#i could just watch hours of this kind of conversation and banter

[18catsreading]

Ally: cheese and grape jelly, are you fucking psychotic? Why would you do this to us?

Emily: it's just like the --

Lou: what the fuck is happening?

Emily: it tastes like the bacon is a little candied

Siobhan: I don't like grape-flavoured jelly

Ally: what is wrong with you?

Murph: Dude

Siobhan: oh my God he's crying

Lou: I'm not Murph, I don't stuff the whole thing in my mouth at one time. Brennan you've been silent.

Brennan: I move through life as a person, who I would say, for a person whose whole livelihood is based around adventures, I'm not a very adventurous person. Siobhan famously roasted me about I get the same hamburger every day. And in my head, sometimes I think --

Murph: every day?

Siobhan: every day, he gets the same hamburger --

Brennan: that restaurant closed down, so I don't --

Siobhan: yea because they made up, they pretended their meat was good, and in fact, it was bad.

Brennan: it was worse than they said it was, but I still liked how it tasted. The, uh, in my head I will imagine sometimes what a risk would be like, what a change would be like. And in my head I go "that change would be not my favorite." But then I go "am I a coward and closing myself off to new experiences?" And every time I expand my horizons, I get slapped in the face, and it is not fun. I will stick with plain breakfast sandwiches.

[heartsforvin]

ONLINE LOVE

thank you nonnie for the request !! i hope you like it (:

pairing: gamer!vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, sexual jokes / innuendos, pure fluff

summary: when vinnie goes on omegle one random night out of boredom, he doesn’t expect to meet you and fall in love in the process

with nothing to do on a friday night, vinnie decided to go on omegele. he hadn't been on the site in years, and honestly thought it had gotten banned.

tagging it with a few trendy things, vinnie fixed up his appearance just a bit before clicking on the video option.

of course he knew he wasn't going to get lucky with someone not showing their junk right away, so he wasn't disappointed when he saw some random guy's dick.

after a few skips and boring people, he finally got to you. "holy shit." he thought he said that in his head, but when you looked up, he knew he didn't.

with a furrow to your eyebrows, you give him a small smile as you say hello.

vinnie can't help but give himself a few extra minutes to stare, you were just so pretty. after a minute, he clears his throat and smiles.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes with a laugh. "just didn't expect to see such a pretty girl."

blushing, you thank him with a smile of your own. "you're not so bad yourself." you reply.

vinnie chuckles as he thanks you like you did him. overtime, the two of you ask each other questions about the other, along with interests.

"you play any video games?" he asks you, and you smile with a shake to your head.

it was honestly kind of hard to focus on conversation with him. the first thing you had noticed when he popped up on your screen was his eyes.

vinnie notices you staring at him and smirks. "am i really that nice to look at?" he chuckles.

you rid your thoughts quickly, almost being embarrassed that he caught you. you wouldn't have the confidence to admit it, but he was good to look at.

smiling, you quickly divert the conversation to his previous question. "not much of a gamer really, unless you count the sims." you say.

vinnie laughs and shakes his head. "nah i'm talkin' real games." he tells you.

rolling your eyes playfully, you give him a scoff. "oh so you're one of those people." you say with a laugh.

when vinnie heard you laugh he swore his heart skipped a beat, and not even to be dramatic. he watched as you went on and on about how the sims was real gaming.

he saw your smile and knew that's something he wanted to see more of. "woah hey, calm down." vinnie laughs as he cuts you off.

you smile, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "what? sims is real gaming, you nerd." you tell him.

vinnie takes in your appearance again and the clothes you're wearing. he can't get enough of you and he just met you.

you do the same, looking at him through the laptop screen, faint blush spreads across your cheeks.

vinnie stands up and the breath is almost knocked out of you when he does. he's wearing sweatpants and a white tank top, muscles on full display.

"you lookin' at my arms or...?" vinnie asks with a chuckle as he sees you staring. "because i can give you soethin' to look at."

laughing, you roll your eyes at him again. "definitely don't want to see that. i've seen too many."

vinnie chuckles and nods his head, completely understanding. although, it doesn't stop him from making a comment.

"you sure? because i do have a tattoo there, but if you don't want see i guess you'll never know." he shrugs.

you wish you were near him so you could hit his arm, instead, you result in a playful scoff and sarcastic reply. "you do not have a tattoo there."

the blonde laughs but shrugs again. "how'd you know if you've never seen it?"

this time, its your turn to shrug. "guess i'll just have to take your word for it." you tell him.

the playful banter continues for about another hour. neither you or vinnie thought you'd actually meet a decent person on this site tonight, but you're both happy you did.

"okay," you say, getting vinnie's attention back onto you and not his phone. "other than gaming, what do you do?"

vinnie stifles a laugh at the question, knowing his answer. "i stream." he tells you.

you already know his answer to your next question so he beats you to it by saying, "yes, i do stream video games."

you can't help but smile. "nerd." you comment with a laugh.

vinnie fires back. "you don't even play real video games, don't even give me that kind of attitude." he says with a laugh.

you brush him off with a scoff. that brought your attention back to the sims games and how you now suddenly got an idea.

"hey vinnie," you get his attention again and he looks up at you. "what if i told you i'm about to make you and me in sims?"

you were half joking, although you did think about the idea of it. vinnie furrows his eyebrows but has a smile on his face.

"that's cute, you should." he tells you, making you smile.

you nod, telling him you'll do it after you get done talking. the two of you talk more for a bit, jokes are made, smiles are shared along with laughs, and vinnie did make one or two comments about you blushing.

in all honesty, he was doing the same thing an you probably could notice. he couldn't help himself, he was starting to think he was falling a bit in love with you.

he did think it was way too soon to tell and you two had known each other for no longer than four hours.

silence fills you two for a minute before vinnie interrupts the silence with what you'd say is a crazy statement.

"you know what you could do if we ever do meet and possibly have a thing going?" he asks, and you don't reply right away, taking his words in.

you didn't want to rush anything at all, but the chemistry between the two of you was very noticeable. so, you raise your eyebrow as you wait for him to tell you.

he smirks, anf you instantly know its another one of his dirty jokes. "never had support from under the desk before."

the minute that sentence leaves his mouth your laughing loudly, quickly trying to stop yourself.

you give him that same look back, smirk turning into a smile as you tease him and tell him maybe one day it'll happen.

you both talk for a bit longer until the two of you decide to call it a night. before yo go, vinnie asks you for your number and you happily give it to him.

he was definitely falling in love with you now if he wasn't already.

thank you nonnie for the request again !! i hope you liked it + everyone else reading this (:

comments, reblogs + feedback of any kind is appreciated <33

tags: @sturnioloshacker , @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @42angelgirl , @leqonsluv3r , @khackerr , @louloulemons-blog , @visualbutterflysworld , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @laylasbunbunny , @defnotayonna , @khxna , @jpg3 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy

[nanamis-bigtie]

party circle

↬ choso, geto, gojo & ino x afab!reader | lucid love ↬ lucid love masterlist // jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (more detailed description of genitalia), college au, drunk sex, cumdumpster (reader on receiving end), group sex, piv sex, blow job, rough sex, reader is called "doll" and "thing", sprinkle of degradation and dumbification summary: you've been dared to offer yourself as a cumdumpster during a party - and you're not a wimp. you haven't expected what kind of team is going to pay you a visit word count: 2.6k a/n: yes, i am aware this text is squeezed, i have run myself against my own word limit and i still crossed it ahem tag list: @thesacredfanfics

After an hour in almost complete darkness, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, you start to wonder if this all wasn't just a mean, drunk prank. Or another stupid test of courage, company's favorite. The party downstairs is flickering out, the voices and steps are fading, and none are heading towards you, lying half-naked in the host's guest bedroom and slowly going cold. Your heart is still fluttering like crazy and you're perking your ears for any sound nearby, but the level of your excitement is inexorably heading towards disappointment. All the commotion for nothing.

If not for your pride—and gut feeling telling you someone is secretly watching the door in case you chicken out—you would have already pulled your bottoms back up and returned to the living room. A bet is a bet, it still counts as won if someone else wimps out.

But eventually someone does come. More than one person even, you soon realize when the voices become more distinct, and you can pick some words. A few men are climbing the stairs, bantering on their way and laughing, one of them rather reluctant, you assume by the constant harsh chatter and steps heading downstairs from time to time. You can't follow the conversation but after a few tugs back and forth, you learn there are four of them, and at least one of the voices is... too familiar. Your heart, racing a moment ago, sinks; if it's someone from your class or the club, you're done for. You thought you're a solo player here, you got into the party with the invitation of a friend from outside of your college circle, and all the faces you passed by tonight were all new to you. But with so many guests gathered in a spacious house, the probability of running into someone you knew wasn't that close to zero.

When the men finally make it to the floor and stop in front of the door, you almost stop breathing. Are they looking for a free bathroom—or are they here for you? The uncertainty tears you apart the stronger, the more conflicted your thoughts grow. You don't want to find out the hard way if someone you know is in this group. But...you don't really want them to be gone, either. If you already mustered courage and offered yourself as a free-to-use party dumpster, drunk brain or not, not making that one crucial step would haunt you like a ghost. Were you surrounded by cowards? Or assholes who couldn't appreciate your body? No, with the number of advances made on you tonight, you can't really deem yourself unappreciated.

The shade of unanswered questions would remain, though. But luckily for you, the problem quickly solves itself.

"C'mon, man, don't be such a wimp." This voice is not the familiar one but comes from so close that you could swear the man is standing right by the bed. "It's likely just a stupid joke anyway."

The answer is too dull for you to understand and soon it drowns in laughter. The door creaks open, just enough to let a narrow wisp of light sneak into the room. You narrow eyes, blinded after such a long time in darkness, but you can pick silhouettes of four men peeking inside over each other. All stare right at the exposed and illumined part of your body: your left leg and hip, your cunt, and a bit of your torso and face. Instinct yells at you to cover yourself, you spread your legs wider instead, with no word spoken and hoping your guests have enough sober brain cells to connect the dots.

"It's...not a joke." The man from the previous line stands right in the front and his voice falters a little. The other right behind his back, shamelessly resting chin on his shoulder, whistles with appreciation.

"Hey, Kamo, you're in luck today," he turns around and flicks the light on. "I think that's Y/N."

Kamo? Choso Kamo? Why HIM of all familiar people who possibly could wander into this party?

You're hanging on a string of hope that maybe, just maybe, there are more guys going by this family name, and the one here is not Choso, your club crush, but once your eyes get used to light and all four of them step inside, you understand how screwed you are even before they pull their dicks out.

It is Choso, the reluctant one, leaning against the door with arms crossed and looking everywhere but at your face, his own scarlet red to the tips of his ears. But what's even worse, you recognize the other three as well. 

Suguru Geto, probably the most wanted man at your college, skimming your figure curiously from his spot at the front. 

Leaning against him, Satoru Gojo, the star of the football team and his best friend, currently shamelessly staring right at your cunt. 

More reserved than those two but as interested Takuma Ino, your friend's ex fuck buddy and a notorious party animal.

"It's been a while, huh?" He's the one who tries to initiate conversation, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to another. "This is not some crazy prank, right?"

