#happy valley one shot

[multifandomfix]

Arrest & Relaxation — Catherine Cawood

Summary: After your first arrest goes sideways, Catherine is there to help you through it and provide some encouragement.

Word Count: 886

Warnings: Minor injury, but mostly just fluff

The air was sharp and cold against your face, the grim northern wind biting through the damp streets. You clutched the cuffs in your hand, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your first arrest. It wasn’t just another milestone, it was the moment to prove that you were cut out for this. The sergeant at your side didn’t seem particularly fazed by the task ahead.

Catherine Cawood had been in the game longer than you’d been alive, or at least it felt that way. She moved with the kind of ease only someone with decades of experience could. For her, this was just another Thursday. For you, it was everything.

“There he is,” she muttered, gesturing with a subtle nod. The suspect —a petty thief, nothing overly dangerous— was loitering by the corner shop, stuffing his pockets with goods he had no intent to pay for.

Your breath hitched as Catherine’s voice cut through your focus. “Right. You go in first. Show me what you’ve got. I’ll be right behind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. With a quick nod, you stepped forward, attempting to channel every ounce of authority your training had drilled into you.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice steady despite the hammering of your heart. “I need to have a word with you.”

The man turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he sized you up. Younger, smaller, less experienced. His lips curled into a smirk, and a pit formed in your stomach.

“Yeah? What about?”

You glanced back at Catherine, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her face unreadable. She gave you the faintest nod, and you pressed on. You decided it was best to cut to the chase.

“You’re under arrest for theft,” you said, reaching for his arm. “Come quietly, and—”

Before you could finish, he lashed out, his hand shoving yours away with surprising force. You stumbled back, your boot catching on uneven pavement. The ground came up fast, and you hit it with a dull thud, pain radiating from your shoulder as you skidded to a stop.

“Oi!” Catherine’s voice was sharp enough to cut through steel. The man froze for a moment, but only long enough to decide fleeing was his best option.

Catherine was on him in seconds, moving like a seasoned predator. He didn’t stand a chance. By the time you’d scrambled back to your feet, she had him pressed against the wall, cuffed and cursing.

“Bloody idiot,” she muttered, giving him a none-too-gentle shove toward the squad car as backup arrived to take him away.

She turned to you then, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched just long enough for you to feel the weight of your failure settle in.

“You alright,” she asked finally, her tone softer than you’d expected.

You nodded, though the sting in your shoulder and the scrape on your palm told a different story. “I’m fine. Caught me off guard.”

She didn’t look convinced. Without another word, she reached for your arm, her hands deft but gentle as she inspected the damage. The scrape wasn’t deep, but it was angry and raw, and you winced as her thumb brushed against the edge of it.

“Come on,” she said, her voice gruff but not unkind. “We’ll go and get you sorted.”

You followed her to the station, feeling small under the weight of your embarrassment. Catherine didn’t say much as she led you to the first aid kit, but there was no mistaking the way her eyes flicked to you every so often, as if checking to make sure you were still upright.

She sat you down in a chair, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glow over the room. Grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and some gauze, she crouched in front of you, her movements practiced and precise as if she’d done this hundreds of times. Hell, she probably had.

“This might sting,” she warned.

You bit back a wince as the antiseptic touched your skin, the sting sharp and immediate. Catherine worked quickly, wrapping your hand with care.

“You did alright,” she said after a moment, breaking the silence.

Your head snapped up, surprise evident on your face. “I fell and let him get away.”

“Yeah, well, that happens,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “But you didn’t freeze up. You didn’t let him intimidate you. That counts for something.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you settled for a quiet “Thanks.”

Once she’d finished, she straightened up, planting her hands on her hips as she looked down at you. “Listen, you’re not gonna be perfect straight out of the gate. No one is. But you’ve got guts, and that’s half the battle. The rest comes with time.”

Her words settled something inside you, the weight of your earlier failure easing just a little.

“Thanks, Sarge,” you said, your voice steady.

She huffed a small laugh. “Call me Catherine, unless we’re on the job.”

From that day on, something shifted between you and Catherine. She kept an eye on you, offering quiet guidance when you needed it and sharp critiques when you deserved them. She didn’t coddle, but she didn’t leave you to flounder either. She took you under her wing, and you knew, deep down, that she wouldn’t let you fall again.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

[piastappies]

𝜗𝜚 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝜗𝜚

⋆ pairing. max verstappen x streamer!reader

⋆ summary. max wants to surprise you. little does he know, he just hard launched his relationship!

⋆ notes. a bit suggestive for a second lol, you’re responsible for the content u consume. not proofread 😝

YOU WERE BUNDLED UP IN A FLUFFY BLANKET that max got you on your first christmas together. it was a lazy evening, you weren’t even supposed to be streaming — you just wanted to play some games of valorant, though playing without talking to the people in your twitch chat, so… as you started the game, you also started a stream. your phone was charging in the other room, making discord the only way to communicate with you.

max didn’t know that — he was coming back from a few days up in milton keynes. you were still living separately, but you had keys to one another’s apartment as he rarely ever spent time without you during the breaks from racing. he didn’t think to text or call you, nor to check if you were streaming, it just kind of slipped his mind as you rarely streamed not in schedule. he was happy to be back, he missed you over the few days as you barely talked due to your merch launching soon and his workload at milton.

“thank you so much for the sub, oh my gosh!” you giggled, a smile creeping up on your face as you read the message from the viewer that just subscribed to your channel. you tried to read every donation, every sub so your viewers would feel included in the stream as much as possible.

it wasn’t always easy, especially when you streamed with a few of your friends that were a bit more famous, like max fewtrell, who you met through lando (who you met through your boyfriend). the donations, bits, and subscriptions would go crazy, but you loved the friends you made along the way, starting as a small streamer, casually playing valorant (or stardew valley on lazier days).

“guys, i can’t with this you die you drink a shot thing.” you laughed softly, running a hand down your face, your cheeks blushed due to the alcohol in your system. the chat was spammed with jokes and clips of your drunken self, but you didn���t really mind. drunk streams weren’t a common occurrence.

you started another game, as the last one was finished with — surprisingly — a win for your team. you squinted your eyes, pulling yourself on the chair closer to the screen, jokingly saying that it was a now-or-never game, after having fixed the position of your glasses on the bridge of your nose and locking in a character.

the soft tunes of a non-copyrighted song was playing in your headset as the game began, making you unable to hear the jiggling of keys as someone opened the front door to your house. it would’ve startled you if you heard it, especially in that state, but you didn’t, so when max came inside, no one could tell him that you were streaming and not just playing a game.

he’s grown accustomed to your silly antics, the screams, the rage, the laughter, and the stuff you were saying over the voice chat. he’s had your schedule memorised, he knew you weren’t supposed to stream tonight, so… he asumed you were either talking to yourself or just played a game.

dropping his carry-on bags in the living room, he moved to the kitchen to prepare something to eat, before surprising you with his presence. with all the information he’s had, the plan of a nice evening seemed flawless, he would make you something to eat, watch you play for a few minutes before giving you the best head of your life, it wasn’t really a point in his plan, but he wished it happen. his favorite place in the world was wherever, as long as his face was in between your legs.

he barged into your streaming room, thinking you were just playing a game. he went up to your setup, dropping his head to press a kiss to the crown of your head, freezing in one place as his eyes fell on one of the screen, seeing as your chat started going at an unholy speed.

fuck. “you’re streaming?” he asked, his voice quieter, so your mic wouldn’t pick up on him — it did, though. “you’re back?” you asked at the same time. the chat not quite understanding what has just happened, what was max verstappen doing in your room?

your thoughts, however, couldn’t be stopped from slipping from between your lips. “did you just hard launch us?” you said, slapping your hand over your mouth, causing max to chuckle a bit.

“i think you just did.” the dutch man grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, his hand gently rubbing your arm as you pretended to not notice the shock on your second screen. you and max were supposed to publicise your relationship sooner or later, so you could easily support him during races.

you tipped your chin upwards to look at your boyfriend, your expression softening as soon as you noticed the hint of giddiness on his face. “ah, fuck it. mina, could you change the stream title to drinking with The Man, capital t and m? thank youu.” you grinned at the camera, standing up from your chair, signaling max to sit down before you comfortably sat down on his lap.

“is he staying?” verstappen read out loud, wrapping his arms around your middle. “well, i have no way to go anyway, so i might as well stay.” he answered the question with a silly smile, leaning against the back of the chair, his hand slinding beneath your shirt.

“of course he’s staying! none of y’all can keep him. he’s mine.” you spoke into the mic, a frown appeared on your face as max laughed at your reaction. “what? you are mine. i’m not letting you leave.” you said in the most matter-of-fact tone.

“don’t worry, i don’t even wanna leave.” he pushed your headset away from your ear, whispering. his nose gently nudging your temple. “good. i wouldn’t let you out, anyways.” you shrugged your shoulders, starting another game, while still sitting on max’s lap, your back pressed against his chest as he talked to the chat, pretending to be unaware of the chaos ensued on twitter.

max verstappen might be a multiple times champion, but right now, all he was — all he wanted to be was your boyfriend. that would be sufficient for him, he wouldn’t be upset if this was his life as long as it would include you. points in the championships didn’t matter, winning the title(s) felt nice, but it didn’t matter either, having a seat or being millionaires would never matter if you weren’t by his side.

the stream ended an hour later, when you got a bit too cozy on max’s lap, so he had to end the stream himself, before he ended, he thanked for a good time and said something along the lines of see you guys pretty soon.

“we should get you on sim.” the dutch man joked as you nestled your head in the crook of his neck.

“ah, fuck you.”

[we-do-be-writing]

Taking Care

Sebastian (SDV) x Reader

A/N: I recently got back into Stardew Valley with the 1.6 update and got this dialogue with Sebastian, which gave me many ideas lol. I may end up writing a part 2 to this or just edit this post to add more

Another A/N: Okay, I totally did edit this to add more, and I think I'm going to do it again at some point lol

Last A/N: I did do it again lol, but now I think I've used all my ideas for this story

"What?! Are you kidding me?" You whisper shout, trying to keep Robin from hearing you.

Who knows what she would do if she found out Sebastian went into the caves alone. To be fair, you were about to knock him upside the head when you saw the gash on his arm.

It was gross, to say the least. It traveled up his forearm, the edges where his skin was split looked wilted, and you were surprised you couldn't see bone with how deep it was. Again, it was pretty gnarly.

"Sebastian, that needs to be taken care of; if you get an infection, you could lose your arm."

"That's a bit overdramatic," Sebastian says, "besides, I can't go see Harvey, he'd tell my mom for sure."

"Fine, then I'm going to take care of it."

You don't wait for his protest, grabbing his other arm and leading him to the couch in his room. Luckily for him, you were just on your way to the mines, so you had first aid supplies on hand.

First, you doused the wound with a life elixir, which stung based on the hiss Sebastian let out. Though already his skin was starting to close back together, the wonders of the Valley magic.

"I can't believe you went in there-"

"Hey, I have every right to go in there, same as you." He snapped, cutting you off.

You looked up and saw the harsh glare he was throwing your way, which you were happy to return as you continued...

"Slow down, hot shot. If you'd let me finish, I was going to say, 'I can't believe you went in there without a weapon.'"

"Oh," He mumbles, his eyebrows softening and his lips frowning, "Sorry, I guess I just didn't want a lecture."

"Well, you deserve one," you remark, "but now isn't the time."

"I lost my mace, but I didn't think it would be a big deal to go into the higher levels."

You sigh while grabbing gauze and a bandage to wrap around his arm. Gently, you take his arm in your hands and begin covering the wound.

Sebastian can feel goosebumps rising as he feels your surprisingly soft hands take care of him. He doesn't want to admit it to you yet, but it feels nice to have you there with him, worried about his well-being.

You finish wrapping his arm and look up to see him already gazing down at you. He almost seems to be in a trance, and you can feel yourself following along. Who knows how long you two spend looking at each other, wondering what will come next.

Taking a chance, you cup his hand in yours, drawing circles with your thumb. Slowly, your other hand travels up towards his face. Sebastian lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, ready for anything.

However, before you can make contact, Robin calls for Sebastian from the stairs, breaking the moment. His eyes snap open and you both jolt away, trying to come back to the present moment.

Quickly, Sebastian pulls his sweatshirt sleeve over the bandaged wound and calls back to his mother, telling her he'll be right there. You both emerge from his room, much to Robin's surprise.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company." She says, noticing the blush coating yours and Sebastian's face. You can tell she's trying to keep the teasing smile from showing, though she thankfully doesn't ask questions.

"It's alright, I was just leaving anyways." You say hastily, waving goodbye to them both before booking it out of the building.

Before the door closes, you can hear a faint mumble from Robin. Sebastian, in a much louder fashion, tells her to keep her voice down, and you swear you hear him say something akin to "not yet."

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

It's been 2 days since you last saw Sebastian, but now it's Friday, and you couldn't miss the weekly hangout with Sam and Abigail. Of course, it's not like you were avoiding Sebastian, but you also weren't sure how to act around him right now.

Usually, you would share everything with Abigail, but you had promised Sebastian that you wouldn't tell anyone that he got hurt. Unfortunately, Abigail isn't one to miss things going on with her best friend, so you had to admit to her that something had happened between you two.

This made tonight particularly anxiety-inducing as you didn't know what to expect when you walked into the saloon. You were the last to join, not unusual with your work on the farm.

The trio is in their usual spots, Seb and Sam playing pool with Abigail sitting on the couch. After saying hello to the others in the saloon, you join them.

Robin tries to slyly give you a thumbs up when you pass by. You and Demetrius furrow your brows in confusion, but you give her a smile and continue on.

"Hey, Y/n!" Abigail calls, waving you over to sit beside her on the couch.

Sebastian was just going to hit the cue ball when he heard your name, causing the pool stick to shake. The cue ball ricochets wildly across the table and Sam laughs at Sebastian's frown.

"Hmm, you seem a little distracted, Seb," Abigail says, "I think it's my turn."

You watch as she gets up and ushers Sebastian out of the way, wanting to pull her back to the seat. The boys share a look of confusion, but Seb moves over to the side with you.

While Sebastian's back is turned to her, Abigail tries to give you a discreet wink, to which you squint your eyes at her.

When he gets to the couches, Seb hesitates whether to join you or sit on the adjacent seat.

Before you can move, he shakes his head a little and plops down beside you, considerably closer than Abby was.

You try to mask the surprise and keep your body from going rigid. Why were you freaking out? He's one of your best friends; it's not like you haven't sat together before.

You pinch the inside of your hand to shake you from your thoughts. Looking over, you see Sebastian's eyes trained on the pool game.

Right as the cue ball cracks against an object ball, you lean closer to his ear and whisper, "How's your arm feeling?"

Seb lets out a shaky breath, something he's been doing a lot with you recently.

"It's good, there's just a scar left." He says, moving to face you and lifting his jacket sleeve just enough for you to see.

He's right, the wound has completely closed, and the scar is faded to a light pink. You feel relief flood your system, not realizing how worried you were about him.

"I'm glad." You say softly, going to touch the scar before pausing.

Glancing up, Sebastian gives you a tiny nod, and you watch the goosebumps rise on his arm as you make contact. You gently run your fingers along the mark, making him shiver.

"Does it hurt?" You whisper, lifting your gaze to meet his.

He shakes his head, "Just sensitive."

You cup his arm in your hands, a mimic of what happened 2 days ago in his room. This time, he flips his arm over, bringing his hand to yours, fingers dancing over your palm.

Now it's your turn to have your breath catch, but you don't break the eye contact. Just before Sebastian can lace his fingers through yours, Abigail cheers loudly, causing you two to break away.

Broken from your shared trance once again, you see Robin walk into the room. Sam and Abigail are looking at you both with a raised eyebrow as Sebastian talks to his mother.

"Seems like something that should happen in private," Abigail whispers to you, and you have to fight the blush clawing its way up your neck.

"Seems like something that's never going to happen." You respond. In your defense, it's difficult to think that the universe isn't stopping this for a reason.

Sam shakes his head vigorously, "It will, be patient."

You huff and roll your eyes playfully, kind of, but the conversation is halted when Sebastian returns to the group.

"Guess it's time to go home," Sam says, guiding Abigail to the door of the saloon.

You and Sebastian follow, but he grabs your arm to make you stop once you leave the building.

"Let me walk you home."

Your mouth drops open, but no words come out. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and you snap your mouth shut, giving him a tiny nod.

You both walk side by side until you leave the town center, cross through the area near the bus stop, and onto your farm. Stopping at the porch, Sebastian shuffles and scratches the back of his neck. Giving him a soft smile, you step closer and reach your hand from your side, ghosting your fingers over his.

Another shaky breath, and you make a mental note to ask Harvey to check into that at Sebastian's next check-up. You're brought back to the moment when his hand grabs yours and he pulls you closer.

Gently, his other arm wraps around your waist, and his hand rests on your back. You follow his lead, running your free hand up his chest to the back of his neck.

Feeling your breath hit his lips, Sebastian decides he's done with the waiting, the tension, and the interruptions. He leans down and gives you an intense kiss, if a little sloppy. You can't exactly complain; it's not like there are many people he would be kissing in Pelican Town.

You pull back a little, keeping your lips close to his. When you look, his eyes are still closed, almost as if he is searing this moment in his memory.

Closing your eyes, you do the same, hoping that you both will make many more memories. Who knows how much time passes before you step back. Sebastian's eyes blink open, and you share a smile as your eyes meet again.

"I don't think I ever said thank you for taking care of me."

"I'll always take care of you."

[courtofblooming]

my favorite elriel fics. 🦇♡

a long masterlist of my all time favorite elriel fanfictions on ao3, after being a fan of this couple for 4 years. all these fanfictions are special to me and i hope i can help other elriels that have been looking for recommendations. ✧・˚

— info: all completed fics. <3

!! ₊ ˚ ୨୧ ⋅ ̥ യ . 𖥔

“Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow” by Violetasteracademic, canon compliant, elriel’s story after acosf, forbidden love, angst, fluff, smut, long fic. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54831724/chapters/138983473)

“A Court of Bones in Bloom” by ladyveravincent, canon compliant, elriel’s story after acosf, forbidden love, long fic, slow burn, eight court theory, angst, eventual smut. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/58554709/chapters/149179024)

“Pretty Little Angel” by DottieLovegood, canon compliant, elriel’s story after acosf with a twist, BDSM, azriel owns a club, smutty. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30617429/chapters/75532637)

“Freshly Baked” by elainsroses, canon compliant, series with three oneshots in it, fluff and domestic, elriel are together and happy, baking, kisses and a pregnancy plot, pure fluff. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2759089)

“Wildest Dreams” by tswaney17, canon compliant, established relationship, elain and azriel’s children, happy endings, pure fluff, elriel have a little family together, soft azriel. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55844830)

“Stargirl” by duskandcobalt, canon compliant, elain and azriel are spending some time together when elain has a vision, smut, sneaking around, secret relationship, stolen moments, kitchen sex. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/50867182/chapters/128505301)

“For A Taste Of You (I Will Do Anything)” by keeparecordofthewreckage, one shot, post acosf solstice, smut and smut and angst, set on starfall, did i mention smut? (https://archiveofourown.org/works/36913843)

“A Tapestry of Dreams and Reality” by ImaginativeInk, canon compliant, elain’s cauldron powers, elain and azriel find themselves in the mystical realm of dreams and their connection continues to unfold. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53269846)

“Be still, my foolish heart” by roselensedeyes, canon divergence, adoption, original characters (children), adopted children, elriel are mates, wedding + pregnancy, elain volunteers at an orphanage in velaris. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/50680402/chapters/128026141)

“Love Confessions, Meddling Brothers and Raspberry Tarts” by obisidian_witch, canon compliant, angst with a happy ending, secret relationship, secrets, chosen love, post acosf, elain learns the truth about what transpired on that dreadful solstice night, from both azriel and rhysand. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/57625048)

“Across the Hallway” by tswaney17, modern au, elain is a baker + azriel is a detective, small fic (5 chapters), elain has a cat! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39325395/chapters/98412099 )

“Night of Wings and Roses” by ThatTrable, canon compliant, fluff and angst, post acosf solstice, feyre as the wingwomen. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/43561515)

“all’s well that ends well (to end up with you)” by miss_belivet, canon compliant, set on acofas solstice, elriel are mates, the bond snaps in front of everyone, potatoes. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40069968/chapters/100352508)

“To Dine Like Gods” by elainsroses, canon compliant, pure smut, body worship, azriel has found god between elain’s thighs. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/56211508)

“Too Sweet (for me)” by slythrhys, canon compliant, forbidden love, pure smut, secret relationship, azriel can’t get elain out of his head. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55180729/chapters/139943131)

“Kneading Dough” by tswaney17, canon compliant, one shot, fluff and smut, in the kitchen, mostly smut + shadow play (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40041990)

“Crimson Clover” by miss_belivet, canon compliant, blood kink, azriel reacting to elain carrying out an extreme act of violence, protective elain, auntie elain, lain protects nyx, its bloody. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42530709/chapters/106825986)

“Bound in Ivy” by yourstarsmyscars, canon compliant, secret relationship, elain’s powers, forbidden love, smut, elain has a secret, azriel wants to find out. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46678417/chapters/117559789)

“The Bet” by DottieLovegood, modern au, pure smut, established relationship! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/34488118)

“I Do Bad Things with You” by tswaney17, modern au, long fic, mob boss azriel, doctor elain, angst and smut, ex lovers + slow burn. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31926901/chapters/79064530)

“Woman Made of Flowers” by yourstarsmyscars, medieval au, enemies to lovers, azriel kidnaps elain, azriel and elain are from enemy kingdoms. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44467921/chapters/111848692)

“We Don’t Have To Dance” by Separatist_Apologist, canon compliant, post acosf solstice, set on hewn city, elain makes azriel quite literally beg on his knees, jealous azriel, elain taking her revenge after the solstice, smut. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44899510)

“The Pointe of Love” by pinkrasberryfish, elriel + nessian centric, modern au, nesta and elain are prima ballerinas, they dance at the velaris ballet company. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/43076520/chapters/108246912)

“Freefall” by yourstarsmyscars, one shot, canon compliant, elriel angst, pining, smutty ending, post solstice, yearning. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/43696293/chapters/109975251#workskin)

“The First Solstice” by NikeTheStatue, one shot, canon compliant, re-imagining of the acofas solstice in azriel’s pov (headache power + gardening plans till 3am) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/43749949)

“Breathless” by miss_belivet, one shot, canon compliant, post acosf solstice, forbidden love, smut, sneaking around, elriel do the dishes after a family dinner. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46398019)

“Wrap Me in Your Skin and Bones” by citizenofvelaris, azriel and elain sequester themselves in the townhouse, mating bond frenzy, elriel are true mates, some peace and quiet. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53212210/chapters/134650879)

“Guilty As Sin?” by fawnandshadows, one shot, modern au, elain moves to a new apartment after her breakup and gets a hot firefighter as neighbor, azriel is a firefighter. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55702369)

“6/8” by Shulkitten, alternative universe - music, azriel plays the piano, one shot, vanilla elriel, smut and fluff, elain has a hand kink, azriels is elains piano teacher. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40513584)

“Touch Me, Hold Me, Tell Me” by miss_belivet, canon compliant, post acosf solstice, azriel disobeys rhys orders, plot what plot?, forbidden love, secret relationship, azriel is feral, elain is his princess. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53566822)

“Under the Weeping Willow” by duskandcobalt, canon compliant, forbidden love, secret relationship, sneaking around, azriel and elain have their best time at the garden at night. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53309260)

“I choose you and me, religiously” by slythrhys, canon compliant, one shot, forbidden love, secret relationship, sneaking around, fluff and smut, clandestine meetings, sweet & spicy. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55701385)

“The First Flight” by NikeTheStatue, canon compliant, one shot, set on acowar, azriel flies Elain from the house of wind to the townhouse. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/56840626)

“Cruel Summer” by citizenofvelaris, canon compliant, forbidden romance, secret relationship, smut, elain finally finds some relief from the hot summer nights of Velaris. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46476226/chapters/117022795)

“Gasoline” by yourstarsmyscars, modern au, one shot, smut, azriel is a biker, azriel agrees to teach elain to ride a motorcycle, it’s not the only thing she wants to ride. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42909471)

“crumbs” by Demarogue, canon compliant, established relationship, fluff and smut, baking, kitchen sex, elriel future, sometimes, learning how to bake is foreplay itself. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42695196)

“Silver Linings & Raspberry Fortunes” by slythrhys, modern au, bartender au, fluff, flirting, azriel is a bartender and elain is in a blind date. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55628383)

“Let Me” by obisidian_witch, canon compliant, established relationship, elain is in love, azriel is in love, fae cycles, pure fluff, it’s that time of the month for elain, lucky for her, azriels sole purpose in life is to care for her. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/58103275)

“The Housewarming” by hozierhys canon compliant, post acosf, fluff and smut, forbidden love, getting together, or five times Elain and Azriel almost kissed, and the one explosive time they did. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54361855)

“Salted Cashews” by NikeTheStatue canon compliant, a fic inspired by the the “fated mates” quiz on sjm’s website, fluff, elain gets azriel. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/56795722)

!! ₊ ˚ ୨୧ ⋅ ̥ യ . 𖥔

the end.

[pintrestgrl]

hi i miss yall can u plz flood my inbox w small prompts im bored

anyways here ya go

also none of my posts are proofread really so um … ok enjoy also LIKE I SAID FLOOD MY INBOX PUHLEEASE

farmhand!rafe with farmers!daughter!reader

you always thought rafe was cute. probably the cutest boy you had ever seen, considering you rarely left the farm. you often found yourself watching him work, eyeing how his biceps contracted as he worked.

this was another one of those times, as you sat on a wooden stool as he cleaned up. you caught him eyeing the valley of your tits adorned with a gingham bikini top a few times too. a gold cross draped down the middle too. you looked like a dream. his dream, in fact.

he finished up cleaning around the barn, sitting down on a shorter, little stool in front of you. now, here you had him all to yourself. you mumbled out a soft little, “hi rafe.” to him. he grinned, greeting you back. “hi, sugar.” he’d called you that since the day your daddy hired him. insisted it was because you were sweet, just like sugar.

“you hot?” he asked, to which you replied with a shake of your head and a pretty smile adorned with it. “yeah? i am.” you giggled a bit, replying. “take your shirt off.” he had on a dirty wife beater, and a frayed plaid flannel thrown over it. he raised his brows. “your daddy okay with me bein’ shirtless around you?” you rolled your eyes, “my daddy don’t care.” which was a straight shot lie. your daddy did care actually, quite a lot. rafe knew this too.

he clicked his tongue, clearly hesitant. you moved your white self pedicured toes up, trailing them down to the hem of the white tank, trying to pull it up with your foot. likely nudging his sleeping cock with the ball of your foot too. he grinned, grabbing your ankle tightly to stop his movements. “don’t get ahead of yourself, sugar.”

you rolled your eyes frustratedly, “my daddy’s probably sleepin’ anyway. jus’ take it off. please.” he sighed, dropping your ankle and taking off both articles of clothing adorning his top half. “you happy now?” you smiled, nodding back to him. he subtly grabbed hold of your ankle again, playing with the metal anklet laying on it.

you wiggled your toes against his forearm, giggling in the act. he grinned, watching you trail your foot all the way up to his cheek. “you wanna rub them? they hurt.” he yet again sighed, likely sick of your bullshit. “guess i can.” he rubbed the bottom of your foot, pressing deeply into the muscles. he kept this on, for a bit.

