#he’s just as tall as louis

[caralara]

[cherishsscene]

I'm so HYPED for the character design reveals for the new season but the way Yahya is just just standing there like 🧍‍♂️ just looks so awkward when he's not proving his superiority and makes you remember he's a lanky 50 year old man in CONVERSE SHOES

[firegiftlouis]

Why do people think Armand is floating here? We clearly see him floating down after throwing the book at Daniel’s feet, and we even hear his footsteps right before he grabs Louis’ hand here:

I think Louis is standing one step below him (if they didn’t position them differently for this particular shot on even ground), but otherwise Armand isn’t floating anymore.

[apoptoses]

Considering lestat “im 6 feet tall which isn’t bad now” de lioncourt wrote queen of the damned and calls daniel tall, do you think that daniel is over 6 foot?

Ha! Well that would hinge on Lestat being secure enough to admit another hot blond guy is taller than him, and like really, is he secure enough? Or is he just saying Daniel is the same size?

I've always pictured them both as a solid 6'0. Maybe Daniel is actually 6'1 or 6'2 but after so many years of running with 5'6 Armand he's got a permanent slouch in my mind (look it's just easier to look your boyfriend in the eye or kiss him if you're already slumped and meeting him halfway). And being an 18th century man Lestat would gravitate towards shoes with a heel so standing next to each other they either even out or (depending on the shoe of the day) Lestat seems slightly taller.

(though as a lestat/daniel fucker I have some personal feelings on having Daniel be taller if he straightens up and stands right, and Lestat getting to feel off kilter and be the shorter one for once. but that's neither here nor there I suppose)

tl;dr regardless of exactly how far over six feet any of them are, if we look at armand's love life with men then he's a little shit with "under 6'0 need not apply" on his grindr bio and i love that for him ♥

[sophsaysstuff217]

I'm reading the Vampire Chronicles and I just started The Vampire Lestat and it's immediately giving ebony darkness dementia raven way and I'm screaming

[starkeyisthelastname]

(Here you are my gorgeous babes! 😘💕) Because Dealer!Rafe has enough money and then some more.💰😻💖

You knew Rafe sold drugs, the first interaction of you two was because you needed weed and your friend knew of him. You just didn’t know the depth of it and nor did Rafe want you too. He would always tell you that you were too damn pretty to worry about it, never needing to really reveal how dangerous of a man he was.

Banks runs were a fun day, riding in the passenger seat of his blacked out Range Rover like the princess you were. Fresh mani-pedi, lash extensions thick, pretty Louis bag sitting next to your hip. He would have one ringed hand on the steering wheel, other hand holding his phone as he talked to Barry about something you didn’t understand or would even question. You already had tried that before, and was reassured Rafe could defend himself.

“Stay here, pretty girl.” He would tell you, phone still pressed to his ear as he began to open the drivers side door. You turned your head as you applied the Dior lipgloss in the mirror, looking at him with a glossy pout.

“Can I go in this time?” You asked, long lashes fluttering at him.

Rafe shook his head, gripping your jaw firmly to make you look up at him. “Quit fuckin pouting, you’re too goddamn gorgeous for that shit.” He said, voice low. “Let daddy handle his business and maybe you’ll get something.”

You nodded, eyes looking up at him like the perfect little doll you were. He loved every second of spoiling you with the massive amounts of trap money he made. He pulled you in for a sloppy kiss before pulling back with a smirk on his lips. He never had committed to any girl or ever wanted to, but something about you was different and he would give you whatever the fuck your precious heart desired.

You waited as patiently as you could, eyes glancing up at the door ever so often until you saw your tall boyfriend walking out of the bank, a couple blue bags in hand. He was so effortlessly sexy wearing his white tee, a gold chain resting against his collarbone, and fresh buzzcut bringing how his handsome face. He got into the drivers seat, setting two out of the three blue bags in the center console next to a shiny gun. He closed it, before handing you the one bag he left out.

Unzipping it, you looked into the bag to see bundle of cash wrapped in rubber bands and colorful tabs. He chuckled as you looked up at him, eyes a little wide at the amount.

“Go fucking crazy mama, daddy’s got plenty more to go around.” Rafe laughed, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space. He was a fucking boss and his money and girl were the only two priorities he was worried about. “You are a pretty princess aren’t ya? Pretty princesses deserve expensive shit.” He said, hand coming over to possessively grab your thigh.

[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

[thewickedjazzy]

Special week: Blurred Lines for Kinktober.

♡featuring: jjk & bsd x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩PHASE 1: geto & chuuya x reader

♡synopsis: being a movie star in the jjk world has its perks and pitfalls, especially when you find yourself face-to-face with four swoon-worthy men. to make things even more complicated, you end up sandwiched between chuuya and geto in one night.

♡warnings: ņsfw, mdņi 18+, established plot, smųt with plot, characters are aged up or in their 20s, threesome, double penetration, cum mentioned, double cream pie, unprotected sex, fingering, degradation 'slut' ... not proofreaded, ig that's it?

♡word count & a/n: 5.2k, a special thank you & a smooch to @remlionheart for helping my ass write this and feeding my brain with her sweet ideas. it was so amusing and fun to write that i couldn't stop giggling. this fic is dedicated to my bbg @bittysuguro

[check the jjk & bsd special week masterlist]

“what do you mean my card got declined?!” a furious voice echoes across the pristine, high-end louis vuitton boutique.

you pause mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. the boutique is one of the most luxurious on omotesando street, and you haven't expected any kind of outburst here, of all places and you can’t help but arch an eyebrow, pondering if he's trying to pay with monopoly money or if his bank account has suddenly taken a nosedive.

the subject of the chaos stands by the counter, fuming—he’s a redheaded man in a black designer coat with a flat cap pulled low over his striking blue eyes. he looks like he just walked out of a fashion editorial, except for the part where he is practically roaring at the terrified cashier and waving a gold card like a weapon.

you find yourself blinking once again—what in the world is going on?

“sir, i ran it three times, and each time—” the cashier stammers, flinching as the redhead leans over the counter like he is about to blow the place up.

“i know there’s money on it! RUN IT AGAIN!” he growls, and you swear you can see veins popping in his neck.

before the poor cashier can even protest further, another man saunters into view, tall, lean, and wearing the most obnoxiously casual yet designer outfit. white hair peeks out from under a pair of dark sunglasses, and despite the clear chaos, he is wearing the cockiest grin you’d ever seen.

“tsk..no need to get so worked up,” the white-haired man drawled, arms laden with five louis vuitton bags. “your poor is showing.”

the redhead whirls on him, eyes blazing. “what did you just say, you asshole?”

the taller man stands there unfazed with his shit grin spreading wider. “you heard me, short stack.”

the redhead’s whole body stiffens, and you half expect him to launch himself across the store. you are only a few paces away, casually browsing the new bags collection, but now you find yourself watching the scene unfold like a deer caught in headlights.

“oh, please,” the white-haired man replies with a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. “you sure you wanna do this, kid?”

at that moment, the shorter guy’s feet literally lift off the ground as he floats up toward the white-haired man, arm cocking back for a punch. it's like some weird gravity-defying stunt, and you can't help but stare, unsure whether you are hallucinating or if this is a really elaborate prank. you half-expect someone to jump out and yell, “surprise! you’re on candid camera!” while someone else films your bewildered expression.

the punch swings forward but… stops. midair.

“what the—” the redhead sputters, his fist hovering a mere inch from the smug man’s face, like an invisible barrier is blocking it.

“oh,” the taller man snickers, “you actually tried.”

just as things are about to get out of hand, a third man appeared—a taller figure with dark hair tied back wearing a serene expression as if he just strolled in from a yoga session. he places a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, gently pulling him back to the ground.

“hey man, let’s not destroy the boutique today, alright?” he says, tone weary yet unbelievably calm, like he is used to this kind of chaos. his gaze shifts to the white-haired man whilst rolling his eyes. “saturo, stop antagonizing everyone you meet. people are staring.”

the redhead grumbles something under his breath, glaring daggers at the taller man—saturo?—who simply chuckles back at him.

just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, the fiery-haired man still glaring at gojo, like he’d just stolen his lunch money—suddenly turns his gaze toward you as if he can feel your eyes boring into him. “what are you staring at?”

he takes a step toward you, and you feel your body tense up like a live wire. you can't help but blink back at him, because honestly, what are you supposed to say? "oh sorry, just trying to figure out why a five-foot ball of rage is levitating in a louis vuitton boutique?"

before you can formulate any semblance of a response, a smooth voice cuts in, dripping with nonchalance, “now, now, chuuya, no need to take your frustration out on innocent bystanders.”

the ginger-haired man—chuuya, you think you heard—glare flickers with surprise as a tall man with messy brown hair sidles up next to him, his brown trench coat swaying with his lazy steps. you barely register him before he sweeps his hand out, pushing chuuya aside like a piece of furniture. “pardon my associate’s behavior. he’s always a little testy when his card gets declined.”

you blink. “huh…?”

the brown-haired man gives you a dazzling smile, the kind that should come with a warning label. “ahh but you…” he trails off, letting his dark eyes roam over your figure with a look of pure delight. “such a wonderful sight. how can such a radiant beauty even exist in this world?” his voice dips, smooth and syrupy, and you can practically hear the faint sound of violins playing in the background.

chuuya’s eye twitches as he scowls at dazai. “are you seriously doing this right now?”

dazai ignores him entirely, stepping closer to you. “osamu dazai, by the way. and you must be the goddess gracing us with your presence today. It’s an honor to bask in your light.” he flashes you a grin, the kind that looks practiced but somehow genuine, and you’re not sure if you should be flattered or call security.

“i—uh—” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the situation.

before you can utter another word out, the white-haired man—saturo, you assume, based on the way the other man addressed him—suddenly whips around, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose just enough to reveal his gorgeous icy blue eyes, narrowing his gaze on you.

his entire demeanour shifts in an instant, going from casual smugness to absolute starstruck fanboy in 0.5 seconds. “wait… wait a damn minute—” his eyes widen, and he practically leaps forward, shoving dazai to the side like an afterthought. “you… you’re—no way, it's you! you’re my favourite movie star!”

dazai, now comically stumbling from the shove, frowns, “hey, i was talking first!”

saturo doesn’t even hear him, his attention laser-focused on you as he runs a hand through his white hair, grinning like an excited puppy. “holy shit, i’ve seen all your movies! you’re incredible! i mean, not just pretty—you’re talented too! that last film? chef’s kiss. truly. pure brilliance.”

you stare at him flabbergasted by the sudden barrage of praise. “uh… thanks?”

saturo claps his hands together and then turns to dazai with a smug smirk. “sorry, what were you saying? something about basking in her light?”

dazai, ever the smooth operator, recovers quickly, “wait a minute…” he muses, leaning slightly closer to saturo, “you know, your voice is kind of… nice.” he cocks his head as if discovering a new piece of an intriguing puzzle. “almost like i’ve heard it somewhere before… perhaps in a mirror?”

saturo's eyebrows shoot up, a look of surprise briefly crossing his face before his smug grin returns again. “well, well, aren’t you observant?” he says, hands casually stuffed into his pockets as he looks dazai up and down. “i guess i should compliment your taste then—great minds and great voices think alike.” he chuckles, and you can almost feel the mutual smugness radiating off the two men.

chuuya, who has been silently simmering through the whole exchange, finally explodes. “are ya both fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls, fists clenching at both his sides. “first, i’ve gotta deal with him”—he jabs a finger toward dazai—“and now this jackass too?” his foot taps impatiently on the boutique's polished floor, like he's ready to fight both of them.

“chuuya tsk.. tsk you're just upset because your little card got declined.” he shakes his head chuckling, “i didn’t know the economy would reject you specifically. but you know, you could always start a gofundme or maybe, uh i don’t know, pawn that fancy hat of yours?” he smirks playfully. “i hear they pay well for vintage."

saturo chuckles, clearly enjoying their little banter chaos. “hey, i like this guy! he’s got jokes.” he leans over toward dazai. “you sure we didn’t cross paths before?” then, turning his attention back to you with a teasing glint, he adds, “don’t worry, sweetheart—i’m still your best bet if you’re looking for a hero.” his eyes glimmer with flirtatious arrogance, as if he’s already planned your honeymoon by now.

chuuya throws his hands up in exasperation, shooting dazai an accusatory glare. “this isn’t funny, dazai! how the hell are we even supposed to survive in this weird-ass world when my damn card doesn’t work? not to mention that this is your fault for bringing us to this ridiculous place!”

the bandaged man sighs briefly, slipping into a serious look, “you're right. but I guess it's time to become a street performer. i mean, with your size, you’d make an adorable little tap dancer. might even make some decent pocket change.”

“you son of a—”

“enough!” the hot black-haired guy, who had been silently observing, steps forward, placing a firm hand on chuuya’s shoulder again. “we’re in public. can we try to act like civilized people for five minutes?”

chuuya grumbles, his fists still clenched, but the black-haired guy’s firm grip on his shoulder seems to anchor him enough to stop an all-out brawl. he glares between the two idiots in front of him—dazai still grinning like a smug bastard and saturo, who looks like he’s already planning his next punchline.

saturo straightens, his grin shifting slightly. “ugh suguru..don’t be such a killjoy.” he gestures lazily at dazai, “i was just making a new friend.”

chuuya scoffs. “friends? yeah, right. who the hell are you guys anyway?”

“just… tell them your name already. this isn’t a fight club.” suguru rolls his eyes.

saturo shrugs, turning his attention back to you and flashing that million-watt grin. “well, since suguru insists.” he dramatically puts a hand to his chest as if introducing himself for the first time. “i’m gojo satoru. the strongest sorcerer and uh apparently,”—he glances at dazai with a smirk—“your newest competitor for this sweetheart's attention.”

you sigh, clearly having enough of this shitty situation that feels like the setup for a sitcom episode. the ginger looks more frustrated by the minute, and the sight of him glaring daggers at the so-called companions makes you feel slightly bad for him.

