I would love to.” 

Now you were smiling like an idiot as you turned around to hide the little fist bump in excitement. You would mess this up, this was your chance! You stood next to Steve as he leaned over the table to write on the sign-up sheet. 

“Do you have a favorite coffee shop?”

“Stan’s place is nice,” you mumbled with your arms crossed, glancing over the way Steve carefully signed his name down. 

“I’ve heard of it...” He said concentrating, but you were too distracted by the name he scribbled on the dotted line beneath yours. 

Steven Grant Rogers

Could it be? Your heart began to race as you saw the way the G curved on the page. It was engraved into your memory by now. This was the ‘Grant’ you had been seeing for weeks, scribbled at the bottom of countless messages. 

“Your..,” you began, but your throat felt dry. “Your middle name is Grant?” Your voice had done a weird squeaky thing at the end of your question, and when Steve stood up straight to look at you again, his smile faded. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah... I’m just a little surprised. I’ve been getting some messages lately.” You told him carefully. Curious as to what his reaction would be. It seemed as though Steve realized, at that moment, just what you had discovered. And to your surprise, the too-cool-for-you facade you had prescribed him fell off his body like a curtain. He was blushing, his hand immediately rubbing at his neck, but he couldn’t hide it anymore. 

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what to do with the revelation. Secretly, you had wanted it to be Steve. But at the same time, the person you had crafted in your head with the help of the notes and drawings, didn’t match the man standing in front of you. It was confusing and exciting, and scary, and nice.

“Uhm, I guess there’s no use to pretend anymore, is there?” He asked embarrassed and your heart fluttered. 

“I... I thought you never noticed me.”

Something hushed over his eyes then. It was gone as soon as it had come, but it made Steve look sad. “Never noticed you? You’re all I ever think about. I just didn’t know how to tell you...”

“Oh.” You smiled, willing your giddy heart to calm. 

You were quiet for a moment, and Steve was fidgeting with his arms, trying to place them somewhere else. And when he finally settled on holding his elbows in front of his chest, his biceps bulging and drawing your attention, he spoke. “So, about that coffee,” he pressed his lips into a line nervously, “can we make it a date?”

You bit your lip while chuckling slightly. “I would love to.”

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[legobiwan]

“Please don’t let me be alone.”

“I’m right here, okay?”

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” Mario and Luigi.

(Completely 100% platonic. That last one can be them talking about things changing for them in the romance department, and worrying that's going to pull them away from each other. Just as an example. )

I decided to take this in a slightly different direction, anon :)

So, a bit of context. This takes place pre-SPM, but there's some foreshadowing in there, so probably a month or two before that whole series of events goes down.

While I know Luigi and Mario talk, we have evidence that Luigi keeps some things from his brother, mostly related to his more negative emotions, as shown in the diary scenes of Paper Mario 64. I kind of run a little bit with this idea here.

As to what Luigi is looking for in terms of love...I'll let you all decide. I'll say upfront that this is written as a purely platonic relationship between Luigi and Mario, and I know exactly who I am thinking of in those last lines, but that's - literally - another story.

Very little editing has been done here, caveat lector and all that jazz.

Also, poor Morel. He's trying. Probably too hard. You'll meet him soon.

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

“Hey, Mario!”

The owner of the squeaky voice toddled up the path towards them, his small stature unbalanced by the large guitar strapped to his back, the neck of which seesawed with every step.

“Hi, there!” Mario greeted, the Toad letting out a small oomph as he half-collapsed against Mario’s side, hands on his knees, his ruby-red vest soaked with sweat.

Luigi really hoped the kid wouldn’t keel over this time. 

“Do - “ Morel panted, taking a large swallow before trying again. “Do you have a minute?”

At this point, it was part of their routine. He and his brother would decide to run an errand in the town, maybe check out one of their favorite spots. Let’s pick up some cherry juice from that cafe or Hey, how about we go to that market and see if the new sports equipment is in, his brother would say airily, as if it was going to be a quick thing, an easy jaunt into Mushroom Square and back home before the mail came.