"A bet, I heard." You understand now why Satoru has always been described as equally weird and handsome; the way his gaze is drilling into you sends shivers down your spine. And you can't decide if you hate it...or quite contrary.

With Choso staying behind, the men surround the bed, and you can't shake off the impression that they're cornering you like prey. Neither of them pounces on you though, the awkward tension almost unbearable—but at the same time clearly exciting for everyone involved. With initial shock fading away, replaced by the same excitement that prompted you to boldly announce in which room you're waiting for anyone as brave as you, you're slowly getting back into the groove. Racing heart pumps hot blood into the right veins, simmering lust perks its head up, your muscles relax and allow you to spread your legs as far as you can. Invitingly, you hope, and from the surrounding faces you can read you're understood well.

"Alright, doll, we gotta turn you around, or our virgin won't budge from his place." Satoru shamelessly pulls you to the edge of bed, then flips you face down. Another pair of hands helps you lift your hips until you find a comfortable and stable position.

"Shit, look at that..." Wooden floor creaks as one of them kneels down, his breath so hot against your exposed slit. He traces it with a thumb, gently, but enough to make your breathing heavier. "All wet and ready."

Someone else's big and warm hands knead your ass and spread your cheeks open. Curious thumb grazes your clit, long fingers slide inside you, two at once, and reach so deep your eyes roll into the back of your head. Long wait has worked up your appetite, your heat has built itself up steady and exploded as soon as your cunt has been touched. They soon grow bolder too, encouraged by your dripping slick and noises you make. The banter and dirty praises melt into white noise behind your back, mixed with the clicks of unbuckled belts and pants shoved down to the ankles. 

Someone's impatient cock slots itself against your rim, steals a shallow, wet thrust, followed by laughter from the other two. The eager one is pulled away, hungry hands leave your cunt empty and pulsing, not without a disappointed whine of yours. You wiggle your hips, the craving of being filled stronger than the prior awkwardness and your pride.

"Virgins come first." It's Takuma's voice that breaks through the white noise. 

A few steps creak back, there's a short tussle and the fourth man is forced to come closer. In the last moment of clear-headedness, your heart skips a beat; you fight against the instinct to look back at Choso. You've been turned around for a reason, despite temptation you want to respect it. You can't control the excited spasm of your cunt, though, much to men's loud enthusiasm.

"C'mon, don't make Y/N wait."

There's hesitation in Choso's touch. He reaches for you with both hands, just tracing your ass and hips at first, before he gives your curve the first, testing squeeze. You hear him groan, sound barely audible yet standing out with its characteristic timbre. You would recognize this knee-melting voice everywhere—and in this situation you react to it hundreds times stronger. You shove your hips back, bumping against his crotch, feeling the outline of his erection through his pants.

He groans again, nails sinking into your skin almost painfully.

Someone helps him with his pants when he's holding on to you for his dear life. He lets go of you with one hand, just enough to line himself up and guide his awkward thrusts towards your entrance. Clumsiness and need behind his moves drive you crazy; he's really losing his v-card with you, just like that, watched by his friends, drunk, with a party toy you've become. And as much as you want to make it easier for him, as soon as his throbbing length slots itself in you, finally easing the itching craving, you squeeze him tight and push your hips against him. 

You want everything he can offer, the sooner, the better.

"Fuck..." Choso mutters through clenched teeth, his pulse running crazy as you clench again, stronger. He won't last long, you can tell as much despite the fever overpowering every single one of your senses. Fuck, indeed. The thought of milking him dry so early adds fuel to burning fire; you take over the situation and grind against him, forcing him to follow suit with his awkward, desperate thrusts, until he suddenly stills and fills you up, with the most pathetic, beautiful moan you've heard from a man.

He starts leaning over your back, his hot breath nearly brushing against your skin, but he's pulled away as fast as he's been dragged to mount you. A different hand kneads your ass; it's Takuma, you guess from the breathy whimper he lets out when he's sliding the head of his cock between your wet folds. He doesn't lose his time either, soon filling your hungry cunt again and rutting inside, short but deep and strong thrusts.

"Squeezin' tight," he growls, shifting the weight and balance of your bodies forward. He places one hand on your back and pushes you down, forcing you to arch your hips and take him even deeper.

You risk a glance over your shoulder. Vision hazy and set under a weird angle, you can't see much but Takuma's face, flushed and beaming with pleasure, and Satoru peeking curiously at your entrance, working hard to swallow every single one of the thrust. He's stroking himself, the tip of his tongue peeking through his lips, so engrossed by the show he's almost bearing down on Takuma's back. Neither of them seem to notice, only one goal on their minds.

You're almost brought to your high this time but Takuma is there first, his last thrust almost tripping you over with the unexpected power. You end up pushed into the mattress, the sights mercilessly yanked away from you, and the next man in line doesn't give you a chance to collect himself.

Satoru is much bigger than the other two. His size takes you by surprise; you mewl loud at the sudden stretch, then almost scream when he slots himself so deep that he's poking at your cervix. He doesn't show you mercy at all, both hands holding your hips in place as he's fucking the brain out of you like a jackhammer. It's brutal, it's almost painful, it's so fucking good you're moaning and crying at the same time. The stretch and friction are frying your nerves; you're yanked into orgasm with his thrusts alone, and he doesn't stop even for a second, instead forcing you to stay still, one foot resting at the edge of the bed. Against his strength, you're nothing but a puppet, a sex toy he's moving with no regards for your state.

But even he has limits and soon you're again filled to the brim. You're not able to hold it inside any longer, the mix of cum and your juices drips out of your used hole as your legs tremble, without the support soon to collapse. The last man comes to your aid, his hold is surprisingly tender but as strong as Satoru's. He takes his time, the privilege of the last in the queue, making sure you're stable and collected before he steals the first thrust, shallow, just enough to slide his tip against the mess.

You're trembling from just this little, so overstimulated you're seeing white even without orgasm.

"You poor thing," Suguru coos and traces free hand against your sweaty back. "He's ruined you so much, that monster."

Satoru scoffs, the mattress dips by your side as he throws himself right next to you. He holds your chin and forces you to look at him. The sadistic, almost maniac, look in his terrifying eyes has your cunt fluttering.

"Be careful, poor thing," he mimics Suguru and slides a thumb between your lips. "He's the real monster here."

In contrast, Suguru moves so gently it's...frustrating. He gathers the cum leaking out of you with the head of his cock before he slides it into you slow and deep, then stills until frustration takes over you and makes you find some power to press hips against him.

He clicks his tongue, laughter shadowing over his words, "Don't be like that. You need to savor your strength."

Suguru moves so slow, terrifying with his precision for the first time he's having you. He touches you more than just having you in place, he traces your sides, back, nape, pinches your nipples and meticulously wanders down again, between your shaking thighs. You almost choke on sharp inhale when he rubs your clit, your mewls held back by Satoru's thumb fucking your mouth, then by his big tongue sliding deep inside. Looking for breath, you try to shake him off—Suguru's hold, fingers knotted tight in your hair, forces you to stay still, until you're shaking and melting, and Satoru has to withdraw.

"Don't be too rough," Takuma is on your other side, sounding concerned but still stroking himself, as far as you're aware by the sounds.

"We're just playing." Suguru's voice is sweet like honey, soft and comforting—and you believe him, let him coax you into comfort before he shows his true colors again and yanks you up and straight by your hair. 

Eyes filled with tears, you try to support yourself on trembling arms and ease the tension in your scalp and neck. Merciless hand guides you to other side, right into Choso's cock poking at your lips. You catch a glimpse of his face, bright pink with a blush but his eyes are dark with lust, gaze fixed at your tongue instinctually lolled out of your mouth. Takuma nudges him closer, almost forces him to slip himself into you, the tip of his dick poking at the back of your throat and making you gag.

Satoru's hand replaces Suguru's; he uses your head to get Choso off as the other man speeds up his thrusts, using your cunt without any mercy now. He pulls almost completely out right before he cums, his seed leaking out of your used hole. Next in line Takuma doesn't bother to shove it back, his thrusts push more of it out, the whole mess dripping on the sheets.

I need to pay for cleaning, the last thought crosses your mind before it gives in to pleasure—no, to ecstasy, no more sanity, just waves of your high washing over you over and over again as their cocks fill your cunt and mouth in turns and you're nothing but a trembling mess.

[nahoney22]

Congrats on the 4500 followers, Honey 🥳

Can I request a Fives x Fem!Reader fic with fluff prompts #7 and #22? With a, they're in an established relationship, but they're not living together yet, kind of vibe?

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Just for Tonight 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Fives X Female!Reader

word count: 827 words

prompts:

• “You don't have to leave just yet ... you could stay the night if you wanted to?”

• “You’re comfy.”

When Fives comes to visit, the two of you imagine what life after the war would be like together.

warnings: Safe for Work, Fluff, Established Relationship, Cuddling, Kisses, Female Reader, Discussions about life after the war, talks of the future. Very light angst if you squint.

Authors note: sorry for the wait @the-bad-batch-baroness, enjoy 🩵

Tonight, the usual quiet of your apartment was interrupted by the sizzling sounds and savory smells wafting from your tiny kitchen.

You leaned against the doorway, watching in quiet amusement as Fives, your better half of the last year, moved about with surprising ease in the unfamiliar space of your kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder with a playful smirk. “Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.”

You giggle, crossing your arms. “You know, I didn’t expect you to surprise me by cooking?”

“I figured I’d show off my skills. You deserve a break from takeout.” He teased, flipping something in the pan with a bit more flair than necessary.

The meal was simple, nothing too fancy which was just how you liked it. But the effort he put into it, the way he made himself at home in your space, made your heart swell. As he finishes up, you set the table and pretend not to notice how he stole glances at you every now and then.

Once the food was ready, he set down two plates and pulled out a chair for you with an exaggerated bow. “Dinner is served, milady,” he said with a wink, his charm in full force.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you sat down. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Fives.”

“I wanted to,” he replied, sitting across from you. “I don’t get to see you nearly as much as I’d like. Figured I’d make tonight special.”

The meal was delicious. You never realised he had the skill for it and you wouldn’t mind him coming over and cooking for you again. Conversation flowed easily as always, from light banter to deeper musings about what life might look like after the war. And as the evening stretched on, the familiar ache of knowing he’d have to leave soon crept into your thoughts.

When the plates were cleared and the kitchen tidied, the two of you found yourselves on the couch, with Fives stretched out beside you, his head resting lazily in your lap. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, savouring the rare moment of peace. He sighed contentedly, eyes half-lidded with the kind of serenity that seemed so rare in his life these days. “You look like you’re going to fall to sleep any second,” you hum.

“You’re comfy,” he mumbled with a sleepy grin, his voice rough from fatigue but tinged with a warmth.

You couldn’t help but smile. Moments like these were often stolen from the chaos of the Clone war. And so, they were more precious to you than anything. You glance at the clock on your wall, seeing the minutes that follow into hours tick by. Your chest tightened knowing he will soon have to leave and it seemed he knew it too as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You don’t have to leave just yet,” you offer softly, “You could stay the night if you wanted to.”

Fives’ eyes search yours as if weighing the suggestion carefully. The war had taught him to stay alert, to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, but in your apartment, he could let his guard down—if only for a little while. “You sure?” he asked, though there was a hint of something playful in his tone, like he was testing how much you really wanted him there.