“alright, chuuya,” you say, pulling him toward the cashier, ignoring the stunned look on his face. you feel suguru follow, maintaining a calming presence beside you. the cashier looks just as frazzled as chuuya, but you’re determined to end this nightmare once and for all.

“wait, what are you doing?” chuuya protests, glancing back at you with wide eyes. “you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, really. it happens all the time,” you insist, shooting him a reassuring smile as you pull out your own card. “this is on me. plus you can pay me back in another way, though.”

dazai, overhearing this, perks up like a dog hearing a treat bag crinkle. he sidles over with that ever-present smirk on his face, leaning closer to you. “oh, you accept other ways? you naughty naughtyyy tsk!”

you roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm slightly, and ignore him completely. instead, you focus on the cashier, who looks thoroughly confused but also relieved to see the drama coming to a close. “just run this through, please.”

chuuya crosses his arms, clearly still disgruntled but unable to resist the tide of your determination. suguru shoots him a look that seems to say, “just go with it,” and chuuya huffs, lips pressing into a thin line.

as the cashier processes the transaction, you turn back to huuya. “it's fine, I really get it—everyone has rough days. uh how about you let me help you out a bit? i actually have a project coming up that could use two male leads.”

“it’s a vampire movie,” you explain with a grin spreading across your face as you watch chuuya’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “and honestly, you two fit the aesthetic perfectly. everyone i’ve auditioned so far has been terrible. i could really use your looks and… personalities,” you point toward the redhead and the hot black-haired man.

chuuya raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his features. “a vampire movie? seriously?”

“actually, I think you’d be perfect for the role. your features and that hair of yours are perfect for it.” suguro chuckles, nudging chuuya slightly.

you watch as chuuya’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. for the first time, he chuckles, rolling his eyes at suguro. “you wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve had to dress up like one just to save that idiot dazai’s neck.”

suguro chuckles back, shaking his head. “guess it’s time to redeem yourself.”

chuuya huffs but a small smile betrays him. “fine, i’ll consider it. but only if you promise i don’t have to wear any ridiculous costumes.”

“i can’t make any promises,” you say with a teasing grin.

suguro smiles, leaning against the counter. “i’ll accept the offer, too.”

you beam, feeling a wave of relief wash over you finally. “great! i’ll send you both the details later.”

“ugh, why is this so hard?” you can’t help but chuckle at his struggle, it’s not like you're defusing a bomb here—just rehearsing a kiss for a scene.

“chuuya, it’s just a kiss. how hard can it be?” you tease, raising an eyebrow, watching him pace back and forth through the rehearsal room like a caged tiger.

“just a kiss? have you seen your face?” he gestures wildly, and you swear you can see steam rising from his ears. “you make it look way too easy!”

you giggle glancing up as you hear a faint creak from the door only to see geto strolling in and casually leaning against the door frame. you can tell that he just got out of the shower as he holds a towel drying his luxurious black hair. you part your lips trying to take a deep breath as you see his damp hair clinging to his neck in a way that’s... well, distracting, and you're not above admitting that. but as he shakes the water from his hair, your mind drifts back—against your will, mind you—to that moment from a week ago.

technically, it was a regular day. nothing special. just you trying on a costume in one of those annoyingly small fitting rooms. and of course, it had to be the tightest, most ill-fitting costume known to mankind. the zipper might as well have been laughing at your misery as you wrestled with it, stuck halfway like it had a personal problem against you.

after what felt like an hour of struggle, you finally managed to peel the outfit off your body like some weird victory over fabric. and that’s when geto decided to make his grand entrance.

“oh, uh... wrong room,” he said and in that split second, you swore your heart had leaped out of your chest, seeing his eyes go wide, flicking down clearly taking in the delicate lace set you had on and oh, the way he stares makes your cheeks flush hotter than the sun on a july afternoon.

you are friends. just friends. well, maybe more than friends. the three of you are getting along—maybe a little too perfectly, if you are being honest. it is in the small things like how geto always have a lighter handy for you and chuuya, even though he doesn't smoke. you have no idea why, but somehow he’d always flick it open when you reach for a cigarette. that, combined with the lingering glances and casual touches that seems far too intimate to be strictly platonic, says something about where things are heading.

chuuya, on the other hand, is... well, he is oblivious. not that you mind it. he is just so focused on the roles you are rehearsing together that he hasn't picked up on the fact that you’ve been flirting with him for a while now. hell, geto had caught on, but chuuya? the poor guy needs it spelled out. you are going to have to make your moves more obvious—or, in chuuya’s case, maybe drastic.

and if you think back to certain moments—like that night when chuuya got himself absolutely plastered. that redhead brat went from zero to blackout drunk in record time, and of course, it fell on you to drag his sorry ass home. you just couldn't see him stumbling out of a bar, half-laughing, half-cursing, completely out of it and do nothing. to be fair, this all came after his impulsive bank robbery—yeah, you heard that right. a bank robbery. apparently, after the whole boutique incident, chuuya decided he was tired of being broke.

so there you were, guiding this drunken menace through the streets, and contemplating how you could spring him from the charges he was facing. he was barely coherent, mumbling something about the "best wine ever" and how the stars were "calling his name." romantic, right? wrong.

by the time you finally got him inside, chuuya, in all his sottish wisdom, decided clothes were optional. without a word—no hesitation, no second thoughts—he started stripping. pants off, dress shirt shirt flung across the room, and he was about to lose the rest when you jumped in.

“whoa, okay, let’s maybe not do that right now?” you managed to say, trying your best to avert your gaze but also wondering why the hell the universe had put you in this situation. because, let’s be honest, as much as you didn't want to stop him... you really, really should.

and you did stop him, somehow managing to wrestle him back into some kind of decency before he could make things even more harder for you. needless to say, he was so out of it, that he passed out immediately after—half clothed, thank god.

and you thank heavens that he doesn't remember a damn thing the next morning about his one-man strip show.

you blink as the sound of geto’s teasing voice yanking you from your thoughts.

“what’s going on in here? i could hear chuuya’s desperation from down the hall.”

chuuya glares at him. “shut it, geto. we’re just—”

“rehearsing a kiss,” you finish, unable to resist the urge to jump in.

“exactly,” chuuya huffs, crossing his arms defensively and pouting—god he's so adorable. “just a stupid kiss.”

geto smiles softly and steps further into the rehearsal room, “well, it can’t be that bad. show me what you’ve got.”

chuuya rolls his eyes, obviously being tested by geto’s teasing and you can see him mentally gearing up, “alright, but don’t laugh if I mess it up.”

you try to flash him an encouraging smile to ease him a little bit. “just breathe. it’s literally just a kiss.”

he nods stepping closer, you notice his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. he gets within a breath’s distance and suddenly seems frozen, his confidence evaporating as he stumbles over his own thoughts. “uh... so...”

you can't help but chuckle softly, leaning in a little closer to coax him. “come on, chuuya. just focus on my lips. you can do this.”

geto—who had been watching from the side with a knowing smile—decided to step in. “you know, it might help to ease the tension. let me give you a few pointers.

chuuya blinked, caught off guard but quickly nodded. “yeah, sure. anything to make it look… believable.”

without uttering a response, he strides over and gently cupping your sweet pink cheeks, leaning in to press his soft lips against yours, and oh god, it’s perfect. the world fades away, and for a moment, it’s just you and the warmth of his lips. you let out a soft gasp as he slips his tongue between your puffy lips, tilting his head for better acess making your heart race as your mind wonders if you’ve just been seduced in a rehearsal. honestly you’re taken aback by how natural it feels, how perfectly his lips fit against yours.

geto loses himself completely in the kiss, his fingers brushing through your hair as if he’s trying to pull you closer, as the kiss deepens a low hum escapes his wet lips. you feel a rush of pleasure floods through your entire body, and just when you think it can’t get better, he pulls away, slightly breathless and blinking as he locks gaze with your lips for a bit before averting his gaze to chuuya.

well as for chuuya, the ginger stands there, wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted as if he hasn’t fully processed what just happened. “uh… was the tongue really necessary?” he stammers, cheeks flushed an adorable shade of crimson.

geto chuckles, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “now you try.”

chuuya blinks again, still looking all flustered but still wants to get it right. he turns to you, hand sliding to your waist in a way that is awkward but endearing.

“fine… i got this.” his voice is hushed as his take your lower lip between his pink ones, trying to mimic what geto had done. it was just a kiss—chaste, careful, like he was still holding back. but then something clicked within you, the ginger's eyes snaps open before growling into your mouth as you slip your tongue into into his before twirling the two pink muscles together. you glide your delicate fingers through his messy strands, pulling him closer for a few seconds before he pulls back, breathing heavily.

“okay, that was… not acting right?” he says, his brows furrowing as he tries to catch his breath. “is that how it’s supposed to feel?”

geto sighs loudly, shaking his head in exasperation. “chuuya, how didn’t you notice? it’s been going on for a few months already. didn’t you realise it? because if you really want us to… you know...”

“ugh, thank you!!! finally someone who can read my hints,” you exclaim, shooting geto a grateful look.

chuuya blinks a few times, his brows knitting together as he processes what’s just been said. “wait, hold on,” he splutter, looking back and forth between you and geto. “are you both... serious?”

“god, i’m such an idiot. i thought we were just—” he pauses

“just friends?” you finish for him, giving him a playful nudge. “come on, chuuya. i thought i was dropping some pretty big hints.”

the redhead runs a hand through his messy hair, looking both at you and geto. “ so..uh..you really want us to fuck you?” he mutters, lips forming into a slow grin.. “like...both of us?”

“uh, yeah?” you say, biting your lip to suppress a smile watching chuuya and geto exchange glances more like a silent understanding seems to pass between them, and before you know it, geto strides over and lifts you off the ground effortlessly.

“wait, wait, wait!” you squeal, laughter bubbling up as you squirm in his grip. “what are you doing?”

“just a little detour to somewhere more private.” he says, glancing back at chuuya, who raises his eyebrows with a sick lustful grin plastered on his face.

“seriously, you guys, i can walk!” you protest, but the thrill of being swept off your feet makes it hard to sound convincing.

“good, ‘cause we'll make sure you won’t be walking straight for days.” chuuya says as he opens the trailer door, stepping inside with geto following suit.

the sound of a zipper being pulled down is the last thing you hear before you’re instantly pressed between the two men, their eager hands working quickly to strip you bare. the fabric falls away easily revealing more of your skin to their hungry eyes.

“damn,” chuuya breathes seeing your skin pebble once they hit the cold air. “you’re even prettier than i imagined.”

your eyes flutter shut as your head falls back on geto's shoulder and you relax for just a second before you feel chuuya's mouth encircled your nipple, his jot tongue swirling around your areola tasting your sweet skin as he groans softly against it.

“hngh—chuuya…” you whimper fingers tightening in his messy hair.

he releases your nipple with a slick pop, then brings his large palms to knead your pillowy breasts. as geto lifts you slightly, guiding your hips down to press against his hard cock. you open your eyes to glance down, breath hitching at the sight of him resting between your slick folds. you can't help but let out a soft gasp seeing how massive he is, tip coated with pre-cum and veins popping and soaked by your essence. you let out a soft moan as he peppers your neck with hot, wet kisses, goosebumps rise across the plains of your skin.

chuuya leans down easing you into geto's embrace and spreading your plushy thighs wider.

“look at her pussy—fuck s’pretty..” chuuya drawls as he spits on your swollen clit drawing lazy cut shapes on it, the warm fluid drooling between your puffy folds.

he then plunges his spit-slicked fingers past the swell of your plump lips, coaxing you to get even wetter for them as geto's large, gritty hands grip your ass, pulling you back and forth on his throbbing, leaky, fat cock.

“such a good slut, sucking my fingers so well,” your cunt clenches eagerly sucking on chuuya's long fingers, once he's truly satisfied, he pulls out of your cunt before smearing your juices all across your folds.

geto grips his cock in his palm, the leaky tip smearing your juices as he positions himself between your chubby cheeks. you never tried anal before and you never expected yourself to gasp that loud feeling the rush of spit pools against the pad of your tongue from him stretching your hole so perfectly. you cry out in surprise before chuuya swiftly plunges his tongue into your mouth swallowing your lewd noises.

“ffuck, i’ve been waiting for this, babe.” you hear geto's soft moans against the shell of your ear from behind, “... thinking of you in those lacy little things... mngh, you have no idea how many nights i couldn’t sleep, wanting to feel you... s’warm and tight around me.” he grips your juicy ass cheeks tighter, thrusting you down against him, as if he can’t wait any longer.

“ready for me doll?” chuuya breathes against your lips.

“yes ahh please chuu—mngh” you try to respond, but your words dissolve into a moan as you feel him slowly push inside your heated core. you had expected him to be gentle—just not this gentle. he languidly slides deeper and deeper, his head dropping forward to rest against your soft breasts, growling as he buries himself inside you.

you dig your nails into chuuya’s shoulders, forming delicate marks on his pale skin as you use him for leverage to push yourself back onto geto's cock. each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, making you shudder as chuuya fills you completely.

“god, you feel s’ fuckin’ good, doll,”

your moans get higher and higher mingling with their grunts and growling, chuuya finds himself thrusting faster than usual, his cock is pulsing from watching you nastily taking him and his friend's cock so perfectly.

“y-you okay doll?” chuuya breathes, his voice laced with awe as he watches your eyes roll back into your skull.