“you can kiss ‘em while your at it. he laughed, raising his brows. “you serious with me?” you nodded, clearly very expectant. he pressed a reluctant kiss to your ankles, trailing down to each one of your toes. “go a bit higher too.” he looked up at you from his position, not questioning it.

he kissed higher, reaching up to your calf. “higher.” you uttered again, demanding it almost. he rolled his eyes, likely not realizing how close he was getting to your pussy. he kissed up and up, his head basically in between your legs at this point. the kisses subtly, and slowly almost got wetter as he went up too.

he could smell you. smell the sweet juices that he himself had produced from you. “i really shouldn’t be doin’ this, sugar.” he warned, obviously stressed. you ran your hands through the greasy bangs on his head, uttering back. “it’s fine. nobody knows i’m even in here.” he sighed, letting his forehead rest on the fat of your thigh.

you were getting desperately horny. it was true, even catholic girls ovulated. you had to convince him to do something, anything. “rafe?” he lifted his head, looking up at you. “yeah?” you kept his eye contact, taking a sharp and deep breath. “wanna take my shorts off.”

his brows furrowed, “for what, sugar?” you rolled your eyes at his obliviousness, “rafe. can you— just, do something?” he was obviously confused, waiting for you to elaborate. “want you to eat my pussy, rafe.” you mumbled, oh so quietly. his eyes shot open wide at this, almost yelling a “what?” back at you. you were embarrassed, to say the least.

you figured he would reject you. but he spoke back, now at a much more appropriate volume. “but— your daddy. he’s just right inside.” you scoffed. obviously you knew that. it was just a matter of how much you cared. “it’s fine. he won’t come out here. it ’ll be fast. please, rafe. ain’t gonna tell nobody, swear.” he sighed, rubbing his temple.

it went quiet for a second, and you had given up any hope for an agreement. that was, before you heard his words. “you swear you ain’t gonna tell a soul?” you smiled, getting wetter at his words. “not a single soul.” he nodded, his dirty hands reaching for the button of your small denim shorts.

he pulled them down your body, admiring the white cotton panties you wore. adorned with a tiny red bow. matching the gingham of your bikini top. he pulled those down too, watching as you leaned back against a wall of the barn. god, were you wet. he spread your glossy lips, eyes falling to your pretty hole.

he kissed your inner thighs, sloppily. he trailed his kisses right to your puffy clit, taking the bud into his mouth and sucking harshly. you let out a moan, hands going straight to his hair. he released from it, his breath hot against your hole. he licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit, going back down to put his tongue inside your previously empty hole.

he ate you out as if he had been waiting for this, and you knew you were gonna cum fast. he continued on with his movements, holding your legs open as he did so. your moans were filling the barn, letting out little whimpers in the act. he felt your hole clench around his tongue, and he could feel how close you were too.

he brought his mouth back up to attach to your clit, as he shoved two digits into you. he drew them in and out of you, curling them inside you as well. you let out a particularly loud moan, right on the edge. “fuck— rafe, please. gonna cum.” he didn’t give you a response, which you assumed meant that you could.

he curled his fingers again and hit a certain spot, taking you over the edge. you came around his fingers, clit going swollen in his mouth. he brought his head back up, your sin around his mouth. he withdrew his fingers from you, licking the cum off of them too.

your chest heaved, as he rubbed your ankle to calm you down. your breathing slowed, and he stood up. he brushed a loose strand hair from your eyes, before literally just walking off. as if he wasn’t just knuckle deep inside of you. as he walked off,

you didn’t miss the oddly familiar looking white cotton sticking out of his pocket.

[goldsbitch]

My name

Busy schedules don't allow Y/N and her boyfriend Lando Norris much down time to chill with her friends. But missing a wedding is a no go.

fluffy fluff, wedding, one shot, for the vibes only

It was almost a stroke of luck that Y/N's friends managed to pick a date for their wedding on a day that Lando could attend. This was a rare opportunity, while she accompanied him often during his events or outings, more than often he was unable to be there as her partner on her personal affairs.

Missed family gatherings, friends birthdays and grill parties. She accepted that part of their relationship, with the hope that in the future, it might come to change. They'd been dating for two years now - if she had to pick the brightest days of her life so far, it would in this time frame.

There was lot of excitement in the late summer air. One of her best friends was marrying a guy she became good buddy with over the years. And Lando would finally be joining her, as her partner. No more half smiles following the question "Would Lando join us this time?". These two friends marrying each other were a nice inspiration for the kind of relationship Y/N strived for. And Lando was that for her - a partner, lover, friend and the one to always make her laugh. But some of the people in her life were not convinced that he was good for her, mainly for the lack of his presence. She did not want the opinions of other to spoil their relationship. However, it would be a lie to say that her heart wasn't jumping around with happiness at the prospect of having him join them.

Her friends organized their dream wedding in a lovely estate somewhere in South of France. Small village remote from any city, safe from any prying eyes. It was refreshing from the flashing lights of racing tracks. Eighty people, all mostly friends with each other.

Y/N came in earlier with the main couple, in order to help them put everything in place. Two days of hard work navigating typical struggled of wedding organizing, with tomorrow being the big day. Regular guest were coming in, but she was only waiting for him, counting every minute.

Those prep days were packed with dealing with logistics and all this wedding usually concern. Going back and forth and trying to make everything perfect for the main event. But, she manages to find a moment of solutide to take in the beauty, the smell of late harvest, sun kissed valleys and heavy summer air, that set everything in. Having the bottom of your dress shiver with light breeze is the epitome of bliss. Life was good. And for the main part, she would get to experience all this with her love around her arm.

//

The two getting married? They were something else.

"Babe, what the fuck are these glasses?" said the bride to be as she watched the caterers setting up table for an evening dinner buffet.

"Well, you said yes, to them, remember? Back in May," was how the groom replied hastily. Y/N watched, knowing well enough that the strange looking glasses that were too big for her friends small hands were definitely not what the bride would have picked. She smirked as she watched them bicker playfully.

"They look like some futuristic ashtrays," the bride continued, shooting arrows playfully at he soon to be husband.

"Hm. Isn't that cool?" he said, trying to talk himself out of it. They were both strong opinionated people, so this was not a rare debate.

"No? How do you think this suits our late summer garden vibe?" she said, pointing around to the fields.

"You said yes to them, I remember specifically..." he defended without a beat.

"My mom's going to think we smoke."

"Well...we could use them as ashtrays," he said, inspecting the items.

The bride threw her hands up, not believing the game her "soon to be" was playing. "Babe, we don't smoke!"

He mimicked her hand gesture ironically. "We could start!"

"Just admit you've made a fuck up, honey, and we're good."

"That will never happen. This is all part of the plan."

Y/N observed and chucked, knowing well enough that the best thing to do was to stay out of their way.

A small quiet whisper came from behind Y/N. "Is this how they always act?" Shiver down her spine. She smiled, because she could recognize that voice anywhere. Heard it thousand times in the morning, in the middle of a busy day and on too many late night phone call to count. She turned her head slightly only to find him standing right behind her, his head now resting on her shoulder.

"Hi, muppet," he continued as he wrapped his hands around her, hugging her from behind. "I'm sorry I am a little late. Turbulences held us up."

The two stood there, as young lovers would. Completely wrapped in their own world.

"Did they? I completely lost track, as you see, big problems over here," she said and pointed inconspicuously to the couple still bickering about glasses. It wasn't technically true, she managed to get her phone out every other minute as they were unpacking stuff. But that was too embarrassing to admit.

She finally turned around to give him a welcome kiss, a much needed physical contact after not seeing him for almost three weeks. "Do you think we could take a walk around the garden? I would to get my head clear before facing other people," he said sheepishly. The last few race weekends had been very tough on him.

"I would be more than happy," she replied with a smile.

The scenery was too good to be true. Never ending fields of trees, heavy air sitting on the top of everyone trying to breathe and smell of hot soil and dried leaves cut though it all. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while, the sound of cracking branches accompanying them with every step. These two had spoken a lot in the past few weeks, every day it was either a phone call of few videos shared mapping their separate days. Texting was not good enough for these two. Lando was pretty much touch starved. Even though he was touched by random people more than an average person would be, as some fans felt like it was ok to do so. It made him miss the consensual touch he shared with his girlfriend more than ever. Girlfriend was an interesting word, felt outdated for the feelings he had for her. A small box had been accompanying him whenever he saw her for a while now. But he figured that highjacking someone else's wedding with his own proposal was a bit rude and selfish. He was grateful that this time he did not bring the box with him, as he was not sure he'd be able to resist proposing when he saw how the light reflected from her hair made it all shine, like a fresh jar of honey. A white dress would definitely suit her and his last name as well. He knew she'd want to keep her maiden name too and was more than fine with that. But to add "Norris" behind it was his ultimate goal.

"You seem more quiet than usual," she asked after a moment, being more than capable of reading his face. He was slowly letting go of his stress from the races.

"I'm loosing myself in the thoughts about your dress," he replied cheekily, letting her think he is talking about the teal summer dress she was wearing at the moment.

"Are you, now?" she winked and pulled her dress up slightly, only stopping at her bikini line.

"Oh, you can't do that to me," he said, defeated.

"You sure?" She stopped walking, came closer to him and put her arms around his neck. "But it's been so long since you've touched me," she added, knowing this will set him off. Teasing and seducing him was like a second language to her. She got real close and rubbed her core against his crotch.

"You're asking for trouble, Ms....Y/L/N," he gulped, nearly having a Freudian slip there. He panicked slightly and decided to kiss her immediately. She didn't seem to notice. Once he calmed down a bit he slid his hand down to he legs and the went back up to cup her ass and pulling her dress up again. "I would have you right here and now," he mumbled into their kiss and she smiled. Absolutely in love.

"We'll have to wait until the evening, we have a very nice room..."

"I don't care about that, I want to cum into you right here and now," he continued and bit her upper lip lightly.

"Anyone could walk by," she kept resisting.

"As if I care."

She laughed and broke their kiss. "We have to go now. I still have to help the poor bride with the decorations."

He signed overly dramatically. "You are making my life a living hell, Y/N."

"You can punish me later," she ended and got out of his embrace and started heading back to the estate. "Come on," she instructed as Lando watched her ass as she walked away. Norris. It's going to suit her.

//

Evening marked shared laughter, catching up with many friends, local wine with cheese and hands held under the table. Only once it was really happening did Y/N started to notice how much she needed this. Being able to "show" Lando off to her friends for longer than a short appearance. They got to finally know him, not only listen to stories about him. Oh and he was marvelous that evening. Charming, funny, criminally handsome - and always by her side. He was happy to be there. One of the reason being finally able to listen to the people she spoke about, but also to let loose and not have to think about what he says. These were no sponsors, interviewers or teammates. He loved that they cared about her more than him. It was a nice change. And he was on board with that, enjoying the fact that she was the star and not him.

//

The wedding day had swung by in a blur and suddenly, Y/N and Lando were sitting in a small local chapel, watching her friends making a mark on their relationship.

But Lando was not watching them. He was watching his now girlfriend. With the sight he had in the corner of his eye, the thoughts hanging in the back of his mind were getting louder and louder.

The ceremony was a non serious and cheerful one, the priest making many jokes while still keeping the atmosphere together. As far as ceremonies go, this was an honest one. The only thing to bring people out the holy romantic vibe this gave off was an unapologetically explicit kiss the bride and groom shared as they got wed. It was more like watching drunk teenagers make out. Some people laughed, some people cheered and the rest were slightly mortified. Y/N was one of the people to turn their heads away from the sight, she had known this girl ever since they were kids, this was a little too much. Lando found her reaction amusing, as he had heard many stories of her and her friend to know that she'd witnessed way more extreme things. "Look at you, prude," he whispered to her ear as he watched the bride and groom fight with their tongues.

"I refuse to accept this," Y/N said, keeping it up with the grandmas in the room.

"Well, if this repulses you, then I'm afraid you're going to die of embarrassment at our wedding," he said as if it was no big deal. But to Y/N it was. They had joked about marriage few times, but Lando used a different tone of voice this time. But she had been secretly dreaming about it for a while now.

"You're going to have tie me down if you're planning on doing that," she said, pointing at the pair, not quite sure how to process that he was probably thinking about their marriage too.

"So far, you've never said no to my plans," he winked at her.

Y/N smiled and turned her eyes to the ground. If someone had asked why she smiled so much, she'd say it was because of her friend's wedding. Though it would only be one half of the truth. She held his hand, as they walked out of the church. For some reason, it almost felt like a rehearsal.

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 2

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, reader y/nsplains, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, logan tries to flirt, y/n's bestie is a tumblr girlie at heart, kiddo steals the show Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 6833 auth.note: thank you all so much for the love for part 1!!! ily all and i'm having so much fun writing this

The paddock was relatively quiet so early in the morning. Unable to sleep, y/n had left the hotel and made her way to the track. She was taking the opportunity to explore the settings on the camera and getting her bearings since she didn't have any work duties to complete until later in the day. She had expected Kevin to want to come with her, but he'd opted to sleep in with Ellie, who would bring him to the track later. So she wandered, exchanging the occasional greeting with others. Stopping to take a photo of a bird perched on the fence in front of pit lane, she backed up, crashing into someone.

"Whoop, s'cuse me, sorry," she said, turning to apologize properly. She recognized the two men by their faces but her mind blanked on their names.

"It's alright, ma'am. Didn't mess up your shot, did we?" His American accent was a happy surprise.

"I don't think so." Smiling, y/n lowered the camera. "My fault, and I'll blame it on being new."

"Marketing?" The other man guessed.

Australian. And suddenly she remembered their names. "Social media. I'm y/n."

"So great to meet you." Logan tipped his head slightly. "Carolina?"

"God, you can take the hick outta Carolina, but you can't take the Carolina outta the hick." He grinned and she laughed. "North Carolina, yeah."

Oscar stared at Logan. "How did you guess that? She just sounds plain American?"

"No, dude, it's the lilt. It's like when George got pissed we couldn't pick up on the different English accents."

"Can he pick up on the different American south accents?" y/n asked.

Logan rolled his eyes. "He knows Brooklyn, Midwest, valley girl, and just south."

"In his defense it's hard to pick out each individual one," Oscar pointed out.

Y/n shrugged. "You've got a point. I sound different from people that grew up just an hour from me."

"Yeah! And I know mine's been butchered from so much time in Europe." Logan nodded.

"You still sound more like home than anyone else I've met."

"I was gonna say the same thing – you sound like home." He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that had her smiling in return.

"And what do I sound like?" Oscar asked with a grin.

"A magical place far, far away," y/n told him. She covertly checked the time and wondered if hospitality had finished setting up so she could get some coffee.

"Hear that? I sound like Star Wars."

"She's using southern charm on you, dude," Logan snorted.

"Well it's working, I'm charmed."

A giggle bubbled up her throat and she let it free, raising her camera and giving them a hopeful look. "Okay?"

"Hang on—" Logan fussed with his hair, and y/n laughed when Oscar reached to help him, then they both had to fuss with Oscar's hair. "Think we're presentable enough?"

She nodded, moving so the sunlight was beside them. She got several photos and thanked them. "I'll send them to y'alls social media teams?"

"You can just send it to me." Logan began patting his pockets for his phone.

"Unbelievable," Oscar muttered under his breath, and y/n barely heard it, giving Logan her number and adding him to her contacts once he'd sent her a text.

"I should get going – Sorry for bumping into you."

"Don't apologize, I'm glad you did."

As she walked away she gave her head a little shake, smiling to herself when she overheard Oscar's grumbling that Logan had flirted with fuckin' Red Bull's social media admin. Something told her to glance back and she did, amused to see Logan watching her. Don't show interest, don't show interest, don't—

He gave a little wave. And she smiled, waving back.

Fuck.

Ducking around the corner, she wandered until she found hospitality, grogginess taking over as she made her way to the back to fix herself coffee. She recognized a couple engineers and mechanics that she'd met in Milton Keyes and greeted them, settling into a corner to drink and look over the pictures she'd gotten.

She was on her second coffee, had uploaded the pictures to her laptop, and was editing the first batch for a short video when the chair across from her was pulled out, taking her shoe with it.

"Sorry," Max said when she yelped, chuckling as he bent to pick up her shoe. "Didn't know you were attached."

"Bad habit I'm afraid." Taking the shoe, she shifted to put it back on. "Picked it up when I was pregnant now I do it without thinking."

"For the swelling?" he asked, sitting down and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah." After tying the shoelace she shifted, tucking one foot beneath her. "Good morning, by the way."

"Morning. Already working?"

"I'm gonna do a short photo tour of the track. I got some nice shots."

"You walked the track?"

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so… It's beautiful first thing in the morning."

Max nodded, picking up his coffee again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Max, you should know that hotel beds suck. Especially with a three year old sleeping sideways and a snoring friend in the other bed. Is this where you tell me you slept great?"

"Haha, no. My sleep was shit but it wasn't because of the bed. I didn't get enough." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I was up late sim racing."

"Okay, explain sim racing to me," she requested, slipping one earbud in so she could check that the music she'd selected went well with the photos. Tweaking it as he began to talk, she realized she was barely paying attention to her work, exporting and posting the video to all the platforms then closing her laptop to focus on him. He talked with his hands. It was something she'd picked up on already, that if he was focused on the topic he used his hands. Maxplaining the fans called it. Finishing her coffee, she listened intently, propping her chin on one hand.

 He smiled, almost shyly, as he finished. "It's something I truly enjoy. I'm not very sociable. I like going out once in a while, but I prefer to stay in, yeah? And I can spend hours in the sim without thinking twice."

"I spent the last few days watching a lot of interviews. Not just of you and Checo, but everyone on the grid," y/n said softly. "Leclerc talks about piano and his family, Norris talks about gaming and DJing, and Hamilton has his six hundred side projects."

"Yes?" He didn't look or sound impatient for her to get to the point, and she appreciated that.

"The thing is, they all have passions outside of racing. This – formula one, fastest cars, all that – is a goal, a dream, but they all have something else they love, that they can pursue now." She paused, meeting his eyes. "The only thing I've seen you passionate about is racing."

He blinked once, nodding his head. "Because it is my passion."

Y/n regarded him carefully for a moment. "You're very lucky, Max."

That must have surprised him, because his brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"

"Not everyone is able to be successful following their passion. Being able to do what you love for both a job and hobbies is almost unheard of, yet you're doing it. You break records and win races and yeah you've had a few setbacks but you're still in love with this. And on your off time you're training to be better and studying tracks and you go home and race on your computer." She shook her head in amazement. "You're incredibly lucky, that your passion is not only something you're good at but something you can be immersed in nonstop, and that you haven't lost your love for it."

"I guess I am lucky," he said carefully. "But luck had nothing to do with me getting into formula one."

"I know." She held up her hands, not wanting him to think she thought he was in the position he was purely by chance. "I can't imagine how much work you've done over the years, or how many sacrifices you've had to make. It's just… In my experience, passion doesn't always equal financial stability is what I'm trying to say."

"What's that saying? Do something you love and you never work a day in your life?"

Y/n snorted. "That's bullshit. I love sleeping and yet I still have to work."

That made him laugh and she rolled her eyes, even though she enjoyed the sound. "Surely you love more than sleep."

"I love a lot of things. Maybe that's been my problem all my life. I find things and fall in love with them and when I think hey this might be it something new and shiny comes along and I fall in love with that."

"There's nothing wrong with being passionate about many things," Max said gently.

"That's what I keep telling myself. And yet—"

"Are you saying you don't love your job?"

She froze, a wave of panic rippling through her. "Uhmm… Since it's technically my first day I can't answer that."

"Okay. Do you love your social media?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

The table which was, suddenly, smaller than she remembered.

"I like engaging others. I like creating conversations and seeing my work appreciated," she finally said.

"You sound like a PR person. Do you love it?" He enunciated each word slowly.

She couldn't say yes. The answer wasn't no, either, because she didn't hate it. "I personally hate it. But you've learned how to make it work for you, yeah? How to word things to spark a conversation among followers? What type of content people appreciate?"

"I like to think so."

"Stop being so unsure of yourself. You study it, right? At your last job when you posted a video and no one liked it what did you do? "

She exhaled harshly. "I compare it to ones that did well and pick it apart to see why it didn't work."

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed.

"Why did you pick it apart?"

"Because I wanted it to do well," she said slowly.

"And these conversations you want to create, do you join in or sit and watch them happen behind the safety of your screen?" He reached over, gently turning her laptop so he could see the screen.

"I engage. I reply and ask questions to make the viewers want to keep the conversation going."

"Why?"

"Because—" She clicked the mouse, bringing up the comments below the video she'd posted to Instagram. "These comments? Come from people that love this brand – or sport. Some of them are trolls who just want to start up an argument to make their boring lives more interesting for a few minutes, but for the most part it's people who care. People who want to see this team do well. People who had the dream of doing it themselves but life got in the way. People who watched it with their parents and still watch to stay connected to someone they love. It's little kids who want to be like you. It's people who spend their hard earned money on a t-shirt or a hat or a ticket to see someone they admire live out their dream." She took a quick breath, scrolling through the comments. "If I don't like or respond to them, they feel like their opinions don't matter. And maybe they don't in the grand scheme of formula one. But they want to be seen and heard. When I click and they see that Red Bull Racing liked their comment or replied with an emoji or whatever, they have a few seconds of elation, and their support of this team is cemented just a bit more."

Max blinked at her, and she continued even though she heard him draw a breath to speak.

"I know very well how horrible social media can be. However, I've seen how it fosters growth for a company. You're not stupid, I'm sure you've seen how TikTok challenges or Instagram livestreams have brought in more support. Not to mention money. If a post of you wearing your Red Bull shirt gets a million likes, I can probably pull the data and show you that a hundred thousand people went to view the shirt on the official shop and probably twenty-five thousand ordered one. A silly picture of you arriving for race day or a new helmet design pulls people in and gets them excited. And, yes, it makes money. Which in turn pays the salaries of everyone on the team."

"Y/n."

She sucked in a breath. "I'm—"

"Passionate," he whispered before she could say sorry.

"I know what it's like to enjoy something and never feel included," she murmured. "So, yeah… I guess I love what I do, because I like that I can include people in something they love."

His hand covered hers briefly. "For a moment there, I even loved social media."

She watched his fingers squeeze hers before they slid away, wondering why his touch lingered. "Yeah?"

"It's easy to forget that there are real people saying nice things. Sometimes all you can see is the negativity."

"Negativity only breeds more negativity—"

"And when you look at it, it's all you'll see," he murmured.

"Well… So far everything I've posted today has been met with positivity."

"That's good."

"Okay, a few comments about wanting to see Lando on the podium. Thank you for letting me rant about why I do what I do," she said, glancing at his hand without meaning to.

"You let me do the same," he reminded her. Lifting his chin, he waited until she looked at him again. "Are you too busy to see what I was talking about?"

"I don't have anything scheduled until after lunch."

"Perfect." He lightly drummed on the table and stood. "Do you want to see my rig?"

"You do know I won't have a clue what anything but the computer and monitor are, right?" Smiling, she stood and began packing away her stuff.

Closing her laptop, he handed it over, catching her earbud when it fell off the edge of the table. "Maybe you'll like it so much you'll want one of your own."

*-*

He was rambling, he knew he was, telling her about the setup and his plan for the 24 hour race over the weekend and how he had everything scheduled so he could do two of the things he loved most. But he could tell she was paying attention, actually listening, as if she really cared. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he finished and looked up at her.

"So this is your actual job and the f1 thing is just a hobby?" she teased.

Laughing, he got to his feet and got himself a can of Red Bull. "It's just racing, y/n."

"And racing is life."

"Absolutely." He watched her muffle a yawn behind her hand.

"Am I allowed to mention it in my posts? Because it sounds so badass. Sim race stint then qualifying, chug a Red Bull, sim race stint then race."

"You can mention it, not like it's a secret." He watched her hide another yawn and cleared his throat. "Looks like you need a Red Bull."

She shook her head. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Nodding, he checked the time. Just over an hour before he had to meet with his trainer. "Of course."

"I hate Red Bull," she whispered.

He choked on a laugh. "You what?"

"I've tried so many times! I can just about stomach one of the flavored editions, but the original? Tastes like battery acid to me." She looked embarrassed and covered her face with her hands. "Please don't tell anyone."

"You hate the drink. So you accepted a job with a team owned by the drink company." He wanted to laugh. It was so absurd to him.

"Yes," she groaned.

"That would be like me taking a job at Instagram."

"I know it's so bad. What makes it worse is I love Monster—"

"Of course you do," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Please say you won't tell anyone. If corporate hears, I'll probably get fired. It's in my contract that I can only drink that while in pubic during race weekends which means I've got to either stick to water or learn to fake it."

"Your secret's safe with me," Max promised, breathing in the aroma of her perfume as she moved past him to get her bag.

"Thank you. I think Ellie would kill me if I told her I have to find a new job."

He didn't want her to go so soon. Ridiculous because he knew he'd see her in just a few hours. By the end of the weekend he'd be sick of seeing her. Sipping his drink, he finally sighed and cleared his throat. "You can take a power nap."

She whipped her head around, sending a wave of her perfume his way. "What?"

"A power nap." Before he could stop himself he was setting down his drink and taking her bag off her shoulder. "Thirty minutes, and you'll feel great."

"Max—"

"You need to be alert and focused, and I don't have a Monster for you to drink. Please, I insist." He motioned to his bed in the far corner, gently nudging her shoulder when she hesitated.

"You're sure?" she asked softly, and when he assured her he was she bent to take off her shoes, looking almost elated as she walked over to the bed. "Wait, I need to set an alarm."

"I'll wake you."

She lifted an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone to set a thirty minute timer. Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, thanking him several times as she laid down and curled up on her side. "Thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes," he murmured, sitting on the couch to answer emails. It was fifteen minutes before she stopped shifting and kicking, and when he heard her breathing even out he knew she was asleep. Resetting the timer, he stood and carefully pulled the blanket over her, then returned to the couch and tried his best to ignore that she was sleeping in his room.

Her phone started buzzing on the table. She didn't stir so he ignored it, focusing on his email. That was impossible though so he cleared out his unread texts, one foot bouncing each time he heard her breathe. A mistake. It had been a mistake. He jumped up when her phone began to buzz again and, glancing from it to her, he realized she would undoubtedly sleep through it. He picked it up and was about to silence it when he saw the name on the screen. Ellie. That was her friend that was helping with Kevin… Something could be wrong, so he answered the call and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, we just— Who's this?"