“Of course I’m sure,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Besides, it’s nice having you here.”

He shifted slightly, moving so that he was propped up on one elbow, his free hand tracing small circles on your knee. “You know, when all this is over,” he said, his voice dropping to something more serious, more vulnerable, “we won’t have to sneak around like this anymore. We’ll get our own place—somewhere quiet. Just us.”

The promise hung in the air between you, a fragile hope for a future that was anything but certain. But the way he said it, with so much conviction, made you want to believe in it, too. You could picture it: a small home, somewhere far from here, where you wouldn’t have to keep your time together a secret, where he wouldn’t have to leave before dawn broke.

“I’d like that.”

Fives’ gaze softened as he leaned in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. “It’s a promise,” he murmured, sealing it.

You lay down, Fives coming to spoon behind you, both of you too stuffed and tired to move to the bed. After all, you just wanted to savour the warmth and comfort he brought with him. “Stay,” you said again, this time with more confidence as you locked your hands over his that rested on your stomach. “Just for tonight.”

“Alright,” he agreed, pulling you closer, the tension melting from his body. “For tonight.”

Hopefully, this ‘just for tonight’ will turn into an everyday reality. One day.

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

Tags: @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 1 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani

[amirasainz]

Hi, can you do a daniel x heidi × reader where the girls come drunk from a party and danny has to take care of them at home

Wait, why is this my favourite throuple to write for currently??? This is my first time writing this ship and I love it?!?!?

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

No Part 2

Girls night

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the quiet streets of Monaco. Daniel had opted for a chill night at home, the soothing hum of the city fading in the background while his girlfriends, Heidi and YN, decided to paint the town red. The two girls had been excitedly preparing for a night out, laughter and playful banter echoing from the bathroom as they got ready.

“You know what I could really go for?” YN asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she rummaged through Heidi's makeup drawer. “A shot of tequila!”

“Tequila? It’s like you want to wake up with a hangover,” Heidi laughed, sliding on a pair of heels. “But fine, let’s go crazy tonight! Just don’t tell Daniel!”

Daniel, lounging on the couch, chuckled to himself as he overheard their conversation. He had come to expect these kinds of antics from the girls. Their infectious energy always kept him on his toes. “Have fun, ladies! Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he called out, settling into his comfy spot.

Hours passed as Daniel lost himself in a Netflix binge, but as the clock ticked closer to midnight, he began to worry. He picked up his phone to check the time again. “Where are they?” he muttered, glancing at the door as if it would magically open to reveal the two.

He decided to text Heidi. “Hey, hope you’re having fun! Just checking in. Everything good?”

A few minutes passed, and Daniel’s heart raced with anxiety. The last thing he wanted was for anything to happen to them. Just as he was about to text again, he heard the familiar sound of keys jangling, followed by raucous laughter. The door swung open, and there stood YN and Heidi, stumbling in, their cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Surprise!” YN yelled, nearly losing her balance as she twirled around. “We’re back!”

Heidi giggled, leaning against the wall for support. “And we brought back… fun!”

Daniel shook his head with a relieved smile, though he couldn’t hide his concern. “You both look like you had a little too much fun. How many shots did you take?”

“Shots?” YN squealed, her voice an octave higher. “I lost count after six! But I could go for more! Danny, you should join us!”

“Um, I think I’ll pass. I’m more of a ‘chill at home’ guy,” he replied, trying to steer the conversation. But the girls were already lost in their own world.

Heidi suddenly flung her arms around YN from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. “I just want to cuddle you forever,” she murmured, her words slightly slurred but filled with affection.

“Cuddle party!” YN shouted, breaking free from Heidi’s embrace. She darted towards the balcony, eyes wide with excitement. “Let’s go look at the stars! Come on, Danny!”

“YN, wait!” Daniel called out, springing to his feet. “You can’t just run outside like that!”

“Too late!” she laughed, swinging the balcony door open and stepping outside, arms raised as if embracing the night. “I’m flying! Look at me, I’m a bird!”

Daniel rushed after her, his protective instincts kicking in. “YN, come back! You’re going to fall!”

Heidi, now seated on the couch, was watching with wide eyes, tears forming. “She’s not in my arms anymore! Daniel, go get her!”

“I’m trying!” Daniel shouted back, panic rising in his chest as he stepped onto the balcony, catching YN just as she leaned dangerously over the railing. “Hey, hey! Let’s not go overboard, alright? Come on, let’s get you back inside.”

“But the stars are so pretty!” YN whined, her enthusiasm unwavering. “You just don’t understand!”

“Okay, I don’t, but I do understand that it’s past midnight, and you’re not exactly sober right now,” he said, gently but firmly guiding her back inside.

As they stepped into the living room, Heidi had already started crying. “You were gone! I thought I lost you!” she sobbed, her arms opening wide. YN, feeling the comfort of Heidi's warmth, leaped into her embrace.

“I’m right here, silly! Don’t cry!” YN giggled, snuggling into Heidi’s chest. “You’re the best cuddler ever!”

Daniel watched the scene unfold, a mix of exhaustion and amusement washing over him. “Alright, let’s get you two to bed,” he said, moving closer to them. “I think it’s time for a sleepover.”

“Sleepover!” YN cheered, the energy back in her voice. “But I wanna sleep with Heidi!”

“Okay, okay,” Daniel said, managing to get both girls into the bedroom. YN immediately crawled onto the bed, pulling Heidi down with her. “Cuddle me, Heidi! I’m cold!”

Daniel sighed, pulling the blanket up over them. “You’re going to have to settle down now, okay? It’s time for sleep,” he said, turning to leave the room.

Heidi looked up at him with a sleepy smile, her hair tousled. “Daniel, you can’t just leave me like this. I need you too!” she said, her voice softening.

“Right, but I’m kind of… tired. Plus, you two need your space,” he replied, glancing at YN, who was already starting to doze off, nestled against Heidi.

“Nope,” Heidi declared, her tone suddenly firm as she pointed toward the living room. “You need to sleep on the couch. I want to cuddle YN on my own.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope! My cuddles, my rules!” she said, snuggling into YN. “Now go!”

“Alright, alright, you win this round,” Daniel laughed, giving in. “But if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

As he settled down on the couch, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He could hear the muffled giggles of the girls through the wall. This was certainly not how he imagined his night would go, but in the end, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Just as he closed his eyes, he heard a loud crash from the bedroom. “Heidi! YN! What was that?” He shot up, ready to rush back in.

“Just a pillow fight!” YN shouted, her voice echoing through the house.

“Seriously?” Daniel called out, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Pillow fight! Come join us!” Heidi urged, laughter bubbling in her tone.

“Forget it! You two are on your own,” he yelled, flopping back onto the couch with a grin. “This is going to be one long night.”

And as he lay there, the sounds of laughter and playful bickering filled the air, he knew he wouldn’t trade this chaotic love for anything. After all, this was what life was all about: racing hearts, silly nights, and the warmth of those you loved most.

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter two

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,2k

❱ summary: meeting Thranduil; memories of first and past encounters

❱ warnings: alcohol, the usual swearing and bantering

❱ an: first look at the dadd.. father Thranduil! What do we think? hehe :)

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER TWO: THRANDUIL

Thranduil's appearance shouldn't have surprised you that much, he was Legolas' father after all and owned the very table you sat at.

But here you were; hands clenched in your lap as you drank in the glorious sight of him.

Thranduil Oropherion took your breath away every time you saw him and now that you were slightly drunk and already caught unguarded more than ever.

As CEO of his law firm, he usually never drove home before midnight, so seeing him at a relatively early hour - a good quarter hour before 11 - was unusual.

On other occasions, when you found yourself at Legolas' place at a later hour, he would make a modest effort at conversation but promptly excuse himself to retire to his rooms.

Today, the man in front of you looked quite chipper, his sharp eyes wandered through the round before it lingered on you.

"You were far from getting her," Thranduil mocked his son, "or she wouldn't have lost interest so quickly. Though I doubt it had ever been there, had it?" He smirked.

You blushed under his gaze, which stayed on you as he slowly unbuttoned his long black coat with long and nimble fingers; it brought a diziness that wiped out everything in your mind.

"All tactics, Thranduil," you blurted out, though your voice threatened to break away.

Quickly, you took a sip of your now lukewarm beer. It did not help whatssoever.

After swallowing, you tipped the bottle toward the board, "When his mind is on his ego, he doesn't play quite as well and well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't take complete advantage of that?"

At the indignant "Hey!" of your best friend, Thranduil laughed gravelly and warmly. "Very good tactics- you're such a clever girl."

Oh god.

His praise hit you right in the heart and before you could control yourself, the blood rushed hot to your cheeks.

You nodded, because now you knew you couldn't trust your voice.

With a dry throat, even though you had just finished drinking, you watched as he stripped off his coat, revealing one of those perfectly fitted brown suits that drove you crazy.

No ones Dad should be allowed to look this hot, right?

But of course, here he was; looking exactly what you imagined model agencies were after.

Legolas had to have gotten his looks from somewhere and one look was sufficient to pin point exactly from who.

They had the same long blonde hair, though Thranduil's flowed down his back like molten silver while Legolas embodied the warmth of sunshine in his blond strands.

Their features mirrored each other as well, from the enchanting light blue eyes to the dark eyebrows and prominent cheekbones, though then there were Thranduil's lips, tinged with a rosy hue, that, when curled into a smile, not only lit up his whole face but every cell in your body as well.

He was a total DILF, a more refined version of his equally beautiful son and wouldn't you've had befriended Legolas and met his father, you're sure that you would have become on of Las's admirers.

And oh Thranduil's height played into his imposing figure as well, around 6,5' tall and built with broad shoulders that flexed under his white shirt, tightening it as he folded his arms behind his back and walked toward your little round.

Unconsciously, your head moved along with his relaxed steps, following the swing of his hips and the casualty with which he loosened the tie around his neck. You admired him for his sauntering, no matter how he walked, how he stood and how he sat, he radiated an incomparable elegance.

He came to a stop right behind you, propped one hand on the back of your chair to lean down slightly, and you took in a cloud of his senses-thrilling perfume, rich and noble and underneath the smell of just him.

Leaning lightly against his fingers, you sensed the pressure of the rings adorning his slender hands against your back, prompting you to automatically straighten up.

If someone else behaved like you, the fawning, the blushing, gods– the giggling and utterly nonsense you could ramble whenever Thranduil was close, you would have called them completely ridiculous and a lovesick fool.

It had taken a lot of effort to face what your body, your heart, your soul and your whole being demanded.

That it was the father of your best friend hadn't necessarily made it easier for you.

The first time you met Thranduil Oropherion was at the end of the second semester, on a night that, while seeming ordinary, marked a turning point in your life.

It was mid-February, the day of your last exam before the semester break. An exam with Professor Sauron on the last day—seriously, who came up with such sadistic ideas?

Frustrated, you decided the only logical solution was to hit your favorite bar.

The cozy joint quickly filled up with your fellow students. Fast forward a few hours, and there you were, getting schooled by Aragorn in Beer Pong, winning a drinking contest against Gimli, and belting out "Mr. Brightside" with Legolas on karaoke. Looking back, it had to be one of your finest performances. The two of you would get compliments for "rocking that shit" that never really ended.