“ffuhmk—yes please more,” you cry feeling geto's pace starting to match chuuya's fast and hard ones, your body tenses up, pleasured from all angles, both with their girthy huge cocks filling you up to the brim, your vision blurs seeing through haze chuuya's eyes roll back, his fiery strands sticking to his face and neck, red hue blossoming under his skin and rapidly spreading to his chest.

“jesus f-fucking christ, you're so hot.” geto breathes against your skin tilting your head so that he can bite down your bottom lip gently before drawing circles with your tongues making the pair of you an even greater mess, both his hands reach up to cup your pillowy breasts squeezing them as they jiggle between the palm of his hands, “mmngh—sugu~ahh” the two of you moaning in unison.

before you can catch your breath, chuuya grabs your cheeks with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his lips crash against yours with a bruising intensity in a sloppy kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth as his fingers roughly toy with your clit, drawing sharp, almost painful pleasure from the sensitive nub. “you gonna cum for us, mngh? gonna be a good slut and cum?” he growls, cupid's bows wet from your searing kisses as his fingers cut circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

the world around you blurs as you're finally pushed over the edge with the repeated brush of their cocks against your spongy spots—a blinding white light floods your vision, static crackling in your ears. chuuya watches in awe, like he's witnessing a miracle, as you cum, your body convulsing with pleasure. at the same time, geto spills inside you, his warm release filling your womb to the brim. the intensity makes you feel like you might pass out, a scream ripping from your throat as the knot in your lower belly unravels with chuuya's twitching cock inside you as he too rocks inside you multiple times riding out his sweet release with force that makes your body shake as he paints your walls with his hot shooting cum filling you up perfectly. you three reach your peak together, perfectly in sync.

the world gradually comes back into focus, as you three try to calm down from your release. geto is the first to pull out, and as he does, you feel his cum slowly drip from your body. chuuya follows, watching in awe your ruined holes leaking with their seeds as your legs tremble from the overwhelming pleasure.

chuuya chuckles breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his brow, and gently rubs a hand over your thigh. “i’ll get the bath ready for ya doll,” he murmurs, voice still rough from the intensity of his orgasm, before standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

you nod, watching his bare form head to the bathroom as geto leans in close, pressing gentle, reassuring kisses to your lips while his strong hands tenderly massage your trembling legs. “relax, baby” he whispers between kisses, his lips still deliciously sloppy, “you did so well. let me take care of you.” he strokes your skin soothingly, bringing you down from the high as you try to catch your breath.

you give geto a tired but grateful smile, your chest still heaving, “t-thank you, sugu,” you murmur softly, watching his lips curl into a satisfied grin, and he continues to massage your legs, his fingers easing away the lingering tension.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @whiteelovex @dottedhalfnotes @victoria1676 @ghostedwriting @a-trashbag @bakedpotato12 @ambervanth @sakui1 @iams0up @osamucide @lighthoonie @chuuyascumsock

[happy74827]

Butterflies

[Harvey Specter x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You know you’re screwed when you feel them fluttering in your chest {GIF Creds: jeysuso}.

WC: 717

Category: Fluff

For all my Harvey lovers out there, I made a cute fluffy quickie (I’m seeing a lot of my fics being swarmed with love so why not add to it 🤗)

『••✎••』

It happened over a bottle of bourbon. A spilled bottle, actually. But a bottle of bourbon nonetheless, and that is important to note.

You didn’t mean to spill the alcohol all over your date, but he had made some comment about how you shouldn't be wearing a dress with a plunging neckline, so you just… happened to tip the entire thing over him.

The man was furious, of course, but he left pretty quickly after that. And you were left with a mess on the floor and a waiter hovering at the side, asking if you wanted another bottle.

You told him no. You just wanted to go home.

You didn't want a new date; you didn't want to sit at this stupid table with the stupid white tablecloth, the stupid, gaudy candlesticks, or the stupid waiter with the stupid, expectant look on his face.

"Miss?"

"No, thank you," you say, a little more firmly, gathering up your things and leaving as much cash as you can on the table. If you were smart, you'd have brought an umbrella, but you're not smart, so you'll just get drenched like an idiot.

But, fortunately for you, the person calling your name knew you well enough to know you weren’t that smart.

Before a drop of water could even hit your hair, a tall, dark figure steps out in front of you and blocks the downpour. Some might consider this a gentlemanly action, but you knew the man, and he was hardly ever gentle.

"You're welcome," Harvey says, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're a pain," you reply, but you're grateful for the cover.

"And you're dateless. So, I see two options: we can have dinner and a drink back at my place, or we can do dinner and a drink back at mine."

You can't help but laugh. "Did you use this on Scottie? I see why she left. That line was bad."

"You're not going to ask how I knew you were here?"

"Nope. You probably had Louis stalk me."

"Don't talk about the puppy like that."

"So you did have him stalk me!"

"I prefer the term 'make sure you were alright,'" Harvey replies, and he holds out his arm to you. "Guy was a douche. Let me buy you dessert to make up for it. And I don’t mean in the biblical sense, although that can be arranged, too, if you'd like."

"Harvey, you’re such—"

You turned to him, ready to tell him exactly what you thought of him, but the words died when you met his eyes. Those same eyes that allured you into taking his offer at Pearson Hardman. The same eyes that made you agree to work with him on the case despite your better judgment.

In a flash, you saw the whole thing: your first meeting, the cases, the laughs, the looks, the touches. And now, the moment.

When you were younger, the term butterflies had never really made sense to you. The idea of feeling them in your stomach seemed ridiculous, and yet, there you were, feeling them for the very first time.

They were all fluttering around inside of you, and all you could think was, "Oh, no."

And as if the universe had heard you, it suddenly stopped raining, and you both stood there in the middle of the street, the moon casting a warm light on your faces.

Harvey noticed it, too, and his expression softened. His usual cockiness was replaced with a gentle concern. "You okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "Yeah."

Harvey reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his hand lingering a moment longer than it needed to. He gave you that signature grin and asked, "You look like a velvet cake kind of girl. Am I right?"

He was right.

Goddamnit, he was right.

And as he swaddled you in his coat to keep you warm as you both went back inside, the anger and confusion you felt earlier melted into a quiet, warm glow.

Date night had not gone according to plan, but when his lips met yours and your hands slid through his soft, brown hair, you realized that, perhaps, sometimes, it was good to deviate from the plan.

The butterflies seemed to agree.

[boysmentfs]

Gym Opening.

With the amazing @kylestfs

The time was 9 in the morning, Louis finished breakfast with his mother, since his father was currently on a business trip, he got up from the chair and washed his dishes, His mother looked at him with pride, she had raised a kind, cute and responsible boy.

"Okay mom, it's time for me to go to school because I don't want to be late" he approached his mom and gave his a kiss on the cheek while grabbing his backpack.

"Have a nice day, son!" His mother shouted as Louis left the house and headed to school, once he entered his friends greeted him and began to talk about movies and video games, until the bell rang, so everyone went to their classrooms.

The hours passed, Louis had lunch at school with his classmates, took some more classes and so the day went by and now the clock read 3 pm, Indicating that it was time to leave, the bells rang and so everyone began to gather their things and began to go home

"Hey Louis" his friend said as he ran up behind him and gave him a small pat on the back.

"What's up, John? Do you have something to tell me? I need to get home and start doing the homework the teacher's gave us."

"No, nothing, I just wanted to ask you if you would like us to go together" John commented.

"Is that it? No problem, I can go alone, you don't need to accompany me, I'm not a little kid." Louis started laughing

"Well, if you want it that way, no problem, see you tomorrow, take care!" John commented as he left school and headed home.

Louis closed his locker, put his backpack on his back and started walking towards his house, he left school and headed towards his house, as he was walking he passed near a new gym.

"Wow, another gym, we don't need more of those, we need more comic book stores" Louis muttered to himself And before he could take another step, someone behind him covered his eyes and pulled him into the gym.

Once Louis was inside, he felt himself being sat in a chair, his hands tied, and he could clearly hear the gym door being locked.

"Help! Who are you and what do you want from me?"

The guy who had blindfolded him removed the blindfold so that Louis could see who had "kidnapped" him.

When the blindfold was removed, he saw that he was inside the gym.

The light in the gym was somewhat warm but at the same time somewhat dark, The guy felt a little scared, he wanted to ask for help but he knew that the boy in front of him could knock him down quickly, In front of him was a tall, muscular, bearded guy, he looked like one of those guys people called "jocks" and was able to confirm it, since it gave off a smell... Strange.

"He smelled like sweat..." Louis murmured.

But an acidic sweat and he also smelled like some semen, the smell of the gym was very intense and that made he head spin, When he looked around there were some exercise machines, benches, weights and all that stuff.

"To start with... You might be wondering, Who am I? Why did I kidnap you, well, I'm shake, the owner of this new gym I am 30 years old and why did I kidnap you? Well, We don't need such disappointing and nerdy people in this world, ya know?"

Louis didn't know what he meant by that, he wanted to get up from the chair to hit him but... His hands were tied and also...

The height of both was very obvious, the boy was super small next to the muscular guy, the nerd was barely 1'45 while the boy in front of him seemed to be 1'88, So even if I wanted to I couldn't knock it down.

"What do you mean the world doesn't need people like me? Explain yourself properly" Louis said in an angry tone.

"Well, you'll see," Shake said with a mocking smile, as he began to untie his hands.

The moment he untied his hands, Louis stood up and tried to run, but unfortunately Shake grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.

"Not so fast, nerd"

While with one arm he held Louis' shoulder, the other arm lifted him up and directed Louis towards his hairy, sweaty armpit.

"You inhale the smell, bro... Don't stop, soon you'll be a dumb, muscled guy like me... And above all, my frequent bro"

While Shake was saying that to Louis, Louis was trying to get away from him, but something told him that he wouldn't stop smelling his armpit so he kept doing it, while shake began to say words that Louis did not understand.

"you are a straight brother"

"You like girls"

"You like the smell that your big muscular body gives off"

"That makes you more masculine and manly"

As Shake said those words, Louis began to change.

His straight black hair began to turn a brownish hue as its shape changed from straight to wavy, He also began to grow in height, almost matching the size of the guy from the gym.

His face began to creak a little, as all the little baby fat began to oxidize to give him a more masculine and mature face, His pimples disappeared, his jaw became more defined while his skin also began to soften, His small lips began to enlarge and become fleshy, his nose changed, his brown eyes also changed to a brown color.

His skinny body began to burn, as he began to grow and muscles began to emerge, his clothes could not hold on any longer and tore as his shredded clothes fell to the ground revealing his new body.

He now had two big, juicy pecs, while his shoulders became broader, his torso expanded, his arms became more toned while now his triceps and biceps looked good, His back also expanded and grew giving him a back carved by the gods themselves.

His belly that was thin, now had a pack of 8 well-worked abs while on his sides he had some v-lines, As he continued to sniff Shake's armpit, his Adam's bell grew larger and stood out even more.

"That's it bro... Change and keep smelling my scent, I know you like it"

The changes were still happening, now his legs began to hurt, while his thighs grew to the size of a tree trunk, his calves also exploded, His jeans ripped as they could no longer hold the size, revealing his large, muscular legs as some brown hair emerged from them.

"You're a bro, all your friends are bro's, you're a frat guy"

"You love to leave all your candy inside the girls, you love to breed"

The moment Shake said that, Louis could feel a little excitement in his cock, he could feel it starting to grow in size and so it did, His cock began to grow and thicken, its vulnerable size of 10 centimeters stopped growing, now he had a large anaconda of 20 centimeters, erect and sore.

Now, his feet began to burn and hurt, as they grew in size, his toes lengthened while his feet gained some more flesh to make them look more masculine and worthy of a athletic man, And just like all his clothes, his shoes and socks also ripped off revealing his cute and juicy 15cm feet, The moment his feet came out of his sneakers, they began to give off an unpleasant and stinky smell, just like Shake smelled.

"You love the gym, your whole life is the gym, the girls, your brothers, the parties and the alcohol"

"You hate nerds, you make fun of them and you hit them"

After that, Shake let him go, Louis was surprised to see himself in the mirror that the gym had in front of him.

"What have you done to me!?... Wait- my voice... It sounds different, it sounds deeper"

"Of course bro, you already saw yourself in the mirror, right? A muscular and stinky bro ike us must have a deep, masculine voice, I just need the finishing touch"

Shake took a perfume out of his shorts pocket and began spraying it all over the gym.

"wait, what are you-"

The moment Louis inhaled it, his mind began to blur as his head ached, He put his hands on his head and began to growl.

"Uhh...."

His old memories were beginning to fade, he tried to hold on to them, but the scent of the perfume was too strong, new memories began to flood her mind.

He began to remember that he was always a spoiled child, he was always in the best schools and that his parents were millionaires, he remembered the countless times he had left several girls pregnant.

He began to remember that he started training at the age of 18 and now at 21 he had a body that he loved.

He remembered that he was in college and in the best fraternity, he remembered the countless parties he had had with his brothers.

His mind began to fill with girls and their big boobs, making him feel needy.

Brown hair began to grow in his armpits while a sweaty smell began to come out of them.

He started thinking about his girlfriend and her big boobs, making him came, saying goodbye to his old self.

"Bro! "You've made a mess in my gym"

"Sorry bro, but I couldn't help but cum at the thought of my girlfriend, but it shouldn't bother you, this will give a unique smell to your gym" Jake laughed as he punched him on the shoulder

"Whatever bro, here, go put these pants and boxers on, it's time to train"

Jake grabbed the gray-colored sweatpants and the boxers, headed toward the locker room. Once there he put on his pants and boxers, he saw some AirPods that he recognized as his own, He put them on while grabbing his phone that was in his locker.