"Max. This is Ellie?"

"…Yes…" The woman sounded wary. "Why are you – Oh! Max! Right of course. Um, is y/n okay?"

Max looked over at her, smiling faintly when she shifted. "She's fine. Taking a nap, actually."

Ellie snorted. "Of course she is."

"Is everything okay with Kevin?"

As though aware of the question, Kevin began chattering in the background. "Yeah, he's perfect. I was calling to let her know we just got here but I ain't got a clue where to go."

"Are you at the main entrance?" he asked, slipping out of the room so he wouldn't wake y/n. Ellie told him where they were and he nodded as he pulled out his own phone to text one of the team assistants. "You're going to walk down to the turnstiles, scan your passes and come through. Someone will be there to meet you and bring you to the motorhome."

"Ok perfect. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. We'll be downstairs to meet you." Ending the call, he checked that the assistant was going to meet them then reentered his room. He closed the door and silenced his timer. "Y/n?"

She hummed in her sleep, and he smiled while he crossed over to the bed.

"Y/n," he called gently. She groaned, shifting to face away from him and it suddenly occurred to him that when he went to bed that night he would smell her on the pillow and the sheets. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea, but it was too late now.

Would he be an asshole if he had his sheets changed before the end of the day?

Leaning down, he gently touched her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and he saw her eyes snap open. "You have company on its way," he said softly, tugging the covers back in case she tried to get comfortable again. His eyes swept down, locking on the skin bared by her shirt, which had ridden up in her sleep. "Come on, you had a nice nap, time to wake up."

"This bed is so much more comfortable than the one at the hotel," she mumbled, slowly sitting up and turning to face him. Smoothing down her shirt, she stretched and sighed, blinking as she focused on him. "Oh! Ellie and Kevin!"

He laughed as she leapt to her feet, his hands immediately moving to steady her. "It's fine, they haven't even made it to the paddock yet. I've sent someone to meet them."

"Oh," she murmured. "Thank you."

His hands were on her hips, and he forced his breathing to remain calm as she rested her hands on his forearms. The space, which had felt roomy and open, now felt tiny with how close she was to him. He was painfully aware of the scant space between them and each place their bodies touched, but more so of her. That heady floral scent of her perfume and the softness of her palms against his skin. The gentle lushness of her hips. He could hear every breath as his gaze traveled up from her hands to her face, lingering on her slightly parted lips before settling on her eyes. "You good?"

"Yep."

"Right. Sorry," he mumbled, releasing her hips and taking a step back. "I'll get your shoes."

What was wrong with him? It hadn't been so long that he got turned on like a teenager just from touching a woman… As he bent to retrieve her shoes he counted back, dragging a hand over his face in humiliation. What must she think of him? He'd brought her to his room, showed off his fancy toys, then let her sleep in his bed. She probably thought he wanted to fuck her—

You do.

—which couldn't be further from the truth. He was just being nice. Because she was nice. That was all.

Wasn't it?

And why, he wondered as he handed her shoes to her and told her about answering Ellie's call, did he care what she thought? Not caring was his specialty.  

"How do you feel?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Refreshed. Thank you so much, Max." She tied her shoes and ran her fingers through her hair. Her lips moved but he didn't hear a word she said, watching her gather her hair and twist and twirl it, securing it with a band from her wrist.

Witchcraft.

"That okay with you?" she asked, slipping her phone into her pocket.

"Of course," he answered automatically.

She clapped her hands together. "Great! I'll put up a post asking for fan questions."

Max blinked, pinching his brows together. "Fan questions."

"Well we can't do an impromptu Q and A without questions." She had her other phone out now, fingers flying across the screen. "We'll do it this afternoon? Just let me know the best time."

Fuck's sake. What had he agreed to? More importantly, how had she gotten him to say yes? Everyone knew he had a low tolerance for marketing. He could take it back and say no, he couldn't do it today. He could tell her to get Checo to do it, that he would do it another time. He'd gotten out of marketing and social media stupidity without a problem plenty of times before. But he was already opening his calendar, going over his schedule, already telling her the open slot he had at 5, and was already putting Q and A with Y/n in that space.

"Perfect," she enthused, shouldering her bag and heading for the door, her fingers still tapping swiftly on the screen. "They should be here about now, right?"

Nodding, he followed her out the room and down, smiling when Kevin came through the front door with a woman he assumed was Ellie. The boy dropped her hand and sprinted over to y/n, who dropped down to hug him tightly. Max looked on, chest squeezing, searching for something that had been lacking, as mother and son talked and hugged, their words overlapping. They both understood each other perfectly, though, and he smiled at Kevin's excited retelling of what he'd had for breakfast. Introducing himself to Ellie, he reached to shake her hand.

"Mister Max!" The boy squealed.

"Kevin!" He was down in a split second, Ellie forgotten and chest constricting tighter as Kevin hugged him like a long lost friend.

"I saw two cats and a horse!" Kevin tugged at his shirt, grinning as he showed off his Red Bull merch.

"You did? What kind of cats?" he asked, taking the boy's cap and beginning to roll the brim for him while the boy described the cats and then the horse. Returning the cap, he enthused over animals, telling him about his own two cats and pulling out his phone to show him a few pictures.

"I miss Cotton," Kevin said with a small pout.

"Is that your cat?" Max saw his trainer approaching and gave him a quick nod.

"Yeah. We can't bring him to Eng-a-lund so Aunt Ellie's sister has him." Kevin's pout melted into a faint smile. "But she sends lots of pictures!"

"That's good. And maybe you'll be able to get him soon."

"Mama says it's s'pensive." The boy sighed as though he had to earn the money to bring his beloved cat to England.

"I know," Max sympathized. "Go with your mum, yeah? I've got to go train."

Kevin's face puckered in confusion. "Train? Like Shang?"

Y/n cleared her throat. "We watched Mulan on the flight last night."

"What did Shang do?" Max vaguely remembered the movie, but it had been years since he'd seen it.

"He made a man out of 'em."

"Okay, doodle bug, we have to let Max get his workout in," y/n said, flashing Max a smile. "If you ask another question he'll start singing the song."

Max stared at her then turned his attention back to Kevin. "What song?"

Because he had to. Because hearing her groan as her son began singing a song about being a man was priceless. And the dramatic way she hung her head when Ellie joined in made him laugh. Kevin giggled, cutting off his singing and looking at Max hopefully. "Will you watch it with me?"

"I—"

"Mister Max is too busy to watch a movie," y/n cut in.

"We'll watch it this weekend," Max promised, hating the sadness in the boy's eyes. Relieved when it disappeared in a flash, he gave him a high five and stood.

"Yay!"

He exchanged a look with y/n, who sighed and nodded, reaching for Kevin's hand. "I'll see you later," he said.

"5 o'clock," she reminded him as he headed out.

*-*

"So…"

Y/n groaned at Ellie's knowing tone. Watching as Kevin was snatched up by Lando so he wasn't crashed into by Charles in the impromptu game of football, she folded her arms over her chest. "So?"

"He had coffee with you."

God, here we go.

"Showed you his private room and his expensive computer setup… Let you take a nap in his bed—"

"He's just being nice," y/n insisted.

"And he's gonna take time out of his ridiculously busy weekend to watch a movie with Kevin." Ellie hummed, taking a sip of her tea.

Ignoring her, y/n looked on as Lando, Oscar, and Logan pretended to fight back the others while Kevin kicked the ball towards the goal. They were all shouting, dramatic and over the top, and above it all she heard the sweetest sound of her son's laughter. When the ball rolled into the net there was a roar that rivaled a championship game, and she joined in the cheering and applauding.

"You could do worse," Ellie murmured.

"Would you stop?" Y/n rolled her eyes, giving Logan a thumbs up when he gestured to the football and Kevin, understanding they wanted to have another quick game.

"He's cute."

"They all are," y/n muttered without thinking, lifting her camera for a few photos for her personal collection. Recognizing Checo when he suddenly appeared in the viewfinder, she snapped more photos, lowering the camera to watch.

"You know—"

"I can't wait for you to start your job so I can come and try to partner you up with a coworker," she huffed, snorting when Ellie gasped.

"You wouldn't."

"In a heartbeat."

"Besides, there's only one person in that group that's technically your coworker," Ellie said.

"I'm not here for that."

"I know." Ellie leaned against her briefly. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't encourage a delusion, though."

"Yeah…" Y/n laughed softly. "It's my first day, of course everyone's already in love with me."

"Exactly."

It was what she loved about Ellie. No matter what, she could make her laugh. Grinning, she watched Kevin bump into Oscar, who immediately collapsed with an exaggerated howl of pain, holding the leg that Kevin hadn't touched. "And they're all so good with kids."

"Total dad material, every one of them," Ellie agreed. "Not a stepdad, a dad who stepped up."

She choked on a laugh, playfully swatting her friend's arm. Because she knew Logan had overheard them. "Stop—"

"And probably more than willing to crack your back—"

"Oh my god." Clapping a hand over her face, she sensed someone approaching. "I have to work with these people."

"Only until they fuck a baby into you."

"Hey, y/n, your kid's so cool," Logan said.

Her face burned but she slowly pulled her hand away, giving him a weak smile. "Thanks."

He propped his hands on his waist, breathing heavy as he watched Kevin dart between Lando, Oscar, Checo, and Alex. "He always this energetic?"

"Fify-fifty. He's either like this or so quiet I worry he's up to something."

Logan chuckled. "Is he a troublemaker?"

"Nah, if he's quiet it's because he's focused on his cars or studying a bug."

"Christ! Get it away from me!"

Y/n's heart lurched at the sudden shriek from Lando, and she barely saw him sprinting away from her son, who was holding something in his hands.

"It's a frog, mate!" Oscar shouted behind him.

"Don't care!"

Kevin slowly walked over to y/n. "Mama, look!" he said, eyes shining with excitement. His cheeks were a little flushed from the hard play and he was giggling. "Mister Lando scared of a l'il frog."

"He's just not a country boy like you, honey," she soothed. "But maybe we should put the frog somewhere he'll be safe?"

"C'mon, Kev, I'll help you," Logan offered.

"Hmm," Ellie hummed once Logan had scooped Kevin up, cupping one hand over the boy's to keep the frog from jumping away.

"Shut it."

"I didn't say a word."

"Please, that hmm contained at least two paragraphs, ten innuendoes, and a pointed reference," y/n said, trailing behind Logan. Looking on as he set Kevin down near the tree line, she got a few pictures of them releasing the frog. She cringed when her son wiped his dirty hands on his shorts but Logan didn't seem to mind, lifting him up and carrying him back to her.

"He's free!" Kevin squealed. "Thanks, Mister Logan."

"Anytime, Kev." He tousled his curly hair after setting him down, flashing a shy smile at y/n.

She returned the smile, eyes following Kevin as he ran back to the game. "He's gonna pass out as soon as we get back to the hotel."

"He could probably run circles around all of us all night," Logan chuckled.

"True…"

"So like…" He cleared his throat. "Are you married?"

God, she loved Floridians. "No," she answered, turning to look at him. "Are you?"

"God no." He made a face at the thought. "So you're single?"

She nodded, already formulating how she would turn him down if he asked her out. She was too busy. Not interested in anything romantic at the moment. It never hurt to be honest, right? She couldn't lie and say she just had a messy breakup or—

"Would you be interested in – I'm not trying to hook up or anything," he said quickly when she opened her mouth. "Just, like, as a friend? I know how it is to feel like a fish out of water here. I'm kind of used to it but I can remember feeling like I was alone and surrounded by people who didn't understand my Americanisms."

"Oh." Aw. Damn it, she couldn't say no to that. "I… Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

He smiled. "Awesome. Maybe we can do something tomorrow after practice?" he suggested.

"Sure, sounds great. Text me?" she requested. Her phone alarm started going off and she pulled it out to silence it. "I gotta go. I'll see you later."

She waved to Ellie and mimed that she had to get some work done, waiting for her friend to wave back before making her way to the garage. While walking she got a message from one of the mechanics that the cars were photo ready and quickened her pace, envisioning the photos she would get of the mechanics and engineers. As she worked she asked questions, truly interested in what everyone did, a small idea forming that she'd run by Mr. Horner later. She knew that she would enjoy mini profiles on the team, with just the most basic of information like their names and where they were from. Maybe how long they'd been on the team, what had brought them to formula one…

"Thanks so much guys," she said as she finished up, declining the offer of a cold Red Bull. Her alarm went off again – twenty minutes to get ready to meet Max in the lounge back at the motorhome – and she switched off the camera, waving bye and turning to leave the garage.

She slammed into a human wall, grunting in surprise as she stumbled back. Twice in one day, really? The bump had caused the camera to slam against her ribs and she rubbed the spot gently. "I'm sorry! Wasn't looking where I was going."

She expected a chuckle, a reassurance that it was a hazard of the job. Maybe even an apology in return. Instead, the older man sneered at her, looking her up and down in such a way she felt like a child caught misbehaving. "You need to learn your place."

She gulped, fear prickling through her embarrassment. And even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she found her mouth opening to apologize. "S-sorry."

"Horner know better than to hire amateurs," he muttered, scoffing. "He obviously didn't hire you for your looks."

She bristled at that. "I beg your pardon?"

"As you should." He brushed past her.

She felt weak. Clammy and cold. Shuddering slightly, she swallowed hard and left the garage, heading straight for the motorhome, where she was able to catch her breath. Who the hell had that been? He'd been wearing a Red Bull pass, so he had to be on the team. He was obviously important. She couldn't imagine him being considered her boss, not when everyone else had been so nice and—

"Ah, y/n, are you ready to do the Q and A?" Max asked.

Y/n felt her lungs burn and sucked in a breath, staring at the cup of coffee she'd made herself. "Y-yeah, I'll meet you up on the deck?"

Please go up, please go up, please go—

"What's wrong?"

Goddammit.

"Y/n?" He looked and sounded concerned, and she ducked her head as he walked over. "Hey…"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You're a terrible liar," he said, leaning against the counter. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm just overreacting." Rubbing her hand over her face, she shook her head and reached for the coffee. "Just a run-in with an asshole."

"But I haven't seen you in three hours." Max's lips barely twitched at the corner.

"Not you, a different asshole." She felt her cheeks burn and groaned. "I'm not saying you're an asshole!"

"You don't have to, I already know I can be an asshole at times." Folding his arms over his chest, he met her eyes. "Who was it?"

"That's the thing, I don't even know. I was coming out of the garage – You know, I went down to get pics of the mechanics? Anyway, I was about to text you about the Q and A and wasn't looking where I was going and bumped into him."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Older, kinda tall? Sour faced." She raised a hand to the man's approximate height. "I apologized and he told me I need to learn my place, then said I was an amateur and Horner obviously didn't hire me for my looks – I didn't ask his name because I was in shock. All I know is he had a Red Bull pass."

Max's brow furrowed, and she felt him tense. Then, to her surprise, he described the man perfectly.

"Yeah, that's him." She bit her lip. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered. "It's my dad."

"Oh." Y/n looked down at her coffee. "Sorry."

"Me too." He sighed, pushing away from the counter. "Don't listen to him, yeah? You have more right to be here than he does, and you're not an amateur. As much as I hate social media, even I can tell that you're excellent at your job."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I just… I've spent my entire adult life working to improve myself and discover my own worth as a human being, and I can give other women empowering pep talks, but I still freeze when a man that thinks he's better than me talks down to me."

"Fuck him," Max said simply. "He's not your boss, he can't control anything you do in your life."

"Either you're really trying to make me feel better or you really don't like your dad," she murmured. When he didn't reply, she slowly lifted her gaze. Seeing the muscle in his jaw twitch, she felt a pang of sympathy. If the man had been that rude to her, a stranger, she couldn't begin to imagine what he'd been like to his own son.

"If he speaks to you like that again, you let me know."

"I don't want to cause a fuss—"

"Not wanting to cause a fuss is why he thinks he can get away with it," Max pointed out. "I'll speak to Christian—"

"Max, no, it's literally my first week!"

"Which is why you have to set boundaries now. He'll either treat you with the respect you deserve or he'll be banned from the paddock."

Y/n blinked in shock. "You'd have him banned?"

"In a heartbeat." The look on his face told her he was serious, from the determined set of his jaw to the way he kept his eyes level with hers. "So either you mention it to Christian in the team meeting or I will."

"God," she groaned, knowing that this had to be just one tiny item among a long list of infractions for Max to want him banned. "Okay. I'll tell him before the team meeting tomorrow."

"Good. Come, let's do the Q and A. You ready?" he asked, taking her empty cup and throwing it away.

"Yeah." Grateful for the distraction, she walked to the stairs with him. "I did a clip of you looking confused and posted it on TikTok and Instagram that went viral because I captioned it When You Ask Max Verstappen About Anything But Racing. Oh and I found out Tumblr fans love making gifs of you laughing. Twitter likes making memes out of your face. Whereas Facebook is mostly a bunch of boomers commenting about how I'm ruining the integrity of the sport."

"I really do hate social media," he snorted.

"And that is why I'm doing social media," she teased. Halfway up the stairs, she slowed, turning to look at him. "Thank you, Max."

"For hating social media? You're welcome."

taglist

@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris

[bellaxgiornata]

Half of Forever [One]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.9k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: break up, pining, idiots in love, angst with a happy ending

Summary: Everything had always felt right with Matthew. He had been your other half. Your forever. Until he went and shattered your heart when he ended things. But even after the years apart and your attempts to move on, Matt had never managed to stray far from your thoughts. Though unknown to you, you'd never quite left his, either.

a/n: This is just a short three part series I couldn't resist writing that's somewhat loosely inspired by the song "Half of Forever" by Henrik. The next part is in Matt's POV. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt Murdock Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1

Fingertips trailing along the expanse of his chest, you adoringly explored every dip and curve of the sharply defined muscles along Matt's naked torso. Hand currently traveling back and forth languidly from collarbone to collarbone, your own chest began to rise and fall with each of his steady breaths as your body relaxed further against his.

You watched in reverent silence as your fingers delicately lowered, rising over the swell of his firm pectoral. The muscle twitched as your finger gently brushed past a recently healed gash he'd received from a switchblade the other night. Eyes focused on the ministrations of your hand, you carefully traced across the length of the cut with the tip of your index finger. You remembered how he’d stopped by your place that evening, allowing you to clean the wound before cleaning the rest of the blood from him afterwards. 

Dragging your hand downwards, your fingertips grazed past his nipple, smiling when Matt shuddered briefly. Continuing your descent towards the valley between his abdominal muscles, you caught the way those also faintly twitched beneath your touch as you quietly admired his body. Carefully your fingers skimmed their way up the left side of his ribcage just past an angry black and purple bruise blooming up the entirety of his side. He'd gotten that just a few nights ago from a baseball bat, limping as he'd made his way around your apartment afterwards.

You could have happily laid there the rest of the evening with Matt's skin warm beneath your fingers just trying to commit every inch of him to memory. Taking your time simply mapping each scar and bruise, finding him beautiful in spite of each one. To you he was perfect, even with the injuries he brought home nightly. 

Gaze traveling up towards his face, you found that he'd closed his eyes as he lay along the pillow beside yours. He looked content and at peace. There wasn't a single crease of worry etched along his face; instead his full lips were parted slightly, the corners of them partially curled upwards at the corner. 

Unable to resist, your hand slid its way up his chest again until your fingers ran past his adam's apple and stopped at the stubbled base of his chin. Lightly tracing the line of his jaw, his facial hair prickling you, you caught the way his mouth tugged further into a lazy smile. 

“What're you doing?” he whispered.

Your fingers paused their aimless wandering at the uppermost point of his jaw, your eyes flickering up towards his. They were open now and somewhat creased at the corners as they fixed around the space just to the right of your cheek. 

“Admiring you,” you whispered back. 

His dark brows shot up onto his forehead, his smile growing wider. “Admiring me?” he questioned. 

“Yes,” you answered simply. 

Your fingers delicately trailed up towards his temple next and you reveled in the way his eyelids lowered once more. A throaty hum vibrated in his chest, the noise only encouraging your soft touches.

“You say that like I'm a painting,” he teased. 

“No,” you distractedly responded. “You're far prettier than a painting, Matthew.”

Focused on smoothing your fingers across his forehead, you caught the way his head tilted up towards your hand. Beneath the sheets where both of your naked bodies were entangled, you felt Matt's own hand gradually snake its way up the outside of your thigh until he came to rest his warm palm along the swell of your hip. His fingers began kneading your soft flesh, something sensual and possessive in the way he touched you in return. 

“Mmm,” he hummed out. “Well whatever the reason, it feels nice every time you do this.”

“Does it?” you asked curiously, one of your brows arching. 

You lightly swiped your index finger down the length of his nose, grinning when he leaned up to kiss the tip of your finger. 

“How does it feel to you with your senses?” you asked. 

Matt's hand made its way up along your hip only to curl around your ribcage. The heat of his skin on yours began to draw forth goosebumps across your body, especially as the calloused tips of his own fingers teasingly grazed back and forth along the underside of your breast. 

“Addicting,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “Like electricity dancing across my skin.”

“Really?” you asked. “Is that always how it feels to you when you're touched?”

“No,” he answered with a slight shake of his head. “Only when it's you.”

Raising your head from off your pillow, you smiled down at Matt beside you. As if he could feel your gaze on him, his own eyes opened, revealing the beautiful hazel hue of them once more.

“I love you, Matty,” you whispered.

“And I love–”

The blaring, sharp tone of your alarm cut violently through your dream, painfully dragging you back to consciousness. With an irritated groan you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow in an attempt to block out the sound. 

You hadn't wanted to wake up. Not quite yet.

Cursing under your breath, you reluctantly rolled back over and threw a hand out towards your nightstand. In frustration you roughly snatched your phone off of the charger and ended your alarm. Tossing the offending device back down, you collapsed onto your back in your bed with a huff. 

It had been a few weeks since you'd last had a dream about Matt. But this one had seemed much more vivid and realistic than some of your previous ones. And it had ended far too soon.

Hands rising up, you attempted to rub the sleep from your eyes as you tried to wake. Your dream replayed in your mind instantly–the memory of Matt's skin beneath your fingers, the warmth and love in his eyes, the sweet sound of his voice–and your hands slowly fell back to your sides. Turning your head along the pillow, you glanced over to your left and frowned. The mattress beside you was empty. Just like it had been for years. 

While lovers had come and gone since you and Matt had long since broken up, none of them had ever filled that space beside you like he had. None of them had ever even come close. At this rate, you weren't sure anyone ever would. Or that you'd ever stop thinking about him.

Reaching your hand out across the top of your comforter, an old, familiar ache steadily returned in your chest. You ran your hand along the space beside you, trying to recall the way Matt’s eyelids would drowsily flutter open and his groggy voice would always greet you first thing when he woke. 

“Good morning, angel.”

That dull ache only grew in your chest.

You'd loved Matt. Loved him in a way that you'd never experienced before or after him. The feeling had been overwhelming and all consuming, but not in the way a fire burned everything around it to ashes, more in the way that a gentle rain lays claim to everything it touches. You had been so hopelessly in love with Matt while you’d been together, convinced that he was it. The big love of your life. Your other half. Your forever.

Until he utterly destroyed your heart.

“Because I can't be who I am when I'm with you! Don’t you see that?!”

Flinching at the memory of Matt's voice, one that had never ceased to stop haunting you, you abruptly withdrew your hand from the side of your bed that had once been his. Even though the argument had been years ago, the pain of it still cut deep like it had been just last night. 

But you didn't want to think about that fight. 

With a resigned sigh you threw the sheets off of yourself and dragged yourself out of bed. It was probably time you got ready for work anyway, because you certainly couldn't just stay in bed yearning for the past.

Shuffling out of your bedroom, you made your way across the hall and towards your small bathroom. Flipping the light on, you stepped over to your shower and reached in, turning on the water and letting it heat up. Gradually you began peeling your clothing off one layer at a time, your body still sluggish from sleep as you moved.

It was a minute before the water had warmed, steam wafting out past the shower curtain. Once fully undressed, you stepped inside and drew the curtain closed behind yourself. Attempting to wake yourself further, you closed your eyes and turned your face up towards the showerhead, letting the spray fall over you. The water ran in rivulets down your face and your body, the warmth of it comforting first thing in the morning.

“I love you, angel.”

You smiled at the memory of his voice, briefly allowing yourself this one little moment. With your eyes still closed as you stood beneath the spray of water, you swore you could feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around your waist, his solid body pressed to the back of you. If you tried hard enough, you could almost feel the brush of his soft lips along the line of your shoulder or the graze of his rough hands down the sides of your body.

The pair of you had often showered in your apartment together. Especially on weekdays before work because he often stayed over after running around the city at night. On occasion you'd even accepted being late to the office when Matt's hands began wandering their way around your body, both of you too distracted to focus on showering some mornings. 

“I can't do this anymore!”

“You're too much of a distraction. It's not worth it.”

“I can't be who I am when I'm with you!”

Exhaling softly, your eyes reopened as the bitter words he'd last said to you inevitably resurfaced in your mind. Turning your face away from the spray of the showerhead, that dull ache in your chest hit you a little sharper. 

The man you'd last seen–the one you'd argued with–was nothing like the Matt you'd always known. Your Matt. The one you'd never been able to fully fall out of love with after all these years, no matter how hard you tried. But somehow your Matt was still that very same Matt who had crushed your heart in his hand without the slightest bit of remorse. The one who’d yelled at you and said all of those terrible things that you’d never expected to hear from him.

It had been painfully impossible for you to ever make sense of your conflicting feelings whenever you'd thought about him after that night. Because you wanted to hate him. Moving on would have been so much easier if you could, especially after that argument and the things he’d said. If only you'd just think of him with anger in your heart, maybe that persistent ache there would finally fade. 

But somehow you just didn't hate him. You couldn't. 

A tear slipped out of your eye as you picked up your bottle of face wash and began to squeeze some into your hand. Sniffling softly, you knew that dull ache you often felt when the memory of Matt resurfaced wasn't going anywhere, just like you knew your thoughts about your ex weren't about to suddenly vanish today.

Because today, like every other day, was just going to be another day without Matt.

[starryevermore]

i will go to lunar valleys in my mind ✧ tamlin & azriel

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader; azriel x archeron!sister

summary: to azriel, you are the most brilliant star shining in the night sky. 

word count: 7,954

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, pining, not proofread

PART ONE

Azriel stared at the cream invitation. It had landed in front of him just moments earlier, but he had already read it a few dozen times. The words were seared into his mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lord Tamlin and High Lady Y/N. High Lady. You were Spring’s High Lady. There was no way, he knew, that you could, would, ever return to Velaris when you had a court to run. He had been invited to your coronation, too, months ago. But in the year since you left for Spring, he never visited. Despite Feyre and Rhys’s insistence that you missed him, and Lucien’s chastising him for never going, and even Elain’s quiet disapproval, he knew better than to make the journey. He meant what he said to Rhys all that time ago. 

If he went to Spring, he would bring you straight back home. 