These days, it was never a quick thing. Not with his brother around, at least. What had been maybe a weekly occurrence had exploded into a near-daily even, the denizens of the Mushroom Kingdom stopping to ask his brother for a picture, or an autograph, or even a piece of advice in relation to plumbing, mechanics, or even relationships. 

As if being the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom made Mario some kind of expert in psychology.

Of course, this meant everyday chores that would have taken no more than ten minutes in Brooklyn bloated into an all-day activity, his brother unable to turn down the beaming faces and adulation of the Mushroom citizenry. In the end, Luigi had taken full control over the majority of the domestic duties in their shared house, if for no other reason than the fact he could get to the market and back in a reasonable amount of time.

No one ever stopped Luigi to ask for advice. Not usually, and if they did, it was quick and usually in relation to either his brother or, oddly enough, King Boo, whose name had become as synonymous with Luigi’s as the whispered commentary of “coward” and “oddball” that trailed him like toilet paper stuck on a shoe.

Most of the time, the Toads wanted to know what it was like being trapped in the painting, what horrors he saw there, if it was the afterlife, or something similar. Luigi had given up on trying to correct them after the first few times, giving out uninspired answers like “dark and scary,” which seemed to both placate the Mushroom Kingdom residents’ thirst for grisly gossip and align with their internal schema for who they thought Luigi was. 

It didn’t matter, in the end. He had saved his brother. Twice. The health and safety of everyone involved was more important than his ego.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from occasionally daydreaming about King Boo attacking the Mushroom Kingdom, just so Luigi could prove a point

“You know, Morel,” Luigi said, shaking thoughts of Toads screaming for his help from his mind, “we were on our way to pick up some - “

“It’s okay, Lou,” Mario interrupted with a brisk wave. “Shop doesn’t close for another hour and I’m sure Morel won’t take too much of our time.

Luigi was sure the opposite would be true, but far be it from him to be the bad guy and tell Morel to come back later. His reputation in the Mushroom Kingdom was dicey enough as it was - he wasn’t to exacerbate things by being mean to a teen Toad.

As Morel and his brother talked, Luigi let his thoughts wander. He nixed their shopping list, weighing the pros and cons of raiding the back of the cupboard for whatever dregs of food they had left. He wondered if Mario even remembered who Morel was, watching his brother make the appropriate gestures and smiling widely, that glimmer of recognition absent in his brother’s expression. He couldn’t really blame Mario, not for that. How many times can you be asked for an autograph or advice before all those faces blurred together? Even Luigi couldn’t always keep them straight, and he had a lot more time to quietly observe and register his brother’s admirers. 

Morel, however, was not to be forgotten. The last time he had accosted them, he had wanted to show off one of his many creative endeavors, this time an hour-long, abstruse interpretative dance performance that was somehow supposed to help with diplomatic relations at an upcoming summit between the Mushroom Kingdom and the Yoshis. 

Five minutes in, Mario’s eyes had glazed over. Ten minutes in and three pirouetting Piranhas later, Luigi found himself mentally running over a table for standard thermodynamic values in select substances. Carbon was always the hard one. Way too many possibilities.

Luigi bit the inside of his cheek, bringing his attention back to the conversation.

“So Mario,” Morel unsheathed his guitar from his back, pulling a crumpled piece of paper with multiple strikeouts from his pocket. “Have you ever liked a girl? Like, liked like?”

Luigi choked down a laugh. The Romeo of Room 312. That’s what he had called his brother back in middle school, who pined after a different girl every week. Vanessa Tuccio, Jackie Galagio, Stephanie Rizzo. None of them gave his brother the time of day, Mario still being in that awkward stage where he hadn’t made up for his lack of height with an abundance of muscle, his voice teetering somewhere between squeaky laryngitis and the hoarse, nasal tenor of a common cold.

By the time they hit high school (and Mario’s voice had finally dropped), that all changed, his brother doing pretty well himself in the dating department, at least as far as Luigi could tell. They weren’t as close those years, with he and Mario at different schools, Luigi buried in a mountain of chemistry and physics textbooks while his brother hung out with his jock friends at a ratty gym on 86th Street. 