"damn it, I look so goooooddd, My girlfriend is very lucky to have me"

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Birds Of A Feather

Rating: Teen Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Words Count: 5,320 Summary: Your four hour flight home to Philadelphia turns into a 24 hour trip where you're marooned in the St. Louis airport thanks to a snowstorm. You and Joel Miller, the handsome man you just met on your flight, keep each other company. Warnings: fluff, like the amount of fluff inside of a 7 foot tall stuffed bear fluff, snow storm, pov switching, cinnamon rolls and apple juice, flight anxiety, comfort, kinda soulmate vibes, good dad joel, proud dad joel, sarah's in college, reader is an interior designer from philadelphia, the whole one bed in the hotel room trope as well, nothing bad happens to joel miller in this house, lying for a ticket.

A/N: This was written for @burntheedges' Roll A Trope Challenge. I received snowed in and thanks to the always lovely @maggiemayhemnj she helped me with suggesting snowed in at an airport. This is very very soft and cute, I hope you enjoy! ❄️💕

Masterlist

❄️❄️❄️

Early morning flights are your favorite. The TSA line is usually short, coffee from the kiosk is fresh, the magazines in the newsstand are in order, and the airport is quiet in an early morning hush versus the roar of the afternoon crowds. You stop at the newsstand to pick up a magazine and a cinnamon roll before heading to your gate. You stuff your customary travel treats in your backpack looking forward to enjoying your newest Architectural Digest and sugar rush once you’re in the air.

❄️❄️❄️

A deep throat clear grabs your attention while you watch the tarmac crew prepare the plane. A broad man stands before you in the aisle, clad in a flannel and faded gray shirt taking up most of the tight space. Instant panic bubbles inside when you realize this gorgeous man is who you have to share a tiny cubicle with for the next four hours. 

“Hey, uh,” he stammers, a hand brushes the back of his neck in a nervous stance, “s’alright if I take the window? It’s… helpful to me.”

His voice is deep and husky with one of those famous Texas drawls, of course his voice is just as attractive as him.

“Not at all, I can take the aisle,” you say, awkwardly bending over to grab your bag. 

The handsome stranger attempts to back up as much as he can yet your body still brushes against his, he tenses before moving into the row and sits down with a big huff; if you thought he took up a lot of room in the aisle, the room he takes up in the cramped business class seat is something else.

He adjusts his shoulders to try to give you more space and fails miserably. He lets out a grumbly sigh while attempting to find a more comfortable position. His arm bumps into yours before you angle your body towards the aisle, trying to give the large stranger more room. At least he smells just as good as he looks… mint, coffee and burnt wood. There’s way worse looking people to be packed in like sardines with. 

The flight attendants walk the aisle and do their pre boarding steps, checking seat belts and doors before going into their safety spiel. Your seat neighbor shuffles nervously, tapping his fingers against his thighs. He’s a nervous flier, you can spot them a mile away. 

“Why are you headed to Pennsylvania?” you ask, turning towards him trying to cut through his nervous tension. 

“Oh, uh, to visit my daughter, she’s a freshman at UPenn. Wanted to spend the holidays with her,” he cracks a smile at the mention of his daughter. God, he’s handsome.

“That’s nice, it’s beautiful in Philly for the holidays. I’m from there, so if you need any tips on where to go and what to do, I can help.”

“Thanks,” his fingers still tap against his lap. “Guess you’re going back home then?” 

“Yep, I just finished a job and I haven’t been home in a month, just hoping to beat the snow.” 

“Here’s hoping… I’m Joel by the way,” he reaches his large hand out to shake yours. You grab his calloused and overworked hand then give him your name, he nods softly and repeats it. His deep voice echoes through your head, sending a shiver up your spine. 

“It’s nice to meet you Joel, even if it’s in this cramped airplane cabin.” 

“S’nice to meet you too,” he lets go of your hand, placing it back on his thigh, you notice that it’s no longer nervously tapping. 

Flight attendants, prepare doors for departure and cross check.

Joel lets out a big, deep sigh. 

“Nervous flier?” you ask.

“You could say that,” he grumbles. “Never liked giving up control of my life to someone I don’t know.”

“I understand that, but this happens to millions of people a day, you only hear about the bad.”

“I get that,” he chuckles, quickly stopping as the plane begins to roll on the tarmac. “Still don’t have to like it.” 

“Well, I fly all the time,” you reassure, “I’m sure everything will go smoothly.” 

“Here’s hoping,” he sighs, sinking deeper into the seat. 

You are the opposite of your seatmate, you love how the engines rumble as the plane picks up speed, the way your stomach drops when it lifts off the tarmac, the brief thud underneath when the wheels are tucked into the plane. Flying has never bothered you, it’s always been exciting and a means of getting to new adventures. 

The plane speeds across the pavement preparing for liftoff, your stomach drops before the wheels leave the ground... Joel’s hand grasps yours. Golden, thick fingers cover your hand squeezing tightly. You turn to him and your heart breaks a little at the sight, his eyes are squeezed shut with his nostrils flaring as he puffs deep breaths out. There’s something so heartbreaking watching this large, strong man look so scared. 

“Hey, you’re alright, it’s quick, very soon we’re going to be in the air and all we have to do is wait,” you try to sound as gentle and comforting as possible. It’s easy to take fearlessness for granted, especially when someone as large and seemingly intimidating as Joel looks so helpless. 

He nods, his eyes still tightly closed before swallowing a thick gulp of air.

Your free hand reaches up and opens his air vent before angling yours toward him. 

“Can you look at me Joel,” you whisper. His hand still clasps yours tightly. It hurts like hell, but you don’t mind; if it makes him feel better, he can clasp as hard as he needs. 

His brown eyes open wide and focus on you. 

“That’s good, Joel, can you take a deep breath for me? Iiiiiin and ooooout. Very good,” you encourage with a grin on your face holding his eye contact. “This is worth it, you’ll get to see your daughter, tell me her name and what she’s like.”

“H-her name’s Sarah, she’s uh, studying to be a doctor, sh-she’s way smarter than her old man, sh-she plays on the soccer team, got a scholarship for it ‘n everything, she loves music and going to too many damn concerts. She’s going to go deaf like me if she ain’t careful.”

“She sounds awesome,” you smile.

“She is, don’t know how I got so lucky.” 

“What do you do for work?” you keep him talking, making sure to distract Joel’s anxiety. 

“Contractor, I own a contracting service with my brother, we specialize in retail and office buildings.”

“Oh, that sounds like hard work, but it’s nice you get to work with your brother.”

“Could be better, could be worse,” he shrugs. 

“Hey, I’m an interior designer, we’re both in similar fields. How many carpenter pencils do you have? I probably have three floating around in my purse right now.”

He chuckles, his face loses its tenseness, Joel doesn’t attempt to take his hand from yours, and you don’t move to do it either. You work with contractors all the time, you’ve never seen one as gorgeous as him.

“My daughter always tried to get me to let her use ‘em for school work because they were a different shape, kept on having to take them away from her.” 

“She sounds tenacious.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muses.

Good afternoon passengers. This is your captain speaking. First I'd like to welcome everyone on Flight 86A. We are currently cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour. We’re going to try to avoid the snow the best we can, we’ll keep you updated in case anything changes.

You’ve been entertaining Joel so much both of you didn’t notice you totally missed lift off and your ascent into the sky. 

“Would you look at that? We’re in the air, you only have four hours until you get to see her.”

“Thanks for that,” he says, moving his hand from yours. “I feel ridiculous.”

“No need, I’m happy I could help,” you shake the tenseness out of your hand after the twenty minutes of being in Joel’s vice grip.

“You alright? Did I hurt you?” his eyes round in guilt under his furrowed eyebrows focus on your hand. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure. “You just have a strong grip. Must be all of that contractor business.”

He sends you a shy, crooked grin, “M’sorry.”

“I’ll survive, just like we’ll survive this flight together, Joel,” you wink.

He looks at you, his brown eyes turn darker and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “You’re quite someth–”

“May I offer you a drink?” the flight attendant interrupts. Worst fucking time.

You order an apple juice. Joel orders a black coffee. 

“Apple juice?” he asks. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of a tradition I have. I always get a cinnamon roll and apple juice every time I fly in the morning. Tastes kinda like apple pie when they’re together.”

“Hm, I don’t know about that,” he scrunches his nose and shakes his head. 

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” you shrug before pulling the cinnamon roll out of your bag.

You ask for an extra cup when the attendant brings yours and Joel’s drinks before ripping off half of the cinnamon roll and handing it to him. “Here.”

“No, no, it’s yours.” 

“Yeah, but I want to share,” you urge, “I got you a cup for apple juice too.” 

“If you insist,” he obliges, taking the soft pastry.

Half of your juice is poured into the extra cup before you hand it to him and raise your cup up to cheers. 

“To four hour flights and apple pie” you quip. 

“Cheers,” he says, gently shaking his head with eyes lit resembling something akin to affection.

You both take a drink of the sweet juice before picking up the cinnamon roll and taking a bite. 

“See?” you say, still chewing the sweet pastry. 

“Mmf,” he shakes his head and swallows. “Not apple pie, but pretty damn good.” He wipes the errant crumbs off of his mustache, you wonder if his lips taste like cinnamon and apples. 

“I’ll take pretty damn good,” you muse, picking up your magazine and settling into your seat. 

❄️❄️❄️

Joel glances towards you every chance he gets. He’s a realist, sometimes too much of one, he knows why he’s so calm during this flight– your comforting presence. He’s hated flying his whole life, his father never understood his fear, always telling him ‘I flew on planes bigger and louder than this all through the war, kid, buck up.’ Thanks dad, that’ll surely help the terrified eight year old crying and clutching to his mother. Sarah damn near broke his heart when she met him at the door excitedly waving the acceptance letter to a school 1,700 miles away. How could he crush his little girl’s dreams because her old man hates being in the sky? He got to bide his time, driving her in the moving truck to her new school, but now– with her first Christmas out of state and unable to fly home due to work– Joel was forced to step on the scary metal tube. 

He could hardly believe his luck when the pretty girl gazing out the window ended up being his seatmate; the excitement over being so close to you helped shield a bit of his trepidation over his first solo flight and then he went on to embarrass himself. You didn’t shake your head or shun him, you accepted and supported him. He can still feel your soft hand wrapped in his and hear your gentle voice coaching him down from a panic attack. You’re a complete stranger, and yet you’ve shown him more kindness than he’s allowed himself to accept in years. 

You adjust in your seat, your elbow brushes against his, little do you know he bunched up the sleeve of his flannel so he could feel the touch of your skin. 

He doesn’t know why you affect him the way that you do, it’s only been a couple of hours in the sky next to you, but he’s already trying to think of a way to give you his phone number. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, Captain Scott has informed us that we will be diverting to St. Louis due to the weather conditions at Philadelphia. We will be landing in approximately twenty minutes and will keep you advised about the continuation of this flight to our destination as information becomes available. We apologize for the inconvenience this may have caused. Thank you for your patience and understanding. We are aware that many of you have connecting flights departing Philadelphia. Our ground staff will work with you to confirm you on the next available flight to your destination. Thank you for your patience.

“Well, shit,” you sigh, placing your magazine down, rolling your neck and stretching your arms. “Had a feeling this might happen.”

“Shit indeed,” he sighs.

“How are you with landings, Joel?” you softly question. “Can I do anything for you?”

His heart skips, he hasn’t felt this feeling in years. Sure his little girl steals his heart every second of the day, but for a woman to make his heart race the way it is now making butterflies flutter through his stomach… that hasn’t happened in two decades. 

“No, I should be okay, thank you,” he says, feeling a bit foolish. 

“I’m here for you, okay?” The gentleness of your voice void of any judgment helps soothe his shame.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into St. Louis. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing, please be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened. Please secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table, and pass any remaining service items and unwanted reading materials to the flight attendants. Thank you.

His breathing turns rapid, he feels the phantom of fear rearing its ugly head 10,000 feet above the ground. He’s seen far too many videos of planes spurting flames and panicked passengers escaping down blown up slides. He remembers Captain Sulley and the miracle on the Hudson… that ain’t no miracle. Joel Miller is a realist, how about everyone almost died in the Hudson? He tries to breathe like that weird lady on TikTok Sarah showed him… make a square with every breath? Or make a line and then breathe? Christ, he can’t remember. His lips part to inhale more stale pressurized oxygen trying to calm his pulsating heart. This time your hand grabs his, he looks over at your face set soft with a reassuring smile, a wash of calm runs through him. You’re so beautiful.

“You’re alright Joel, I’m here with you,” you gently lilt.

He focuses on the soft back and forth of your fingers against him, centering himself and making the phantom back away. He loves the way your soft skin looks against his. Your nails are painted a light blue, it reminds him of the bright Texas morning sky. 

The plane descends as you hold his eye contact with that same beautiful and assuring smile lighting up your face. 

“We’re almost on the ground, you’re doing so good,” fear and veneration perform a duet in his heart making it pound against his chest. 

The wheels hit the tarmac, he lets out a huge breath of relief. Your hand still holds his, even as he visibly relaxes. He watches the light blue of your nail polish swipe back and forth against the top of his hand. 

Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to St. Louis. The local time is 9:45 AM. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisle clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight. We thank you for your patience, rest assured our staff is here to help you.

“Well, I know it’s not home, or Sarah… but we’ll make the best of it,” you say, pulling your bag out from underneath the seat. He loves how positive you are, he needs someone like you in his life.

❄️❄️❄️

Three hours of being stuck in the airport have slowly ticked by, at least you have the company of your new travel partner. You check your weather app for the millionth time, no change at all… snow still falls all along the tri-state area.

“Anything?” he asks, looking up from his Sports Illustrated. 

“No luck,” you shrug, “I’m starving.” 