Because he had built you a home. Azriel knew how you never felt truly at home in any of Rhys’s homes—not the Town House, not the House of Wind, and not the River House. The House of Wind was the most comfortable to you, because it offered the most solitary, but it was not your home. One night, you had told him of your dream home. A quaint cottage in the woods, close enough to the city to go when you pleased but far enough to still be calm. A nice personal library, a cozy kitchen. A big fireplace that you could curl up with a nice book. Azriel committed those details to memory and spent many months making your dream home come a reality. He intended for it to be a mating gift, for when the bond finally snapped for you. 

It only collected dust.

He sat there now, at the dining table he had spent weeks picking out. His shadows flitted about, hissing at him to go to Spring. To get you before you were tied to Tamlin forever. Azriel would not. He couldn’t force you to sacrifice your happiness for his sake. You had to be happy. That was why you never returned to Velaris. You were happy in perfect Spring with your perfect mate. To bring you back here would only taint you.

“You are not going,” Rhysand said. Azriel didn’t look up from the invitation to know his High Lord had winnowed into the room. Rhys had found out about the house a few weeks after you left, concerned when Azriel hadn’t reported for any missions. 

“I haven’t gone there in a year. Why would I go now?”

“I thought the same when I was going to let Feyre live her life with Tamlin. And then she called down the bond, and I was whisking her away without any thought of the consequences.” Rhysand leaned over the table, pushing down on the invitation so that Azriel would look up at him. “She is happy with him. She looks alive when she is with him.”

“And she looked dead with me?”

It was a cheap shot, and Azriel knew it. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he wasn’t right for you. That the Mother had made a mistake. There were so many poorly-matched mates, and he was certain this was the case when the bond snapped for him. If you were content with Tamlin, then that meant you didn’t feel the same hole in your soul that Azriel did. 

His High Lord let out a sigh. “You know that’s not what I mean, brother. You remember how she looked when we forced them apart. She is finally happy again, and I won’t let anyone jeopardize it. Feyre won’t allow it.”

Azriel shoved Rhysand’s hand off the invitation. He stared at the date. It was six months away. A long time to be sending announcements for a mating ceremony, but it was surely to be a huge event for the High Lord and Lady of Spring. He imagined it would be the biggest event of the year. His teeth ground together. That should be you and him.

He dropped the invitation and rose from his seat. Shadows swirled around him as he stalked out of the house. Ignoring Rhysand’s calls behind him, Azriel took off into the air. He couldn’t stand this anymore.

“They didn’t come,” you whispered, head leaning against Tamlin’s chest. His arms wound around you. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. Your face crumpled. Letting out a shuddering breath, you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised. They haven’t come here in months, but I thought…I thought they would come.”

A finger tilted your chin up so you would look up at your mate. Tamlin’s eyes were soft. “If they’re the ones who decide to burn bridges, it is not your fault.”

“I know, but…” You sighed. You looked out the large window overlooking the gardens. Despite the blanket of night covering the grounds, you could see the beautiful, blossoming rose bush Tamlin had planted earlier that month. A tradition, he’d said. “I hoped something would have changed.”

Tamlin leaned his cheek on the top of your head. His steady breathing was the only thing keeping your from sinking to the floor. “I know it hurts, but it’s their loss. You are an amazing female, my love. I could never understand why they’d want to throw that all away, but that is their mistake to make.”

You wiggled out of his arms and stepped closer to the window. Your hand pressed against the cold glass. “I don’t understand what changed. I thought things were going well. Feyre stopped glaring at you to your face—”

“What?”

“—she still glared behind your back, but it was an improvement. Rhysand didn’t make comments wishing for your death. Even Nesta held her tongue. The only one who never came around was Azriel, which hurts because I thought him my friend. But for them to all decide I’m not worth the trouble anymore? It feels like they carved out my heart and stomped on it.”

Tamlin was silent for a long moment. You could feel his eyes looking you over, searching for any sign that you were about to waste away like Feyre had. Down the bond, you feel his love and comfort. But…there was something else there. Pain, anguish. Were you hurting Tamlin somehow? Were you making him doubt your love for him by talking about this? You looked over your shoulder at him. 

“There is still cake from the celebration. I’ll go get a couple slices from the kitchen, and some wine. Does that sound alright?”

You nodded. Tamlin smiled and left the room. You looked back out the window. Part of you was tempted to push the window open, scale down the wall, and run through the gardens until the pain of the loss of your family was only a dull ache. The other part of you just wanted to be held by your mate.

You loved Tamlin. You really, truly did. But, in recent months, you felt like there was something missing. When the high of getting to know him, accepting the bond, and becoming High Lady of Spring finally died down, you were left with a hole in your chest. Small, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, but enough to make you question everything. 

Had you been wrong to come here? 

Something tugged in your chest. Ordinarily, you would have thought it would be Tamlin. He always was so quick to send you comfort through the bond, but this felt different. Colder, but a comforting sort of cold. The kind of cold of a fan being waved on you during a sweltering summer day. The cold of a drink after hours of laborous work. The cold of a shadow slithering around your hand, pulling you out of harm’s way. The cold of Azriel’s hands on your burning face as you sobbed at being forcibly separated from your mate.

It tugged harder. It felt closer to snapping. But to what? You had a mate. You had Tamlin. What other sort of snapping could there be? 

Your hands tugged at your hair.  You had been so sure months ago. Why were you spiraling now? What had changed? It was more than your family, your sisters, not showing up to your mating ceremony. No, this was something deeper. Something that you had been ignoring for too long. Something that was starting to boil over. Tears began to streak down your face. A scream of frustration fell out as your hand smacked against the pane. 

The temperature in the room dropped. 

“Are you hurt?”

Everything went still. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the window. No. He couldn’t be here. Not after all this time. He hadn’t deigned to see you in over a year. You had sent invitations and letters, and they had all gone unanswered. Even when you told Feyre to pass him along the message that you missed him, you never got a response. Yes, you had left without a goodbye. But did that mean you deserved to be ignored? 

Perhaps he truly only saw you as the latest object of his affections. Perhaps you never were anything close to a friend of his. 

A hand stroked your hair. You sucked in a breath. “I swear, if he’s hurt you, I will snuff out this Cauldron-forsaken court’s light before he can even blink.”

You scoffed. Slowly you turned, your eyes narrowing at him. “That’s rich. If you care so much about my well-being, where were you the last year? Did Feyre send you here to tell me that she’s throwing in the towel? That she’s decided I’m not worth the effort? That she’s forbidden everyone else from coming to Spring, too?”

Azriel blinked. “What?”

“I mean, it was rich for her to not come today. It would make sense for Rhysand not to come if she didn’t. But for everyone else to not make an appearance? Even Lucien wasn’t here, and he’s Tamlin’s best friend! No one has been here in months! I can only assume the High Lady ordered gave orders to stay away.” You shook your head. “You must only be here to finally clue me in, so I’ll stop littering their desks with silly little invitations.”

He took a step closer to you. You wished you had the space to back away. Shadows wrapped around your ankles. He reached out to hold your face, but you jerked away. It was impossible to miss the hurt in his hazel eyes. And—why did your chest ache? “I’m afraid I’m the reason no one made an appearance.”

Pain struck through you. Azriel? Did he truly think so little of you because you chose your mate? You once overheard a fight he had with Rhysand—heard him say that it was only fair that he had a sister. With Feyre, Nesta, and Elain all happily taken, that had left you. Did he convince them all to hate you because you chose Tamlin over him? 

You pushed him away. “How dare you,” you hissed. 

“It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s much worse. You couldn’t have Mor, but that was fine because at least it was because she prefers females. You couldn’t have Elain. That was fine, because there was another Archeron sister waiting in the wings, praying to be picked. But then you couldn’t have me, and you had to poison everyone against me.” You gave him your harshest glare. “Why couldn’t you have pined after someone else? I hear Gwyn is single. Why didn’t you go after her? Why did you have to stoop so fucking low?”

“I didn’t!” he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls. You were sure Tamlin could hear him, but you didn’t care. Not when it felt like your chest was caving in. 

“I thought you were my friend, Azriel. I may not have always treated you the best, and I apologize for that. But I know when I’m only being picked because I’m the last option available. I deserve better than that, and you know it. Of everyone, you should know that. What did I do to deserve such cruelty?”

“Nothing!” He ran his fingers through his hair. His shadows swirled around in a flurry. Was he about to set them out to attack you? Get rid of you as a final fuck you? “They weren’t here because I am going crazy without you!”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re my fucking mate, Y/N!”

Any words you were ready to spit out dried out in your mouth. What? That couldn’t be possible. You had a mate already. You had Tamlin. And yet…There was still that tugging in your chest. Familiar, but not. 

“I have known since Nyx’s birth. I wanted to wait until it snapped for you, but it didn’t. It snapped for fucking Tamlin. As cruel as it is, I was grateful that Feyre and Rhys took you from him. At least it gave me a chance to make you see me. But then I came back from that mission and you were gone.” Azriel took a tentative step towards you again. You made no effort, this time, to push him away. “It fucking killed me to know you were gone. No one saw me for a month afterwards. I started to come around, eventually, but it was never the same without you there. I didn’t come here, to Spring, because if I did, I would have stolen you away again, because I cannot live without you. Then, six months ago, I received the invitation to your mating ceremony, and I lost it. Disappeared. Everyone has been on the hunt for me, to make sure I didn’t cause a war between our courts.”

You stared at him, unblinking. The ache in your chest only grew stronger. Could he be right? Could he truly be your mate? But what would that make Tamlin? Was it possible to be mistaken over who your mate was? Was it possible to have two mates? You wanted to cry—for you, and for Azriel. 

“I apologize for what my actions have done.”

“Why are you here now?” you asked. He said nothing, so you continued, “You stayed away this long. Why are you here now?”

Azriel let out a breath. “I had to see if you were happy. I…I imagine the mating ceremony has already been consummated, which would complicate things, but…If there was any chance, any at all, that I could be your knight in shining armor, I had to take it. If you were, I would leave you be. Let you live out your life as Spring’s High Lady and never again interfere. So, I have to ask, are you happy?”

That tug in your chest finally snapped. All at once, everything Azriel felt came crashing through. The full extent of his pain, the anguish raging through his body. The glimmer of hope as he stared down at you, waiting for your answer. Your hand reached out without you thinking, touching his chest. You could almost see the golden thread binding you to him. 

“Yes,” you said.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, the gleam of his siphon bouncing off at you. “But?”

“I feel a hole in my soul.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“One, that I’m beginning to realize, is shaped like an Illyrian.”

The smile grew. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hands. Azriel’s thumbs swiped over your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Leaning against his palm, a smile began to cross your face. Azriel leaned in, nose brushing against yours, until his lips connected with yours. 

A gasp escaped you at the contact. It was…electric. Unlike anything you experienced with Tamlin, save for the intensity of it all. If Tamlin was the innocent joy, Azriel was the passionate fervor. You had experienced the frenzy with Tamlin, but you were sure it would pale in comparison to Azriel. You could feel the full weight of his emotions through the bond—the lust, the adoration, the desire for more. 

A chord struck in you. If you could feel all of this with Azriel, then Tamlin could—

Tamlin’s snarl ripped through the room. 

He fought to keep a lid on his barely-constrained anger. Whenever Tamlin felt such explosive anger, he had a tendency to hurt those he cared about. You deserved better than that. And, even if your relationship with Feyre had become strained, he was sure she would make good on her threat anyways. But, Mother, how else was he supposed to react when that Cauldron damned Shadowsinger was kissing his mate?

Tamlin had suspected for a long time that Azriel harbored feelings for you. When you came to the ball, Azriel clung to you like a leech. Always hovering, always watching you. And when Azriel would leave you, those damned shadows of his would always linger. Even when Tamlin finally got a moment alone with you, the Shadowsinger burst in the room as if thought Tamlin was about to hurt you—pulled you out of his arms, tried to keep you from him. He knew there was a reason Azriel hadn’t visited once—hadn’t even sent word to you—in the last year. He just never thought the Illyrian would have the audacity to whisk you away hours after your mating ceremony. 

It must be a Night Court tradition. 

You pushed Azriel away—too gentle for Tamlin’s liking—and stepped toward him. Your eyes were wide, apologetic. You reached out for him, urged him to wrap his arms around you. He did, but not once did he look away from Azriel. He didn’t trust that the Illyrian brute wouldn’t stab him in the back at the first opportunity. Especially not with Truth-Teller strapped to his waist. 

“I can explain, Tam,” you said, cheek pressed against his chest.

Tamlin smoothed a hand over your hair. He tugged on the bond, let you know that he was not upset with you. He could never be upset with you. “You are not to blame, my love.”

“Of course I am. I wanted Az to kiss me.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest before he could stop it. Okay, perhaps he could be upset with you a little. Though, he supposed he couldn’t fault you entirely for harboring feelings for the Shadowsinger. You had told Tamlin once that, although you were suspicious about Azriel’s motivations at times, he had been something of a friend. The only one, save for your sisters, that you could call a friend. When you’re that lonely, it’s easy to fall for the one person who’s kind to you. But that didn’t mean Tamlin had to like it. 

“He’s my mate, too, Tam.”

He pulled away. He searched your eyes for anything sign of deceit, for any sign of manipulation. Tamlin found none. He looked back at Azriel, who still stood far away, watching you carefully. It looked like he was ready to yank you away from Tamlin at the first sign of distress. Night Court folk always held grudges. 

This was…unexpected. If Tamlin didn’t trust you, he might have thought you were trying to deceive him. Triads had existed a long time ago, when Prythian was in its infancy. There was a time where there were more males than females. People believed that the Mother would allow the female multiple mates in an effort to stop the fighting over the few, precious females that existed. Of course, all of this was speculative—a work of fiction. No one had seen a triad in millennia. No one was sure they’d ever existed at all. 

Yet, when Tamlin pressed his nose to your hair, he didn’t just smell your scent mixed with his. There was something different, less familiar. It was faint. Barely noticeable unless he searched for it. A mating bond, in its infancy. As he turned his gaze to Azriel, he knew who it belonged to. 

“What do you want?” Tamlin near-growled at Azriel, still cradling you against his chest. 

“For her to be happy,” Azriel said. “I was going to let her go, never reveal the bond. I was going to let her live a life with you, but I had to make sure she was happy before I gave her up forever.”

Tamlin wanted to say that you were happy. That you had all you needed here. And, yes, you were happy. You loved the Spring Court. If Tamlin thought you beautiful at the ball, it paled in comparison to the way you seemed to come alive in Spring. But he couldn’t deny that, in recent months, as the Inner Circle stopped coming, as it became clear that Azriel would never visit, that something inside of you was dying.

And he had heard the tail end of your conversation with Azriel before he kissed you. You wanted Azriel as a mate. Tamlin knew better than to deny you of that. He never again wanted to see you as lifeless as you had been when he brought you home from the Night Court. 

“She’s High Lady,” he said, “she cannot be whisked away from here.”

“I understand,” Azriel said. “Perhaps, though, she could spend a few months with me, in the Night Court? Most of her year will be spent here, ruling by your side. I only ask for some time.”

You turned your head to look at Azriel. Your brows pinched together. “You would do that?”

“I would rather only have a part of you than none at all.”

Tamlin looked down at you. He hated the idea of you being taken away to the Night Court. It reminded him too much of how Rhysand had grabbed you and winnowed you away—of how Night’s High Lord had done the same to Feyre years prior. The nasty, jealous part of him roared at the thought of you going. But when he looked at your hope-filled eyes, he knew he wouldn’t deny you. 

To Azriel, he said, “Give us the month to get our affairs in order.”

Azriel nodded. It was done. 

“Be careful with her,” Tamlin hissed.

Azriel rolled his eyes as he picked you up. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other hooked under your legs. Your arms looped around his neck. Though winnowing you would be easier, quicker, Azriel dreamed of flying you to the home he built for you. 

“She is not a doll so easily broken.”

You scratched at the back of his neck. Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Though you intended the action to be a means of chastising him, he only thought about how nice it would feel to have those pretty polished nails of yours rake down his back. “Play nice. Both of you,” you said. 

Tamlin stepped over to you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If you change your mind,” he said, “let me know. I’ll bring you home.”

Azriel stepped away before you could kiss Tamlin on the mouth. It was petty of him, to be sure. But he didn’t like the implication that you would not feel at home with him. What did Tamlin know? He wasn’t there for you when you came out of the Cauldron. When you were only a shell, sat at a piano all hours of the day, the melody of your pain echoing through Velaris. Tamlin was not there to hold you as you cried, begging for the pain to end. Tamlin never begged Rhysand to go into your mind, to give you pleasant dreams, so that even if you only experienced peace in your sleep, at least you got to feel it. 

Tamlin might have taken you from the Night Court. He may have made you his High Lady. And he may love you, but he didn’t know you hurt like Azriel did. He did not make the same promise Azriel did to never let you be hurt again. He did not know that, as Azriel was returning from that mission, he was planning to ask if you wished for him to take you to Spring. He was going to give you the choice that he and the rest of the Inner Circle so terribly deprived you of. Azriel had only been angry when you were gone because he never got to tell you goodbye, never got the chance to see you one last time before sending you off for your fairytale ending. But then, after the Inner Circle’s first visit, Feyre told him you looked like an entirely different person. 

Tamlin might love you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice his happiness to let you be with another male. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Azriel asked you.

The week before, Tamlin had sent your clothes, some books, and sheet music ahead. Azriel took special care to set up your room. It was the master bedroom, of course. Azriel relegated himself to a smaller guest room. Even if you were going with him to see if you truly wanted the bond with him, he was not going to force you to share a room with him. 

“I’m sure,” you said. You turned to Tamlin and nodded your head at him, urging him closer. Reluctantly, Azriel did not step away this time. He could deny Tamlin all he wanted, but he wouldn’t do that to you. The High Lord leaned down and kissed you softly. “I’m write you, Tam.”

Tamlin smiled. “I eagerly await your letters.”

After bidding him another farewell kiss, you let Azriel take to the skies. Although Azriel was not fond of his Illyrian heritage—the culture and its males, save for his brothers, disgusted him—he would never tire of flying. He didn’t think it could ever get any better, but that was before he had you in arms, clinging tightly to him while he flew over all of Prythian. 

A laugh, a beautifully loud laugh, escaped you as he pushed himself faster and faster. He shot you a wicked grin and a wink before shooting straight up, turning over backwards, before righting himself on course again. The laugh turned to a scream. Your nails dug into the back of his neck. 

“What?” he teased. “Don’t like going upside down?”

“You’re rotten,” you said, but you smiled up at him anyways. He liked your smile. You smiled with your whole face. Pretty dimples, crinkled corners of your eyes. Even your eyes themselves seemed to twinkle. 

“Yeah? I think you’ll find I’m the rottenest of the bunch.”

“Not so rotten if you’re my mate, though.”

Azriel prayed you couldn’t see how red his face was turning. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Only further settled in his arms, watching the clouds as you passed them by. 

Though Azriel preferred flying fast, loved the thrill of it all, he found himself wishing he had savored this moment a little longer as he landed outside of the home he built for you. He sat you gently on the ground, a hand on the small of your back as you steadied yourself. 

“I thought we would go to the River House or the House of Wind,” you said. 

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or not. You only stared up at the cobblestoned cottage, the wisteria growing along the walls. You eyed the window boxes filled with your favorite flowers. Azriel opened his mouth, ready to offer to take you elsewhere, when you turned your gaze to him. 

“What is this place? How have I never known about it?”

“It was supposed to be a mating gift,” Azriel said. He couldn’t look at you, afraid for how you might react, so he stared up at the cottage. “You told me, once, about your dream home. I can only hope that this compares.”

“When did you build it?”

“I started it the day after I found out we were mates,” Azriel said. And because he knew you were going to ask when that was, he continued, “The day Nyx was born—when you were crying because you were so scared about losing half your family and I just held you. That’s when I knew.”

You said nothing for a long moment. Azriel swallowed a lump in his throat, praying to the Mother he hadn’t scared you away. That you wouldn’t ask to be taken back to Spring, this entire thing be damned. You didn’t do that, though. 

No, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth instead. “Thank you, Az.”

Shadows flitted around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients you wanted and bringing them to you. Azriel often chided you for turning his shadows, the very things he used to spy and torture and kill, into little pets, but he loved it all the same. There was something he liked about you exposing the darkest parts of him to the light. Besides, it was his fault for leaving the shadows behind with you while he went to the market. 

You placed the tray in the oven, giggling as the shadows pulled you away to shut the door on their own, another group of shadows fiddling with the knobs so that it was at the right temperature. As the brownies baked, you took to cleaning up the mess you made. Humming a tune, you began to collect the dishes, swaying your hips as you took them over to the sink.

In the month since you had returned to the Night Court, you quite enjoyed spending time with Azriel. His plan to sleep in the guest room did not last long, for you found yourself so enamored with him that you practically dragged him into your bed. That was the first time his shadows allied themselves with you. A part of you, now, dreaded the idea of having to leave him behind when you returned to Spring. Tamlin and Azriel did not get on well, but you were certain they could at least learn to tolerate each other if they spent time with each other. 

You dried off your hands, gazing out the window over the sink. Somewhere beyond there were the rest of your family. Though Azriel had reacquainted himself with the Inner Circle, apologized for causing as much trouble as he had, he had not revealed that you were in the Night Court. He glamoured his scent so that they could not pick up on how your own scent mixed in. You wondered how Tamlin might have responded to their inquiries to visit you in Spring, but Azriel didn’t say much besides Feyre worried she had offended you. 

Good, you mused. She should be worried. She had made you grieve your relationship with her. She made you sick as you contemplated where you went wrong. She made you feel like you lost your entire family by choosing your mate. If she sat in worry, she deserved it. 

A shadow tugged on your wrist, alerting you to the fact that the brownies were finished. The shadows didn’t allow you to take the tray out yourself, but did let you begin to cut them and place one on a plate for Azriel. You bit your lip, trying to contain your smile. 

Tomorrow, you were to return to Spring. But tonight, you would accept the bond with Azriel. 

You hadn’t said a word to the shadows about your plan, yet they buzzed around the cottage as they readied for the romantic evening to come. Petals littering the floor, candles lit up around the room, a romantic song playing over the symphonium. You almost thought the shadows wished to seduce your mate more than you did. 

One tugged on your wrist as the door opened. You did hold back your smile this time as Azriel walked into kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter. 

“Welcome home,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Azriel smiled against your lips. “What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” He pulled away for a moment, sniffing at the air. “Have you been baking?”

“Brownies,” you confirmed. You twisted out of the arms and took the plate that the shadows hovered over to you. “For you.”

He stared down at the plate, then looked up at you. “I couldn’t—” he said. 

You picked up the brownie and brought it up to his lips. “I insist. I have been blessed by the Mother with two wonderful mates, and I intend to have you both fully.”

Thunder rumbled in the sky as Azriel sank his teeth into the treat, never taking his eyes off of you. You swiped your thumb at the corner of his mouth, collecting the crumbs, and licked them off. A growl ripped through his chest as Azriel tugged you against him. 

“I suppose that’s why the cottage looks like something straight of Nesta’s romance novels?”

“You can thank your shadows for that. They did that all on their own.”

“You truly have reduced them to busybodies like all the rest,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold an ounce of malice. Azriel kissed you softly. “I suppose I should thank them, though, because I fully intend to ravish you tonight.”

“Oh, I hope that’s a promise you intend to keep.”

Thunder rumbled again. The scene outside turned darker as storm clouds began to roll in. You were prepared to ignore it all when a flash of lightning made you jump out of your skin. The front door slammed open, the wood hitting the wall so hard you were almost certain it splintered. Azriel’s hold on you tightened. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. You peered over to the foyer, blood running cold as you took in the appearance of Night’s High Lord, your sister just a half step behind him. 

“I didn’t think you were so foolish to steal away Spring’s High Lady, brother,” Rhysand said. 

“I was not stolen,” you snapped. “I came here willingly. Tamlin knows exactly where I am, and that I shall be returning to Spring by morning.”

Your sister said your name softly, stepping around her mate and toward you. “You’re already leaving?” she asked. 

“I have been here a month. That is plenty long to be away from Spring and my other mate.”

Feyre’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then to the tray of brownies abandoned on the counter. “You know.”

“No thanks to you,” you said. “How long were you going to let me cry over Azriel not coming to visit before you told me it wasn’t because he hated me?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you. I hated learning about my own mating bond from the Suriel. I didn’t—I couldn’t let you live through that same pain.”

“No, you just let me think my only friend hated me. You let me think you all hated me, because you were too busy trying to find him before my mating ceremony to respond to any of my letters.”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed at you. “We couldn’t have told you anything. We hardly understand how a triad works. How could we have explained it to you without sounding like we descended into lunacy?”

“You could have said anything!” you protested. “Feyre, you could have told me anything short of the truth. There was a threat to the Night Court, or perhaps that there were some diplomacy issues you needed to tend to. But, no, you rather that I cried to Tamlin every night, prayed that you would send some sort of sign that our relationship was not beyond repair.”

Feyre took a step toward you. Rhysand reached for her wrist, to stop her from nearing you, but she shook him off. “And I will regret that for the rest of my days. You know I have never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you have. You are my sister, Feyre, but you treated me like I was no one to you. Tell me, were my letters to all the others ignored under your orders, too?”

Her glance away from you told you everything you needed to know.

“I spent my mating ceremony, what should have been the happiest day of my life, grieving the loss of my family. I will never get that day back again.” You grabbed for Azriel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing tight. “Don’t expect an invitation to the next.”

Feyre’s eyes snapped to yours. Silver lined them. “Please—”

“I would like to return to Spring, now, please,” you said to Azriel. “It seems I have outgrown Night.”

Without a word, Azriel winnowed you away. 

Tamlin stared at your back as you slept. You had been quiet ever since you returned from the Night Court. Tamlin understood—Azriel had explained how Feyre and Rhysand came to the cottage as you were accepting the mating bond with Azriel. He recalled the fury in your eyes as you stated that Azriel would remain in the Spring Court until the frenzy subsided. He didn’t see you much over the following weeks, so he couldn’t speak much to your state then. But when Azriel, rather regretfully, announced he would be returning to Night to deal with the fallout, you began to withdraw. Tamlin was left with the aftermath. And like Feyre before you, he wasn’t quite sure how to make things better. 

Unlike Feyre, he was going to do whatever he could to help you. He would not let you waste away, fade away into nothing. 

Tamlin kissed your bare shoulder then slipped out of the bed. If you noticed, you did not move. He continued on to his study, ignoring the curious looks of the servants still lingering in the halls, and settled at his desk. He procured a sheet of paper and a pen, and began to write. 

Azriel, he began, I apologize for my abruptness, but I must ask that you return to Spring expeditiously. While I understand that the Night Court is your home, Y/N has not been faring well without both of her mates. You do not need to forsake your home, but any time that you could spend here would be appreciated. Yours truly, Tamlin. 