So, none of you were in any shape to catch the usual bus back home.

Surprisingly, even Aragorn, who usually doesn't party to the point of a near coma like you, was holding his own with the beer. Plus, there wasn't enough cash left for a cab.

You pushed the problem aside until the bar shut off the music in the wee hours, and the remaining patrons were tossed into the night.

Confronted with the cold February air, you had to make a quick decision; none of you wanted to spend the semester break sick in bed.

So, Legolas, after fumbling with his cell phone and struggling to find the right number in his contacts, called his father.

It was only after the short call, in which Legolas slurred a "See you soon, Ada," that you thought about whether you had just woken the man up.

Although Legolas assured you several times how little his father slept and that he had likely been working, you couldn't help but worry about your first encounter with your best friend's father.

The few details you had managed to extract from the blonde, who had fallen asleep on your shoulder, were that he's "totally cool as long as I don't barve over the seats" and that his name was Thranduil.

It was a name that now rolled smoothly over your tongue, strange and enticing, and that he wasn't just a lawyer but owned an entire law firm, "the one that took down that one asshole, y'know?"

Knowing Legolas, his grades and the level of intelligence he had whenever he wasn't in love or drunk, it made sense that his father had cared a great deal about his education.

That you felt sick to your stomach and nervous about meeting the man was an understatement. There was a part in you that was ready to run into the night as to avoid meeting your best friends father drunk and barely dressed; and that for the first time.

A man so firm in his attitudes about work and education surely had no joy in picking up his son, drunk as hell, in the middle of the night or playing cab driver for his equally drunk friends.

Those thoughts vanished as soon as a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of the sidewalk and he stepped out.

He could've been Legolas older brother by the looks of them.

Adorned, as usual, in impeccably coordinated slacks and a crisply pressed shirt, this time in a striking bordeaux hue, Thranduil exuded a forbiddingly handsome presence.

The long platinum hair framed his face, pulled up into a ponytail, and his piercing eyes thoroughly surveyed you as he stepped out.

Even if your ass was freezing off on the stone, you were glad to be sitting down. Your legs had turned into jelly as you peared up.. and up and up those long legs.

His first words caught you off guard.

You had expected a lecture about your drinking habits or a mocking comment along the lines of: "partied a little too hard, did we?"

However, the first thing Thranduil said was a warm, "You'll catch your death out there, hop in!" before ushering you into the car.

Wrapped in a surprisingly cozy blanket he provided, you sat in the passenger seat moments after loading a still-dozing (and very much drooling) Legolas into the back seat with Gimli and Aragorn. It wasn't a long drive, but the heated seats and the exhaustion of the day quickly lulled the boys into a sleep you couldn't share.

Determined to stay awake, to make a good impression on Thranduil, you wanted to talk to him and thank him for the ride.

Somehow, you couldn't manage to open your mouth. Instead, it was he who broke the silence with a lowered voice at a red light.

"You must be the woman Legolas won't stop talking about," he stated, your name rolling off his tongue, and at your nod, he smirked. "Legolas has told me so much about you that I wondered when I might finally meet you."

Your eyes were glued to the man at the wheel, not just because of his handsome face and the way he pronounced your name. The last part would have you swooning, wondering how your own name could sound so... sensual on anyones lips.

It was easy to fall into conversation with him after that, even if the beginning was a bit bumpy on your part due to sobering up. You may have forgotten what seminars you took and completly got off road babbling about the books you needed to read, that didn't matter though.

Thranduil listened to you, looked at you, and responded to your stories and opinions with such interest and wit that something in you was released, something that would stay with you for a long time.

He did it a lot now, watching you, looking at you and like, really looking at you with his cerulean eyes that broke through every wall you've ever built around yourself.

It was clear from the beginning that this wasn't some boy like the ones you went on dates with before.

He was a man who showed his interest in what you had to say and what you thought because he was interested in you and not because he wanted to get into your pants.

While Thranduil wasn't always there, making himself sparse whenever the four of you got too loud for him or giving you the freedom to use the house as a second home, those moments where he did join you left an even greater indent in your heart that slowly carved a Thranduil-sized shape into the muscle.

Take last winter for example.

Christmas was coming closer every day, bringing with it the usual hustle of cramming in study sessions for the last exams to be taken while trying to work through the bullet list of activities that Legolas had planned.

They were more meticulous and even color coordinated which made a fine example of his study habits when you tried to quiz him on one of the many topics and all he could list was when and where the first Christmas markets would open. He hadn't even bothered to fake taking an interest in studying.

You loved him, very much so but he tested your skills on holding back and smacking him so much that you needed to get up and get out of the living room. Gimli and he would be alright if you left them alone for a second. Surely.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the high entrance hall as you sat down on the stairs, shuffling through the flashcards you'd prepared in the hopes of getting at least some of the information into your overflowing, mushed brain.

At this point, your head must have been steaming, stuffed full with dates and people doing this because of that, and the historical development of words that you needed to explain other words– it went on and on, building up to a scarily high stack of cards and notes.

You just made yourself as comfortable as one could, perched on one of the steps, leaned against the wall, and feet crossed at the ankles and your back hunched over one of the cards, as one of the doors upstairs opened and closed, followed by footsteps and then, an amused huff.

"Why am I not surprised to find one of you doing yoga on the stairs?"

You snapped up, a sharp sting zipping through you at the sudden movement and you winced, glancing up to the top of the stairs.

"Yoga? Why the hell– sorry, shit.."

Then, your feelings for Thranduil had been simmering on high heat, a new development of the crush that slowly but surely grew out of control.

There was a duality tearing you in two different directions.

1. he was still Mister Oropherion, Legolas's father, a respectable man in society (after the first meeting you had frantically googled him, lying under the stuffy blanket in your dorm and tried to find out as much as you could through newspaper articles and zooming into pictures) and he radiated power, influence.

2. He was Thranduil as well, loving and caring not just to his son but to his friends as well, always making time after a long day at work to ask how you all were and if you needed anything. He drove you around whenever none of you could anymore, he laughed at your jokes and teased, smirking at you, watching you over the rim of his reading glasses…

How were you supposed to act around him if not like a total fool?

Thranduil raised a hand to his mouth and pressed his thumb against his lip which obviously twitched into an amused smile at your attempt to sort out this situation.

"That position you were in just now resembled one I did in my morning yoga course this morning," Thranduil explained as he made his way down, stopping two steps behind you.

"Yoga," you repeated quite horse at the mental image of this man twisting his long body– no no no this was not what should occupy your mind right now, most definitely not.

"However, I see I was incorrect," he continued and nodded the tip of his chin down at the flashcards. "Not as much fun as yoga."

You made a sound somewhere between a distressed wail and laughter. "No this is so much fun, actually. I think I'm having too much fun; nothing else I wanna do other than burn the reasoning for a man doing whatever into this nuggin'"

And while you were alright at it, you knocked your own palm against your forehead, hoping that it would delete some useless information out of there to make room.

It did nothing of the sorts, why would your head cooperate for once in your lifetime exactly when Thranduil was taking another step, right over you and sat down on your other side– one step lower.

The height difference allowed him to have an inch on you nonetheless, presenting you with a close-up of his jawline and the ivory curve of his neck and shoulder line that peeked under his cashmere sweater.

"C'mon," he said and held out his hand.

Your brain was short-circuiting, running hot trying to figure out if you should take it with your hand.

Thranduil chuckled and reached over, taking the stack of cards out of the tight grip of your hands that loosened at the brush of fingertips against skin.

He shuffled through them as well, looking over your handwriting and that alone felt so much more intimate than anything else he had ever done.

Here he was, sitting next to you, his eyes following the brush of your pen and you wondered if he saw the sharp slants of the t's and the dots on the i's and if there was a universe where he thought about his name in your handwriting.

He must have said something for suddenly he lifted his head and looked at you, still staring.

His eyes, the brightest of blue, wandered back and forth on your face, moving and examining and though you were scared he was figuring it out, putting puzzle pieces together that revealed a picture of your desire, you couldn't find it in you to look away.

You imagined kissing him. Press your mouth against those soft and pink lips and finally get it done and over with.

You blinked.

And drew back first.

Thranduil's head inclined the tiniest bit, a quizzing glance in his last glance before he cleared his throat and leaned back against the wall. The winter sun warmed your cheeks and the fuzzy socks on your feet knocked against the banister as you situated yourself again.

This was alright.

Not the right time for kissing your best friend's father but spending time with him filled that part in you that arched for the slightest ounce of attention that he could spare.

And if this was studying in their hallway, you would be alright.

"So… please explain to me what happened in the year–"

"Things don't seem to be in your favor," Thranduil remarked in the present as he examined the board.

Meanwhile, Gimli, who had momentarily slipped your mind in the haze of thoughts about him and the pleasant warmth coursing through your body from both him and the alcohol, burst into laughter.

"Well," you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look away from Thranduil and back at the table.

You didn't have to look at your friends to see the smirk on their faces.

At first, you had wanted to keep your secret to yourself, but damn Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and the evening after one of the harder exams that had loosened your tongue and pulled at your words bit by bit until all your insides poured out, just like the tears that came from finally being able to share this part of you.

Now you had to live with the consequences, the wagging eyebrows whenever Thranduil said something, the giggling as if you were ten and not in your twenties, and if that wasn't frustrating enough, the three of them conspired in a manner that they could disappear as soon as they had to chance to leave you and Thranduil alone.

You searched for your voice for a moment: "Who knows how the game will turn out? I've been clinging for what feels like an eternity to this money and the few rents I can collect. After all, these idiots ripped off street after the other."

"You brought this on yourself," Aragorn replied, rolling the dice.

You hadn't noticed Legolas' move at all, and from the grins on the faces of the three of them, dread gripped you as you anticipated something truly mischievous.

"What have you... Legolas!" you almost shrieked when you saw his rider on your street. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked aloud, glaring angrily into the round, only to have cheeky-looking faces flashing back at you.

Aragorn started to walk his figure, but you leaned far over the table, grabbing his wrist with one hand. "No.. no, that doesn't count! We were on a break!" you tried to complain but got no encouragement.

Nice friends you had chosen.

Not even Aragorn, who usually took no sides, now raised his shoulders in a quick shrug.

"I said I'm gonna continue," Legolas sang. You saw his lips continue to speak, but the words sounded muffled in your ears, "It's not our fault if you were distracted"

This pure audacity.

The disrespect.

The nerve of this blonde headed idiot!

You wanted to scream, you wanted to shake the mirk out of his face, but all you did was nail him to the chair with a pointed stare.

To no avail.

The guy was building up immunity to that scarily fast. In no time soon, you would need to find another way to shut him up.

The blood burned your face as you let yourself fall backward.

Not the smartest idea, because as soon as your back made contact with Thranduil's hand, you sucked in a sharp breath, a sound that didn't escape the man behind you.

The only thing you could think of to somehow save yourself from the situation was to cross your arms in front of your chest desperately.

Like a defiant child, you pushed your lower lip forward and jutted your chin up. "Alright, let's play unfair."

Behind you, Thranduil smirked.