“Come on,” he points his head towards the restaurant near the gate, “my treat.”

You follow him, wondering why you feel so excited over this impromptu lunch date. You can’t deny your attraction to him, an inkling inside of you makes you believe Joel might feel the same. Yeah, you might be stuck in St. Louis, your return to your comfortable bed and bathtub postponed due to the falling snow, but at least you have your handsome flight partner with you. 

The restaurant is nice, a typical Concourse B type place full of simple people enjoying a hot meal, simple menu, a simple design inspired by of all things– airplanes. 

Joel asks for a table near the window, the hostess obliges, leading you to a table in a quiet section of the restaurant. He pulls the chair out for you, southern manners and all. 

He takes a seat with a humph, mumbling how tight his back is from all of the damn sitting. You order a hot tea, he orders a coffee. 

You’ve known him for a grand six hours and yet you’re going to remember this usually milquetoast adventure for a long, long time. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asks, perusing the menu. 

“Turkey sandwich and soup,” you answer, mouth already watering at the idea of your meal. “You?”

“Burger ‘n fries. I’m hungry though that half of a cinnamon roll sure did satisfy,” he sends you a barely perceptible wink. 

“So, do you have any plans for you and your daughter?”

“She says she has an idea or two for us, she’s a planner, I’m just there to see her, this is the longest I’ve been away from her.” His voice drops, a slight hitch in his breath appears, you can feel the sadness radiating off of him. He must be such a good dad.

“Sounds rough,” you empathize, wishing you could recreate what happened on the plane and put your hand over his while telling him everything will be okay.

“Yeah, it’s been difficult, it’s just been me and her since forever. I know she’s happy and fulfilled, that's all I can ask for.” 

You wonder where Sarah’s mom went, why it’s just the two of them, and most of all if he’s single. How can you be falling for this almost stranger and his big heart that sits below his broad, flannel covered chest?

“I moved far away for art school and it was the best decision I ever made. I'm so thankful for my parents letting me have that experience. You should be proud of her… and most of all you should be proud of you.”

He looks over the brim of his coffee mug, takes a drink, and places it down on the table before grabbing your hand.

“You’re so– I’ve never met anybody like you before,” he says, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. 

The restaurant and airport disappear from your periphery, it’s only you and this man from Austin on the way to your hometown to see his daughter. This has never happened to you before… a spark of something you have no clue what to call shared between the two of you. 

“I could say the same thing to y–,” you're interrupted by the waitress’s arrival, Joel’s hand retreats from yours; the physical and emotional connection between you and Joel is broken by your food being placed on the table. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Joel asks as he grabs the Tabasco bottle and shakes a smattering of drops over his burger. 

“No clue,” you sigh, “I wish I could take a nap. What did your daughter say when you told her?”

“Oh, she was fine, disappointed but she told me she’ll still get over a week with me once I get there,” he shakes his head, his face lifts with a doting grin. “She’s always the glass half full type.”

“And let me guess, you’re much more of a ‘the damn glass is half empty’ type?” 

“Always.” 

“Mm,” you nod, before taking a bite of your turkey sandwich. 

❄️❄️❄️

His heart beats harder against his chest as he watches you approach him from the ticket counter. 

“Any new update?” he’s nervous, he hasn’t felt this nervous in years. He never realized how much he missed this type of emotional tension that pulls his back to stand straighter. 

“The storm hasn’t let up, all airports in the area are on a ground stop, and now with the storm here, I think we’re screwed,” you close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. You look exhausted, spending all day in a packed airport has obviously taken its toll on you. He wants to wrap his arms around you, carry you to whatever destination you need to go to and never let go. He can’t believe he’s thinking like this, he doesn’t even know your favorite color or movie. “I’m sorry Joel.” 

He hates watching your face drop, you’ve done nothing wrong. “Hey, none of that,” he takes a tentative step forward, he’s worried to overcross a line, but your sunken shoulders and defeated posture pushes him forward. He wraps his flannel clad arms around you, pulling you into a hug. Your body instantly molds to his, finding the perfect spot on his chest to rest your head against. A sweet and grateful sigh breathes out of you, radiating through his whole body. 

“Looked like you needed this,” he says against your hair, breathing the feminine scent of you in. He hasn’t been this close to a woman like this in years. Sure he’s had some hookups here and there, but a real honest to goodness connection with someone after only half of a day spent together? Never happened. He feels lucky.

“I did, thank you,” you breathe out. He still holds you, making zero attempt to let go. You imagine to the average passerby you resemble a couple in love, standing in the airport terminal, holding each other. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks, still holding you tight. “I think there’s a pretty good restaurant here.”

“I am, a real nice guy once took me to lunch there,” you pull away. “It’s my treat this time.”

❄️❄️❄️

Joel stands at the ticket desk, it’s now his turn to see if there have been any changes. It’s been twelve hours of being marooned in this airport, you should feel more miserable at this point, but the constant support the two of you trade back and forth to each other has helped alleviate the ugliness of stress. 

“Any luck?” you ask, perking up when he stands in front of you.

“Actually, yeah, they have a 9 AM flight to Philly tomorrow afternoon,” he says, tucking his ticket into his pocket. You can’t look him in the eyes, if you do you’re going to think about how much you’re going to miss him… this man you’ve only known for a grand total of twelve hours. “There’s two seats left… and I got one. The lady at the desk is waiting for my fiancee to go get her ticket.”

Your eyes widen at what he implies.

“Oh, ohhhhhh,” you grin. “Clever man.”

“Yeah, I need your help, since I’m a nervous flier and all…”

Your knees feel weak from the doting smile Joel gives you. “Thanks love,” you stretch and kiss his cheek before heading to the ticket counter.

❄️❄️❄️

He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk over to the counter. He can still feel your lips against his cheek, there’s a foreign feeling in his heart. He’s already thinking about introducing you to Sarah, what the hell is this? 

The airport worker laughs at something you say, of course they’re charmed by you, you’re such a sweet thing, like cinnamon rolls and apple juice. 

You turn, a big smile lights your face when you walk back to him, waving your ticket in the air. 

He chuckles out a nervous snicker when you skip over and wrap your arms around him.

“The agent pulled in a favor and got us a room at the hotel attached here, she said she has a softness for ‘lovebirds’ like us,” you pull away with a mischievous glint lighting your face. “Plus, she thinks my fiance is handsome.”

“Uh… okay,” he’s not sure what you’re implying, you’re far too special to him already for a one-night romp in a hotel room. 

“No funny business Joel,” you wink as you grab your bag. He can’t believe how well you read him. “Now, let’s go get our luggage and check in.” 

❄️❄️❄️

You enter the keycard into the door thanking that lovely ticket agent for access to a comfortable bed. And it’s just as you feared… a bed…  just one, singular bed that greets you in this average airport hotel room. 

“I can take the chair,” Joel nervously says.

Part of you wishes he wouldn’t have offered.

“If you want, but the bed is big enough for both of us,” you shrug out of your jacket. 

“S’okay, wouldn’t feel right.”

It’d feel just fine to you, but you don’t say anything, instead you open your luggage and fish out your toiletry bag and your pajamas. 

“It’s almost midnight, I’m going to get my shower and get ready for bed.”

❄️❄️❄️

His foot nervously taps against the carpet, goosebumps prickle along his arms when he hears your sigh reverberate against the shower tiles. Why is he so anxious? It feels like prom night all over again; he’s just a shy boy waiting for the beautiful girl to give him a sign, any sign, that she likes him. The last time he felt like this Sarah was born nine months later.

He grabs the TV remote trying to find a reprieve from his anxious thoughts, flipping it to the news. The anchor drones on about the great holiday snowstorm. In a way, he’s thankful for the blizzard– sure it means even more time in a flying panic tube, but at least he met you. He vows to not let any type of temptation get in the way of what feelings are developing between you two. No matter how much he thinks about your naked body in the shower and how good your body wash smells. 

❄️❄️❄️

You emerge from the bathroom, clean and fresh in your pajamas. 

“Should’ve figured you’d be an Eagles fan,” he says, smirking at your oversized and faded sleep shirt.

“Let me guess, Cowboys fan?”

“Forever and always.”

“Oh, well, you’re my enemy now.”

He laughs, “I’m sure I am.” 

You tuck yourself under the covers while Joel takes his shower, quickly falling asleep to the sounds of whatever generic late night host is cracking jokes on the TV. 

❄️❄️❄️

He quietly opens the bathroom door, the hotel room is bathed in the dim glow of the television. You're already fast asleep, cuddled under the white duvet, you look like an angel surrounded by clouds. Of course you're beautiful when you sleep. He tries not to stare too long, and yet he's planted in the threshold of the bedroom admiring you. He feels lucky at this moment, being able to watch someone as pretty as you slumber peacefully, while trying to silence the fact that tomorrow you both will go your separate ways. He doesn't want to say goodbye.

❄️❄️❄️

A bassy groan and shuffle in the dark floats through the air waking you. The clock reads 1:45 AM. “There’s enough room in the bed for you, you know?”

“I know, just don’t want to overst– I’m still a stranger.”

“No, you’re my fiance, remember?” you shuffle the sheets on the other side of the bed down, “Joel, please, I insist.”

He sighs when he stands and makes his way to the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, you can feel heated tension radiating off his body, the strong specimen of all man lays insecurely next to you. 

“Joel, relax,” you whisper before placing your hand on his chest feeling the rapid beat of his heart. 

“I’m okay, I-I just– haven’t done something like this in so long.”

“What? Laid in bed next to someone you’ve known less than a day? I’ve actually never done this.”

A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest. “No, just haven’t met someone as real as you in a long time. Is it real?”

“It’s real,” you say, shuffling closer to him, replacing your hand with your head. He wraps his arm around you as you listen to the pitter patter of his heart. “Goodnight Joel,” you whisper, closing your exhausted eyes. 

“G’night,” he purrs, you feel the ghost of his lips against your hair as you drift to sleep. 

❄️❄️❄️

He lays awake most of the night, too afraid to fall asleep and disturb your beautiful sleeping form. He wishes he could record the cute sounds that emit from you as you slumber and dream, he’d listen to them forever if he could. He can’t believe he’s thinking this way, what should’ve been a terrifying and lonely standard trip to see his daughter has turned into an adventure of a lifetime with a woman he’s already crazy for. 

Sure, he’s shared a bed with others since Sarah’s mom, he’s had a couple of flings here and there, but he never allowed himself to cuddle or care for them. They were never good enough for him… or most importantly Sarah. He thinks Sarah would adore you. 

The red digits on the alarm clock read 3:00 AM, he’s known you for a grand total of twenty hours. Meaning he only has about eight hours left, he’s already dreading saying goodbye. 

❄️❄️❄️

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Your groggy eyes open, you move to silence the alarm but you quickly realize you’re trapped under a heavy weight. Joel. He groans against you, with his arms held tight around your stomach and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. 

“Joel, it’s time to get up.”

He tenses against you and quickly unwraps your body from his hold.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly says, reaching across you to turn the alarm off. 

“It’s okay,” you want to tell him you didn’t mind it all, that you haven’t slept that well in years, but you stay quiet. 

“I’m just going to… get ready,” he stands, stretching and wiping his tired eyes. You try not to focus on the glimpse of his stomach remembering what it felt to have the soft swell of him against your back. “Don’t think I’ve slept that well in years.”

The bathroom door shuts as you flop back into bed, welcoming the fluttery feeling inside your body. “I feel the same way,” you confess to the empty hotel room. 

❄️❄️❄️

Flight attendants, prepare doors for departure and cross check.

“Well, we’re back to where we started, it’s been quite an adventure,” you smile.

“It has,” he clears his throat, reaches for your hand and sends you a soft smile. “I have ten days in Philadelphia, I was wondering if you have any good suggestions for a nice, romantic place to take someone I really like to?” 

[winnie1emon]

“I’m a man now”

lorenzo berkshire x american!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 1.3k

cw: mdni!! kind of childhood friends to lovers, sort of rekindling, cursing, heavy makeout, sexual language, tiniest bit of fluff (?)

an: lowkey not proofread since I did this instead of sleeping, first piece of work on this blog, title may or may not be a play on louis’ role in enola holmes haha

As sweat began to bead on your forehead, you shielded your eyes from the raging sun, watching the ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour melt in your hand. In your other hand, were bags of books, a new set of robes, and a brand new cauldron for you to start your final year of education but first school year at Hogwarts after having transferred from Ilvermorny. 

You turned your head to look behind yourself, seeing your mom chatting animatedly with her friend who you know to be Mrs. Berkshire. You remembered her obscurely from the summers she would spend in America when you were younger, bringing along her son– Lorenzo.

Lorenzo was walking beside his mother, casually eating his ice cream without a care in the world. You used to spend time with him as kids in the summer, but it had been about 5 years and you definitely had suspicions about his newfound personality. Despite your mother's insistence on you rekindling your friendship with the seemingly sweet Lorenzo, you spent most of the afternoon purposefully walking ahead of him or trailing slowly behind him. Stopping at a trashcan to wipe your hands with a tissue and throw away the remainder of your ice cream cone, you’re startled when your mother suddenly speaks to you. 

“Got everything you need?” She asks, placing a hand on your back. Regaining your breath, you turned to her, wiping off a bit of sweat on your forehead. 

“Yeah, mom, scared me. Can we go now? It’s terrible out here,” you complained, squinting at the sun. You looked around the bustling environment of Diagon Alley and saw Lorenzo staring at you from the corner of your eye. He stood there, tall and handsome, the sun hitting him in all the right ways. You shut your eyes for a second before opening them back up at your mom in an attempt to distract yourselves from his appearance. 