He sent the letter off. Tamlin remained at his desk, waiting for a reply. But one did not have to wait for long as shadows began to soon flood the room. In the past, the sight of the shadows would have made Tamlin’s skin crawl. It was no secret the depths the Spymaster would go to, to extract information from his targets, and those very shadows were just another in his arsenal. But their arrival was signal enough that Azriel had arrived, and that was enough for the weight on Tamlin’s shoulders to lift ever so slightly. 

“Where is she?”

Tamlin rose to his feet. “Sleeping. She doesn’t know I asked for you to come.”

Azriel nodded. A few of the shadows abandoned the study in search of you. The shadows, generally, still disturbed Tamlin. In the month you and Tamlin got your affairs in order, those damned little things scarcely left your side. He was certain they even hissed at him for daring to be near you. Slowly, though, they began to grow on him as they came to the collective understanding that both parties were looking out for your best interests. 

“How have things fared in the Night Court?” Tamlin asked. 

“Feyre is distraught,” Azriel said. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, as if trying to stop them from rolling right out of his head. “Rhys has been insisting I bring Y/N back so they can talk things through. He does not take kindly to my own insistence that, if Feyre wished for things to get better, she should be the one to make the first move.”

Tamlin snorted. “And here I thought you were just a loyal dog.”

Azriel flashed a smirk. “Oh, I am. Just not to him.”

Good, Tamlin thought. If there was anyone who deserved his loyalty, it would be you. Kind, sweet you. Tamlin once thought your family was loyal—they certainly seemed to think they were looking out for your best interests when they took you from the Spring Court. And they had been so diligent about visiting you before. Every month at the start of the month, he would receive a letter asking permission to visit. The Inner Circle always arrived before he could accept. That was, until the invitation to the mating ceremony was sent out. Despite both you and Tamlin sending inquiries and invitations, not a single one ever responded. When they failed to show up at the mating ceremony, Tamlin decided then that he would never forgive them. 

“How long do you intend to stay?” Tamlin said. Azriel brought nothing with him, save for the clothes on his back and the weapons strapped to his waist. 

“As long as you’ll allow it. I tendered my resignation this morning,” Azriel said. “I’ll begin the search for a home here in the morning.”

“Don’t bother,” Tamlin said. Azriel looked stricken. His brows pinched together, mouth settling into a frown. Realizing his error, Tamlin corrected, “You can have a home here if you like. Your own room, or you can share ours. We might have to get a bigger bed, given your wingspan, but it would be no trouble.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. “You would do that?”

“You are her mate as much as I am. You may be willing to settle for only a piece of her life, but I would be remiss if I stopped you from having all of her.” Tamlin waved his hand, urging Azriel to follow him. “I have some more comfortable clothes you can change into. We should both rest.”

“Tamlin—” Azriel said. Tamlin paused. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. Will you need to return to the Night Court for your things, or will you be purchasing replacements?”

As they walked down the hall, the servants even more confused than before, Azriel said, “My shadows will retrieve the necessities. There won’t be much. I intend to have a fresh start here.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing Spring is all about rebirth then.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

Tamlin watched as Azriel smiled when they reached the bedroom. He slipped inside, so silent that Tamlin could’ve been convinced that he was alone if he didn’t see the Shadowsinger with his own two eyes. Tamlin lingered in the doorframe as Azriel approached your side of the bed and knelt down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, murmured a quiet I love you. 

Your eyes fluttered open. You blinked slowly as you took in Azriel’s appearance. “You’re supposed to be in Night,” you whispered. 

“I believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

You turned your head slightly, brows pinching together when you didn’t see Tamlin laying beside you. “Does Tam know?”

“Who do you think invited me?”

A sleepy smile twitched on your lips. “When do you leave again?”

“Whenever you decide to push me away.” Azriel kissed you. “And not a second sooner.”

Feyre stared at the cream invitation. It had landed on Rhysand’s desk just moments earlier, but she had already read it a dozen times. The words were seared into her mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lady Y/N and Azriel. But the part she found herself reading over and over again, trying to make sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination were— P.S. I would greatly appreciate your attendance. You are my sister, and I miss you being a part of my life.

If she went to Spring, she would have her sister again she so terribly pushed away. 

Because she had missed you. It had broken her heart to know you had come to Night to be with Azriel yet never came to see them. She couldn’t blame you, of course. You had been right. Feyre should have said something to you. It wasn’t fair for her to keep you completely in the dark. She hated when others had done it to her in the past. Why did she ever think she could do the same to you? Yet, even in the months afterward, she wasn’t sure what to say to you. 

She still didn’t. 

Feyre sat in the River House, at Rhysand’s desk, glancing between the invitation and the RSVP she was going to send in response. Rhysand stood behind her. When the invitation arrived, he said that the decision was fully hers. That he would support whatever choice to make. To stay in Night and continue to allow the relationship to strain, or to go and begin the mending process. But was there anything left to mend? You were happy in Spring with both of your mates. To go there now would be to ruin the life you’ve built for yourself. 

“Do you want to go?” Rhys asked after several moments of Feyre holding the pen in an ironclad grip.

“I haven’t seen her in months. I haven’t been to Spring in over a year. I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Because you miss her, and she misses you. Don’t torture yourself with thoughts of maybes and what ifs. You know Y/N wouldn’t have sent the invitation if she didn’t want you there,” Rhysand said. He pointed to the postscript, tapping his finger on it. “It’s a peace offering.”

“I hurt her.”

For as long as Feyre could remember, she had been trying to protect her family. For a long time, it was all she knew. Things changed, of course, when she came to Prythian and her sisters all became High Fae. But the base desire, to ensure their safety and security, still resided deep inside her. It was why she had been so scared when you said Tamlin was your mate. It was why she panicked when Rhysand said Azriel had disappeared after being invited to your mating ceremony with Tamlin. Yet, in both instances, she had been the one to cause your pain. What if that was all she could do now? Maybe she was better off, maybe you were better off, if she stayed away.

Rhys let out a sigh. “You did, but she’s giving you a chance. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all this time?”

“It is.”

“Then, I think you already know the answer.”

Feyre pressed the pen to the paper. She slowly wrote her response, worried that if she moved too fast, she would write the wrong thing. But, Cauldron, it didn’t feel write to just write a letter to you. If you were truly inviting her back into your life, if you truly were trying to mend the relationship, you deserved more. 

She dropped the pen and rose from her seat. Rhysand followed her and she stalked out of the office. Ignoring her mate’s questions behind her, she went to the living room where the rest of the Inner Circle waited for Feyre and Rhys. Everyone stared at her when she arrived. She couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore. 

“Well?” Nesta asked, breaking the silence. “Are we breaking this ridiculous stalemate together, or will I be going to Spring alone?”

“Together,” Feyre said. “We’ll go together, now. I’m sure they won’t mind a surprise visit.”

Nesta flashed a rare smile. “Good, because Elain and I would have dragged you there kicking and screaming.”

[thegnomelord]

For the 500 followers game (congrats btw) 9 with Price, soap, and m!reader???

Thanks anon, I went back and forth between giving reader or Price the piercing, but ended up with reader. I used some of @rodolfoparras old man price stuff as inspiration :Dd, play the game HERE.

Prompt: "You have a piercing where?"

CW: NSFW, M reader, sub bottom Price, sub top Soap, reader has piercings, oral, double penetration, body shots, light feminization of Price.

Like with most stupid ideas, booze was to blame. It had started out with just sharing a few drinks of Price's special whiskey after a mission, but knowing you and knowing Johnny, that quickly developed into taking body shots off each other. Price had been hesitant to do it but your and Soap's quick and loving, if a bit disorganized, kisses had swallowed his usual words— I'm too old, I'm not good at this, I— until he caved.

Whiskey swirls in the little glass, sparkling in the light as you pour it between his ample pecks, cold liquor forcing a shiver down Price's spine and sticking to his chest hair like molasses. Your hands ease the tension in his frame, firmly pushing his pecks together to create a deep valley you could follow with your tongue, the cold of the booze replaced by the little piece of metal piercing your tongue dragging against his skin as you slurped up the whiskey.

Your eyes meet Price's, your tongue sticking out to show off your piercing and the brown booze pooling around it before you swallowed.

"Bloody tease," Price growls, bringing your faces closer with a hand on your chin so he could kiss you. This is new; you have plenty of piercings but your past partners had soured the idea of wearing more 'extreme' piercings around them, but in this moment Price is happy you'd forgotten to take it out. The heat of your mouth contrasting with the cold metal, the 'clack' it makes when clicking against his teeth, the sensation of something foreign swirling around his mouth— it is just such a new sensation. One he is getting addicted to.

"Oi, don't bloody forget me," Soap growls, capturing your attention and your mouth the second you separated from Price, giving you a sloppy kiss.

"Wouldn't dream of it." You chuckle, reclining back on the bed just enough for Soap to pour booze haphazardly on your abdomen just so he could taste your sweat mingling with it. They were all half naked and sticky with spit, alcohol, and sweat, a heavy scent of heat in the air making you flush.

"Fockin' 'ell," Johnny breathes against your skin, collecting the last drops of liquor in his tongue and jerking up to kiss you, sharing the burn the whiskey brings. "That piercing's some'tin' else." He chuckles, suckling on your tongue and the piercing.

"Do you have any more lad?" Price asks, a low flame burning in his belly from watching his sergeants act like that.

"Got my dick pierced." You shrug without thinking.

Price sobers up real quick at your words, glancing at Soap as if to ask if he heard you right. "Repeat that," He says, his eyes narrowed. "You have a piercing where?"

You open your mouth, but Soap beats you to it. "Hold on," He shakes his head, a look in his eyes denoting trouble. "Yea've got a thing in yer knob?" He looks bewildered, then perks up. "Show it."

Your eyes swivel to look at Price to see a familiar look on his face; that uncertainty — same one your previous partners had. "I don't know..."

"Oh come on, I'm begging on me bum knee," Soap whines, tugging on your pants with a desperate whine, turning his attention to Price. "C'mon, back me up here geezer."

Price's eyes narrow at the name, but can't help the way heat flares in his stomach. There's a sort of morbid curiosity in him, wanting to know what your cock would look like with piercings, what they would feel against his tongue, how they'd feel inside him—

"Yeah," He breathes out, leveling his gaze with you, determination hiding the slight trepidation nibling on his bones. "Yeah, we want to see it."

You look unconvinced, but relent. Shuffling off the bed you quickly find your piercings and come back to bed, sitting on the edge. Before you know it Soap's in front of you, "Oh, don't go hiding now." He grumbles, watching your every move like a kid on Christmas.

"He's right," Price sits next to you, a gentle hand on your neck as he kisses you sweetly, "We won't judge you."

You breathe out a short laugh and quickly undo your pants, your hard cock springing free. They watch transfixed as you put your piercings in, a prince albert and an apadravya, the metal shining brightly against your flushed skin.

"Well fock me sideways," Soap laughs in disbelief, falling to his knees and taking hold of your shaft, "It's like yer cock's got horns!"

His words bring a laugh out of you, and Price chuckles along, the light atmosphere helping him gain the courage to sink to his knees next to Johnny, their broad shoulders keeping your legs spread open. "It is something." He hums, licking his lips.

"Stop staring at it." You grumble, not expecting Soap to swallow you balls deep in one go the moment your words leave your mouth. The way your piercings hit the back of his throat has Johnny groaning like a whore, bringing moans from your chest.

"Leave some for me you muppet." Price growls, yanking Johnny by his hair, a wet and lewd 'slurp' ringing across the room, your shaft shining with Johnny's spit. You don't have any time to breathe before Price leans in to experimentally lap at your cockhead, his breath stuttering as he takes you into his mouth.

It's the sensation of the cold steel resting on his tongue and Soap's encouraging but sloppy kiss at the corner of his lip that has him taking a bit more, wrapping his plump lips around your shaft and hollowing his cheeks to swallow around you, his own dick getting harder from your resounding groan.

Johnny joins in soon after, giving wet and messy kisses along the flesh not in Price's mouth, the difference in Price's constant pressure on your cock and the sloppy tongue bath Johnny's giving your balls making heat gather in your stomach. Hell, the sight of them both almost worshiping your cock has your mind fuzzy with desire, your heart fluttering every time you feel Price's inquisitive tongue swirl around your metal piercings.

"Shit," You breathe out, your fingers carding through their hair without trying to push Price down further on your cock. "I'm not gonna last long." This time you grip Price's hair just firm enough to lightly tug him off you, patting your thigh "How about it captain, want us to take care of you?"

A violent and pleasant shiver races down Price's spine, not at all aided by the hungry groan Johnny lets out. The last time you two had 'taken care' of him he'd been fucked within an inch of his life and been walking funny for a week, but fuck, had that felt wonderful. And not to mention that now he was given the chance to feel your piercings inside him.

Price doesn't say anything, only standing up long enough to take off his pants and boxers before sitting in your lap, your cocks hard and flush as they rub against each other. "Yeah," He finally says, his hands wrapping around your neck when you roughly fist both of your cocks, only to jump when Soap's tongue sloppily swipes across his puckered rim.

"Fock, forgot what an ass yae have Capt'n." Johnny groans, blindly passing you the lube before he focuses on eating Price out like he's Johnny's last meal, wetly slurping at his hole, his spit drooling down his chin and cock twitching at the way Price groans.

Price shivers and whines, his head falling to rest on your shoulder the moment your lubed fingers press alongside Johnny's tongue, cock twitching the moment your first finger breathes him. "Yeah? Like that Captain?" You put emphasis on his rank, pushing a second finger in and scissoring, spreading his hole open so Johnny's tongue can push inside unrestrained. "You like it when we use your cunt?"

"Yes," Price groans, mind swimming with arousal, low and husky moans falling from his lips with every brush of your fingers against his prostate, every swipe of Soap's tongue, the way you work him up to four fingers making his body burn with the stretch so pleasantly. "I love it when my Sergeants use me."

You smirk, continuing to stretch him open, uncaring of how much he shifts and tries to wiggle his hips in an attempt to get you to fuck him. "Hear that Soap?" You hum, feeling Soap's groan vibrate against your fingers. "We'll have to fuck him good, pump him full," You continue, knowing how much your dirty talk fuels both of their arousals.

Price is whining soft little 'please, sir fuck me,'s against your ear when you finally pull your fingers out of his spasming hole, even without looking you can tell his hole is clenching around nothing, greedy thing. "You get your wish now." You lift him up to position the head of your cock against his hole, letting gravity do all the work on the way down.

"Fuck-" He moans, head lolling back and heavy chest heaving for breath. You'd stretched him good, but he's unaccustomed to the way the piercings scrap against his walls, precum spurting weakly from his tip the second your piercing presses insistently against his prostate. "-so good,"

"Don't forget about me," Johnny grins, wrapping a rough hand around his waist, his cock nudging against Price's hole as it flutters around your shaft. "Here ah come," He says and pushes. Initially his body tries to resist, clamping down on your shaft you nearly cum there and then, but a few swipes of your thumb against Price's tip has him relaxing just enough for the constant pressure of Johnny's tip to finally slip inside.

A weak sound leaves Price's throat, mouth moving in a silent moan as Johnny pushes inside inch by inch, forcing his body to yield. You all stop to give him a few seconds to catch his breath, your cocks twitching inside his tightly clenching walls. "So good for us captain." You chuckle and buck your hips without warning, drawing a moan and a spurt of precum from him when your piercing brushes against his prostate.

"Aye, good fockin' cocksleeve." Johnny groans in Price's ear, following your movements and bucking harshly into his tight heat. You swallow Price's moans with bruising kisses, letting Johnny rut into him like a bull while you languidly roll your hips, abusing him with sensations that leaves him shaking and moaning, pathetic tears prickling his eyes.

"That's right captain?" You ask, subtly picking up the pace, spit and lube noisily 'squelching' as both of your cocks push and pull inside him, "That's what you're good for, taking us so well,"

"Yes, yes, yes-" Price moans, cock dribbling precum like a tap from the way your cocks stretch him, from the way your piercings rub firmly on his prostate, "-please, give me, I need-" He moans before he can finish, but you understand what he wants, one look at Johnny telling you he won't last long either.

Finally you two cum, and the sensation of your and Johnny's cum flooding his insides pushes him into his own orgasm, painting your front in white, watery cum. The both all but collapse on top of you, your cocks plugging up your mixed cum inside him.

"You alright?" You ask, brushing a sweaty lock of hair out of Price's hair.

"Yeah," He smiles, pleased like a fat cat. "Maybe I should get a piercing too." Price slurs, giving you a lazy kiss.

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - A Thanksgiving Feast

Summary: You decide to prepare an elaborate dinner for everyone in the gang.

A/N: This is an idea I had as a detail to a chapter of my other fic, but decided to break it out as a "Thanksgiving one-shot". Just a heads up, this is not that great, and I tried to keep it short and simple, so it is not as elaborately written as my other stuff. Sorry it's a bit late, too. (Story of my life) Word count: 3867

**All images used here are not mine but from Pintrest. Coming from multiple reposts, I tried to find the owners, but no luck.

The wagons whine and creak as they roll their wooden bones along the dirt road. The smell of crisp decaying autumn leaves fills the air as their fragile, paperlike bodies blow through the wind. You watch with a smile as a handful of the dried leaves are blown in a circle, chasing each other like butterflies around the wagon wheels. The trees have long gone gold and bronze in color, the green grasses beginning to fade as Summer has stepped aside to let Autumn come to claim the world.

Hosea knows this area that you are traveling through well and had suggested that the gang drag itself down into the valley to lay low and relax for awhile. Over the last few days of travel, you were able to shake the law and things are looking up for the gang for once. You have some money in the box, everyone is accounted for, and no one is on your heels. 

The weather is crisp and cool, but not too cold just yet as the calendar creeps into late fall. You are able to ride along on the wagon bench with your heavier coat on and a blanket draped across your lap and still be comfortable. Arthur sits to your right, his eyes focused on the road ahead as he drives the wagon along, cooing to the horses as they pull their burden and reassuring them when they trip or stumble. 

You gaze upon his weathered face, grateful that he is still beside you. It's been a long, hard summer filled with dangerous jobs and narrow escapes from the law. There have been some close calls and a few new bullet holes in some of the men that they were luckily able to survive. But thankfully everyone is still alive and everyone is still together. 

“Whatchu lookin’ at, Darlin’?” A smile crosses Arthur’s lips as he catches you staring out of the corner of his ocean-blue eyes.

“You.“ A contented sigh escapes your lips as you lean your head into his wide shoulders, shifting a bit closer to him. “I’m just so happy to be out of that town and find somewhere quiet for a bit.”

Arthur chuckles, patting your hand that has settled upon his knee. “You and me both, woman.” 

The gang, tired as it is, rolls across the plains and into the outskirts of the valley. Before long, an old abandoned house comes into view like a welcoming beacon. Set off by itself, it’s old and weathered, looking to be empty for some time. But it appears to be solid and dry. And this looks like as good a place as any to set up camp for awhile. 

Pulling up into the yard, Dutch hops down from The Count and begins to survey the new property as the rest of you watch with anticipation. He spins about, hand cautiously hovering over the gun in his holster. With a grin of satisfaction, Dutch eventually spins around back to the awaiting caravan and motions to the rest of the gang to begin setting up the new camp.

“Looks like this is it, then,” drawls Arthur, groaning as he hauls his stiff muscles up and off the wagon. You sigh with relief, as your backside could use a break from the long journey. Ms. Grimshaw is quick to bark orders and the gang is set into a flurry of motion. A few of the men investigate the house, making sure it is clear while everyone else begins to unpack the wagons. By late afternoon, once the tents and wagons go up and everyone has staked claim to their personal areas, you find yourself drawn to the house. It is a cozy structure with a large kitchen and dining area, a decent living room for gathering with two large bedrooms off the back and a large loft area. But it is the kitchen itself that has you captivated. 

It’s been awhile since you have had the luxury of cooking in a “real kitchen”. You run your fingers over the smooth wooden counter top and cooking table as you linger in the room. You curiously check the stove, opening the oven door to investigate, noting the ash that was left from the last dinner prepared god knows how long ago. You wander about the kitchen, your eyes landing on the great wooden table. Oh, how wonderful it would be to be permanently settled in a house like this, you think. 

The sound of chatter and boisterous laughter brings you out of your longing daydreams and draws you to the doorway. The gang has started the bonfire and has gathered around for the evening. You watch with a warm heart as they laugh and carry on, tired and worn, yet still carrying their shared bravado. 

This is your family. These are your people. Times are lean, but everyone is together and you are so thankful for them. When you were at your lowest point in your life, Arthur found you and this group of misfits welcomed you in with open arms. They were there shining brightly, showing you that you were not meant to stay alone in the dark.

You overhear Mr. Pearson complaining to Ms. Grimshaw about needing to dig around in the chuck wagon for food and an idea begins to form in your mind. And there is a certain person you need for this little plan of yours. Looking over the group, you find the man in question. 

Charles Smith is a quiet man, keeping to himself most days. He is a daring fighter and fierce ally, but his true skill is that he is a steadfast hunter and tracker. He is currently in his tent, fidgeting about to setup his living space when you approach him. 

You make haste to head over to him, an air of excitement about your hurried steps and gleam of mischief in your expression as you stand outside his tent. “Hey, Charles, you got a second?”

Charles’ hands stop in their task and the man’s dark eyes look at you in surprise. “Sure, Y/N, what do you need? Anything wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. You mind helping me with something, though?”

—----------------------------------------

The next morning, the chilly morning air causes Arthur to fidget in his sleep. The cold, damp air makes his nose cold as it pokes out from the heavy woolen blanket he’s cocooned himself in. In his sleep-heavy state, Arthur reaches his thick, muscled arm out to pull you tighter to him, but his hand only finds an empty space and cool bedding. His eyebrows furrow in disappointment before his eyes can even split open. The empty feeling where your body would normally be pushed up against him now fully makes itself known in his mind. His eyes open to see the empty side of the cot and the tent void of your presence altogether. 

“Y/N?” he calls out into the cool autumn air. The sun has yet to breach the treeline outside, leaving the morning in grey and lavender tones. He raises his head off the pillow, his hair rumpled from sleep and looks about, confused as he’s not sure where you’d be at this hour. It’s not unusual for you to be up before him, but you hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to be up and out so early. And when it’s chilly like this, you always take advantage of snuggling up to your outlaw when you can. 

With slight agitation, Arthur gets up and out of bed, mumbling to himself as he throws his jeans on over his union suit and shoving his arms through his flannel shirt to set out to find you. Call it protective, call it love, but Arthur needs to know where you are at all times and will not rest until he does.

Noting the rising smoke from the chimney, Arthur heads towards the house, the frosty grass crunching beneath his worn boots. And it is here that he finds you, moving about in the kitchen in a flurry of activity. The whole house smells amazing, filled with spices and herbs. You flit about the room, checking bowls and stirring pots. Little wisps of hair have escaped your braid and frame your face, which is dusted with flour. 

“What’s all this?” questions Arthur, smiling as he looks at all of the glorious containers spread out across the kitchen counter. 

“Oh, Arthur!” You finally notice him standing there, leaning into the doorframe, arms crossed. “Good morning, love! I looked at Hosea’s calendar when I was helping him unpack and today is Thanksgiving, already. Can you believe it? So I’ve decided to give everyone a real Thanksgiving Feast.”

The very idea of it floors the outlaw. “No kidding?” His eyes light up at the thought of it. And before you can even discuss it further, the front door opens and more of the gang members file in, curious to know what’s going on. Everyone gasps in excitement when they see the food laid out in various stages of prep, the kitchen filled with burgeoning aromas. 

Naturally wary, Dutch’s expression is grave at first, his hands landing on his hips. “What’s going on, here? Where did you get the money for all this?”

“Don’t worry, Dutch, I hardly spent anything at all!” You pause your work and wipe your hands on a towel. “Charles helped me hunt the wild turkeys early this morning. And the house has that garden in the back that still had some root vegetables left in it. I had to dig around a bit, but I was able to pull a decent basket of potatoes and turnips out of the dirt. And I checked with Mr. Pearson. I used our rationed flour and lard for the biscuits. And I’m using the apples that Jack helped me pick on the way to this place for the cobbler.” Your face lights up and your cheeks become red with excitement the more you talk about the delectable meal you have planned. “Although I did ask Charles to stop at the farmer’s place up the road for me. I don’t know about you, but I need fresh butter for biscuits.” You give Dutch a cheeky wink. 

Dutch is left speechless, not really sure what to say. He looks over at Arthur for some sort of explanation for his woman’s behavior. But all Arthur can do is shrug and shake his head at your nonsense.

Meanwhile, everyone else stands in awe, not really sure what to say or do at such good fortune. They all stare at you and your bowls of food. 

“Now, I do have one request, though.” Your voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Before everyone sits down at the table later, I ask that you all wash up and get cleaned up. This is a fancy affair, after all,” you tease. 

“Well, now, that seems fair. It’s the least we could do,” smirks Hosea, his mouth already starting to water. 

Ms. Grimshaw saunters to the kitchen table, picking up one of the aprons. “Well, Miss Y/L/N, this was your idea. What do you need us to do?” And you beam brightly at her in thanks for her cooperation.

You quickly put everyone to work setting up tables and chairs inside to make room for everyone to be able to sit together for once. The floors are swept and tables wiped down. The men carry in the heavy wooden furniture while the women set about to lay the table settings. And it fills your heart to see everyone pitching in, happy to partake in your exuberance. Everyone is quick to jump in to contribute to the dinner while you are busy cooking and prepping. 

At one point, Ms. Grimshaw stands over the table, deep in thought. “You know, I have a tablecloth that I’ve tucked away for just such an occasion.” She taps her lips with a narrow finger before she disappears to her tent. The matron quickly returns, bringing a beautiful white linen cloth with blue flowers embroidered on the sides. She fluffs the fabric in the air and your eyes glint with excitement as it floats softly down to settle over the wood of the dining table. 

Tilly and Mary-Beth pick some flowers and leaves to decorate the tables. Charles has some deer antlers he carved down into decorations to set about. Before long, Dutch shuffles in with a few bottles of wine from his stash in his arms. 

“Here, I thought this may brighten up the dinner tonight,” he muses, placing them down in the middle of the table. 

You quickly squeal with excitement and give him a rib-crushing hug, making his dark features blush. “Oh, Dutch, that’s wonderful! Thank you!” 

And the contributions don’t stop there. Everyone is inspired to contribute. Pearson has some brandy he’s been hoarding and sets it on the table in offering as well. Hosea has a jar of apricot preserves that he has tucked away and offers it up for your biscuits. Strauss has some fancy tea that he shares to be served after dinner with the apple cobbler.

At one point Arthur comes into the kitchen wanting to help and fidgets next to you, wiping his hands together. “So, uh, what do you need me to do?” You smile sweetly and hand him an apron. His pauses, staring at the fabric in your hand. He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re joking, right?”

His hesitancy makes you chuckle. “Yes, Arthur, I am only joking.” You reassuringly pat his chest, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. The most notorious outlaw in the tri-state area should not be seen in a woman’s apron. Although if you asked him to, he could hardly say no. “But, you know what you can do for me, Arthur?”