His breath hit your cheeks hotly as he leaned down to your height all at once, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. "No matter how you play, dirty or not, destroy them for me, okay sweetheart?"

As if his proximity wasn't already the catalyst for the endorphin explosion and clouding your perception of everything else but him, the way the pet name 'sweetheart' rolled loosely over his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

Fuck, you were so fucked.

"Of course," you managed to bring out just barely.

Your voice had jumped up the scale so far it could have been a squeak. If you tried to think about why he'd unpacked that pet name out of the blue, your brain would probably have gone up in smoke.

Or you would have gone crazy.

Neither seemed like a really promising option and so you played it cool, throwing him a smile and then reaching for the dice.

You felt Thranduil straighten up again, heard the soft rustle of his fine suit pants, and forced yourself to concentrate on moving your figure along and placing it, thank heavens, to a prison visiting field.

"You're home early, Ada," mumbled Legolas, a handful of sour gummy worms between his teeth as his sticky fingers accepted the dice.

Behind you, Thranduil now propped himself up with both hands on your backrest, his tall figure casting a shadow on the board in front of you in the dim light of the kitchen, making your thoughts, as well as your breath, catch.

He was so much taller than you, his shadow engulfing yours completely.

"Would you believe me if I said I was hoping to see my son after a long week at work?" he asked, and for a moment you thought you felt his thumb brush your shoulder blades.

But the feathery touch disappeared so quickly that you weren't sure it had even been there.

"Ay, I'd rather have stayed at work then," interjected Gimli as he slid a few bills to Aragorn and exchanged them for a road, "Seeing Las shitfaced is not a pretty sight" He laughed, though Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Or seeing him in general," you interjected. Again all your bones vibrated at Thranduil's laughter.

Then a dull pain ran through you and, gasping, you looked under the table where Legolas was just pulling his leg back. "You little shit!" you gasped, but the blonde only stuck his tongue out at you.

"My Lady," Aragorn slid the dice to you, probably just in time before Legolas and you erupted into another discussion.

"I'll be in the living room in the meantime if anyone is looking for me. And please," Thranduil's tone made you tilt your head back in your neck so you could look up at him. He looked at one after the other of you "it would be very nice if I didn't run into another one of you half-naked in the morning," he spoke and his eyebrows shot up at Gimli who promptly toasted him with the bottle.

"Of course, Mr. O! In the future, I will not present Mother Nature's gifts until lunchtime."

Thranduil rolled his eyes with a grin and turned away from your group.

In the corner of your eye, you followed him, watching as he disappeared around the corner to the living room.

The room remained silent, music extracted, and as you looked to your friends, you heaved a sigh. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"I don't know what about," Gimli asked, looking to Legolas "Do you know what she might mean Las?"

Legolas shook his head, one shoulder raised "I haven't the faintest idea. Aragorn?"

"Can't think of anything."

Grateful and relieved, you smiled at your boys.

"It's not like it's a big deal that your so down bad for my dad," Legolas interjected as casually as if he wasn't throwing your biggest secret into the room.

A room that was adjacent to the living room.

Your blood ran hot and hold.

"Legolas!" you hissed and paid him back with a well-deserved kick under the table.

Your heart was pounding up to your throat, Thranduil was sitting right there, next door, and Legolas was running his mouth? What was he thinking?

"What?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

Unbothered, Legolas threw another gummy worm into his mouth, "C'mon, it's true."

"Oh my god, sure. He.. he shouldn't, no he can't know it though!"

To your surprise, Legolas giggled, "You can't make this up, guys," and Gimli joined in with laughter; even Aragorn hid his laughter behind a hand.

It seemed like you were out of the loop as if the joke had sailed right past you.

The only way the situation could have worsened was if Thranduil had emerged from the living room to share a laugh with the guys about whatever you had clearly overlooked.

Yeah, that would be the tip of the evening, Thranduil laughing in your face over the stupid crush you had.

"Oh, my dear friend," Aragorn leaned over to you, patting your thigh affectionately, "Someday, when you stop putting yourself in the way, you will finally see how the tides can turn."

Your eyebrows shot up questioningly, "Aragorn, I love you, you know that? But no more riddles, no more dallying. Let's just finish this game before I scream."

"Like we're the ones dilly-dallying around," you heard Legolas mutter into his bottle, but you didn't have the motivation to bring up the subject again, and with a roll of the dice you threw everyone else back into action as well.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge

[kalixora]

[if your seeing this twice— it’s me😭]

𝓜𝓮𝓵𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰

The room was buzzing with low conversation, the kind that filled the space with a comforting hum. The lights were dimmed, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, adding a gentle heat that made the room feel cozy and intimate. You were seated on one of the plush leather couches, surrounded by the X-Men and a few others. A half-empty glass of something strong sat on the table in front of you, the alcohol giving your cheeks a rosy tint and making you feel a bit more relaxed than usual.

You’d spent the earlier part of the evening with the students, their eager faces lit up as they sat around you, watching Avatar. You’d told them all about how much you loved the movie, how you’d seen it countless times, and how you’d even learned to speak Na’vi. They’d been impressed, their eyes wide as you spoke a few lines in the language, your words flowing smoothly, effortlessly. The kids had been hooked, watching the screen with rapt attention as you translated some of the dialogue for them, making the experience even more magical.

But now, hours later, you were back with the adults, and the conversation had shifted to more casual topics. Gambit had been teasing you on and off, his playful remarks coming one after another, his Cajun accent making every word sound like a challenge. “Ain’t it somethin’, how much you love them blue aliens, chérie?” he said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair, one eyebrow raised as he looked at you.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his teasing made your pulse quicken. The alcohol was starting to make your head buzz, and you knew you were probably blushing, but you couldn’t help it. “Say what you want, I love that movie,” you replied, your words slightly slurred, but your tone firm.

“Oh, we know,” Scott interjected, chuckling. “The kids can’t stop talking about it. Surprised you don’t know the language.”

Gambit grinned, leaning forward, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Bet she’s got a Na’vi dictionary under her pillow,” he quipped, causing a few others to laugh.

The teasing was all in good fun, but you could feel the warmth of the alcohol pushing you past your usual patience. Gambit’s smirk was infuriating, and the way his eyes danced with amusement made your irritation spike. Without thinking, you snapped back in Na’vi, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. “Eywa ayngahu kalweyaveng.”

[Fuck yourself bitch]

For a moment, the room went quiet. Then, Rouge burst out laughing, clutching her sides as she looked at you in surprise. “Good gosh sugar, I think she just cussed you out.”

Gambit’s eyes widened in mock shock, a hand going to his chest as if he were offended, but the smirk never left his face. “Now, now, chérie, no need to get all riled up. What did I say?” His voice was dripping with playful innocence, but you could see the spark of challenge in his eyes.

The alcohol had loosened your tongue, and the warmth of the fire and the low light of the room only made everything feel more intense. With the mix of emotions and alcohol, the laughter that filled your ears didn’t feel right anymore. What had started as lighthearted teasing now twisted in your mind, making your stomach tingle with unease, and your palms grew sweaty as the moment replayed over and over in your head. You really liked Remy—more than you cared to admit—and right now, it felt like he was making fun of you.

The sound of everyone’s laughter echoed around the room, but it didn’t reach you in the same way. Instead of joining in, you felt a lump forming in your throat, a heavy, uncomfortable feeling settling in your chest. You knew it was silly to take it so seriously, but the alcohol had blurred the lines between playful banter and something more personal. You glanced over at Remy, his smirk still plastered on his face, and your heart sank.

Why did it have to be him? Out of everyone here, why did it have to be Remy who was laughing at you? The one person whose opinion mattered to you more than anyone else's. His teasing, which usually made you smile, now felt like a jab, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was mocking you, even though you knew deep down he probably didn’t mean it that way.

But the alcohol whispered different things in your ear, feeding your insecurities and amplifying every emotion. Your fingers tightened around your glass, the coolness of it grounding you slightly, but not enough to dispel the wave of hurt that was building. You looked down, avoiding his gaze, the firelight dancing on the rim of your drink as you tried to push the feelings away.

The laughter started to die down, but the tension in your chest only grew. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the emotions that were threatening to spill over. The last thing you wanted was to make a scene, to let anyone, especially Remy, see how much his teasing had gotten to you. But the more you tried to swallow it down, the more it bubbled up, threatening to burst out in ways you couldn’t control.

“Chérie, you alright?” Remy’s voice broke through your thoughts, his tone still light but with a hint of concern as he leaned closer, noticing the change in your demeanor. His proximity made your heart race, but now it wasn’t just because of your feelings for him. It was the mix of embarrassment and hurt, the fear that maybe he didn’t see you the way you saw him.

You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, your voice betraying you as it cracked slightly.

He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you more closely. “You sure? You look—”

“I said I’m fine, Remy,” you cut him off a little too sharply, quickly regretting it as the words left your mouth. The room fell silent, as everyone turned to look at you.

Remy’s expression softened, but there was confusion in his eyes now, and maybe even a hint of hurt. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere, the teasing tone now gone.

The knot in your chest tightened, and you felt the sting of tears welling up, but you fought them back. “It’s fine,” you repeated, trying to sound convincing, but even you didn’t believe it.

The others exchanged glances, sensing the tension, but not knowing how to diffuse it. The warmth of the fire that had felt comforting earlier now felt stifling, the room too small, too hot, too overwhelming.

You set your glass down on the table, your movements stiff. “I think I need some air,” you said, pushing yourself up from the couch. The sudden movement made your head spin, but you steadied yourself, avoiding everyone’s gaze as you headed toward the door.

“Wait Sugar—“ Rouge tried to grab your arm but you moved away waving her off.

“Y/N—” Remy started to say something, but you didn’t let him finish.

You just shook your head and walked out, the cool air outside hitting you like a wave. You leaned against the wall, closing your eyes as you tried to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

You knew you were overreacting, that it was the alcohol and your feelings for Remy messing with your head, but that didn’t make it any easier. The pain was real, even if it didn’t make sense, and all you could do was hope that he didn’t follow you out, because right now, you weren’t sure you could hold it together if he did.

The cool night air hit your face, sharp and refreshing, but it did little to soothe the turmoil inside you. You leaned against the brick wall just outside the door, closing your eyes as you took deep, steadying breaths. The sounds of the city—cars passing, distant voices—felt far away, muffled by the pounding of your heart in your ears. You tried to replay the scene in your head, rationalize it, but the hurt still lingered, stinging your pride and your feelings more than you wanted to admit.

You were angry with yourself for letting it get to you, for letting your emotions and the alcohol twist something harmless into something painful. And yet, no matter how much you tried to tell yourself it was all in your head, the sensation of being laughed at by the one person you admired most wouldn’t leave.

The door behind you creaked open, and you tensed, knowing without looking who it was. The footsteps were soft, hesitant, and when Remy’s voice came, it was low, careful. “Chérie, can we talk?”

You didn’t respond at first, just kept your eyes closed, willing your emotions to settle. But you could feel his presence, the warmth of him standing close, the way he always seemed to draw you in without even trying.

“Y/N,” he said again, more gently, and the way he said your name made something inside you soften, just a little.