But he had taken a nice girl to prom. Had had a few breakups, some of them Mario’s fault. All what Luigi assumed was normal teenage stuff.

Not that he really knew.

Luigi had tried dating a few girls in high school, girls with long hair, glasses, and a religious devotion to the periodic table. Nothing ever went past the clammy hand-holding stage and one very awkward kiss over a smuggled bottle of cheap wine on the Coney Island boardwalk, each girl in question giving him a polite brush-off after a week or two, only to attach themselves to some other guy who somehow seemed to know how to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

Frankly, it was a miracle Luigi had lost his virginity at all by the time he graduated, his new-found, reckless courage bolstered by the death of his father and the whole shitstorm with the family business being ripped out from under their noses. He had barely finished senior year, whatever motivation he had once had to claw himself out of Bensonhurst and into Cooper Union whisked away once he was faced with the reality of being a seventeen year old orphan staring down a mountain of unpaid bills and a deceased father who may or may not have owed favors to the mob.

From that point onwards, he and Mario were focused on survival, on running a third-rate plumbing business out of a second-rate studio, Luigi elbows-deep in the guts of their father’s van more often than not, neither he nor Mario willing or able to shell out the cash for an actual mechanic. It was tenuous and relentless, and there was no way either of them had the energy or capacity to think about something as banal as dating when creditors and loan sharks were breathing down their neck every five days.

And then - their lives had been turned upside-down once again.

The concept of dating in the Mushroom Kingdom was laughable, and Luigi had resigned himself to a monastic existence while they figured out a way back to Brooklyn. There were so few humans around and it was clear from the outset that there something was going on between his brother and Peach, even if it had never advanced beyond hugs that lasted a few seconds too long to be called friendly and doe-eyed glances cast across the long tables of the the palace dining room.

Which left Luigi the odd man out, a situation he was overly-familiar with in this new world, his brother the famous hero of the Kingdom and Luigi himself an afterthought, at best. And sure, he had met a few other human women - smart, funny, beautiful human women who seemed to like talking with him, who, against all odds, found him genuinely interesting. 

But despite his brother egging him on, Luigi couldn’t quite find the motivation to try and turn that friendly flirting into anything more. Sure, Daisy was amazing and a force of nature. And Princess Eclair had been utterly captivating, to the point where Luigi wondered if she was some kind of enchantress. But for all of that, there was something missing, something he couldn’t quite make fit, a niggle in the back of his brain with his father’s voice, telling him to hit the gym, to put down his books and stop wearing those colorful socks or else he was going to get a reputation - the kind of reputation that ended with a fist in your face in a Brooklyn Heights Promenade bathroom.

There was something else, something more he wanted. But he was damned if was going to find it in the Mushroom Kingdom, and with the likelihood of them ever getting back to Brooklyn diminishing with each passing year - well, those monks didn’t have too bad a life, right?

“Okay, okay, are you guys ready?” Morel had sat himself on a small boulder, motioning for Luigi and Mario to follow suit. With his audience in place, the teen Toad strummed a few chords on his guitar, reaching up to adjust the tuning, then strumming again, then tuning, a process which took at least five minutes. Luigi was no musician, but even he was pretty sure Morel was just stalling at this point.

“Alright,” Morel sighed, breathy. “So, there’s this girl, right? And she’s really pretty. And I want to impress her, like, really impress her. She’s all into this band,” Morel’s face twisted, “Lion’s Mane and their front Toad is super cool and good-looking. I figure I can win her over if I show I can sing just as good as him, if I can write my own songs and everything! So here we go.”

Morel straightened, his small fingers digging into spaces above and below the frets. He took a large breath from his nose, held it, and then began play.

“Please don’t let me be alone.

I’ll talk to you on the phone.

I lose my spores,

When you walk on through those doors.

I’m right here, okay?

Right on the Mushroom Way.

It’s my time to say,

Chanterelle, you’re so swell!”