“Name it, sweetheart.”

“Can you make sure there is plenty of firewood in the fireplace and grab the oil lamps and candles before it gets too dark?”

“Right. That, I can do.” He taps the tip of your nose with a thick finger and then heads back outside, yelling for John. “C’mon, Marston! Get your ass over here and help me!”

You and Mr. Pearson work tirelessly to prepare a big feast and before long, you have a beautiful table set. Candles glisten and the fire pops and glows in the fireplace. Javier sits in the living room, softly strumming music while people are relaxing, waiting for dinner. Uncle even picks up his banjo and a few people start dancing.

John sits at the dining table with Jack on his lap, telling him stories and trying to be a good father for once while Arthur sits with a cigarette dangling from his lips as he sketches the beautiful scene in his journal. This is a rare moment for the gang, a luxury they rarely get to experience, and he wants to capture every moment, every detail. He sketches the delightful table with its earthy decorations and mismatched dishes and glasses. He draws you in the kitchen, standing over the stove, stirring a pot of heavenly aromas. 

As you begin to set the food upon the table, you catch movement by the front door out of the corner of your eye. Looking up, you see Kieran lingering outside. His face carries an expression of longing mixed with apprehension, his eyes shimmering with the slight sheen of unshed tears. But he will not cross that threshold, as he is not sure if he is welcome inside, let alone at your table. Kieran’s eyes go wide when he realizes you’ve caught him there. 

“Kieran,” you call his name softly as you cross the dining area to him. 

“I-I didn’t want to intrude. But I-I made something for your table, Miss Y/L/N. It’s not fancy, but I wanted to offer something, too.” He extends a slightly trembling hand to you and places a wreath into your hands to decorate the table. Upon close inspection, you discover that it is braided with horse-hair and he’s woven a few leather straps and beads into it as decoration. 

Your eyes skip over it as your fingers rotate the delicate item in your hands. “Oh, Kieran, it’s lovely!” 

“Really?” he asks, not expecting his meager gift to be accepted, let alone appreciated. “I’m sorry it’s not much.”

“It’s perfect.” You place your hand along his bicep in profuse thanks. “Why don’t you come in and join us?” And you motion him to step inside.

The man blinks at you as if he cannot understand what you’ve just asked.

“Oh yes! Come in, Kieran. You can sit next to me!” exclaims Mary-Beth as she pats the chair next to her. And judging by the look on his face, you’d have thought someone had just given Kieran the sun, moon and stars all wrapped up in one. The thin man gratefully rushes into the warm dining room, eager to join Mary-Beth. You have to nudge Arthur in the shoulder when he rolls his eyes at the two young people sitting next to each other, sharing awkward glances.

Finally, the two turkeys that Charles helped you hunt are the last to make it to the table. You take off your apron and wipe your hands with the dish towel, ready to reveal the fine feast you’ve prepared. With your hands on your hips in satisfaction you call everyone to the table. “Okay, everyone! Let’s all sit down and eat!”

The gang excitedly shuffles into the dining room, their eyes wide and eager to take in the food and beautiful table as they find themselves a place to sit. Dutch sits at the head of the table, of course, with Molly to his right. Arthur lands to Dutch’s left, and he lifts his face to make sure you are to be seated right next to him. You smile as you lean over to place your lips gently to Arthur’s forehead, his eyes closing as you do. 

The room is filled with the scraping of the chairs along the wooden floor and excited chatter. You begin to pass the dishes filled with streaming food around the table, everyone inhaling the aromas of seasoned meat, herbed vegetables, and warm bread and biscuits. Your chest fills with pride as you watch their reactions. Especially Hosea. The old man may not be seeing too many more meals like this. And you try not to stare as his eyes mist a bit as he takes in the sight of his family all together. 

“Before we begin, Reverend, would you do the honors of a prayer for us, please?” Your soft voice cuts through the chatter and everyone quickly hushes and turns expectant gazes to the man. The Reverend swallows thickly at being put on the spot, not sure if he’s up to the task. It’s been awhile since he’s given any sort of prayer or sermon that anyone cared to listen to. But when you encouragingly wave him to stand, the reverend takes a deep breath and steals his nerves. Rev. Swanson clears his throat and surprisingly everyone bows their head, hands folded neatly in their laps or on the table. And he delivers an eloquent, beautiful prayer. 

“Amen”, chants everyone when he’s finished. 

“Alright. Let’s dig in!” you chirp. And you watch as everyone shovels forkfuls of the food into their mouths. 

And Micah? The scraggly outlaw sits quietly at the end of the table, a little uncomfortable and awkward at the nicety of it all. His fingers absentmindedly rub together as he stares down at his plate full of the delicious food before lifting his gaze to watch you as you spoon food onto Arthur’s plate as he in turn holds the large bowl for you. Such the image of perfect domesticity. Such the image of home. 

Micah coughs nervously and stands, shifting his weight from hip to hip before turning towards the front door to leave. 

“Where are you going, Micah?” you call out to him, your angelic voice halting him in his tracks. 

“This ain’t for me.” He sweeps his arm out towards the table. “I’d rather go sit with my horse.”

At first you think Micah is just being as ass as usual. But then you notice how his hands clench open and close, his eyes darting around the floor to avoid your gaze. 

You get up from the table and walk over to him. “Why don’t you sit and stay awhile, Micah?” you ask gently. 

Micah finally meets your gaze, staring into your lovely eyes, his tobacco-stained mustache twitching as his lips purse in thought. “Because,” he counters with a cheeky grin, “I’m sure you all don’t want me here ruining everything. So I’ll take my plate and go eat with Baylock.” He takes a few steps back to the table, reaching to pick up his full plate. 

“And that’s my gift for the table, Y/N.” Micah shoots you a grin and a wink before he quietly slips out the door. You stand there staring at the closed door, dumbfounded at Micah’s surprising selflessness. 

But Hosea’s fatherly voice snaps your attention. “Come on, Y/N, get some food before it’s all gone.” Turning your face over your shoulder, the old man’s grey eyes crinkle warmly at you. 

“Coming,” you smile at him and head back to the table to your place at Arthur’s side. 

For once, there is an evening of no drama, no fighting. Everyone is laughing and getting along as they all sit together at the table. And for one precious moment, they can all forget that they are outlaws and pretend they are a proper family sitting around a table having a fine dinner like regular folks. Things may be low for the gang right now but they are not desperate, and they are all thankful for it. And you are grateful for your family and are beside yourself with pride that you were able to do something like this for them.

The night is filled with excitable laughter and shared stories. Dutch and Hosea regale everyone with tales of the good ol’ days. And everyone gets a good laugh when Bill gets his knuckles rapped more than once for trying to pick at the food with his dirty fingers instead of using utensils.

You sit back and take in the sight, your chest about to burst with happiness. 

Arthur reaches over and clasps his hand around yours, engulfing it with his strong fingers. You look at each other and smile, that smile that you often exchange like there’s a secret you both know and together, you've found what the rest of the whole world has been searching for. 

“Are you happy, baby? Is this what you wanted?” His eyes twinkle beyond the wrinkled crow’s feet at the corners as he lifts his chin towards the table of friends. 

“Yes, Arthur” you whisper. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

He brings your hand up to kiss the back of your fingers. “I am thankful for a lot of things in my life,” he hums, “but nothing as much as I am thankful for you.”

Masterlist

@appalachiancowboy99 - *Thanks for being the sounding board, yet again! <3

[fear-is-truth]

the evans … as ethel cain lyrics

† tate langdon

pretty boy natural blood-stained blond / with the holes in his sneakers / and his eyes all over me — dust bowl

shooting up our old school when we get bored of shooting up / fuck the cops, and fuck god, and fuck this town for ruining us / they’ll put holes in all we own and in our heads, pumped full of lead / you always told me i could only leave you once we're both dead — head in the wall

keeping guns in his locker, and he denies it / like it’s actually important, but he lied ‘cause i sure did watch him / showing up wearing black, and he knows that — crush

† kit walker

he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds — crush

and jesus, if you’re there / why do i feel alone in this room with you? — american teenager

we spent september on the backroads / shotgunnin’ warm bud lights down / a sinner’s rabbit hole / by the fire, taking off my dirty blouse — powerline valley

† kyle spencer

i was too young to notice / that some types of love could be bad — hard times

➥ no need to elaborate but this breaks my heart

† jimmy darling

25 and you're still crying in your sleep / scared the world is out to get you / and you’ve tried every bottle but you’re in too deep — bruises

feel the heat on me / you’re the most damn beautiful thing that i’ve ever seen / i’ve never wanted to go to california / i’d rather stay here with you and forget that i need sleep /‘cause in this florida heat, i get a little crazy — florida heat

and he said, “it’s been a long damn time since i left florida / no one left to leave and no one left to love / but now that i met you, i finally know just where i’m headin’”/ and we found heaven in time — thoroughfare

he’s never looked more beautiful / on his harley in the parking lot / breaking in to the atms / sleeping naked when it gets too hot / i watched him show his love through shades of black and blue / starting fights at the bar across the street like you do — western nights

† james patrick march

i woke up on that sunday to news that they got you / we both knew it would end on the day that they caught you / you shot yourself in the head as they battered your door through — vacancy

i hate to let you go, but if I don't then we both know / i’ll bury us both, fed to the night (as ghosts) — michelle pfeiffer

there comes a point in every man's life / where he gets the need to destroy / some sickness in his guts — selby wall

but i wonder if you want her / in the way, way, way i wish you would need me / we were right there, you were right there / if you want me, i’ll be right here / like concrete — xxxxxxxxxx

➥ james simping over elizabeth and you’re just… there.

† kai anderson

do i look pretty when i ask you to hit me? / hands like barbed wire / wrapping ‘round my throat, making me cry — sunday morning

americanized, jesus christ born to lie / so you lie and you lie and you lie and / you need easy, you want weak / when you were hungry, i was soft and pink / i bleed easy, i go weak — earnhardt

i know your father hurt you / you say that’s why god gave you me / you say i make it a little better / you say i make you happy / you say it with your fingers clenched / wrapped tight around my neck / ’cause that's what love means to you / and i asked for it i guess — child of cain

you never tell me that i’m pretty / you just say you like my tits / and every time i cry you say “don’t be a little bitch” / but i’m still stupid and in love / and i’d still let you fuck me ‘til i’m cumming blood — selby wall

you walk a fine line between god and animal / you’re just a feral dog i worship in bedroom ceremonials — dog days

➥ kai is so toxic that a lot of her songs remind me of him

† austin sommers

black leather and dark glasses / pourin’ another while i shake my ass / he’s cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed / obsession with the money, addicted to the drugs / says he’s in love with my body, that’s why he’s fucking it up — gibson girl

i tried to hold them off you / but their hunger beat me out / they’ll come in through the windows / they’ll take my love down / and i will always love you / but my love is not enough enough to save you — chapel hill

➥ that final scene when he got killed ;-;

[animeomegas]

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 5 - 50 Shades of Audacity (1)

KAKASHI X ALPHA!READER

Summary: If suddenly waking up in an uncanny office had been bad, this time was worse, because you had a job interview, and the guy before you had just stormed out in tears. Why did you pick this world again? And why is your boss an asshole? And sexy? And with a nice voice? Fuck, this wasn't going to be good. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, sex while both parties are a little tipsy, workplace violations, questions about someone not eating lunch due to being a workaholic, and overuse of the world asshole as an adjective. All alphas have dicks, fyi.

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! And a special happy holidays to those who guessed that our next omega was going to be Kakashi!!! December is well underway and I'm working hard to get all these chapters finished in time for the epilogue to be released on Christmas! The dynamic is different with this one, but I hope everyone enjoys nonetheless <333 I hope you enjoy the choice for the second character, @omeganronpa I'm honoured to call you my friend <333

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

In the span of one blink, you went from standing in the library with James, to sitting on an uncomfortable chair in some kind of office waiting room. No matter how many times you jumped between realities, you swore you would never get used to the complete sensory change that happened in milliseconds. You had changed positions, clothes, company and scenery just like that.

Trying to gain your bearings, you tried to take in your new surroundings. Your first thought was that you had some serious déjà vu, as James’ uncanny valley of an office sprung to mind. Seriously, how many times were you going to suddenly gain consciousness in a soulless office?

At least this one was a lot less creepy, you admitted. It had doors and windows for starters, but the cavernous size of the room also helped diminish the claustrophobic feeling. Rather than beige, the room was decorated in a tasteful, modern, monochrome, boring but inoffensive, and better than too much beige in your opinion.

The copious amounts of soulless corporate art on every surface were the final touches that convinced you this was a real office and not set dressing for purgatory.

The waiting room was full of people though. You hadn’t seen this many people in one place since Itachi took you into town, and the general air of anxiety coming off them all was putting you on edge.

You fidgeted, uncomfortable at suddenly wearing formal business wear. The blue folder that was sitting on your lap shifted slightly, but you paid it no mind as you straightened everything out and readjusted yourself into a more comfortable position. To your left, what you could only describe as the combination of a modern water feature and grandfather clock chimed, signalling it as 09:00 AM.

‘James? Can you hear me?’

‘I can, human alpha.’

‘Great. Can you give me a run down of this pocket dimension please? It’s been like, two weeks since I read the blurb.’

‘Of course. ’50 Shades of Audacity’ follows MC, an alpha graduate student who lands the role of personal assistant to one of the most famous CEOs of the time, omega, Kakashi Hatake. MC discovers that Kakashi is hiding a submissive streak, and together, they explore their relationship while preparing for the yearly Autumn Company Party.’

You nodded idly as James explained it, vague memories coming back to you. The man next to you shot you a weird look, and you realised you were nodding at seemingly nothing. You cleared your throat and shifted awkwardly. Whoops.

Regardless, the blurb put your current situation into perspective. When you had chosen the book, you had expected to enter the world already working as a personal assistant, but you had a sneaking suspicion that this was the job interview and all the people sat with you were competition.

To confirm your suspicion, you opened the folder on your lap, and yep, it was filled with important documents, including your CV, degree certificate, and several references. Damn, for someone decently young, you seemed to be the perfect candidate. That did relieve some of the tension. The world was literally set up to push you into the role, and you were the perfect candidate, surely there was nothing to worry about. For now, you decided to try and relax. Job interviews were a pain in the ass, but this one hopefully wouldn’t be too bad. And you could always talk to James to pass the time.

‘James, I know you must be thinking something along the lines of, ‘what kind of human picks a life where they have a job, when they could choose to not have a job?’’

‘I have never had such a thought.’

‘But I’m playing the long game, James,’ you continued, ignoring her response. ‘This Hatake guy must be rolling in it, and so once we’re serious, there would be no reason for me to work anymore! And it’s not like we’d get divorced in an erotica novel, that wouldn’t make sense, so I just need this job to meet him, make him fall in love with me, and then, if I stay here, I’ll have a fancy CEO husband, and everything will work out great.’

‘I see. I believe humans term that strategy, ‘gold digging’.’

You were planning to argue back, but your outrage died on your lips when you realised that she was kind of right. You were only going to choose this omega if you actually loved him, of course, but you couldn’t deny that the main reason you had chosen this book in the first place was the money and possibility of a cushy life. And being able to retain access to the internet which was something you’d have to give up for a life with Itachi.

‘What backstory elements are set in stone here?’ you asked, realising that the amnesia trick wasn’t going to work a second time.

‘Primarily your qualifications and educational history. You also own both a flat and a car, although how you obtained those is up to you.’

Nice, that gave you a lot of freedom to work with. Also… was your flat nice? And what about your car? You hoped so, but even if they weren’t, you could get Hatake to pay for a nice upgrade.

A man with a clipboard walked out of the office door to your left and everyone in your vicinity snapped to attention. He had brown hair and intense, dark eyes that were a little unnerving. “The interviews for the personal assistant job have now begun. You will be called up one at a time. Ren Shimomura.”

The man who had given you a strange look earlier got up and walked into the office with a confident smile, his briefcase swinging gently by his side. When the door closed behind him, everyone relaxed a little and went back to their pointless busy tasks.

‘So, James, what can I expect from this job interview?’ you asked. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared, even if the universe was going to intervene for your success.

‘That question is more difficult to answer than you might think, human. Despite this pocket dimension being one of the most popular in the erotica category, no one has ever successfully passed the interview and obtained the personal assistant job.’

Your stomach dropped. What? That couldn’t be right, could it?

You laughed nervously, sure that you had misheard. ‘What? Surely the universe needs the person to get the job.’

‘Yes, it has been causing quite the issue. This world has been scheduled for removal for being too difficult to follow. You will be the last person from your realm to ever enter this one, whether you decide to stay or not.’

‘Thanks for warning me before I picked it,’ you ‘said’, your mental voice taking on a tinge of bitterness. So, you were pretty much doomed to failure here? Great.

‘I didn’t warn you, human.’

‘I know.’

Your mental conversation ended as the door to the office opened and the man, Ren, stormed out, looking like he was holding back angry tears. He exited the room swiftly, without so much of a glance back.

That certainly didn’t make you feel any better about your chances.

Neither did your name being called seconds later.

The man with the clipboard smiled at you as you stood, folder in hand. “Just in there, Mr. Hatake is waiting for you.”

You nodded and approached the door. Right, this was fine. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself of your situation. You didn’t need this job. You wouldn’t run out of money without it, you wouldn’t get blacklisted or arrested if something went wrong, you couldn’t die if something went very wrong. The very worst-case scenario was that you bungled this, spent the next two weeks enjoying some alone time in this world, and then returned to your beautiful witch.

So, really, what reason did you have to be nervous?

With that in mind, you took a fortifying breath and walked into the office with your head held high. This CEO couldn’t scare you.

The design of the office was much the same as the waiting room, with a monochrome colour scheme and minimal furniture. The entire back wall was glass, which bathed the office in natural light, but cast shadows around the impressive desk in the middle of the room. Behind the desk was an imposing desk chair that was currently faced away from you. The back of the chair was so high that you couldn’t technically tell if Hatake was sitting in it or not. In front of the desk was a much less impressive desk chair; presumably that chair was for you.

You walked towards your chair, marvelling at how cliché the whole ‘tall chair spin reveal’ thing was. What was he, a Bond villain? The main question though, was if he’d also be accidentally flashing his nipples at you. You stifled a laugh imagining a scary CEO turning around in his chair only for the buttons on his shirt to come flying off.

“Did I say that you could sit down?” The voice came from the highbacked chair, which was still facing away from you.

The CEO’s voice was hot, you couldn’t deny that, but his attitude was already ugly. What kind of high and mighty asshole spoke to people like that? Were you supposed to just stay standing until he offered the seat when he couldn’t even be bothered to face you? Fuck that.

Suddenly, what was remaining of your nervousness bled out of you, replaced by annoyance. Honestly, you had already accepted that you weren’t going to get this job or this omega as soon as James had explained the situation, but maybe you could still get something out of this. Like catharsis. You could berate Hatake on behalf of every shitty boss you couldn’t berate in the past and then this world would still be worth it.

“Unless you’re suffering from short term memory loss, there’s no need for me to answer that question.”

Finally, that seems to goad him into turning around. The chair swivelled, revealing Kakashi Hatake in all his glory. He was dressed in the exact kind of suit you expected for someone like him, expertly tailored, incredibly expensive, and in a tasteful blue colour. Just peeking out from his collar you noticed some clear scent patches, and you imagined you’d find the same ones on his wrists. He had grey-silver hair styled in a way that must have required a significant amount of hair wax, and equally grey eyes, one of which had a vertical scar running through it. He even had a frankly adorable beauty mark, what the fuck.

Fine. He was hot. That didn’t mean he wasn’t an asshole.

The look he was giving you was somehow both disparaging and uninterested, like he was looking at a badly painted wall.

“Why do you want this job?” he asked, voice bored and condescending. “You don’t seem like you’d be particularly good at it.”

You grit your teeth at his blatant disrespect, “Jobs provide the money which can be exchanged for goods and services required to facilitate survival, you see. Perhaps the silver spoon in your mouth prevented you from learning that dichotomy.” You missed your witch.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. He held out a hand, and you wordlessly passed him your folder of documents. You were honestly surprised that he hadn’t just kicked you out already. His motivations became clear however, when he picked out your CV, ripped it in half, and then tossed it in the bin.

This asshole! You were furious.

Hatake pressed a button on a raised box on his desk and began to speak into it, presumably to dismiss you and ask for the next person to be sent in.

You didn’t need this job, you couldn’t get into any meaningful trouble, and this man was royally pissing you off. Something in you just snapped.

“Tenzou, send—”

You grabbed him by his boring, blue tie and stood, pulling him partially over the desk and towards you. He gasped in surprise, letting go of the button as both hands flew up to grab your wrist. You expected him to immediately pull you off him, but he didn’t. He was still, staring at you with wide eyes. For the first time since you’d walked into his office, it felt like he was properly looking at you.

“I am the best fucking personal assistant out of any of those people out there, and I will not have some bratty CEO talk down to me, understood?”

“I’ll call security,” he said quietly, voice strangely hoarse.

“Don’t bother.” You let him go and he fell back heavily into his ridiculous chair.

“Senpai?” The clipboard man’s voice floated through the speaker on the black box. “Is everything okay? You cut out.”

The man didn’t reply to the message, he only stared at you. His face was blank, but you had the feeling that there was a lot going on inside his head.

‘Remember the story, human.’

For a moment, you thought James was encouraging you to play nice for the sake of the story, but then you realised that she meant. Fuck, that’s right, Kakashi Hatake was a secret submissive. He was probably very turned on and very confused right now. You sent him a cocky grin.

“The job starts Monday, yes?” He nodded, dumbly. “I’ll see you then, 08:00 sharp. All my documents are in the folder.” You walked to the door confidently, and just as you reached it, you turned. “Have a good day, sir.”

You opened the door just as the clipboard man tried to do the same on the other side. You paid neither him nor any of the other candidates any mind, you just strode towards the exit, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

The fresh air and sun hit you as you stepped outside into the office’s car park.

‘James, oh my god, I grabbed him by his tie.’

‘I saw, human, it was very unexpected. No other human has attempted such a method.’

‘I would so be blacklisted if this were real, James. Did… Did I do a good job? It felt like I did at the time, playing up to his submissive side, but now I just feel like I was crazy and there’s no way he’d give me the job.’

‘Only time will tell, human, I do not have the answers.’

‘Time… I can do that.’ You gazed out over the sea of cars, all shimmering in the sun. ‘Now, James, which car is mine?’

…

Once you had successfully found your nicer than expected car, you headed to your mysterious flat. It took longer than you thought, but at least you’d learnt some more about James; she was terrible at giving directions and did not know what a roundabout was.

Your flat, much like your car, was nicer than you expected for a recent graduate that worked as a personal assistant. It was stylish and cosy, with lots of wood tones and warm, textured fabrics. It could have fallen out of an interior design magazine, right down to the perfectly placed bowls of fruit. The flat even had a guest room and a home office.

You were going to put this one down to porn logic again and figure out some sort of explanation for why you had the money for this in your backstory.

After doing some snooping around the flat, you flopped down on your bed, feeling strangely exhausted. You pulled out your phone (and how strange it was to have modern technology back!) and checked the date. It was Friday lunch time, and you didn’t have to go to the job, presuming you even got it, until Monday. That meant you had an entire weekend to do what you wanted. That was the best news you’d heard all day.

‘James, is the entire world, I guess, loaded, for want of a better word? Like, theoretically, if I travelled across the world to a random village, would the people there be real? Does the world function outside of the story?’

‘Once you choose to remain in a world, it functions exactly like the one you came from, yes, complete with up to billions of people who each have their own lives. Not everything is ah, loaded, in this demo though. I would recommend staying firmly within this city for the time being.”

‘Amazing! That’s so exciting, James!’

‘If you say so.’

Alongside modern technology, staying in this world would also give you more chance to travel. With Itachi, you would be mostly going on foot, perhaps on a horse if you were lucky, but here you could be on the other side of the world in a day.

That was for future you to weigh up though, right now you needed to find a bank statement of some kind, because you wanted to spend this weekend pampering yourself and you needed to know your budget. You could think about Kakashi Hatake and this world later, once you had your thoughts in order.

The weekend passed in a blur of bubble baths, food delivery apps, and films. You’d even gone for a dip in your complex’s pool. It had been nice to recharge. You had enjoyed spending time with Itachi immensely, but you’d had almost no proper alone time for over half a month, and it was sorely needed.

The only other thing of note happened on Saturday, when you received an email from Hatake’s company, which contained your new company account and login details.

…

Walking into work on Monday was a surreal feeling that you couldn’t put into words. No one acted like anything strange had happened. You were treated like a normal new hire, which you suspected meant Hatake had kept the details of your interview to himself.

Speaking of Hatake, he was apparently in meetings all morning and so you wouldn’t see him for a few hours. You didn’t know if you were irritated or relieved that your likely awkward reunion would be postponed.

“So, here is Kakashi’s calendar, which kind of functions like the core of your job,” Iruka, the man who was training you, said. “You’ll be in charge of organising his appointments and commitments and reminding him to attend them.” The last part was added with a tone that suggested Hatake had not always been the best at either being on time or showing up at all.

“Got it. No double bookings, and smack Hatake with a ruler if he tries to escape.”

Iruka snorted, but quickly smothered the laugh with a hand. “Pretty much. For today, I’ve gone through your inbox and marked the emails that require appointments as urgent. You just need to schedule them and add them to his calendar. It’s pretty busy at the moment because of the Autumn Company Party at the end of the month, so don’t worry if everything’s a bit much. My desk is over there, so you can ask for help at any time, okay?”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” You grinned at him, and he smiled back.

“Good luck!” With that he was gone. That wasn’t the first time the Autumn Company Party had come up, but you still weren’t sure what that had to do with the plot of his pocket dimension. It certainly wasn’t as straight forward as ‘collect the potion ingredients’.

‘James, what’s the deal with this party? What’s going to happen at it?’

‘There are many, many ways the event can play out, human. Seeing that you are the first to make it past the interview, I cannot even tell you which outcomes are most likely.’

‘Damn. Well, thanks anyway.’

You ended up whizzing through your work. It was incredibly simple, which could have been because they were taking it easy on you for your first day, or because work in general was easier in porn universes. You finished before Hatake was freed from his morning meetings, so you decided to do a little googling on your new boss. As such a high-profile CEO, you were sure you could find some information on him.

You put his name into the search bar and scrolled through the top results.

There were mostly news articles and links to the company websites, but eventually his Wikipedia page popped up and you clicked on it, skimming down the paragraphs immediately. Your eyebrows kept rising up as you read. His father, the original founder of the company had committed suicide when Kakashi was four years old, leaving him an orphan. He had been immediately added to the company’s board of directors (at four years old?!), and when he’d turned eighteen and those overseeing the company didn’t seem keen to pass it back to him, Kakashi had staged a business coup and seized control by force.

Jeez, what a life story.