Finally, you opened your eyes, looking at him. He was standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, a worried expression on his face. It was a look you weren’t used to seeing on him—Remy was always so confident, so sure of himself—but now, he seemed uncertain, maybe even a little nervous.

“What do you want, Remy?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the sharpness gone but the hurt still evident.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he said, taking a small step closer. “You looked upset back there. I didn’t mean to push it too far.”

You sighed, looking down at the ground. “I’m fine, really. I just… I guess I didn’t find it as funny as everyone else did.”

He was silent for a moment, and when you finally looked up, you saw that he was watching you closely, his eyes searching yours. “It wasn’t about making fun of you, chérie,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just… you know, teasing. I didn’t realize it was bothering you.”

“I know,” you said, rubbing your temples, feeling the tension there. “It’s not your fault. I think I just… I don’t know. Maybe I took it the wrong way because—”

You stopped yourself, the words catching in your throat.

Remy seemed to pick up on your hesitation, his expression softening even more. “Because?” he prompted gently, his voice coaxing, but not pushing.

You swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “Because I like you, okay?” The words came out faster than you intended, your voice trembling slightly. “I like you a lot, and I guess… I guess it just felt like you were making fun of me, and that hurt. Avatar the movie… that movie means a whole lot to me and it really got me through so dark times and I— this is so stupid…”

“Non, it’s not stupid,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. He took another step closer, close enough now that you could see the concern in his eyes. “I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. Teasing’s just my way of… well, I guess it’s my way of flirtin’ ” He gave a small, sheepish smile. “Maybe not the best way, but it’s the only way I know how sometimes.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit. “Flirting?” you repeated, almost disbelieving.

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Gambit didn’t do such a great job if it made ya feel like this, though.” He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I didn’t know you felt the same way, chérie. I would’ve… I don’t know, tried a little harder, maybe.”

The warmth of his touch, the gentleness in his voice, made your breath catch. It was like all the confusion and hurt from before was slowly melting away, replaced by a different kind of heat, one that had your heart racing for a whole new reason.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, squeezing his hand lightly. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said softly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. “I’m the one who should’ve been more careful. I don’t want to make you feel bad. Ever.”

For a moment, you just stood there, the cool night air around you, the warmth of his hand in yours, and the soft sounds of the city in the background. Everything felt more grounded, more real, [despite the buzz] now that you knew where you both stood.

“So,” Remy said after a beat, his voice lighter, a hint of that familiar playful tone returning, “how do I make it up to you, hmm? Maybe you could teach me that language hm chére? I’d love to know what you called me back there.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Well— I kinda said to F off…”

“Oh,” Gambit replied with a laugh. “Une jolie bouche comme la vôtre peut devenir méchante.”

You stared up at him with a confusion, “What?”

“Guess Gambit’s gotta teach ya some words too.”

“I’d like that.”

And with that, the two of you stood there, hand in hand, the awkwardness from before fading into something softer, something warmer. All you could focus on was him—the way his hand felt in yours, the way his eyes never left your face, and the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real.

[badathumanemotions]

Hi, I was wondering if you take requests, if so, can you write Elle x fem reader where the reader and Elle are on a stake-out, but things get heated?

Stakeout

Elle Greenaway x Fem Reader MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Sex in a van, Shoulder Massage, Making Out, Oral Sex, Grinding, Scissoring. WC: 4,011 (Not Proof Read)

Elle leaned against the driver seat, arms folded tight across her chest, eyes scanning the grimy alley with a glower that could make the shadows retreat. She had drawn the short straw, again. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was an FBI agent, a profiler with a knack for getting into the minds of the most twisted individuals. And here she was, essentially babysitting a suspect.

"This is a waste of time," she grumbled, the words tumbling out in a low, frustrated sigh. The air in the car had the scent of stale coffee and old french fries. You could see the tension coiled in her shoulders, the way her fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against her thigh.

"Elle, it's part of the job," you reminded her, trying to keep the weariness out of your voice. The stakeout was a necessary step in the investigation, a tedious dance of patience and observation.

"Yeah, I know," she said, not bothering to hide her frustration. "It's just…so fucking boring."

You let out a short laugh. "It's not all high-speed chases and dramatic interrogations, you know."

Her eyes snapped to you, and for a moment, you thought she might argue. But then, she cracked a smile. "I know. I just wish it was."

You couldn't help the smirk that crept onto your face. "Well, if you behave, I might just make it interesting," you teased, jerking a thumb over your shoulder towards the backseat.

Elle's eyes narrowed playfully. "Oh, really?"

Before you could respond, movement at the far end of the. They sauntered towards the apartment building with an ease that suggested they had no clue they were being watched. Your heart kicked up a notch in your chest, and you leaned closer to the windshield, eyes narrowing to focus on the suspect's face. He was a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, with a mop of shaggy hair and a smug smirk that made you want to wipe it off his face.

Elle noticed the shift in your posture and followed your gaze. "Is that him?" she asked.

You nodded, reaching for the switch to activate the parabolic microphone. The quiet hum filled the car as you positioned it to catch the faintest whispers of conversation from inside the suspects apartment. "Let's see what kind of party we're crashing."

Elle leaned in closer, her eyes alight with the thrill of the hunt. She was a force to be reckoned with in the field, a sharp mind wrapped in a tightly-wound package of determination. You knew she was itching to get out of the car and make a move, but you had to wait for the right moment.

The suspect's voice was faint, but the microphone picked up enough to give you a taste of his conversation. It was mostly small talk, the kind of banter you'd expect from someone who didn't have a care in the world. He talked about the weather, complained about his job, and laughed at a joke you couldn't quite catch.

Elle rolled her eyes, but you put a finger to your lips, signalling for silence. It was important to listen, even if it was mundane. Sometimes, the most innocuous details could reveal something vital. You scribbled notes on a pad of paper, logging the time and content of the conversation.

Two entire hours ticked by, the clock on the dashboard casting a sickly green glow over the interior of the van. The conversation inside the apartment remained unchanged, a dull drone of complaints and laughter that did nothing to advance the investigation.

Your body was starting to get stiff from sitting in one position for too long. You rolled your neck, trying to loosen the muscles that had cramped up from the tension of the stakeout. The leather of the seat was sticking to your back, and your legs felt like they had fallen asleep.

Elle looked over at you, her own frustration clear. "We've been here for hours, and all we've got is his take on some shitty reality show," she complained, her voice tight with irritation. "This is ridiculous."

You nodded, trying not to let the boredom seep into your own voice. "It's all part of the game, Greenaway. Sometimes you've got to play the long con."

Elle grunted, but you could see the tension in her shoulders ease a bit. She knew you were right, even if she didn't want to admit it. The job wasn't always glamour and gunfire; sometimes it was just the slow, painful crawl towards a breakthrough.

You climbed into the back of the van, the padded floor compressing slightly your shoes. You stretched out your legs and rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. The lights from outside danced on the metal panels above you.

Elle twisted in her seat to check on you. "You okay back there?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

You nodded. "Just trying to get the kinks out." You rolled your neck from side to side, feeling the muscles protest.

Elle studied you for a moment, her eyes lingering on the tension in your shoulders. Then she leaned over the centre console, her hand brushing against your arm. "Here, let me help."

Before you could object, she had climbed into the back with you, her knees brushing against your side as she knelt beside you. She placed her warm hands on your shoulders, her thumbs digging into the knots with a firm pressure that made you gasp. You couldn't help but let your eyes drift shut, the relief from the tension spreading like warm honey through your body.

Elle's touch was surprisingly gentle, her expert fingers working out the tightness that had settled into your muscles. You felt yourself start to relax under her ministrations, the stress of the stakeout and the case melting away. The van was suddenly a small, intimate space, filled with the sound of your own breathing and the soft hum of the city outside.

Her hands moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing, each press and stroke bringing a fresh wave of relief. And as she worked, her fingers grew bolder, sliding under the collar of your shirt to access the knots along your shoulders. Her nails grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without realizing it, you leaned into her touch, your head tilting to the side to give her better access. The tension in the van shifted, the air heating up with something that had nothing to do with the case.

Elle's thumbs dug in a little deeper, pressing against the base of your neck, and you couldn't hold back the low moan that slipped from your lips. The sound echoed in the small space, and you felt a flush of heat spread across your cheeks.

But then, you heard it. The low, dark chuckle that rumbled from the depths of her chest. It sent a thrill down your spine, a mix of surprise and something else… something that made your heart race a little faster.

You felt her breath against your neck, warm and sweet like the scent of mint on her breath. The fine hairs along your neck stood on end, and you couldn't help but shiver, the sensation making your skin tingle.

Elle's smirk was palpable, a silent tease that seemed to vibrate in the air between you. Her fingers continued their dance along your shoulders, moving in slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel her eyes on you, watching your every reaction, studying the way your body responded to her touch.

And then, without warning, her lips pressed against your neck. The contact was soft, feather-light, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. Your eyes snapped open, and you stared up at the ceiling, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. But it was impossible. The sensation was like a match striking, setting your nerves ablaze.

Her kisses grew more deliberate, moving along the column of your throat, her teeth nipping at your skin just hard enough to make you gasp. You could feel her breath, hot and heavy, as she hovered over you, her eyes dark with something that was definitely not professional interest.

You leaned back into her, the movement unconscious but unmistakable. It was like your body had a mind of its own, craving more of her touch, more of that electric heat that she seemed to generate. It was a dangerous game, playing with the lines of your partnership, but you couldn't help it. The chemistry between you had been simmering for too long, and now it was threatening to boil over.

Slowly, you turned in her grasp, facing her. Your eyes locked, and you could see the hunger in hers, the same need that was coursing through your veins. Your heart hammered in your chest, and your breath grew shallow as you leaned in, hoping, praying that she would close the distance between you.

Elle's hands slid down your arms, her fingertips lightly skimming your skin as she watched you approach. You could see the anticipation in her eyes, the way her pupils dilated with each shallow breath she took.

Then, it happened. Her lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss that sent your stomach flipping with excitement. The world outside the van vanished, replaced by the taste of mint on her lips and the warmth of her breath. You felt your body respond, your arms wrapping around her waist as you pulled her closer.

Elle didn't hesitate, deepening the kiss, her tongue sliding against yours in a dance that was both familiar and thrillingly new. Your hands roamed over her back, feeling the contours of her body beneath her tight shirt. You had worked together for years, shared countless tense moments and quiet nights in hotel rooms, but this…this was different.

With surprising strength, she leaned you back until you were laying flat on the floor of the van, the cold flooring pressing against your back. You didn't care. All you cared about was the feel of her against you, the way her body moulded to yours like it was made to fit.

Elle broke the kiss only long enough to inch your shirt up above your breasts, her eyes locking onto yours. You could see the hunger in them, the raw desire that mirrored your own. You didn't resist, didn't even think to question it. You just helped her, lifting your arms so she could pull the fabric over your head.

Her lips found your collarbones, kissing along the delicate skin there, sending shivers down your body. Each kiss was a promise, a silent vow of what was to come. Her mouth travelled lower, tracing a fiery path across your chest. You could feel her breath against your skin, hot and rapid.