With a florid movement, Morel ran his thumb over the strings for the final chord, a broken set of notes that reminded Luigi of a dying carburetor he once tried to fix in his racing kart. Next to him, his brother’s smile was plastered on so tight Luigi thought his face might break in two if he tried any harder. 

“So what do you think, Mario? Do you think Chanterelle will date me?”

His brother’s eyes went wide, Mario’s smile growing even larger as he drummed his fingers on the knee of his pants. 

“I think,” Luigi offered, taking pity on his brother, “you put a lot of effort into this and Chanterelle will certainly be…surprised.”

Morel bounced up and down on his heels. “Do you think she’ll feel the love in this song?”

Luigi side-eyed his brother, who looked about one misplaced word away from bursting out in laughter. A small, vindictive part of Luigi wanted to pop the perfect persona his brother had cultivated, wanted the image of the hero be brought down to the level of the man he knew his brother was.

But looking at Morel’s shimmering eyes, the open admiration glowing from his small body - Luigi knew wasn’t going to do that to him. 

“You’ve certainly shown us what love can look like,” Luigi said, diplomatic. “And sound like.” Like you need a mechanic, he thought.

Morel punched the air. “Yes! Oh boy! Thank you! Thank you, Mario, you’re the best! I’m gonna go find Chanterelle right now!” The teen toad scrambled to get his guitar on his back, setting off in the direction of the Town Center, looking back every few seconds to give enthusiastic waves.

Mario let out a small laugh. “Thanks for the save, bro.”

“Eh,” Luigi shrugged. “I didn’t say anything untrue. He certainly demonstrated what love could be.”

“I just hope she lets him down easy. It’s a rough age for that stuff, human or Toad.”

Luigi hummed in response, looking out over the emerald-green hills that dotted the path to the Town Center. It was probably a rough age for that stuff at any age, trying to navigate love - to know another person and let them know you. 

“Hey Mario. While we’re on the topic, what about you and - “

“Still want to go to the market, Lou?” Mario asked, the slightest tremor of panic in his voice. Luigi had been trying, without success, to get his brother to open up about the whole situation with him and Peach had been trying to get him to shed the persona that was slowly taking over his everyday existence. Not that Mario was being mean or deliberately distant. He was still his brother, they still talked together, laughed together, occasionally cried together. But Luigi still couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed. Something about the way Mario’s focus drifted every time they met up in Rogueport, or how he had come out of that painting the second time, vigorously shaking Luigi’s hand like he was running for political office. 

Luigi gave a silent nod, picking up his tote bag from the ground before following his brother’s lead, starting off in the direction of the town

Then again, maybe it was for the best. If Mario didn’t have to tell Luigi about his private life, then Luigi wouldn’t have to share his, wouldn’t have to get into the creeping insecurities and resentment that clouded parts of his existence in the Mushroom Kingdom. Wouldn’t have to explain that he didn’t know what love looked like, at least not the love he thought he was seeking, the part of him that craved understanding, with being known, unconditionally.

He had his brother. They were alive, healthy, and together. It would have to be enough.

[enjoythesilentworld]

Wille's Month - Friends

day 16! 💜 @youngroyals-events are yall tired of me yet lol

Wille and Simon are very good friends, indeed.

read below the cut or on ao3 (G, 1.5k) <3

The weather is so nice, and Simon looks so beautiful, with his late summer tan and still-damp curls from their shower that morning, that Wille barely notices the little bakery his boyfriend is dragging him into. 

As a last hurrah before the winter months, they’ve taken a trip to a random little northern town to swim and lounge and play house together. Technically, they already live together and had done so for a few years, but there was something so domestic about sitting in the backyard of their rented villa, sipping coffee in the morning. There was something, still domestic but in a different way, about being as loud as they wanted without having to worry about the neighbors. Making dinner in the big kitchen and shouting across the house, it felt like a window into the next many, many years they’d have together. The whole trip had been so easy, so calming, and Wille just loves Simon so much, and is so grateful they get to have this life with each other. 

A small bell on the bakery door rings as they enter and Wille is hit with a wave of sweet jam and crisp pastry. It’s a small space, but the owners have managed to cram a lot in. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with a mixture of books and picture frames and random art pieces. The tables and chairs are a charming mixture of woods and metals, all different colors and sizes. 