Closing the Wikipedia page, you opened a couple of articles instead. One was a gossip magazine speculating on his famous bachelorhood and why he hadn’t settled down yet. Another was talking about the large donations he had made to several dog and animal welfare charities. The third was just a listicle of pictures of him from various point throughout his life. Ha. He looked like he was such a cute, grumpy kid.

You had to admit that his character was perfectly set up to redeem him for being an asshole at your first meeting. Dead parents, a tragic backstory, betrayal from those supposed to look after him, an animal lover… You bet that he had been forced to supress his emotions to avoid being manipulated as a child, too. That was about as stereotypical as you could get. Were he a fictional character, his fans would easily excuse any rudeness and ruthlessly defend him online. And that was fine, but they weren’t the ones who had to be on the receiving end of his rudeness.

Ugh, you didn’t know what to do with him. On one hand, you were happy ignoring him for being mean to you in your interview, but on the other, you kind of wanted to get to know him to see what the story was about. Maybe you’d put in a bit of effort as a show of good faith, but if he insisted on rebuffing you, you’d give up and find some other way to enjoy yourself. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

Dog lovers were your weakness, so you couldn’t give up on him completely, not just yet.

You closed the tabs and, checking the time, you realised you still had some leeway before Hatake was free. You needed to come up with your backstory sharpish, because you didn’t have amnesia this time, and people would likely start asking questions about you once lunch hit. Best get your story straight first.

You grabbed a post-it note and jotted down your favourite acronym, MLHH (Money, Love, Health, Happiness), to keep you on target.  

Loving parents, you definitely wanted those. Were they the ones you wanted funding your lifestyle? Hmm, no, how about a rich, eccentric aunt that sent money all the time? Yes, you’d always wanted a fun, rich uncle or aunt to spoil you. Perhaps she had been the one to buy you the house and car. You jotted it all down. You also crafted yourself two best friends and a couple of hobbies, just to enrich your life. As per James’ instructions, you left the academic stuff alone.

“Am I paying you to write details about your own life on post it notes?” A sudden voice from behind made you jump, smacking your knees on the underside of the desk with a bang.

You laughed awkwardly as you came face to face with the man of the hour, Kakashi Hatake, who had chosen a charcoal grey suit for today, giving him an overall monochrome vibe that matched the office building. He was staring at your post it note, unimpressed.

You snatched the note and put it in your pocket. Quick, find some way to change the subject!

“I’ve updated your calendar with more meetings and commitments. This afternoon you only have a phone call with a representative from a company that sells… custom dog bandanas?” You decided not to question it. “The rest of the afternoon is business as usual.”

He watched you for a moment before he nodded, and turned to enter his office door, which was only a few feet from your desk.

“Just so you know,” he said, turning to look at you over his shoulder, “more work is periodically added to your task list, you just need to refresh the page.”

The door slammed shut behind him. You made a frustrated noise. He was so rude, with his annoyingly hot face and perfect voice. God, he got on your nerves like no one else. Ugh, you already regretted deciding to give him a chance.

You refreshed the task list and watched it fill up with new tasks.

Why did you pick a world where you had a job again? Oh yeah, you were playing the long game. The long game sucked.

You spent the rest of the workday completing tasks and flip flopping on whether it was worth trying to chase the plot and romance Hatake. Instinctually you led towards no, but when you remembered how he’d responded to you in the interview, you wavered. Ultimately, your curiosity was too much to resist, so you hatched a plan to spend some time with him.

…

“Did you have someone sneak you lunch through the window, or have you not eaten yet today?” you asked, waltzing into Hatake’s office at exactly 17:05, coat and bag ready to leave.

Hatake finished whatever he was writing before putting down the pen and giving you a flat look. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, and I’m certain I told you to knock before coming in.”

“Firstly, the workday ended five minutes ago so you’re not the boss of me anymore. Secondly, that was the clearest no I’ve ever heard. You should make time to eat lunch, you know, it’s good for you.”

“If you don’t have anything of use to say, then leave.” Ugh, why were you dealing with this asshole again?

“Actually, I do.” He raised an eyebrow at you, like he was already dismissing your message. “Get dinner with me.”

That actually seemed to catch him off guard, if only for a moment. You had honestly been wondering if the side of him you glimpsed in your interview was some kind of hallucination, but there was a flicker of that same man now. Unfortunately, although you could see that, you could also see the moment he shut down the reaction and returned to his flat, impassive stare.

“I’m busy this evening—”

“I already moved your appointment to tomorrow morning.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. You didn’t know if it was irritation at your messing with his schedule or at interrupting him, but you did know that you were getting on his nerves. Good.

“And I suppose, if you’re inviting me, then you’re paying?” he challenged. “Fair warning, I have expensive taste.”

‘James, quick, what’s the best restaurant in the area?’

‘Kakashi Hatake often visits a restaurant about two miles from here, called La Liaison. It’s French, and incredibly pricy.’

Right, you tried to remember what you’d seen you your bank details. You could definitely afford one fancy meal; it was affording everything else after that that was the problem.

Hatake’s smug face at your hesitation spurred you on. You wracked your brain for some kind of solution.

‘James, if I decide that my rich aunt sends me large lump sums of money every month, will my bank account automatically replenish by the end of this demo?’

‘Technically, yes, although it will only happen if you choose this dimension permanently, as your rich aunt does not yet exist. You must also remember to speak or write any information you want to be true for it to take effect.’

Perfect. You could wipe that smug look off Hatake’s face, live a bit more frugally for the rest of the demo, and if for some unknown reason you chose to stay here, you’d have your money automatically replenished. You just had to remember to write the details down after dinner tonight.

“Of course, it’ll be my treat,” you smiled, tips tight. “Do you like French food? I heard La Liaison is lovely.”

Kakashi studied you for a moment, like he was trying to figure out what game you were playing. Just as you thought you’d won the little verbal exchange, Hatake sent you a mocking eye smile. “And how are you planning on gaining a reservation at such short notice? The next available evening bookings are for two months from now.”

You tensed up like you’d been dealt a physical blow. Fuck, you forgot about bookings. There was no way you could allow him to win just like that, though. You took a deep breath, porn logic, I believe in you, please help me out, I’m trying to woo him, just as you wanted. Kind of.

“I’m sure it will all work out!” You voice was artificially chipper, and you could tell that Hatake was picking up on your anxiety. “Come on, what’s the harm? Let’s go!”

He watched you evenly. That was one thing you’d noticed about Hatake; he always thought before he spoke, choosing each action and word carefully. It made sense once you considered his childhood and was equal parts sad and irritating.

Just when you thought he was about to refuse and dismiss you, Hatake chuckled and stood, closing his computer and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his ridiculously dramatic desk chair.

“I’ll have my chauffeur drop us off,” he said, walking to the door. You followed, kind of stunned that he had agreed at all. He locked the office door behind him. “There’s no parking available at this time of day in the town centre.”

You walked through the office side by side, watching your coworkers pack up or work late.

Everyone noticed you two, armed with bags and coats that made it obvious you were leaving together. There were gasps, there was gossiping, there were whispers. The man with the clipboard, who had introduced himself to you as Yamato, looked like he had seen a ghost. Was it really that strange to see this CEO leave work on time, or was it because he was with you?

Hatake paid them no mind, and you tried to do the same.

It was strange that he agreed to join you, but you didn’t get your hopes up that this meant he suddenly liked you. It was more likely that he was coming in order to force your hand. If you were humiliated by there being no tables, or not being able to afford the food you said you could, it would likely stop you from bothering him outside of work again.

You just really, really hoped there would somehow be a table.

Once you arrived at the car park, there was a sleek, black car waiting for you. You weren’t sure if Hatake had somehow called ahead without you noticing, or if his car was already ready for him, but it was very convenient. If the chauffeur was surprised that Hatake had a guest, he didn’t mention it.

The car was so obviously expensive that you felt a little uncomfortable sitting in it. You had never been so conscious of your hand placement in your life. The brat of a CEO didn’t seem to have the same problem, relaxing easily against the leather, looking right at home. He gave the driver the name of the restaurant, and you were off.

You took a moment to beg the pocket dimension that somehow you would be able to get a seat. ‘Porn logic, I’ve always loved and respected you, please pull through for me, just this once! I won’t be able to handle Hatake’s smug grin without punching him in the face.’

‘My name is James, human, and I cannot control these pocket dimensions.’

You snorted, ‘I wasn’t speaking to you James, sorry.’

“What’s so funny?” Hatake asked, breaking the silence. Oh, you had laughed out loud; you had to stop doing that. Were you also doing it when you were with Itachi, but there were just fewer people around to comment on it? Itachi seemed like the sort who would take a lot of weirdness in stride.

“Your face.”

Hatake let out an amused breath, “Are you always so childish?”

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

“Approximately five minutes until arrival, sir,” the chauffeur said, speaking through a speaker that connected the front and back sections of the car.

“Just Kakashi is fine,” he sighed. “I’ve told you that a hundred times.”

“If you say so, sir.” Hatake rolled his eyes but dropped the issue.

The final five minutes passed it silence.

…

La Liaison was a small modern building nestled at the very end of the high street, decorated in pastel blue and covered in artificial ivy. The whole building exuded a timeless elegance that made you glad your work dress code was formal. Stepping through the doors, you were welcomed by warm lighting, live piano music, and an impeccably dressed host. This was the exact kind of place you could see Hatake fitting right in.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to La Liaison. Can I take the name on your reservation, please?”

You could practically feel the amusement radiating off the smug asshole behind you as you were faced with the exact situation he had predicted. You just had to go for it. You believed in the porn logic!

(And if it didn’t work you were going to return to your flat with your tail between your legs, make James pull you out of this dimension early, and then ask Itachi for a potion that could remove memories instead of bringing them back.)

“Ah, well, we don’t technically have a reservation, but an acquaintance of mine mentioned that they just had to cancel theirs, so we were hoping there’d be a free table.”

Please work, please work, please work.

The two seconds between your request and the host’s response felt like an agonising eternity. Failure wasn’t an option; you couldn’t lose to your awful boss.

The relief you felt when the host’s face melted into a smile almost knocked you to your knees.

“Is that so? Yes, I just got off the phone with them, you’re lucky no one else has claimed the table yet. If you’ll pass my college your coats, I’ll take you to your table.”

Yes, yes, yes!! You loved porn logic so much. It seemed like anything was fair game as long as it pushed you and Mr. Smug together. Speaking of Mr. Smug, you mouthed ‘I told you so’, as you walked to your table. He did not respond.

The table was, unsurprisingly, very romantic. It was secluded away in the corner, pressed up against a window and yet sectioned from the rest of the restaurant by a divider. The table sat two people, and its white tablecloth was covered in candles and rose petals. Of course, the cancelled reservation was for a romantic date. You weren’t going to complain though; a table was a table.

You both sat down. You briefly debated pulling out the chair for Hatake, but you decided against it at the last minute. You were both handed menus and informed of the soup of the day before the waiter left you in peace. The illusion of privacy helped you relax, despite the stuffy atmosphere.

“An acquaintance, huh?” Kakashi asked, unfolding his napkin and laying it over his lap. He obviously didn’t believe your lie.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly annoying?” you said, instead of answering his question.

“Once or twice.”

“Well then,” you shot him a sarcastic smile, “I’m glad you have such honest people in your life.”

“As am I.” The eye smile he sent you this time seemed more genuine, and you had to hold back your laugh.

The conversation faded for a moment as the background chatter from the rest of the restaurant filled the space. It was weird to be here with him, and maybe you were still riding the high of getting a table, but you were already enjoying yourself.

“So… you come here often?” you asked, picking up the menu. You supressed a wince at the prices. “It seems like you’re right at home.”

“It makes for a convenient location to dazzle those who demand such treatment before they’ll sign anything.”

“Ugh, so this is where you take people to schmooze them? Gross.” You flipped over the menu to find the drinks section, only to belatedly realise that the drinks had their own menu already on the table. “I can’t imagine you doing that successfully; you’re so rude.”

“Maybe you just bring out the worst in me.”

The way he reused your words from earlier reluctantly brought a smile to your face. Okay fine. Fine! You’d admit that he was witty, and you had some good chemistry. And he was hot. But that was it! That didn’t mean you were going to fall in love with someone so annoying!

‘I believe you were also interested in his love for dogs, human alpha.’

‘James, I’m trying to live in denial here, and you’re ruining it.’

‘My apologies. Does that mean that I should also refrain from mentioning your obvious obsession with his beauty mark?’

Sometimes, you weren’t sure that James wasn’t an elaborate troll.

Scanning the menu, you decided the vegetarian pasta looked nice. And if it was also the cheapest thing on the menu, well that was just a coincidence. This better be one of the best meals of your life.

Kakashi left his menu completely untouched. Right, he’d been here countless of times to charm people into signing away their money. He was probably treating this dinner as something similar, but with you wanting something from him instead. You doubted he’d believe you if you said you were doing this out of curiosity. But the questioned remained, how could you make this feel different for him?

Suddenly, it hit you; he liked when other people took control. You had an idea.

‘James, can you tell me what Kakashi normally orders from here?’

‘He always orders one of the seafood dishes, accompanied by a white wine.’

Right. Perfect. What you were about to do would be so out of order in real life, but you had plot armour, and honestly you wanted to see what would happen.

When the waiter returned, he directed his, “Are you ready to order?”, towards Kakashi. He probably recognised him if he was a regular, and figured he was schmoozing another hapless soul.

That didn’t fit what you had in mind though.

“Yes, we are,” you said confidently, before Kakashi could speak. “We’ll have a bottle of the Chateau Sixtine Blanc and some still water for the table. For food, I’ll have the vegetarian pasta, and he’ll have the Coquilles Saint-Jacques.”

Kakashi’s stare was intense, but he didn’t intervene. The waiter seemed taken aback that you were ordering for the table, but when Kakashi made no move to dispute what you’d said, he nodded, collected your menus, and left. You expected to be admonished in some way, but Kakashi remained silent.

Drinks arrived quickly. The waiter poured you both a glass of the wine and some water before he was gone again. Kakashi picked up the wine glasses and swirled it dramatically before taking a sip.

When he spoke, you had expected a question about how you found out his usual order, or perhaps a comment on the wine, but no, instead, he was his usual blunt self.

“I wonder what it is you’re hoping to gain from this.”

“That’s fine, you can wonder all you like.”

He sent you a measured look, “Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly annoying?”

You grinned, “Nope!”

“I see. Well, I hope you’ll be blessed with some honest people in your life soon, I’ve found having them around to be extraordinarily helpful.”

You snorted mid sip of wine, which probably didn’t look attractive. Coughing, you looked up, expecting a judgemental look for behaving such a way in a fancy restaurant, but Kakashi just looked amused.

“Can I ask you a question?” You dabbed your lips with your napkin to soak up any stray wine drops. “What was the deal with that interview? It didn’t seem like you even wanted any applicants there. Was it just some weird form of employment hazing?”

“Simple. I didn’t want an assistant; I work better alone.”

“Then why hold the interview at all?”

“The board of directors were very… persistent. I knew they’d only shut up if I scared off every personal assistant in the city.”

You sent him a searching look, “But you hired me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, “You had comedy value.”

Comedy value!? This dick.

“Liar,” you shot back. “You just think I’m hot, admit it.”

You got another one of his infuriating eye smiles. “If you say so.” God, you wanted to punch him, and maybe kiss him. Fuck.

“Whatever, just know that it’s your turn to pay for dinner next time, an I’m ordering the most expensive thing I can find.”

“If we go out for dinner too often, people will talk.”

“As if they aren’t already,” you said, referencing the sate of the office you’d left behind. You’d bet that they’d all stayed late to swap theories. “Yamato looked at us like a child who’d just walked in on his parents having sex.”

Kakashi seemed amused, “He would not appreciate that description.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.”

As the conversation flowed, so did the wine. You were surprised by how much fun you were having. Hatake was a great conversationalist and the rapid-fire banter had you laughing out loud more than once. The food was just as good as you’d hoped as well.

To your utter delight, Hatake’s face turned pink as he drank. So cute. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to feel the warm skin. Kakashi leaned into the hand in an almost nuzzle. You did not expect him to reciprocate. Shocked, you froze, hand still on his cheek.

Hatake seemed surprised too because he suddenly wrenched himself away from you. You pulled your hand back like it’d been burnt.

You’d bet anything that he was touch starved.

“Sorry, Hatake, I don’t know why I—”

“Kakashi,” he muttered, “you can call me Kakashi. Everyone does.”

“Kakashi,” you repeated, sending him a small smile. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. You kind of wanted to lick his face.

Kakashi’s phone buzzed in his pocket, shattering the moment. Disappointingly, he immediately slipped it out of his pocket and checked the message.  You weren’t exactly surprised that he put checking his phone over your conversation, but it was still rude, whether you expected it or not.

Kakashi made an amused noise as he saw the expression on your face. “I only have audible notifications on for important people; I’m just checking to make sure nothing is wrong, there’s no need to look so offended.”

You sputtered, face heating up, “I’m not offended! I was just thinking it was rude to check your phone at dinner.”

“Ruder than ordering for someone else without their permission?”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. “You liked it.”

Kakashi didn’t acknowledge you as he checked his messaged. You watched his eyes move from side to side as he read, before he eventually barked out a laugh and put the phone away.

“What’s funny?”

“One of my friends evidently found out that I was out to dinner. He has wished us luck on our youthful endeavours.”

You pulled a face at the weird phrasing. “He sounds… interesting.”

“You have no idea,” Kakashi said before emptying his wine glass.

“People seem so surprised about this. You don’t get out much then?”

Kakashi barked a laugh that sounded surprisingly bitter, and then didn’t elaborate. In true erotica love interest fashion, there was something brewing below the surface. Touch starved, orphaned, rich, but lonely, he was about as stereotypical as it got. You wondered if he’d also killed someone like Itachi? Hmm, probably not. This was a modern universe, and there were normally more severe consequences for things like that. It would have at least been mentioned on his wiki page.

By the time you had finished eating, the city outside the window had lit up in the darkness. The traffic had died down once rush hour ended, but the occasional car still passed by. You checked your phone and realised you’d been having dinner with Kakashi for almost two hours.

Your pride didn’t stop you from admitting that the time was flying because you were having fun.

Still, it was getting late, so you waved down a waiter and requested the bill. You were hoping that, seeing as you’d taken charge with ordering, that he would… yes! The waiter put the bill down in front of you instead of Kakashi.

You grinned at him smugly; you’d been assigned dom by wait staff.

He rolled his eyes at you, but you could see the smile on his face.

The bill wasn’t great, but it could have been worse. Clearly you hadn’t managed to keep your grimace supressed completely though because Kakashi noticed.

“Having second thoughts?” He was annoyingly observant.

You had never pulled out your card faster, grateful that you’d found your pin number written down in some old documents in your flat. Kakashi watched you pay, a strange glint in his eyes.

Did he assume you were going to dine and dash and make him pay or something? No… that wasn’t it. His ears had gone red too, and not from the alcohol.

He liked it, you realised gleefully. He liked that you ordered for him. He liked that you paid for him. He liked that you had decided on the place and time and dragged him along. It fit his reaction and it fit his character.

You were certain that most of his acquaintances either saw Kakashi as some kind of aloof, ‘didn’t believe in love’ character, or as a hard dom. And on the surface, sure, you could understand why they thought that, but how could anyone continue to think so once they spoke to him properly, when he was practically crying out for someone to take care of him?

Exhilaration ran through you. Maybe you were in this for more than just curiosity now.

“Come on,” you said, standing. “It’s getting late, and I still need to get my car—Shoot, I’m probably over the limit. I guess it’s a taxi for me then.”

“I can drop you home.” Kakashi stood as well, and you both walked to collect your coats. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Thanks,” you said relieved. You needed to at least try to budget after the amount you just spent on dinner.

Just as you were putting on your coats, Kakashi’s phone ran in his pocket. Remembering what he said about only having important people on vibrate, you remained silent as he took the call. You couldn’t quite make out the murmurs on the other side of the call, but Kakashi didn’t look pleased.

“Right… Okay… And there’s no alternate route? Of course… It can’t be helped, just meet me at the office.”

Did he have a last-minute work obligation perhaps?

“Yes, okay, I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket. “Bad news, there’s been a minor accident on the road and my driver can’t get to us. We can get through on the pedestrian pathways just fine, so we’ll have to go back to the office on foot.”

“Oh, that’s not a big deal, it’s only about twenty minutes, right?” You didn’t understand why he seemed so serious about a minor hold up. Did he think you were going to be mad at him or something? Kakashi relaxed imperceptibly as it became clear that you didn’t mind.

It only occurred to you later, once you were well into the walk, that Kakashi was used to schmoozing a bunch of hoity toity rich people at La Liaison who probably would throw a fit at such a minor inconvenience. Those kinds of people were the worst.

“Why did you ask me to dinner tonight?” Kakashi asked. He spoke casually, but in a way that suggested the casualness was being used to disguise a more serious question.

You knew that he wouldn’t stop until he got an answer that satisfied him, and you didn’t want your relationship to be stained by doubts as to your intentions, so you decided to give him an answer as close to the truth as possible. If you started talking about erotic fiction, he’d probably call some kind of doctor.

“Because you seemed miserable, and I was curious about you. Figured this would kill two birds with one stone. Also, you piss me off, I won’t lie.”

“You took me to dinner because I piss you off?” Kakashi asked, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Is that some kind of fetish or is it a psychological defect?”

You squawked indignantly and tried to hit him on the arm. He dodged it, laughing.

“You’re one to talk! You hired me after I grabbed you by the tie in a job interview. That’s got to be a fetish and a psychological defect!” You shoved him on the shoulder, and he immediately shoved you back, and before you knew it, you were having a children’s battle on the street.

A random woman from across the street gave you a dirty look, you stuck your tongue out at her. Kakashi giggled, like, actually giggled, and that sent you into hysterics.

Maybe you’d had more to drink than you thought.

“You know,” you said, throwing your arm over his shoulder, “next time I take you out, we’re going to McDonald’s. It’s cheaper, and I think it’ll be funny to watch you sit there in your suit. Wait, have you ever been to a McDonald’s before?”

“I’m wealthy, I’m not an alien.” He rolled his eyes at you. He seemed to do that a lot. You couldn’t imagine him sitting in a McDonald’s. “I go every other week because my dogs like the carrot sticks from there.”

“You feed your dogs carrot sticks from McDonald’s?”

“Yep.”

“Have you ever considered, I don’t know, buying a pack of carrots?”

“No, because they like the ones from McDonald’s.”

You shook your head in disbelief. Rich people were crazy. “How many dogs do you have anyway?”

“Eight.”

“EIGHT?!”

…

Car parks at night, familiar or not, were unnerving in the way that liminal spaces always were. At least you were almost at the office doors, where Kakashi’s chauffeur was going to pick you both up. You were glad to finally get there, because as fun as the walk had been, the Autumn night was surprisingly chilly, and it was taking genuine effort to remember all of Kakashi’s dogs’ names. You were honestly surprised that the porn logic didn’t add any strange occurrences on the walk.

Naturally, the second that thought formed in your head, something happened.

As you passed round the side of a tall fence, your shirt got caught on a stray piece of metal. What would have been a minor inconvenience, barely a rip, in your old reality, was a complete pornographic disaster in this one, as every button on your shirt somehow ripped off, leaving your shirt hanging open.

The cold air hit your skin and goosebumps erupted all over your chest. Yelping, you dragged the pieces of shirt back together and held them firmly closed. Obviously, you weren’t fast enough to stop Kakashi from getting a look. The way he was pointedly looking away from you, rosy cheeked, said it all.

“Stupid fence,” you grumbled, giving it a dirty look. This wasn’t exactly the first time, or even the coldest time, that porn logic had decided to spontaneously strip someone, but it always managed to catch you off guard. Did the people who lived in erotica worlds always carry spare changes of clothes just in case?

“Are you hurt?” Kakashi asked. He sounded a little awkward, but ultimately sincere. It was nice that he’d decided to go for genuine concern over sarcasm, and you decided to do the same.

“I’m fine, it just caught me by surprise. At least it’s dark so no one caught an eye full.”

Kakashi coughed. Okay, no one apart from him.

“I’ll send a message to maintenance in the morning, but for now, I have a spare shirt in my office that you’re welcome to borrow for the evening.”

Huh, what do you know, people did keep spare clothes around. You were about to decline, citing the late hour and the fact that you were wearing a coat that you could do up, when you realised what was happening. You’d bet anything that something sexy would happen if you followed him up to his office.

“That would be great, thanks.” You weren’t going to let this slide from your grip when he was so pretty. And honestly, he was starting to seem like less of an asshole in general. He was fun, traumatised, and had eight dogs, if that wasn’t your type, you didn’t know what was.

…

Flickering the lights on in his office, Kakashi went into one of the cupboards to look for the shirt while you snooped at the ornaments he had on his shelves. Notably, there were no pictures. You picked up a weird ceramic circle statue and turned it over to see if it did anything cool.

You had passed a security guard on the way up to Kakashi’s office, that looked very intrigued as to why you two were together so late, and why your shirt was ripped open, so you resigned yourself to the rumour mill only getting worse by tomorrow.

“Are you nosy by nature or just interested in my office in particular?”

“Shut up.” You put back the ornament and turned to face him. He was holding the spare shirt in his hand. “You want to fuck me so bad, don’t deny it.”

You expected another eye roll.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he growled, watching you intensely. Oh, that wasn’t an eye roll.

One moment you were staring at him, unsure of what to say, and the next, you were crashing together, lips, tongue, and teeth, in a horny and aggressive kiss. You didn’t know which one of you moved first, you didn’t really care, you only knew that Kakashi was hot and infuriating, and you wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t make that smug face anymore.

Kissing Kakashi was giving you whiplash. He was different to Itachi in every way you could think of. He was confident, aggressive, he fought with you, clashed with you, and he seemed to determined to kiss you twice as hard as you kissed him.

It was obvious that Kakashi’s submission wouldn’t be freely given like Itachi’s, no, you would have to earn it. The challenge scratched at your instincts, and suddenly you wanted to prove to this omega that he could trust you. A good orgasm should lay the groundwork for that.

Both coats were quickly discarded as you kissed, and your ruined shirt fell off moments later.

You had been consciously avoiding his hair in fear of the amount of wax you figured he used to keep that hair style, but one weak moment, as Kakashi’s hips jolted forwards towards yours, you forgot, and ran you fingers through it.

To your surprise, your fingers glided through the soft strands easily. You were so shocked that you broke the kiss. You furrowed your eyebrows as you examined his hair.

“What are you doing?” he panted, confused.

“How the fuck does your hair stay up like that without any hairspray or wax?”

“What?” He sounded baffled. “This is just what my hair looks like. Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

The kiss resumed, somehow more desperate and aggressive than before. Kakashi grabbed your waist so hard that you could feel the pin pricks from his nails digging into your skin. In return, you made use of your new found knowledge and grabbed a handful of Kakashi’s hair.

You pushed him backwards, never once breaking the rhythm of your kiss, until his upper thighs made contact with the front of his desk. His pot of pens fell as the desk jolted, scattering the expensive pens all over the ground. Neither of you paid it any mind.