“Mhm, we’re going to stop by the Leaky Cauldron first though, Lorenzo’s hungry,” she told you. Noticing the hesitant nod you gave her, she added, “Y/n.. you guys used to be such great little friends, why don’t you sit beside him once we sit down to eat?” A slight frown formed on your face as you mumbled a small sure and began to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron with your mom, Lorenzo and his mother following behind. 

As the four of you entered the pub, your mother sat beside Lorenzo’s, giving you a knowing smile. You dubiously took the seat beside Lorenzo, averting your gaze, determined to stare at your mother’s eyebrows and zone out. You’re brought back to reality as Mrs. Berkshire orders. “Three butterbeers and a, uh hot tea for me please,” she smiled at the waiter. The moment the waiter left, you realized it would be the most awkward wait ever, so you excused yourself.

“Just going to use the bathroom real quick.” 

You entered the small, dingy bathroom that was dimmed, noticing the lack of foot space. You looked in the mirror, dabbing off a bit of the extra sweat you had from outside off your chest with some toilet paper. You reached down to your low-rise jeans, fishing your lipgloss out of your pocket. Reapplying the lipgloss, you saw the door open behind you through the mirror and flinched, turning around immediately, hands behind you, resting on the sink. “Holy shit! Who the fuck..” you huffed out, holding your hand to your heart. “Lorenzo. Why would you–?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Mhm, coming into the bathroom unannounced; a sure way to lull someone into comfort,” you retorted. “Wh-what are you even doing here?” You furrowed your brows in confusion, staring at his face. 

“You know,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Just wanted to see why you were avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” you asked incredulously. “There’s no reason for me to avoid you,” you added defensively. “What, you thought I was too scared to talk to you this whole time?”

“Look, there’s no,” he scoffed. “--there’s no need to lie,” he grinned, stepping closer, and you could almost convince yourself that he gazed at the sweat glistening on your chest momentarily. “You don’t have to tell me, it’s fine.” You furrowed your brows from his change of heart and said nothing. “So,” he exhaled. “What have you been up to?"

“Nothing really… bit bummed I had to move, but it’s whatever now,” you shrugged, grateful for the change in direction. “You?” 

“Yeah same, nothing too. Why don’t you like it here?” Lorenzo asked. 

“Dunno… seems a bit boring here. Plus all the guys I’ve seen so far– they seem so immature. The amount of yelling I heard in Flourish and Blotts; insanity.,” you groaned. “They’re all just little boys to me honestly.” Your eyes darted around the bathroom, pursing your lips slightly. 

“Pfft, yeah. I get what you mean, some of them are horrible.”

“They were like you when you used to come over to America,” you teased, a small smile forming on your face. “A complete twit as you people call it.”

“Please,” he sighed. “I’m a man now.”

“Mmm, uh huh,” you nodded hesitantly. The mood somehow shifted, the air becoming palpable. “I’m sure you are.” You gave him half a smile, teasingly. To your surprise, Lorenzo stepped forward, taking one of your hands into both of his and looked into your eyes.

“Missed you.” He said that so casually, the words coming out of his mouth like he had been itching to say those words for an eternity. Taken aback by the change of tone, you paused for a few seconds before saying,

“I missed you too. You’re quite handsome now; did you know?"

Lorenzo placed a hand on your jaw, lightly rubbing it. “Y’think so? Cause you’re not so bad yourself.” Your lips parted slightly, but no sound came out of your mouth. His eyes darted around your face, from your eyes, to your lips, even to your flushing cheeks. 

“Lorenzo?” You asked, receiving a quiet hm from him in return. “What are you doing?” you asked, unable to contain a giddy grin. 

“I mean, I think I’m about to kiss you, but I’m not entirely sure,” he answered cheekily. 

“Oh, just do it you absolute twat,” you sighed.

 And that he did. Lorenzo met your lips with his own, his hand snaking around your back. The kisses, at first, were light, you guys pulling away every so often to catch your breaths before he started to kiss you sloppily with increased fervor.

His hands trailed from your back, one resting on your waist, the other reaching down to your ass. You let out a small gasp in surprise, biting your lips to suppress a moan as he reeled you closer to him, grasping at your ass. Pulling your lips away from his, forehead to forehead, he met your surprised look with a coy smile before grazing your swollen lips once more, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

As he pushed your back into the sink, you pulled away, both of your breathing ragged, some stray strands of hair sticking to your face. “Hey…” you exhaled out. “Don’t you think our moms are getting suspicious since we’re taking so long?” You gave him a dazed look, wiping off the excess lipgloss from his lips with your thumb.

“Nah, I told them I was going upstairs to see a friend who’s staying here,” he said, his body still yearning for your touch. 

“Well, what about me?” you questioned. ‘Wh-what will I say?” 

“Just say you blew up the toilet or something…” he teased, his face still tinged with a rosy hue. “I’m kidding, I’m very mature.”

You bit back a giggle, rolling your eyes. “You’re really not, you are making me enjoy my move much, much more.”

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[m0chisenpai]

Mochi what do you think about 90s model reader (think brandi quinones) and loumand (they 100 percent watch fashions shows in modern days)?

Its cannon that they like people who capture attention (*coff coff* lestat). I think they would meet her in a show and would send her flowers and letters to court her and all that jazz

Sorry if this is weird :/

vogue

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

in which your pefermonce off and on the runway catches their attention

author note: I ate this up so much, I literally scoured Pintrest and fell down a rabbit hole and have to fight every desire in my body to do another multipart series for this

The production people move like flies past your eyes while you sit in your regal beauty. Eyes unblinking, legs crossed perfectly, your hair now braided pulled up into a bun with a few pieces falling and curled.

You hold the hand of Armand, his finger runs over and over. You've come to learn this calms not just your nerves but his as well. Louis remains off to the side, he is weary of cameras these days. Preferring to leave you and Armand to such matters.

But when you pout those lips and flutters those ethereal eyes he relents to sit to the sides.

When the interviewer settles in the chair he has your attention and your back straightens.

"Runway, Vogue and Dior, red carpets, music videos. But your most recent appearance in the critically acclaimed rock star The Vampire Lestat's music video put's you back in the public eye when you should look much more...different." That breaks your picturesque facade with a light giggle that crinkles your dark lined eyes,

"That damned name'

'Calm yourself my love.' You catch Louis' fleeting gaze.

"How does the face of the 80s and 90s reappear in the 2000s rained in blood and completely untouched by age?"

"Hmm I think I have my wonderous loves to thank for that, there are only so many things that can hide the thief of the night that is time. But I seem to be lucky to have escaped its grasp." Armand places a languid kiss to the back of your hand while Louis raises his glass from the side.

"I believe the Gift only encapsulated the beauty she had from the moment we first met." Armand speaks up.

"And this would be during your rookie years as an athlete may say?"

"Yes at the beginning of my runway career in my early 20s, though I would not turn till 30. Around the mid 80s I was found by my lovely companions when I was at my lowest. Watching from the sides. And I did everything to ensure not to fall in love."

"Cheeky." Louis coos in your mind.

"Let's go back then, how were you back then? You say you were at your lowest but your face was desired by so many."

"Beauty, fame, money, sex is all so fleeting. And the fashion industry sucked every bit out of you till you were a husk for them to drag along until the needles and knife was needed to hide any evidence of your decline."

Armand will never admit it out loud but he was particularly fond of the 80s and 90s. He loved the fashions o each era, but he fell in love with runway. It was theatre in an entirely new facet. Louis can recall, though his companions face was stone cold, the glimmer of warmth in his eyes that watched each and every model. Catching every small finite detail.

Louis was more than happy to donate and invest in the ocassional piece for Armand who returned the favor. Until one evening they are encaptured by a beauty amount the sea of tall skinny legs.

This angel that graced the runway one evening of Paris Fasion week. It was dull, Armand confided in Louis as they dressed for the show they and and a few exclusive members were invited to.

One by one Armand began to count them like sheep until she entered. A sheer black tube tob pencil skirt dress with a billowy white blouse beneath. Your eyes are smoky and sharp and your lips a bright chery red. When you walk, you lack the stiffness the other girls move with, no no you glide. The runway is your stage, you dance so beautifully.

Armand sits up as you walk past. He neded you then, he neededyou now.

When you are off you brush past the fussy designers who bark orders in French that is too fast and English far too broken. All you care to know is you have a period of relief to indulge in a smoke and soon after a bump from one of your acquaintances.

You slump in your seat, a cigarette warms you up as you enjoy the momentary silence until you are up again. You grow tired, bored of this. You see it boiling in your eyes, past the makeup, the eye liner and rouge.

From your side one of the assistants carefully moves to your side.

"For you ma'am a gift from some of our most generous investors of the arts."

"M' not sleeping with them" you mumble around the still lit cigarette which dangles from your lips as you open the card tucked into the dozens of fresh roses.

"A rose for a rose." You grumble putting out your cigarette on the card and getting up to squeeze into the sheer scandalous dress though you would hardly call it that with the pièce de résistance being an intricate veil that twists and covers and is encrusted with diamonds around your face and binding in the back.

As you go to line up, standing still for any changes and a quick make up touch you are nudged to get in line. But a thought lingers in your mind.

When you walk you can't help but wonder, which one of you wants to sleep and tell the tale, hm?

"On the contrary my dear." You almost falter when you turn to walk back. That man's voice sends shives down your spine as you carefully make sure not to falter. "We would prefer to have you more than just in the flesh."

His partner to the left flashes you a cocky smile. He's lucky you are being watched otherwise you would have scowled.

"Aw, don't scowl like that chere."

They follow you to London. Your picture is in all the tabloids and paprazzi is stationed outside of your hotel where you quckly find the bar. In an act of defiance, and trying to add your flare, you stopped during midwalk to kiss the collar of your mysterious suitor leaving a perfect red stain.

Since then your manager has been bombarded with numerous calls for editorials, spreads, and interviews.

"Another glass for her please."

Your eyes cut to the beautiful man whose eyes look enchanting through the fog of smoke he carefully clows away from your direction. A black turtle neck tucked into a pair of slacks to battle the chill.

But no words can describe the work of art that are his eyes which stare deep into your yours,

"I don't sleep with fashion fanatics, not anymore at least" you mumble into the dirty martini before a new one is placed in front of you.

The corner of his lips twitch into a mix of a smile and a smirk.

"Nah I'm not into the whole art of fashion. Just a simple collector is all," he watches how your luscious lips leave a red imprint along the rim of the glass.

"Oh? And do I fit your collection?"

He hums, "I'd dare to say you outshine it."

"Let me guess," you rest your cigarette in the ashtray to give him your undivided attention. "Your wife wants to watch doesn't she?" Your eyes look pass his shoulder at the women and some of your fellow workers.

"Your far off. Got no wife, but my companion does enjoy to watch ocasionally." Louis leans forward, his chin on your shoulder and his cold lips touch your ear. "And he's been watching this entire time my dear."

Your head quickly turns and sure enough, a man watches at the end of the bar. A gass half filled, his both arms rest on the counter and his eyes remain unmoving on you both.

"Put her tab on my card will you?" Your mysterious heart throb drops a card that clanks and you catch a glimps of the name.

"Louis de Pointe du Lac" you read it to yourself as he stands to walk languidly to the man. Placing a hand don his shoulder and sitting beside him.

You should be unnerved by their constant appearances, but you enjoy this game of cat and mouse. Sharing words at afterparties, drinks at hotel bars, and one night together in the satin sheets of Milan.

Your room is always filled with flowers when you arrive. Champagne and chocolates await by your bedside. You never fail to find their eyes in the crowd, you dare to say this is what love must feel like.

You keep the notes and letters from Armand. His way with words are what bring the light back in your eyes as you walk and model.

Whatever it is, your agent tells you one day, keep it up. because you begin t see a spike in your career and appearances. Leading you to walk your first large red carpet event.

When you step out of the shining vintage car immediately you are met with flashes, clinging to your sur shrug for comfort imagining their arms as you walk and pause for questions and for photographs.

"Can we be under the assumption you have a special someone?" Your interviewer asks over the roar of paparazzi and photographers at a red carpet event.

"Hmm, I guess you could continue to speculate." You give a cheeky grin to the camera as you walk off with a flurry of questions at your leathered heels.

When you enter the museum hosting the charity event they await you. Your drop your shrug into the arms of one of the attendants while Armand takes hold of your clutch. You walk in between them looking at the beautifully restored and donated pieces. The theme is very rococo and you adore it, the artwork, pottery and ceramics and the beautifully restored gowns on display.

"Oh my goodness look at this one, it reminds me of a Monet" you coo as you stand before the water lily pond. Your hand on your chest as you pause. You wish it were yours. Though it is not the original you want it still.

And that's enough for Armand to place a red sticker near the artists name.

"Oh you didn't have to, Armand." you pout at him as he cups your jaw looking into your eyes.

"You clearly desired it, did you not?" When all you do is nod he hums. His thumb begins to stroke the soft skin of your jaw. "Then you shall have it."

"We would travel the cities I was in. And during the off season I spent here or in the comforts of one of our other homes. I believe Berlin will be our destination this year for the holidays, right my love?"

And how can Armand no to those eyes.

They gleam with mischief, golden flakes sparkle in your bright eyes. "Whatever her hearts desires I have assumed the duty to fulfill each ofthem, we both do."

You shush him, had you still been mortal you swear your cheeks would be flushed.

The interviewer

"But I believe this Gift would have to be my most treasured one."

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Veronica Lake (I Married a Witch, Sullivan's Travels)—her look is so iconic they used her as a visual model for jessica rabbit in who framed roger rabbit and a bunch of other femme fatale types in cartoons and live action alike. i didnt think i liked women and then i saw her in sullivans travels and said gee i hope this doesnt awaken anything in me! every role ive seen her in she absolutely oozes an aura of "i know people would ask me to step on them" and her EYES bro every photo ive looked at for this submission its like shes piercing thru time and space to judge me <3

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Veronica Lake:

Her HAIR, her FIGURE, her VOICE, the way she wore LEATHER AND SANG SONGS FOR NO REASON.