Elle's fingers deftly unhooked your bra, letting the fabric fall away from your breasts. She took her time, as if savouring the moment. Her eyes were dark with desire, and you could feel the heat of her gaze on your exposed flesh. When her mouth finally reached your nipples, you gasped, arching your back. Her touch was feather-light at first, a soft tease that had you squirming beneath her. Then she took one into her mouth, her tongue flicking and teasing until you were panting with need.

Her teeth grazed the sensitive peak, and you felt electric shoot through you. You threaded your fingers through her hair, holding her to your chest as she lavished attention on your other breast. Her touch was firm, yet gentle, each suckle and lick sending waves of pleasure that pooled low in your belly. The van was filled with the sounds of your ragged breathing and the soft, wet noises of her mouth on your skin.

Elle's hands slid over your stomach, the heat from her palms searing your flesh. She explored every inch of you with the same focus she applied to her cases, leaving no part of you untouched, unexplored. Her fingers traced the waistband of your pants, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body begging for more.

With a gentle bite, she marked the soft flesh of your left breast, not enough to break the skin but leaving an indelible reminder of her presence. The sensation was exquisite, a sharp pleasure that made your hips buck. You gasped, your back arching off the cold floor of the van. Her eyes darted up to meet yours, questioning, but you only nodded, urging her on.

With a smug smile, Elle hooked her fingers into the waistband of your jeans, she began to peel the fabric away from your skin. You lifted your hips to help, eager to feel the brush of her hands on your bare flesh. The denim was tight, clinging to your curves, but she was relentless.

Once your jeans were around your ankles, she took a moment to appreciate the sight before her. You were wearing a simple cotton underwear, and she could see the dampness already seeping through the fabric. She traced the edge of the fabric with the tip of her finger, watching as your body quivered at the contact.

With a wicked grin, you reached for her, your hands fumbling with the buttons of her shirt. She chuckled against your skin, her teeth grazing the sensitive spot just above your navel. "Someone's eager," she murmured, her breath sending a shiver down your spine.

Elle sat back on her heels, allowing you the space to work. You felt a thrill of power as you revealed her, one button at a time. Her shirt fell open, revealing a simple black bra that did nothing to hide the dark, pebbled peaks of her nipples. Your eyes greedily took in the sight of her, the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath she took.

With trembling hands, you reached behind her, feeling the clasp of her bra give way under your fingers. The material fell away, and you couldn't help but gasp at the sight of her bare breasts. They were perfect, full and round with just the right amount of give. You leaned forward, capturing one nipple in your mouth, feeling it harden against your tongue.

Elle moaned softly, her hands tangling in your hair as she held you to her. Her skin was hot, her body arching into your touch. You had never felt so alive, so consumed by desire. You had to have more of her, had to taste all of her.

With a quick tug, you pulled her pants and underwear down together, revealing her bare skin. She was beautiful, her thighs toned and smooth, her hips flaring out in a way that made your mouth water. You kissed your way down her stomach, her muscles tensing as you approached her most sensitive spot.

Elle's legs parted easily for you, and you could see the wetness glistening between her thighs. Your heart raced as you knelt between her legs, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. You took a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent of her desire. It was intoxicating, making you ache with need.

Her hands found their way into your hair, gripping tightly as you kissed along her inner thighs. Each touch of your lips sent a tremor through her body, her hips rolling in silent invitation. You felt the anticipation building, the need to taste her, to feel her come apart in your arms.

Your tongue traced a gentle path along her folds, feeling the heat and wetness that awaited you. She was already so close, her body responding to every caress like a finely-tuned instrument. You took your time, savouring the sweetness of her, the way she gasped and writhed beneath you.

But Elle wasn't one to be passive, not even in passion. With a sudden surge of strength, she flipped you onto your back, her eyes flashing with challenge. "My turn," she growled.

Her hands slid up your thighs, roughly removing your underwear with a fierce determination. The cool air hit your sensitive skin, making you shiver. But the chill was short-lived as Elle's body pressed against yours, the warmth of her sex against your own creating a delicious friction that had you squirming for more.

You felt her wetness, her need coating your own thighs as she rocked against you, the sound of skin slipping against skin echoing in the small space. The van's floor was unforgiving, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of her, the way her breath hitched every time your hips met.

The intensity of her gaze was like a physical force, pushing you closer to the edge. Your own breath grew ragged as you matched her rhythm, your hands roaming her body, memorizing every dip and curve.

With a fierce determination, Elle ground her hips into yours, creating a delicious friction that had you both panting. The slick heat of her vulva against yours sent pleasure through your body. You could feel the wetness between your legs, a testament to how badly you needed release.

Her hands found their way to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as she took your nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, rolling them in a way that made you gasp. She watched your reaction with a hooded gaze, her own arousal evident in the way her pupils had blown wide and dark. The pressure grew, and she began to grind against you in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you arching your back, desperate for more.

Elle adjusted herself slightly, locking into the perfect angle. Your clit was now being stimulated just the right way, and you felt orgasm build at lightening speed. You were a mess of moans and whimpers, your hips rising to meet her movements.

Her eyes were laser focused as she worked you closer and closer to the edge. It was like she could see every sensation playing out across your features, every little twitch of your body was a secret she was eager to decode. Her own breathing grew harsher, her chest heaving as she watched you unravel beneath her.

The pressure between your legs was unbearable, a sweet torment that you never wanted to end. Each time she thrust against you, you could feel the pleasure coil tighter, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces.

And then it came. A particularly hard thrust from Elle sent you hurtling over the edge, your body arching off the cold floor of the van. The orgasm was like a thunderclap, stealing the breath from your lungs and leaving you trembling in its wake. Your eyes squeezed shut, and a scream ripped from your throat, raw and primal.

But Elle didn't stop. She kept moving, her eyes locked onto your face, watching the way your expression contorted with pleasure. Each thrust was more intense, more demanding. You felt yourself shatter, the sensation of coming undone only to be rebuilt, piece by piece, by her relentless rhythm.

As the waves of your climax subsided, she leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "Again," she whispered, the word a command and a plea all rolled into one. And you found yourself eager to oblige.

Her movements grew more urgent, her hips grinding into yours with a ferocity that had you gripping on to her to keep from floating away on a cloud of pure bliss. Each thrust sent sparks flying behind your eyes.

A cascade of smaller orgasms began to take you over, each one riding the heels of the last, a never-ending wave of pleasure that had your toes curling and your back arching. You could feel your body tightening curling in on itself. All of your muscles contracting then releasing.

Finally, with a gasp that was half a whimper, you collapsed back onto the cold floor, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Your eyes remained shut, the aftershocks of your climax still rippling through you. You felt a warmth spread through your body, a languid satisfaction that washed away the tension of the stakeout and the stress of the case.

Elle leaned over you, her chest pressing against yours, her own breathing heavy and uneven. She kissed you, hard and possessive, her tongue delving into your mouth with the same urgency that had driven her hips against yours.

You laid back, panting, your body feeling like a live wire. Elle pulled back, her eyes searching your face for any sign of regret or hesitation, but all she found was pure, unbridled satisfaction. She gave you a smug smile, one that told you she knew she'd rocked your world.

The van was a mess of discarded clothing and tangled limbs, the floor cold against your bare skin. You laid back, your chest heaving with the aftermath of pleasure, with Elle at your side, her breaths coming in soft, satisfied pants.

The silence was heavy, but it wasn't awkward. Instead, it was filled with the electric charge of something new and unexplored. You felt the weight of her gaze on you, and you couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Well, that was unexpected," you chuckled, your voice a little hoarse.

Elle smirked, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, come on. Half the people in the office have a bet going on for when we hook up. Did you honestly think it wouldn't happen?"

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't deny the truth in her words. The tension between you two had been clear as day for the better part of a year, a dance of desire and denial that was bound to explode. And now that it had, you couldn't help but wonder why you had waited so long.

With a playful nudge, Elle sat up, her laughter mingling with yours as she began to collect her clothes scattered across the van floor. "We should probably get dressed," she quipped. "Wouldn't want to caught with our pants down."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the stakeout dissipating like early morning mist. As you reached for your shirt, you felt like you were moving through warm molasses, your limbs heavy and languid from the afterglow.

The act of getting dressed felt almost comical in its difficulty. Each movement was exaggerated, as if you were underwater. The fabric of your clothes clung to your skin, sticky with sweat and the remnants of your passionate encounter. You managed to pull on your underwear and bra with a sense of victory.

Elle watched with a knowing smile, her own hands more nimble as she fastened her shirt. She had left you a mess and now you were fumbling like a teenager after their first kiss. The sight was both endearing and incredibly arousing to her.

Once redressed, you managed to get to your feet, legs wobbly and knees threatening to give out. You grabbed the back of the passenger seat for support, still trying to compose yourself.

Elle watched with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You okay?" she teased.

You nodded, trying to play it cool, but the dopey smile you felt spreading across your face gave you away. "Yeah," you murmured, still reeling from the aftershocks of pleasure. The suspect's voice droned on in the background, a mundane monologue that seemed to have no end. But it didn't matter. In that moment, all that existed was the two of you, tangled in the back of the van, the scent of each other's skin lingering in the air.

Elle's hand found yours, her fingers sliding through yours in a gentle, reassuring grip. You turned to look at her, and the heat in her gaze told you everything you needed to know. It wasn't just a simple hand-hold, it was a declaration of sorts, a silent acknowledgement of the shift in your dynamic.

"I gotta say, this is probably one of my top three stakeouts."

[fortheloveof-sebastian]

Lovebirds

Pairings: Sebastian x F!Reader

Summary: You almost miss curfew (again) coming back from a study session with Sebastian. The gentleman he is, he walks you back to your common room and his feelings for you accidentally slip out.

Warnings: kissing, fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: For some reason I just really love the idea of Ominis being the disgruntled mother of the friend group having to deal with you and Sebastian’s shit. Mommy Omi.

Not gonna lie this one put me in my feels.

I intentionally didn’t specify a certain House in this oneshot. It probably doesn’t work as well if you’re in Slytherin, but then maybe just imagine Sebastian is walking you to the girls side😉

The rosiness of Sebastian’s freckled cheeks reminds you of the wintery dusk settling behind you, backlighting Hogsmeade and the snow-covered wilderness. A cold wind cuts through your school cloaks and, without thinking, you lean closer into Sebastian’s side as you both laugh. Naturally, his arm falls around your shoulders, and you walk like that into the castle.

“Well, it’s about time,” came Ominis’s cutting voice. “I thought I was going to have to send out a search party.”

Ominis emerges from the shadows.

“Ominis.” Sebastian presses a hand to his chest. “Were you worried about us?“

“Be still my heart,” you say, pretending to swoon.

Ominis clicks his tongue. “I was more worried that I would have to venture out at an untimely hour to drag you back. Who knows what shenanigans you two get up to, I should never leave you alone.”

The three of you scurry up the grand staircase.

“We asked you to come with,” Sebastian points out. His arm leaves your shoulders, and there’s a twinge of disappointment in your chest.

“Well, I don’t need to study last minute,” Ominis declares hauntily.

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“No studying actually happened,” you say. “Your integrity would’ve remained intact.”

Ominis scoffs, and you and Sebastian snicker in response.