When you finally pulled away for air, Kakashi wasted no time, immediately latching onto your neck with reckless abandon. There was something feral about him that was making you hot. He didn’t hold back. You could tell that he was experienced, and he was using every drop of that experience to his advantage.

While he was distracted, you worked on undoing his buttons. It was harder than it looked to remain focused while Kakashi was doing his best impression of a vampire on your neck.

“You have way too many fucking buttons on this shirt.”

“It’s a normal number of buttons,” he murmured against your skin.

“There is literally nothing normal about you.”

“And you say I’m the rude one.”

“That’s because you fucking are.”

Eventually, you managed to undo the last button. Your noise of triumph morphed into a moan as Kakashi nipped around your collar bone. You used his hair to tug him back before loosening his tie and pushing the shirt off his shoulders.

The way his torso looked, bare but with a loose tie hanging over it, unlocked a kink you didn’t know you had. In fact, everything about him was hot. As you dragged the shirt down his arms, you could feel his muscles flexing. Kakashi was strong and broad, and he wore it so well.

You didn’t bother pulling the shirt off all the way, instead letting it bunch at his wrists, acting as a semi-restraint. He tugged at it experimentally, and when he found it restricting his movement, his pupils dilated.

You cooed as you ran your hands all over his naked torse. That’s right, he was a forceful person, certainly, but any shows of dominance were likely performative or learnt behaviours, because this man was a giant sub at heart.

You grabbed his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled it lightly. Kakashi growled at you, but you knew what he was doing; he wasn’t telling you to stop, he was challenging you. You growled back, stronger, louder, and just as you thought, his growling stopped, and his scent took on a delicious hint of submission.

“God, you really are annoyingly hot,” you growled, biting along his jaw. “Emphasis on annoying.”

“Takes one to know one,” he fired back, squeezing your waits.

“Mutual handjob?” you whispered against his skin, already undoing his trousers, before doing the same with yours.

“That the first intelligent thing you’ve said all night.”

“Fuck you.”

You grabbed Kakashi’s muscular thighs and lifted him slightly until he was perched on his desk. A stack of papers tipped over and fluttered to the ground, but that wasn’t a problem for present you, so you happily ignored the chaos in favour of the panting omega in front of you.

You took your dick out from your pants and did the same for Kakashi. They bumped up against each other, searingly hot and unflinchingly hard. You let out a whistle of appreciation at his cock. It was big, bigger than most alphas you’d met, and certainly bigger than any omega’s cock you’d ever seen. In fact, just eyeballing it, he was roughly the same size as you. His shaft was as pale as the rest of him, but the head was an angry red. It was girthy too, and it felt hot and solid in your palm.

Purposefully, you thrust your hips forward, guiding your cock against his with both of your hands. Kakashi moaned, thrusting up to meet you. He could only watch, his hands restrained as they were.

You kept your hands around the dicks, keeping them aligned as you both started to rut against each other. Beads of pre cum quickly made their appearance, which only made everything else feel that much better.

There was something deeply satisfying about what you were doing, especially because you were both still half-dressed. It made it feel desperate, like you couldn’t wait long enough to get your clothes off, too desperately attracted to each other, and had instead chosen to rub off on each other like horny teenagers.

You made out messily while you grinded against each other. Maintaining a consistent pace was a little difficult, especially as things got wetter and wetter, but you managed. There was something sexy about the chaos. The increased sensitivity from being in the erotica world didn’t hurt either.

Your moans and groans increased in frequency as you got closer. If felt like every nerve ending you had was on fire, and Kakashi looked much like you felt, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that was obvious under the hard corporate lighting.

Technically, with it being so bright inside and so dark outside, anyone who happened to glance up would have got a glimpse of you, but you were both too far gone to care.

“You love having someone take control of you, don’t you Kakashi,” you moaned, pressing your lips against his. “You’re tired of always being in control, aren’t you? The big CEO, everyone’s relying on you, but who do you get to rely on? Who looks after you? You want someone to do that, don’t you? You’re a walking, talking CEO stereotype.”

“Who says I’m going to give control to you?” he panted, licking his lips. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“Hmm, nope, I think I’m right on track,” you teased. Already picking up on his proclivity for biting, you gave a bite in return, just shy of where a mating mark might theoretically go. Kakashi gasped, his hands straining at the shirt that restrained them. “I’ll get you to submit to me properly, one day.”

“We’ll see.”

The alcohol and the increased sensitivity were mixing together to make this tryst shorter than expected, but Kakashi seemed to be in the same boat, so you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The banter ceased as the final stretch towards your orgasms started.

As your ending approached, you bent down and sealed your lips with Kakashi’s once more. Suddenly, everything crested, and pleasure flowed over you in waves. Your thrusts got sloppy, but neither of you cared. Kakashi came with a guttural moan. His stomach muscles flexing in a hypnotic dance.

The extra cum afforded by the porn logic soaked both your dicks and your hands, staining both pairs of trousers too. It dripped onto the carpet, and if the security guard didn’t spread a rumour about you and Kakashi hooking up, one of the cleaners probably would.

Some of Kakashi’s cum had even landed on the spare shirt, so you now had a choice between a torn shirt, or one covered in cum to match your stained trousers. Great. Why did horny you always make such bad decisions?

You and Kakashi remained leaning against each other for a while, just catching your breaths and marvelling at how fast your relationship had move. You wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told you during your interview that you’d end up grinding on that asshole’s desk a few days later.

‘I would have believed it.’

‘Thanks, James.’

Kakashi opened his mouth to speak, but the door to his office suddenly opened, cutting him off. You both stiffened, snapping up to face the intruder like a pair of deer in headlights.

There, standing in the doorway with the expression of a man who was entirely done with life, was Kakashi’s chauffeur. Instead of an apology of any kind, the man just sighed.

“The car is downstairs when you are ready. Please try and clean up before getting in, the leather won’t forget these kinds of smells easily.” With that, he left, shutting the door firmly behind him.

You and Kakashi looked at each other, then to the door, and then to each other, before you both burst out laughing.

What a way to end the night.

Next Chapter

[punksocks]

Please pick the picture that resonates with you, that gives you sort of that subconscious pull. The picture with the most weight behind it.

This didn’t quite turn out how I expected but I do like the results ! Everything may not resonate perfectly because they’re general readings, but please comment which pile resonates with you the most, and your thoughts after your reading <3

Why do people stare at you?

*****

-Pile 1: People stare at you because you have this air of authority. You may have been through a lot of heavy life experiences, a lot of tragedy and betrayal from those you’re closest to. (I had a hard time writing out the words for this one- some of your may still really struggle with the weight of what you’ve endured.) But you’ve made a lot of progress in overcoming this. You’ll get your just deserts and you’ll never have to look back at this betrayal again. You know how to build a way out for yourself and that empresses a lot people and gives you a naturally regal air (I misspelled this in my notes too lol, confirmation). You still manage to be kind and generous despite your wounds from what you’ve endured. If you have the mean, financial or otherwise, you use them to be a good person. You’re at the end of a cycle of suffering and people find your strength poetic. You’ve gotten through so much so successfully, it leaves people enamored and they want to honor how you’ve done it (ok I was going to write hear over honor but it felt too important to correct, this confirms how you’re coming out of this on top). You work so hard, endlessly, people are in awe of your stamina and want to know what you’re doing next. You’re a very passionate person, people love your ambitions and how you always have energy to create and expand and work (Do you have fire signs in your big 6? Especially Aries?). You’re the life of the party ! You may be a heartbreaker as well. People want to work with you to see what you know (Possible Capricorn energy, especially Ascendant). People don’t think they’ll measure up to your -steep- standards, but they love to shoot their shot anyway (my notes say to be your lover, but I can’t type that outright lol). You have boss babe energy and people want a shot at proving themselves to you (proving that they can keep up with you, even when they /know/ they can’t). They get scared at the possibility of fumbling you (bruh the way I sucked my teeth on accident, this doesn’t impress you lol). They think their worlds will fall apart if they have you and screw it up (Scorpio/Pluto placement vibes?) People see you as rich, wealthy, abundant (financially, rich in resources, energy even, any of that). They see you as very ambitious and they wonder if they can keep up without falling behind or getting jealous. People dispare over the thought of keeping up with you because they know they can’t match you (*despair, but this may indicate experiencing ghosting for some of you. Also emphasis on Aries energy again). You do all of this while prioritizing your self care and happiness. Good for you Pile 1! Don’t slow down or neglect yourself on behalf of anyone. Someone that knows how to match you will come into your life if they haven’t already. Ancestors/ guides/ however you prefer to refer to them as say they’re proud of you but you’ve got to release all of those people that want you to slow down for them— they’re dead weight (damn, stone cold, as you should be).

Songs:

******

-Pile 2: people stare at you because you’re super major! My brain went to a valley girl accent so people may regularly under estimate you pile 2 (major Elle Woods from Legally Blonde vibes). They may assume you’re a bit vapid or superficial but you contain multitudes and you have some seriously strong boundaries. The Emperor came out from 2 different decks! You’re often the smartest person in the room, and you really don’t care about your haters, you couldn’t care less about them because you know they’re below you. (Impressive, a lot of people have to work on healthily embracing their ego, you’re balanced in this and that’s commendable.) People stare at your naturally regal presence ‘I look expensive’ I’d what I just heard. You are really luxurious (in small and big ways - luxury can also mean never treating yourself less than you deserve.) People may try to steal attention from you but you know they’re grasping at straws. You don’t let them phase you. Like grounded Libra energy. You may be a bit older, some of you have Libra conjunct outer planets. Like Pluto, so there’s a lot of depth to your grace and charm. At the beginning (of the reading) the original Venus song, from the 60s, played. You may also be drawn to a vintage/classic style and this adds to your charm. The fact that you know when to pause and rest helps make you so unstoppable. You’re a very balanced person, strong Libra energy. You channel being balanced into making things happen (‘making money moves’). I thought of my Grandma (my favorite Libra tbh) very demure, classical lady, but she could move mountains when she set her mind to it. You have a razor sharp intuition too, you always know ‘when to hold ‘em and when to fold em’ (do some of you like country music? Lol) You know how to get your wishes fulfilled. You may be older (gen X) or you just have really mature vibes for your age. You’ve probably transformed a lot to get to this point in your life as well. I’m happy for you and your guides are proud of how far you’ve come (and how far you’ll go)

Cosmia by Joanna Newsom

******

-Pile 3: Hello my pile 3’s, your guides had a lot they wanted to say to you and I had to switch pens bc my first one ran out. I get the feeling that you rushed into a new opportunity lately. A situation that you thought you wished for but it broke your heart. Could be a relationship or a job, something that you hoped would solve your woes but brought you more head and heart ache than you expected. This was a challenging period but people are staring because they can see hope and optimism coming back to you. ‘The sun will shine on another day’ I heard. (Either you’re realizing this or your guides need you to know this truth.) The Sun, The Star, and the Ace of Swords all came out so you’re really being called to stay optimistic because things will get better is what I’m getting. You’re gaining more abundance after a hard period and you’ve been weighed down by a lot of burdens (too many !). But this cycle is ending and is calling on you to listen to the knowledge you already know. You’re growing into your emotional understanding and overall this pushed growth is for the best. You’re learning you’re your own expert guide. You know what you want and need the best out of everyone. People can tell you’re changing and you’re not who you used to be.

[shirefantasies]

Hello, may I please request fem reader x Elrond? With reader that is quite avoidant when it comes to touch, but accepts hugs and kisses from Elrond? I hope it is okay 👉👈 thank you so much in advance, have a wonderful day 💕💕💕💕

Yes, sorry this took so long but here we are! Hope you enjoy how this came to me, a one-shot featuring a third party POV as well as ‘yours’ 😊

The Steel Lady of Imladris- Elrond x F!Elf!Reader

It was known to the surrounding lands that in the Last Homely House one might be surprised by whom they meet; the lord of the land, after all, had a lady by his side, one whose presence was said to carry the chill of a harsh wind with her presence. Resolute as her home's walls, she cut quite the contrast to the hearths always said to be awaiting visitors of the fair valley. Perhaps she was even a witch like the one dwelling in the woods of Lórien.

Such were the rumors swirling in the mind of Rivendell's dwarven visitor, called there as he was to offer his people's wise council. Ha! What was it that had those pointy-ears finally asking for their help Gimli did not know, but happy was he to attend with his father at his side.

Riding in with his kin, he took in sailing white arches and a very well-constructed bridge, hearing his father mutter all the while about how nothing had changed. He had stopped there once before some sixty years ago, after all, during the dragon incident.

A whole gaggle of elves awaited there, some armored but most just decked out in their pretty finery, one clad in white emerging from the center with a deep blue-clad figure upon his arm. Long, elaborately twisted strands of dark hair hung onto his raiment and a circlet of silver crossed his forehead. Likewise, the woman at his side had what hair she could done with equal finesse, a matching headpiece, and a dress more closely tailored than the lord's robes. Elrond and his consort, the so-called Steel Lady of Imladris.

Sure enough, fair as you were your face was resolute as you stepped forward, practical even as you curtsied, surrendering the smallest of smiles. Ready for a fight as he was, Gimli wasn’t sure he’d want to take you on. At least, not without the proper head start and all.

You flinched as Gloin clapped a hand to your back, stepping forward in utter avoidance of his touch. Disrespectful though it may have seemed, you equally avoided one of your elven fellows’ advances. Gimli shook his head. Cold as they came.

~

Alright, fine, maybe this wing of the place was a little confusing. He still could figure it out for himself. One more corridor and it would be golden-

“Trouble yourself not, My Lady.”

Tilting his head, Gimli took a few steps forward, was availed the sight of Lord Elrond…holding you at the elbows, pulling you closer? The sound of… you giggling?

He’d turned away, but that sound along had Gimli swiveling around the corner again. Your head tilted and leaned onto the dark-haired elf’s shoulder. A smile cut further across your face as his lips fell to the crown of your head.

“You needn’t spend any more time in the crowds than you must. It was simply right to have you at my side for greetings.”

“I like being at your side, though,” you whispered, peeling your head from Elrond’s chest to kiss him once, twice, and far more lingering.

All right, that was enough. Off to bed. Gimli turned, trying the other fork in the hall with a faint smile playing upon his lips. Steel Lady indeed.

~

“Greetings, Madam.”

Frowning slightly, you turned to see if your eyes had deceived you; they had not- one of the visiting dwarves removed his helmet in your presence, giving you a jolly little bow.

Generally you were…unsuccessful, shall you say… with guests. Aversion to touch had bloomed from the harsh experiences of your past life, making trust a challenge. No bearing upon their race or character, but outsiders posed a threat. Disrupting routines, bringing louder, brasher customs. Viewing you as either held in thrall to their impositions or else some myth beyond their metaphorical touch.

Elrond was the anchor in your vast sea of anxiety, the only one who saw through story, perceived emotion seemingly unexpressed. Displayed hope and kindness abundant as the cleanest of springs.

But now stood a dwarf of all people fixing you with earnest hazel eyes. Understanding. What should you do?

A smile shook its way to your lips. “Good morning,” you chose a customary greeting. Standard, safe.

“Aye,” the dwarf nodded, “it is, isn’t it? Well, I know you elves like to keep time, so I'll be off to breakfast before there is none. Tell me your favorite and I will save you some if I can."

Stranger or not, you were sure anyone could have read the shock upon your face. Shaking it quickly aside, you kept your face neutral as you named it and gave a thanks. As the dwarf went on his way, he bid you his final farewell by your title, yes, but also your name. They didn't usually use your name.

Light footsteps rang out behind you, barely perceptible even by your sensitive ears. "And what was that about, hm?" Elrond.

Tension melted from your shoulders as the curious little quirk of your lips burst into a wide smile. Turning on your heels, you slid your arms about your husband's waist, relaxing when his hand caressed the top of your head.

"The dwarf," you answered, "he was so kind. Not in that rough way so often seen, but...genuine. Caring. Like he wanted to see me smile. Could someone have challenged him?"

You feel your husband's head shake. "How many times must I remind you," he teased, "of the light that lies in your eyes? That which reaches deepest into the heart. Surely he felt no challenge than that. Indeed, I would say he simply sees you as I do."

Heart thumping, you loosened your grip on Elrond to meet his lips in a loving kiss, safe in the warmth of his words and his hold upon you. Bit by bit he encouraged you to be brave, never leaving you adrift for long, you reflected as he took your hand, bidding you lead the way to the greater halls at your ready.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[hell-isnt-deep-enough-for-me]

Hey, hope its ok that I'll send a request in. I'm at the moment such a simp for started valleys Sam, if you feel comfortable with it I would love some nsfw stuff. Maybe Sam and female/gender neutral reader playing some video's and everytime someone loses they have to take one piece of clothes of and at some point it just gets spicy 🌶

Rainbow Road

Sam x F!Reader

Warnings: hand jobs, blow jobs, dirty thoughts, the use of pretty boy and good boy

~~~

It felt great to be able to hang out with friends instead of being in the blistering heat. This summer's weather is probably the hottest it's been since you moved here. So the thought of being in an air-conditioned house with your friends and crush was terrific.

Everyone had been busy the entire week, so this was the first time everyone got to hang out. You agreed to meet at Sam’s house at noon when you were done with your farm chores. You wouldn’t admit it, but you took a quick shower and booked it to Sam’s house as soon as you were done. You were early, sure, but that meant you got to spend alone time with your crush. You even put on clothes that you thought made you look more appealing yet not over/underdressed for a simple gaming day with friends. You knocked on his door and waited.

“Well, aren’t you early?” Was the first words out of his mouth when you showed up earlier than everyone else. About an hour early even. Although, Sam would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy that you showed up earlier than everyone else. Being alone for the next hour in his room? It was like straight out of his dreams. Of course, in those dreams, you weren’t wearing clothes. 

“I figured I might as well practice so I don’t lose to Abby in CoD again.” Sam let you in, smiling in your direction before closing the door behind you. You removed your shoes before following him to his room without a word. 

“Wow, your room is clean. Did you have a girl come over that you wanted to impress?” You laugh and elbow him gently. A small part of your hoped it was because you were coming over, but in reality, it was probably easier to hang out with everyone that way.

“What?! Pfft, no!” Sam’s face went red as he tried to look everywhere but at you.

“Oh my gosh, you did! I can see it in your eyes! Your face is totally giving you away!”

“Maybe I wanted to clean my room for once!”

“Uh-huh, sure.” You laughed at him before flopping down on his bed. It just looked so comfortable, and your body was so sore from going all over the farm, grabbing crops, and feeding the animals.

The way your body laid across his bed made his heart beat in his ears. Pictures started forming in his mind on how you’d look if you lay beneath him with lustful eyes. Your hands would slither under his shirt, and your soft touch would have him shivering. Of how you could unbutton his jeans and slowly move towards the base of his cock, your fingers lightly touching it, making his hips buck just to feel more.

“Sam, you okay? You're staring at the wall.” Your voice brought him back to earth as you looked at him. The slight concern on your face had his heart fluttering.

“Sorry, I zoned out. Uh, do you wanna play a game while we wait?”

“Sure, I can kick your ass for a confidence boost against Abby.”

“Oh, is that so?” Getting up from his bed, he saw you walk up with a wide grin.

“It is, and just to prove how confident I really am, I’ll take off a piece of clothing in shame for every time I lose. But if you lose, you must remove a piece of clothing.” Your heart was beating rapidly as you tried to shoot your shot. It wasn’t a standard way people did it, but you never know if you don’t try. The worst he could do is say no.

“Guess you're gonna be naked when Abby and Seb appear 'cause I'm going to win.” With red cheeks and a glint in his eyes, Sam turned on his tv and started up the new switch he had saved up for.

“I say Mario Kart. My house, my choice.” Sam smirked as he sat in front of the TV before tossing you your own controller. You caught it and then sat next to him. A little closer than a friend would. You could feel his body heat and hear a gulp from the man beside you before he turned on the game. However, Sam didn’t know that you were a god at Mario Kart. You never played with any of them, but it was your favorite game to play when you were alone. Knowing that this would be a piece of cake. You wanted to take him by surprise, so you’ll let him win the first one to get his ego boosted before you crush it.

—

“Haha! How’s it feel to lose farmer?” Sam’s smug voice seemed to bounce off the walls as you rolled your eyes.

“Great, I was hot anyways.” Putting down your controller, you grab the helm of your shirt. Listing your arms up, you pull off the fabric before putting it next to you. Usually, it would have been fine since you’d wear a bra, but today was just so hot…so you didn’t.

“What, never seen tits before, Sam?” Your teasing went straight to his cock as he saw your exposed breasts. God, he wishes he could just hold them in his hands and kiss them. Suck on your exposed nipple, leaving them covered in saliva as he ate up your moans. The sounds you’d make echoed in his head as he felt his cock aching. He imagined how soft they’d be if they surrounded his cock. 

“Press play Sam. I don’t want to be the only shirtless one here.” Your voice broke his fantasy, and he pressed play. He focused hard as he tried to ignore the question if you wore panties under your shorts since you didn’t wear a bra. The thought had him biting his lip.

“Better pay attention, Sam, you're in 12th.” Letting out a curse, he desperately tried to fix his place, but it was too late. He could feel your smug grin as you looked at him. His cheeks felt like fire as he took off his jacket. The AC making him shiver.

“Can’t wait to win.” Your mischievous smile had his mind racing.

—

“Rainbow Road Sam, better hope you win. Your boxers can’t save you now.” You only took off your shirt, as here he was, almost naked. He wished he knew that you were perfect at the game. You kicked his ass and didn’t even blink, it seemed like. You definitely let him win the first one, which crushed his ego. Not that he’ll admit it.

“Quit falling off, Sam. It’s almost like you WANT to lose.” He’s never been more focused on anything in his entire life than right now. He couldn’t lose! You’d see just how much you turned him on. He’s tried hiding it ever since he lost his pants, but nothing he did helped it down. Maybe the idea of being so exposed in front of you turned him on more? Having you see what you do to him. How his cock aches at the thought of your running your pretty hand up and down his cock. The way your eyes would look at him with lust as you’d move faster with every moan that escaped his lips. He struggled against the urge to buck his hips up against your imaginary hand. He could feel his heart thump in his chest when he heard the winner of the race.

“Peach wins!” He saw you throw your hands up and shout in victory.

“Princess Peach, I knew you wouldn’t let me down!” You turn your head towards him with a look as you stare him up and down.

“You know what that means, Sam.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he grabbed his boxers before slipping them off completely. He turned his face away in embarrassment as his hard cock stood proudly in front of you.

“Well, since I won, I believe I get to tell you what to do, hmm? I mean, it’s only fair.” Sam’s eyes couldn’t meet yours as his toes curled at the implication.

“Right, Sam?” He could feel your tits pressed against his back as you spoke softly into his ear. He didn’t even hear you move.

“Okay…” He didn’t need to look at you to know you were smiling. He let out a gasp when your lips started kissing his neck. Soft ones before you’d nibble on the sensitive spots that had him slip out little moans. Your fingers moved up his back before moving to rub his chest. It felt too ghostly at the lingering touches.

“Why don’t you be a good boy for me and start pumping your begging cock? I wanna see my pretty boy in bliss.” Yes, he’ll be your good boy. He wants to be your pretty boy.

Grabbing his cock, already leaking with pre, he slowly moved his hand up and down, imagining it was yours. The feeling of you sucking on his neck had him moving faster. He bit his lip as he saw your hair in his peripheral vision.

You could feel the heat grow between your legs as you watched him pick up his pace. Licking your lips, you move your hands around his chest. Running over his nipples and slightly tugging on them, making him let out a gasp before you moved your hands farther down. Teasingly slow, you moved your hand near the base of his cock. A louder gasp could be heard.

“You want help pretty boy?” A wicked grin plastered your face when he nodded gently. That wasn’t good enough, though. You wanted words.

“Come on, use your words.” Letting out a whine and shutting his eyes, you caught a breathy yes. Knowing it was the best you were gonna get, you started your endeavors. 

You replaced his hand with yours, and a moan fell from his lips. Such a cute one that you wanted more. Picking up the pace quickly, your hand glided up and down his cock, leaving him to buck up his hips. Quiet moans and whines escaped his mouth as his toes curled when you started to whisper praises in his ear.

God, your hand felt so much better than he ever thought it would. The way you ran your finger ran over his slit had him shaking. If your hand felt this good, how would your mouth or even cunt feel like? The thought had his stomach tightened as the urge to cum started approaching quickly. His moans got louder as his legs started shaking.

“Aw, pretty boy about to cum? Do you deserve to?”

“Yes! Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” the way your voice seemed so sinister, but he didn’t care. He just needed to cum.

“Anything! Please!”

“Okay. Only cause you’ve been such a good boy for me.” Such words had him let out a loud moan as his cum shot from his cock, covering your hand and his tummy. You grab your phone quickly from your back pocket before snapping a picture of his blissed-out face. All red and too cute to not take a picture. Plus, when you were alone, it’d be the perfect material.

“What a good boy.” Kissing his cheek, you moved from behind to in front of him. You placed yourself in between his legs and looked up at him with lustful eyes. A good boy deserves a treat, right?

Sam saw you lowering your head before giving his tip a small kitten lick, having him whine at the new sensation. Your warm tongue against his overstimulated cock had his body shaking.

Biting his lips, he laid back when he felt you place your lips around the tip of his cock. The feeling was something he’d never forget as he swore it felt like he was in heaven. His crush sucking on his cock was a dream come true. 

Such a sensitive boy. The look of his legs shaking and him digging his fingers onto the hardwood floor made you want to see how he’d react if you took him all. 

A loud moan escaped Sam’s lips as his whole cock was enveloped in your mouth. The warm heat of your mouth almost had him cumming instantly. The way your tongue ran against the underside of his cock had him try to reach down to grab your hair, only to be slapped away, and you gave him a dirty look. Not wanting it to end, He just tried to hold onto the wooden floor to stabilize himself.

His reactions were so cute, the way whines and moans spewed from his lips as he tried bucking his hips into your mouth, only for you to slam them back down. He let out a whimper before biting his lip. He’s been such a naughty boy. Naughty boys don’t get treats.

KNOCK KNOCK

The sound of his front door knocking had you taking out his cock from your mouth with a smile. Sam let out a loud whine at the loss of warmth.

“Please, please, please don’t stop, so close…” His cries made the heat in between your legs grow hotter. 

“Our friends are here. It would be rude to keep them waiting.” You sat up and grabbed your shirt before leaning over Sam’s body, the feeling of his cock pressing against your clothed tummy.

“Now, better dress up. Wouldn’t want our friends to see how much of a slut you are.” The way you talked to him had his eyes rolling before he let out a loud moan, and he felt a huge relief wash over him as he cummed so hard that he felt like he had lost his breath.

“You got it all over my shirt! Your lucky our friends are here to save you, but I won’t be forgiving next time.” You stood up and tried your best to wipe off your cum stained short before leaving Sam lying on his bedroom floor, trying to regain his breath and put on his discarded clothes. With your words still echoing in his head.

“Next time.”