I don't believe there's a person on earth who can watch Veronica Lake in I Married A Witch and not be struck by how gorgeous she is. She had that youthful wonder about her that almost every Hollywood starlet was trying to achieve. Her hairstyle (peekaboo bangs) became an iconic Hollywood style after she popularized it, and made her signature look all the more suggestive. Also, witches are tumblrs favorite!

ICONIC hair sweep

The US government literally begged her to change her hairstyle because it was TOO HOT to handle and women who copied it were getting their hair caught in machinery

Her hairstyle was so iconic and popular that the war department had to come out with a PSA instructing lady ironworkers with ways they could pin their hair up to avoid it getting bound in machinery. [https://veteranlife.com/military-history/veronica-lake/]

She played a lot of femme fatale roles but my favorite is Sullivan’s Travels opposite Joel McRea, which is a comedy. She became famous for her hair style at the time—she wore it long and parted on one side so it would fall over half her face in a very sexy way. They called it a peek-a-boo I think. You’ve definitely seen Bugs Bunny dressed up like her, so I think if she’s being honored in such a way she’s very cool.

look at her

she's GORGEOUS in her little witch outfits that she wore for promos and also in the oversized coats and pajamas she wore throughout the movie...she's got RANGE

My Grandpa supposedly dated her in high school, he drove her to school in his car every day. This is legend in the family.

She has gorgeous hair, has got the smouldering look over the shoulder down PAT, and is just drop-dead gorgeous too!

Schizophrenic icon, popularized the peekaboo hairdo long before Jessica Rabbit

She’s just so prettyyyyy

So much hot in such a tiny package. She was no more than 5 feet tall, and some reports claim as small as 4'9"

If you picture a femme fatale in your head, almost certainly Veronica Lake had a hand in shaping the image you think of. She came to embody the look of the noir leading lady as well as the sound and the performance. Certified Noir Baddie.

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist.

[daisyblog]

Small Bump

Young Love Masterlist Summary: Louis and YN share the news that they’re having another baby with the boys.

Based on this request.

The boys first show back after their little break in between tour legs was in Cardiff, and Louis and YN were trying to keep their baby news to themselves for a little longer until they had their scan and knew everything was okay.

But unlike her first pregnancy with Mia, YN was feeling the symptoms. Every morning she would wake and have to run to the bathroom, hoping she would make it to the toilet in time, thanks to the morning sickness. But the name made no sense because it didn’t just happen in the morning, certain smells would cause her to heave and the night time was just as bad.

Before Louis had to head off to soundcheck, ahead of their first Cardiff show, he was sat rubbing YN’s back and moving her hair out of the way as she was being sick.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this”. Louis sympathised as his hand continued to rub circles on her back.

YN took a sip from her water bottle, trying to get the taste from her mouth. “S’not your fault…just part of being pregnant”.

Louis noticed YN’s tired eyes, the darkness that sat under them were screaming for sleep. “I’m gonna take Mia with me to soundcheck…you go rest and have some sleep before tonight”. YN went to argue but Louis stopped her. “No ifs or buts…Lottie can watch Mia whilst we’re rehearsing.”

YN didn’t put up the fight and decided to listen and get some rest. While YN got into bed and peacefully fell asleep, Louis took Mia with him to the stadium.

It was very rare not to see YN and Mia tottering behind Louis at the venues, but Liam was quick to notice that YN was missing.

“Where’s YN?”. His eyebrows frowned. His question causing Niall and Harry to look around too.

“She’s didn’t sleep very well…so she’s still at the hotel”. Louis tried to keep his answer short and sweet, afraid their secret may slip from his lips.

Mia came running down the corridor with Lottie right behind her. “Uncle ‘arry!”. She ran straight into Harry’s open arms. “Auntie Lottie did me ‘air…look”. The younger child showed off her French plaits that were nearly done.

“Wow! You look so cool!”. Harry made a fuss that only made Mia coy with shyness.

Niall gave her tummy a little tickle, as she sat tall in Harry’s arms. “Just like a princess!”.

“Can I have matching plaits?”. Liam teased as he ran his hand over his short hair.

“Don’t be silly…your ‘air is too small”. Mia giggled into her hands.

---

As the weeks went on, so YN’s hormones were rising, and didn’t Louis know it. If she wasn’t crying, she was angry and if she wasn’t sad, she was like a woman on a mission. Louis liked to guess which personality he was going to wake up to. Today seemed like the emotional YN.

YN, Louis and the boys were enjoying some calm time ahead for the show in Denmark that evening. Mia was laying on the floor, a piece of paper in front of her as she coloured quietly.

As the boys chatted amongst themselves, YN glanced over at Mia who was colouring in a picture of a flower she had drawn, the green pen moved across the paper.

Tears began to build up in her eyes, as she watched her not so little baby anymore. One by one the tears began to escape down her cheeks and little sniffles left her nose.

Louis glanced to his side, where YN was sitting. “Hey! What’s wrong babe?”. He was taken back by how quickly her mood changed.

“Are you alright YN?”. Harry asked, frown lines appearing on his forehead, as he sat up in his chair.

Niall’s attention picked up, as he began to bite at his fingernails. Liam watching the scene in front of them too.

Using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe away the tears from her cheeks, YN felt the emotions build up. “I-it’s just…Mia…s-she looks so g-grown a-and not m-my little baby anymore!”.

Niall immediately tucked his lips into his mouth, not trusting himself not to laugh, knowing it wasn’t a funny situation. Liam watched Louis for his reaction and Harry glanced down to where Mia was still colouring, completely oblivious to her mother’s emotional outburst.

“Aww babe…I know it’s bittersweet to see her grow up…but she’ll always be our baby”. Louis tried to sympathise but at the same time couldn’t understand why she was crying now considering Mia was only four.

“B-but…she’s gonna m-move out before w-we know it”. The tears kept falling, one after the other, meeting at the end of her face.

Niall now moved his hand to cover his mouth to stop the laugh that was building up inside him coming out.

“YN…babe…she’s four…I think we’ve got a while until we have to think about that”. Louis reached over to pull her into him for a cuddle as he kissed the top of her head.

“Unless she goes on X Factor at sixteen and never comes home again!”. Liam joked at very bad time, causing Harry and Niall to snap their heads in his direction.

YN only blubbered more into Louis’ arms at his teasing. “Not the time to joke Liam”. Harry intervened.

Liam only put his head down in shame. ���Sorry!”.

---

After another tour leg break, YN and Louis were finally ready to share their news with the boys. They had been for their first scan and saw their second healthy and wriggly baby.

They had thought of different ways they could surprise the boys but couldn’t agree, until YN saw a little tutu outfit for Mia with ‘Big Sister’ written across the top. So that’s when they decided they would let Mia do the talking…or showing.

San Diego was the first show back and Louis and YN were the last to arrive to the venue that day as they were pre occupied dressing Mia in her new outfit.

“Dress is so pretty”. Mia span around in a circle, allowing the dress to spin with her.

“The perfect dress for a big sister”. Louis smiled wildly as Mia continued to try and make the tutu spin.

Mia ran her fingers over the words. “Mummy has a baby in her tummy”.

YN ran her hand over the smallest little bump that was peaking out from her dress. “I do…and you’re going to have a little brother or sister”.

With Mia walking proudly around the stadium with her new dress on show, YN and Louis walked behind her waiting to see if the boys would notice.

“Mia! Where’s my girl?”. Niall was quick to notice the young Tomlinson walking to the dressing room. Scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around as she giggled.

“Hey! Tell Uncle Niall he’s got to share”. Harry teased as Niall put Mia back down on the ground, allowing her to give Harry and Liam a cuddle too.

Liam pinched the tutu material of her dress. “Waw I love your dress…it’s very pretty”.

Harry turned his attention to the dress noticing the writing and re reading it to make sure he had read it correctly. But before he had chance to say anything, Niall’s voice boomed through the room.

“No way! You’re joking!”. Niall directed his shock to Louis and YN, who stood near wearing slight smirks on their faces.

Harry looked at the dress again to make sure. “Are you really? You’re having a baby?”.

“What?!”. Liam shot up from his position on the leather sofa. “You’re pregnant?”.

YN and Louis shared a look of happiness as they watched the boys react. Louis breaking the suspense that they were in, waiting for someone to say something. “We’re having another baby!”.

Louis and YN expected a happy reaction from them because of how much they loved Mia, but when the three all looked at each other and let out a loud cheer as they grabbed one and other and bounced around at the news, they were pleasantly surprised.

“YEEESSSSSS!”. The three boys screamed in excitement at another baby entering their little family they had created.

Louis wrapped his arm around YN, finding her lips with his and sealed the special moment with a kiss.

Breaking the couple up, the boys wrapped their arms around them both, bringing them in on their shared excitment.

“Hey! Watch me lady…she’s carrying precious cargo!”. Louis shouted out as the boys continued to squeeze them both.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @slaymybreathaway @wh0s-nadii @peterholland04 @lillisummers

[crushribbons]

𝓋𝑜𝓌

summary: Ominis Gaunt never makes promises he can't keep.

cw: 4k words, angst, SMUT (18+ ONLY), arranged marriage, technically cheating ig but not really, penetrative sex, fingering, vv small breeding kink, horrible family dynamics, fem reader. request

a/n: for jas 🤍 xx laney

Her eyes kept drifting over to him across the crowded room. Dozens of people flitted through the restaurant, stopping in front of her table to congratulate her and make her stomach churn with nerves, but there was only one man that she truly wanted to talk to.

He hadn’t come over to the happy couple yet, too absorbed in stirring his untouched drink with the tip of his finger. His lips were pursed like he’d just smelled something unpleasant. Blonde hair swept away from his face carefully, he looked every bit like the sophisticate he was known to be.

But she knew so much more of Ominis Gaunt.

“You’re my everything. The air in my lungs. I need you.”

“Ominis, please, we can’t!”

“You don’t want me to?”

“On the contrary. I want you far too much.”

Someone was talking to her, but her thoughts were a loud rush in her ears and she just smiled up at the buxom, middle-aged woman that was telling her and her betrothed how wonderful the look of young love was. The betrothed in question cleared his throat and gave a thin smile that was more grimace. His back was stiffly upright. 

As the woman drifted away, he turned to the girl to his left. “How much longer do I have to put up with this awfulness?” he asked, grit in his jaw. 

“Why ask me? Your father is the one who insisted on throwing a party and inviting the entire town, Louis,” she muttered back over the top of her water glass. Louis’ mouth did not soften. 

Power, status, and money, disgusting globs of money awaited her after her marriage to this man, and she was trapped, forced to take all of it and wanting none of it. It felt like a slap in the face to those less-privileged for her to be turning her nose up at the comfort and luxury she would enjoy as a Nott, and the guilt wracked her day and night. 

When her father had first told her that he would be offering her hand to the oldest Nott boy, she had wept. 

“You’ll be taken care of forever, my dear,” her father had cooed, attempting parental concern for her for the first time since her birth by patting her on the back. His hand hardly making contact with her, he coughed awkwardly and continued, “You’ll never want for anything.”

“I don’t want anything, father, except for the chance to pick the person I spend the rest of my life with myself!” she had cried.

She remembered the rest all too vividly: attending a dinner party whose purpose, she had been told, was mere “introductions”, and by the end of the night she had been engaged to the man across the table from her who was gripping his knife and fork and glaring at her as if she’d sabotaged the rest of his life on purpose. Since then, they’d spoken no more than eight words to each other (A squeak of “Lovely dinner” from her on the night of their engagement, and a brusque “You ought to have worn white” from him when she arrived at his manor in a somber black dress to have their marital portrait painted) and when she’d been instructed to arrive at the London restaurant they were currently seated at for a party celebrating their betrothal, she’d cried once more.

When she was a young girl, she used to picture the man she would one day marry. He was always fuzzy, nebulous. Kind, of course, and willing to give her the world. Perhaps an artist or some otherwise creatively-inclined profession. Tall and handsome, but his features never swam into focus when she imagined walking down the aisle of a church to him. 

Then, when she was fifteen, she’d met Ominis Gaunt, and the face at the front of the church became perfectly distinct. The demure Slytherin had taken some time to open up to her, but before their sixth year at Hogwarts was over, they were so enamored with one another that she sometimes had to look back at the unclear idea she’d had of love and laugh. It was always Ominis, forever.

Until it wasn’t.

At seventeen, she’d come home to her parents’ estate for the Christmas holiday with stars in her eyes and declared, “I’m in love, and we’re going to get married one day.”

“Really, dear? To whom?” Her mother had absently inquired. The glass of sherry in her hand lolled dangerously from side to side, but she didn’t seem to notice. When she’d told them about Ominis, her father, who until this point had remained silent and uninterested, had guffawed without looking up from the newspaper on his lap and said, “The Gaunts’ sightless little rat? I should like to see you try. That family has gone to the dogs.” Rage boiled up inside her and she opened her mouth to shout, but father had merely held up a hand. “You’re to be married to a strong family when you come of age, and I won’t hear another word about this silly idea of romance you’ve cooked up in your head.”

Since then, there had been a complete moratorium on the topic of Ominis or, indeed, the entire Gaunt family in her household. It killed her very gradually, in ways she didn’t notice until it was too late. She smiled less and less often. The things she used to look forward to, like quiet walks and pumpkin juice and pressing flowers, now seemed as gray as everything else in her life. 

After she left Hogwarts for good, they saw each other as often as they could believably make trips to Hogsmeade to meet up. Nervous glances over her shoulder had become a regular part of being with Ominis, but her passion for him outweighed any fear.