From behind the counter, a small old woman perks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on Wille. Her attire matches the maximalism of the bakery, with at least three different animal prints and several necklaces stacked around her neck. A large pair of square glasses sit on her tiny nose, partially blocking the heavy pink blush on her round cheeks. He braces himself, never knowing how people – especially older folk – are going to react to seeing their Ex-Crown Prince, and he can’t read her face. 

“Kronprinsen!” In a flurry of movement, at a speed truly impressive for such a small lady, the old woman pops up from her chair and rushes around the counter. She pauses only for a moment to give a small curtsy, like an afterthought, before rushing off to begin wiping down tables and straightening the millions of knick-knacks scattered around the room. Before Wille can correct her, she’s rambling, face drawn up in a serious expression, “I told Robert, I said, one of these days the Prince is going to show up and you’ll be sorry you didn’t clean up like I told you. Every day I tell him he needs to wash the windows– I can’t reach the tops of them except with the stool, so he tells me he’ll do it because he doesn’t want me falling off– But, here we are, years later, and he still hasn’t cleaned the damn windows!” 

Wille and Simon stop just inside the door, watching as the tiny tornado of a woman flits around the room, continuing to complain about ‘Robert’. She has a no-bullshit but almost whimsical manner about her that reminds him of Maddie. Realizing she may never stop, Wille gently interrupts her when she pauses to inhale between sentences.

“I’m actually– I’ve stepped down,” he says quickly, unsure how to break this news. “I’m just Wilhelm, now. Just Wille.” 

This makes the woman stop in her tracks. He tenses, expecting her to yell, but when she turns to him, she doesn’t look too upset. She simply looks a little curious.

“Have you? Why’s that?” 

“Um.” He isn’t exactly sure how to explain this, either. “I didn’t– It just wasn’t for me?” 

It comes out as a bit of a question, and it’s probably not the best response he’s given about the whole thing, but it’s been a few years now so people hardly ask him anymore and he’s out of practice. Simon gives a slight chuckle beside him at Wille’s fumbling, but the old woman doesn’t seem to care, just nods and approaches them. 

“Well, good for you. I don’t watch the news much, so I must’ve missed it.” She sticks out a tiny hand. “I am Ebba. This is my bakery. Been mine and Robert’s for decades, now, not that he does anything around here, the old fart.” 

As Wille and Simon shake her hand, they manage to introduce themselves quickly before she starts on another rant about the history of the building, and how she makes all the pastries and pies herself, and how any of the art and books are for sale, too, if they’d like. 

“Are you here for breakfast? Lunch?” Ebba totters back behind the counter. “What can I get for you? The scones are fresh, just took them out of the oven a few minutes ago. What are you two doing in town?” 

Noticing Wille’s astonishment at this burst of energy in the form of a 5’1” woman, Simon takes the lead, approaching the case and nodding intently as Ebba begins explaining every option. 

“These are all very beautiful, Ebba,” he says kindly, a bright smile on his face. Simon has a way with people that makes Wille feel like a bit of a dunce sometimes. It’s supposed to be Wille charming people, who is the former-royal and had actually taken classes in this, but something about the light in Simon’s eyes and the kindness in his heart draws people in. Ebba has not actually smiled yet, just spoken at them with an intense stare, but even Wille can tell she’s taken with Simon, offering him samples and answering all of his questions with excitement. 

“That one looks really good.” Simon points to a random pastry in the case, half-distracted by the sample of cookie he’s currently chewing on.

Noticing the small label, Wille cuts in, “That one has raisins, you won’t like it.” 

“Now, that’s a good friend, right there.” Ebba nods her head in approval. “My dear friend Susanna doesn’t like raisins, either. She does like this other one, though. It’s similar but without raisins, if you’d like to try.” 

Both men freeze. Wille opens his mouth to correct her, but she’s already grabbed a different pastry and is telling them more about her friend and how Susanna shares the bounty of her garden with Ebba so she can use the fresh fruit and vegetables in her pastries. He glances at Simon, who just looks back at him with a smile and a shrug. 

“She sounds like a lovely friend, Ebba,” he says when she hands over a sliver of pastry. “And you’re right, Wille is a great friend. He’s always looking out for me.” 

Simon reaches out and gives Wille a friendly pat on the shoulder, but then slowly slides his hand down Wille’s back and pinches the soft skin of his hip, saying, “He knows exactly what I like.” Ebba doesn’t seem to notice the drop in Simon’s tone or the way Wille’s knees buckle slightly at the look Simon is giving him, she just nods again. 

“How long have you two been friends, then?” 

“We met in school,” Wille squeaks out when Simon looks up at him expectantly, hand now having traveled a bit lower to slip into the back pocket of Wille’s shorts. 

“That’s nice,” she says. “You know, my son is also still very close with his best friend from school. That boy is like my second son, after all these years. Of course, they’re married now, but the principle stands. Lifelong friends are very important.” 

Wille lets out surprised chuckles at her words. As Ebba continues to tell them about her son and his husband, Wille leans over to whisper, “Do we not look like a couple?” 

Simon shrugs and smiles teasingly. “She must have missed your hard-launch speech all those years ago.” 

“Sounds like I need to put a ring on it, so people know you’re mine,” he mumbles into Simon’s ear, relishing in the goosebumps that break out across his beautiful skin and the tiny gasp that falls from his lips. Simon squeezes at his bum with the hand still tucked in his back pocket, and Wille has to swallow a yelp. 

Ebba continues to tell them tons of rambling stories, but eventually they manage to pick out a few pastries for an early lunch and tip her kindly for her time. Wille finds a cute ceramic on a shelf and buys that, too, which Simon rolls his eyes at. They wave goodbye, promising to come back and visit, and exit the bakery.

Wille holds out his new purchase, a well-crafted sculpture of two orangey-pink fish kissing, and giggles. “It’s us.”

Simon hums and wraps his arm around Wille’s waist, leading him down the street. “Friends don’t kiss like that,” he says.  

Wille steps in front of Simon, then gently grabs him by the chin and presses a lingering kiss to his lips. “Good thing we’re not friends.” 

.

“Are we not friends?”

“Simoooon.”

“I’d like to think we’re both, at the very least.”

“You know what I meant. Come here.”

[lean-mean-demon-genevieve]

Okay so this is honestly not important but I just want to say that I saw Gen's newest Instagram post and I clicked on it about 23 minutes after it was uploaded, jared had already liked it... so somebody was right beside her when she posted it???

Also, just curious, is there a literal reason for her to post a picture of them kissing in pretty much every post she makes about them? Or is it just so she can rub it in? Probably the last one

Sorry for the amount of times I say "post" in this ask😅 someone give me another word besides "post"

Say “post” again…🤣

I doubt anyone (especially Jared) was sitting next to her, but I bet one of the Pads’ minions like Charlie or Michelle posted on their behalf and then made it look like Jared was just SO eager to show his love for Ole Gen.

It’s all orchestrated. It’s their brand. They have people for it. I’m surprised they haven’t cross-posted in a while but that’s a little obvious.

As far as the kiss pics, I’m not sure if she’s trying to rub it in or if she’s keenly aware that it’s her only draw. Just scroll through her posts and see how the engagement increases exponentially when she can get Jared to play along. Bottom line, her followers don’t care about her garden, book club, skin care ads, or Earth Mother nonsense half as much as they care about Jared.

She’s giving the people what they want because it also benefits her. The last time she posted herself scaling him like a fence, she bought back gained around 3,000 followers after losing so many after the election.

I want to know what bougie event this was. It looks pretentious as fuck. Her whole look is giving “let them eat cake.” And I love how disheveled and disinterested Jared looks next to her full glam. They look ridiculous as always.

Then she airbrushed herself so hard she looks like a Victorian ghost. She also really wants you to think she doesn’t look like a Lego person with her square af face.

The devil works hard, but Gen’s photo editing app works harder.