Sirona Ryan had become very adept at noticing dust on the bar when certain members of two of the most prominent families in the British wizarding world would dart, breathless, into her inn and throw several more Galleons than necessary down, pleading silently with her for discretion as they took the room key she handed them.

Ominis’ panting ran endlessly around his lover’s mind as she watched people celebrate the end of their relationship. 

“Come on, darling, come for me.” “C-can’t–S’too good, Om.”

“No, let me hear it, please. Don’t hold back. It’s all I get to bring home with me.”

The crooked and bent elder Mr. Nott was rising to his feet and knocking the side of his champagne glass with a butter knife. “Excuse me,” he thundered out, his gruff voice making the chattering guests and party-goers at their own tables turn their heads to look at him. “I’d like to say a few words in honor of my son, on this, the night before his wedding.”

Ice clawed up the inside of her body, frozen talons digging into her organs and causing fear to flood her throat. Her breath began coming in short, labored gasps. “What does he mean, the night before?” she hissed to Louis, who ignored her. 

Louis wasn’t physically cruel to her, but he made sure to keep her apprised of how unhappy he was with their union. As if she felt any differently.

“To see two great families come together like this,” the elder Nott blustered, “is truly a gift. Not only to us, but to the rest of the wizarding community…” 

She didn’t hear a word of the rest of his slimy posturing. The only word ringing around her ears was wedding, wedding, wedding. She’d been told that there would be a long engagement period to Louis, long enough to plaster their union in the Daily Prophet and throw several redundant parties so that everyone in the country was aware of just how much money her family and the Notts really had. 

But here she was, two weeks after meeting her frigid fiancé, learning that the glass of water in her hand would be her last as a free woman, and everything inside her was screaming for her to get out. How could they deceive her like this? Not only to be forced into a marriage, but blindsided by the actual wedding before she even had a chance to…

To what? she wondered frantically. To tell Ominis she loved him? He already knew a hundred times over, but as she looked across the room to him, she saw the same hard lines carved into his face that were always present when they had to discuss her betrothal.

“Do you hate me for it?” “Hate you? How could I?” A pause, and a bitter expression settled on his lips. “I hate him.”

“I hate him, too, but I can’t do anything to stop this.”

“We could run.”

“Be serious, Ominis.”

“I am.” She felt his hands close over hers and looked down at them. His were covered in scars and burns, faded and gray with age but still a part of him forever. 

“They’d kill you.”

“I’ll be dying either way, my heart.”

Her body ached for Ominis as she watched his jaw tighten further and further with every word Thelonius Nott said. She couldn’t believe he had come to this event. He’d been invited, of course, as had his entire family, but she had hoped for his sake that he would stay away and not have to endure this with her.

When the patriarch lifted his champagne (“To my son,” he said fondly, not sparing a glance at his future daughter-in-law) and commanded the rest of the room to do so, a hundred glasses flew into the air. 

Ninety-nine, at least.

She hoped no one would notice the younger Gaunt boy abstaining from the toast, but at the same time, she preened inwardly. Ominis may have been soft-spoken and calculating in what he chose to say, but his actions always broadcasted his feelings. 

“Excuse me,” she muttered suddenly, surprising Louis and herself by pushing her chair back and standing up. The rest of the party had gone back to their dessert, so hardly any notice was paid to her as she wove through the tables, save for a few well-wishes tossed at her that she returned with a weak smile. As she passed the Gaunt table, where Ominis’ parents and brothers were talking in low tones, she threw a glance back at the head table that she’d been at, making sure no one could see what she did next.

She tripped, just a quick, stuttered movement orchestrated by stepping on the train of her dress, and grabbed onto Ominis’ chair for support

“Are you alright?” squawked a man behind her that she’d bumped slightly. Before the Gaunts could look up from their plates and notice her standing there, she ran a finger subtly up the back of Ominis’ neck and twirled the small curl of hair on his nape around, just once. It took less than a second, but Ominis stiffened immediately, his breath cutting out and his fork falling to his plate with a clatter.

“Please,” she whimpered under her breath, quiet enough so that no one but him heard her. 

She felt him before she saw him.

“Om–” He cut her off and pressed her to the brick wall of the alley behind the restaurant, where she’d fled after stopping at his table. She hoped he’d had the good sense to wait a few beats before following her, but she also knew the effect that her touch had on him. She’d been rubbing his neck like that since they were sixteen, a silent way to let him know that she was next to him, with him, there for him. 

It didn’t hurt that it also drove him wild. 

She knew it was a horrible idea. Sneaking out of her engagement party to fuck another man when her fiancé’s family had people killed for much less, but her mind was such a whirlwind of fear and anxiety and the only thing she wanted was the feel of Ominis’ mouth against hers. Her constant, her grounding.

“Don’t do this,” he was moaning into her lips, grinding his hips against hers as she clutched at his suit like she would float away if she didn’t. “I’ll never stop needing you, so please–” “I don’t want to!” she gasped. Tears were pooling in her eyes, and she was grateful for a moment that Ominis could not see them. “More than anything, I want to be with you, you know that.”

“Then let me take you away from here.” Ominis felt around the back of her dress to determine how best to remove it. She swatted his hands away and took his face in her hands. Words wouldn’t come to her. All she wanted was to look at him like this, desperate and frazzled, his perfect silver hair already tousled. His pale eyes saw her in a way no sighted person ever had.

She pulled him into a kiss, softer and sweeter than before, and he groaned and pulled his fingers through her hair, inadvertently combing it, and she hiccuped a small giggle. 

“You can’t help but take care of me, can you, Mr. Gaunt?” 

“I can’t, Mrs. Gaunt.”

Hearing the title fall from his lips made her heart soar and plummet in the same breath. 

“Don’t say that,” she pleaded as he began kissing his way down her neck to the top of her cleavage. They’d talked about marriage, of course they had, but that had been lifetimes ago, when they were happy young things who didn’t know what cruelty life had in store for them. She’d even once filled a piece of parchment with the words “Madame Gaunt” in elegant flourishes, and when Ominis had found it in her school bag, he hadn’t stopped smiling for a week. After he’d finished teasing her, naturally.

“I won’t call you anything else,” he promised stubbornly. 

A shriek of laughter came from inside the restaurant, followed by a tinkle of broken glass. The noise shattered their isolated little bubble and they both stared at the back door they’d used to enter the alley. “They’ll notice me gone,��� she whispered, feeling suddenly small underneath Ominis’ tall, lean body. “Or someone will walk out here and find us and–”

Ominis never gave her orders, preferring instead to worship the ground she walked on, but as he knelt down to grasp the hem of her dress, he said, “Stop it. Be quiet. If this is my last night with you, I won’t let anyone take it away from me.” He pulled the dress up so it bunched around her waist and slithered one hand inside her undergarments, and any protestations that she might have made fell off her lips, dead. 

His long fingers slid on top of her clit and rubbed them like he had all the leisure time in the world. Her core flooded, soaked after mere seconds with him, and the feeling made Ominis’ head drop to rest against her forehead. 

“Let me ask you once more,” he breathed.

“No.”

“Please.”

“Ominis, they–” Her words were cut off as he pushed two fingers inside her and pumped slowly.

“Let me ask,” he said again, and this time, it was not a request.

Pleasure was wringing her out and weakening the little resolve she had. “Ask me,” she consented with a whimper.

“Run away with me. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, show you anything you want to see, and we’ll be together.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her. It wasn’t the second; in fact, she’d lost count of how many times he had begged and pleaded with her to flee their lives and go somewhere where they could live as they wanted. It had become his way of saying “I love you.” 

It was everything she wanted, and she would never do it. She still remembered when her father had found her holding a letter from Ominis and ripped it out of her grasp. 

“If I see you anywhere near that boy or having anything to do with him, I’ll kill him,” he had growled as he ripped Ominis’ words to shreds and threw them into the fireplace. “And Thelonius Nott will do a lot worse, you can count on that.”

“Ominis, I can’t, I just can’t,” she sobbed, half in anguish and half in pleasure as he continued fucking her with his fingers and mouthing along her flushed neck. “I swear, I want nothing more, but I won’t put you in danger.” His hand slowed, but he said nothing. The white heat twisting itself in a coil in her stomach threatened to unravel and she whimpered. 

“I don’t care about any of that,” Ominis said. He pulled out of her and stuck the two fingers covered in her wetness into her mouth. Her own taste against her tongue made her moan shamelessly, and Ominis drank the sound down like the finest wine. He pulled her into another kiss, and she felt his erection grind against her core. A sudden thought floated into her lust-hazy head and she pushed hard against his shoulders to stop his kiss. 

“You know, I don’t know much about Louis Nott, but I know how he likes his women,” she said, gritting her jaw in annoyance at her intended.

She could tell that her lover bristled at the mention of Nott, but he raised his eyebrows. “And how does he like them?”

“Thirty galleons for the night.” He sucked in a breath that might have been a laugh in any other situation. “Darling, I may have to read vows that someone else wrote tomorrow,” she continued, nerves making her shake slightly, “But let me make my own now, please.” Ominis furrowed his brow. 

She took a deep breath. Ominis’ face was still there, in that church in her mind, but that church was now a brick-paved alleyway behind a restaurant in Diagon Alley. The only guests were a few curious rodents that kept their distance and the only decor were some potholes filled with water from the rain that afternoon and a streetlamp whose flame spluttered feebly every few seconds. 

And it was perfect. 

Taking his hands in hers, she took a deep breath and released it. “Ominis Gaunt, I will love you with everything inside me until the day I leave this earth to meet you again in heaven.” Ominis was silent, or maybe speechless. “And…” 

She took his right hand by the wrist and pressed it against her heart, which was hammering wildly. “No other man will ever have my body. It’s yours.”

“It’s yours,” Ominis replied, and the simple statement made her choke. It wasn’t true, never had been. Since birth, she’d been used as cannon fodder in her family’s war for power. For anyone to give her autonomy felt like being a timid, scared little bird released from its cage for the first time. She leaned in to kiss him, but he sensed her nearness and held a hand in front of his lips that hers landed against, and she gave a small grunt of frustration. 

“My turn now,” he whispered. He bit his lip, pulling it through his teeth for a long second as he considered something. Then, in one fluid motion, he pressed her back against the wall, pulled her underwear down her waist, pulled his aching and dripping cock from his trousers, and grabbed at her thighs. With a little yelp, she realized what he was doing and accommodated him, wrapping her legs around his waist. His hard cock pressed at her entrance and the two panted with desperation for a moment. Ominis seemed to be fighting the urge to fuck her before he got his words out. 

“You are my heart. Every day, when I wake up, I thank the gods for giving me you, and then I curse them for taking you away.” She couldn’t make a sound, wound too tightly by the desire to feel him inside her. “There is nothing in this world that could keep me away from you, except at your word.” His cadence was that of a prayer, and as she was considering what he said, he pushed his cock into her, holding her ass to guide himself inside, and the two moaned in mutual pleasure. He was so thick, so full inside her, and when he began moving, bouncing her back against the wall with one hand braced up beside her glistening face, her mouth fell open. 

“Fuck, darling,” she cried. “I–fuck, I love you so much.” 

The extraordinarily touch-sensitive Ominis couldn’t continue his vows for a long while, clearly too caught up in the feeling of her cunt wrapped around him. His mouth was agape as well, and his cloudy eyes were wild and frantic. He fucked her slow, then fast, then slow again, dragging himself in and out in agonizing torture and muttering in drunken reverence about how tight she was.

“Even if I never see you again, not an ounce of my love will be found missing,” he swore through his teeth once he was able to speak again. “And if you ever crave the freedom they all deny you, I will give it to you in an instant. We’ll run, anywhere, and we’ll do it hand-in-hand, my heart.” His thrusts were losing rhythm, the extra flood of slick from her core making him slip out of her a few times, but he righted himself and tried to give her everything he was promising. The feeling of slamming down on his cock was enough to drive her senseless. The muted sounds of their fucking filled the alleyway and echoed off the damp brick wall.

He reached down between their intertwined, sweating bodies and pressed one torturing finger against her clit as he muttered, “My fucking perfect wife.” An orgasm tore through her like a wildfire and she screamed, so hard that Ominis shoved his extra hand into her mouth so she could bite it and silence herself. He supported her with just his hips as he rubbed her clit gently through the blaze. Her teeth were still sunk in his hand when he came with a groan and a sigh, thrusting his load languidly inside her. 

If she’d been able to notice anything, she might have noticed that it seemed Ominis was more than usually determined to fuck every drop into her and make sure it stayed there. After several minutes of panting and murmured kisses and affection while Ominis leaned against her, he pulled off and out of her, and she slumped to the ground before he caught her, his own legs looking slightly wobbly, as well. He felt her dress and hair, smoothing any wrinkles and knots his fingers found.

“You really won’t sleep with him?” he asked her in a small voice she’d never heard before, and her eyes flew to his to see a vulnerable and heartbroken Ominis she wasn’t familiar with. 

It was a very easy promise to make. “As long as I have any say in it,” she whispered back, pressing their foreheads together once more and drawing a tiny, hopeful smirk to his lips. “I don’t think it will be much of a problem, though.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“I charge thirty-five galleons for the night.” She held out an open palm and tapped him in the chest with it so he knew that she was waiting for payment. Ominis actually laughed, and the sound bolstered her. The prospect of walking down the aisle to meet Louis tomorrow seemed significantly less terrifying now.

“We ought to get you back inside,” he said, but before she could agree and wonder at how long the two had been gone, Ominis had scooped her into his arms, ignoring her cry and giggle, and drew an invisible line on the ground with his toe.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“The doorstep,” he replied simply, and carried her over it.

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