You did have all of the intentions to study for Potions. But once you picked up the necessary ingredients from The Magic Neep for practice, the sun began to sink and a chill set in, and you shuffled into The Three Broomsticks together. Sinora ended up plying you with new variations of Butterbeer she was experimenting with, and Potions quickly fell to the wayside.

You actually had been laughing earlier because Sebastian had a smudge of foam on his upper lip, and he playfully nipped at your thumb when you went to swipe it away.

“I’m not spending another detention with the likes of you two,” Ominis says. There’s a curl of affectionate amusement in his voice. “We ought to get to the common room before someone catches us.”

Sebastian says, “Go on without me, Omi.”

“Are you not coming?”

“I’m going to drop off my fellow delinquent here,” Sebastian tells him. “Make sure that she doesn’t run into anymore trouble without me.”

“I’m fine, Sebastian,” you say.

“Well what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go alone? All kinds of frightful things traverse these hallowed halls.”

You tap the side of your chin. “I can’t remember, was it you or me who won our duel?”

“I was going easy on you,” Sebastian chides. “You know, being a gentleman and all.”

Ominis waves a hand. “I’m leaving, I don’t have the energy to discuss this duel again. Goodnight, Y/N. Don’t lose your way, Sebastian, I don’t want to hear you bumbling your way into the room again.”

Sebastian and you watch Ominis’s retreating form, and the crimson glow of his wand.

“He loves us,” he says.

“How could be not?”

Your conversation lulls into comfortable silence. Even with your history of banter, you also enjoyed the moments when you weren’t talking, just walking together in your companionship.

The last handful of students were rushing by. Shadows had begun to stretch and take form on the tiled floors.

Finally you approach the entrance to your common room, and you’re reluctant to leave Sebastian. You turn to him, hoping to steal just a few more seconds.

“Tomorrow’s Potions class should be interesting,” you say.

Sebastian shrugs. “We’ll be fine as long as we don’t sit by Garreth again. Class might be a touch boring, but much less explosive.”

“I had a good day with you,” you blurt. Your desire to elongate these late fleeting moments backfires, and you feel your cheeks burn. Did you really just say that?

“I did too,” Sebastian says, softly, and gratefully without a stitch of taunting in his voice.

You mutter the password and the entrance opens. You step inside, one foot in and one foot out. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yep.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yep.”

“Sleep tight,” you add. You haven’t budged.

Sebastian smiles. Casually, he says, “Goodnight, Y/N. I love you.”

His face spasms, and for the first time you think you see a light dusting of color cover his cheeks. You freeze, then, invigorated, say, “You love me?”

“Well, um, yeah,” Sebastian awkwardly replies. He coughs a little. “You know we were just talking about how Ominis loves us and perhaps my mind was still there. I didn’t mean anything by —”

You climb down and interrupt Sebastian’s nervous rambles by grabbing the front of his robes. He blinks at you in rapid succession, mouth ajar, obviously still fumbling for an appropriate response to accidentally confessing his love for you.

“I love you too, Sebastian,” you tell him.

You’re not sure who kisses who first, but soon he’s captured you with his mouth, pressing it firmly against yours. Faintly you taste the trace of Butterbeer, which makes you smile. In response Sebastian moans softly and then draws you in closer, deepening the kiss. Your fingers slip into his hair. This moment is everything that you’ve wanted and more and —

“OOO KISSY KISSY!”

A familiar blur of color soars overhead. Instantly, Sebastian and you tear apart, slightly out of breath and pink-cheeked.

Peeves circles back around and makes a face. He sings:

“What do we have here?

A pair of lovebirds

Caught in the act, oh dear

Kissing like they have no fear!”

He cackles, high pitched and splitting, the sound ringing through the halls.

“Oh, bugger off, Peeves,” Sebastian snaps. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Caught red handed, in this moment of bliss

A moment like this they surely won’t miss

But it’s not a secret, they can’t dismiss,” Peeves continues to bellow, laughing devilishly.

You grab Sebastian’s arm. “Don’t bother giving him the time of day. He won’t quit.”

Sebastian looks back at you, and his face softens.

He sighs. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

“I tend to be quite often, yet people are always surprised.”

Sebastian chuckles, then pulls you in for a hug. Your cheek ends up in the crook of his neck, and the feel of him is so warm and safe and good. Peeves resumes his mocking but you both ignore it, and in good time he leaves to wreck havoc elsewhere.

“Told you,” you say.

“Say it again.”

You raise a brow. “Told you?”

He smiles again, and rolls his eyes. “No, what you said before. I want to hear it again.”

You rack your brain, then realize what he means. Your heart pounds. Mirroring his smile, you lean in and whisper, “I love you, Sebastian.”

[fragileruns]

oops hehe sorry i got super excited i forgot to give a plot line!!! as for plot, could we get smthing where reader is the complete opposite of tangerine (shy, timid sweetheart) and yet he’s still so drawn to her so he starts to routinely visit the place she works at (book shop, cafe, wtvr u want) and she has a bf who’s not the best to her n takes advantage of her kindness and trust, so tangerine helps her n talks her thru standing up for herself and even teaches her self defense just in case. tan starts to fall for her more n more and sees her as smthing precious, and reader is so captivated by this sexy intelligent man. n then one day tan is chilling at the cafe drinking coffee and reading (basically guarding her bc he’s protective hehe) bc she decided she was gnna break up w her bf and then when said bf comes in and she tries to end things, he starts getting aggressive and causing a scene so then our sexy tan just steps in all casually and shuts him down real fast and then that’s when reader’s heart skips a beat bc she realizes she likes tan (and tan may actually like her too) and so tan kicks ex’s ass to the curb and then checks on reader and calls her his “little badass” since she used her self defense on her ex when he tried getting handsy with her.

basically just some cuteeeeee fluff with some witty banter and unrequited love at the beginning but watching it grow into smthing more <3 thank again love

hi! sorry this isn’t exactly what you wanted but i didn’t feel patient enough to make it into a long fic, and i didn’t want to trigger anyone by adding actual abuse in here so i switched it a bit! let me know if you want something redone but hopefully it’s still good

tangerine x reader. content warnings: mentions of violent tones & the guy pushes tan but that’s it, cussing, female!reader, i didn’t realize how off i had written this until it was almost done so i’m sorry please rerequest if you’d like me to retry!

Tangerine was currently sitting in his usual seat, one right to the side of the counter you were working at. It granted him the best possible view (you) as he drank small sips out of this coffee cup, ‘reading’ the book in front him. Really, he was much more focused on watching you work.

He had been here for well over two hours and usually, he would have forced himself to leave by now. There was only so long he could stay without causing suspicion. Even when it was you - poor, oblivious you who couldn’t seem to realize that the only reason he ever came in was to see you.

However, after finding out about your asshole of a boyfriend from eavesdropping on your conversation (you were standing right beside him on your break, and how was he meant to ignore the insults being thrown at you when they were so blatantly untrue?), he had decided to make a bold step and tell you that you needed to stand up for yourself. Ever since then, you seemed to continuously have new questions about how to go about it since.

You opened up to him once, just a few days ago, about how you wanted to leave your boyfriend, how you were tired of feeling torn apart everyday, but you were scared. He had never been directly violent to you, but he was a strong guy, and you weren’t sure how he would take it. You didn’t want to become a victim. So, Tangerine had quickly suggested doing it in a public place where there were more people around to make sure you were alright. When you still didn’t seem sure, he asked if it’d help if he was there. You said yes.

So, he was spending the day at the cafe, the both of you waiting for your boyfriend to walk through the doors. You were nervously glancing up everytime the bell rang, and Tangerine desperately wanted to rub soothing shapes onto your back and tell you it would be alright. But, sadly, it wasn’t his place to do so.

After another few minutes of rereading the same sentence, the man Tangerine recognized from the last time he saw him in the shop with you walked in. He seemed in a fairly okay mood, or at least, he showed no outward signs of being upset.

Tangerine was instantly more alert, noticing the way you sucked in a breath and told your coworker that you’d be going on break, and he watched both you and the man as discreetly as he could. He could vaguely hear the conversation going on, and nothing seemed wrong at first.

You had given the man what seemed like a sympathetic smile, and from the way you were moving your hands around while you spoke, and from the way the man’s expression shifted to one of anger, Tangerine could assume you had told him it was over. He didn’t move though, smart enough to know that going to be by your side wouldn’t help matters any, not until he saw your now ex-boyfriend’s eyes flash with something ugly, hand raising.

That was when he jumped up. Reasonably, he didn’t think the guy would do anything even slightly violent in such a public space, but he didn’t want to take the risk. He wedged himself in the space between the two of you, his back facing you as he reached a hand back to grab onto your arm.

“You alright, love?” He asked, head tilted slightly back to look at you as you nodded, though he could feel how tense you were.

“Who the hell are you?”

Tangerine finally turned to acknowledge the man in front of him at the question, and his face hardened from the soft expression he had with you.

“None of your business. You should really get away from ‘er, if you know what’s best.” You were still hiding behind him, eyes filling with concern as your boyfriend only got more angry.

“She’s my girlfriend. Our conversation doesn’t concern you.”

“Ex. Ex-girlfriend.” You finally spoke up, your voice still soft and timid despite the spite that your words held. Tangerine felt proud, and he squeezed your arm to show as much.

“See? The lady doesn’t seem to want you here, so why’re you still hanging around? Go on.”

“Stay out of this.” The man was only getting more riled up, nose flaring and stepping closer to Tangerine. Clearly, he didn’t know who he was talking to. The thought made Tan smirk slightly, but it made you (who vaguely knew of Tangerine’s strength and abilities from the stories he had told you, though he still changed them as much as he could as to not scare you off) shake in place.

As soon as your ex boyfriend tried to push Tangerine out from in front of you, failing at even making him budge, you reached out to grab your friend’s arm. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, and you didn’t want to cause a scene - or more of a scene - in your place of work. Luckily, the few customers that were there had mostly filed out onto the street and your co-worker only stood close by enough that she could break it apart if anything should happen.

“Tan, it’s okay. I can handle this,” you spoke in your sickly sweet voice, and that and the feeling of your tender grip on his arm was the only thing holding him back from throwing the man against the nearest wall.

“Can you just - please go? I’m not going to change my mind, and it’s not going to be good for either of us if you stick around. So just go. Please?” Your attention turned to the other man, less kindness in your eyes now, and he only scoffed with an eye roll.

“Whatever. You’re not worth this shit anyway.”

What an idiot. Tangerine thought as the man walked out, and he only calmed down once he was out of sight and he could turn to you.

“I was handling it, y’know. You didn’t have to come in all… you-like. I would’ve been okay,” you sighed and Tangerine would’ve thought you were upset with him if it wasn’t for the concern in your eyes and the fact that you were still holding onto his arm. He made sure not to draw attention to that, not wanting to risk you pulling away.

“You think I was going to even slightly risk him hurting you?” Tangerine questioned as if you were insane, using one hand to reach up and brush a stray hair out of your face, needing any excuse to touch you. “Are you okay? D’you want me to take you home or anything? I’m sure if you explain, they’ll let you clock out.” He threw a glance over to your co-worker, who was kindly pretending not to notice the almost disgusting lovefest that was going on between you two (not that either of you could really view it that way, since you had just become single.)

“Um - actually, yes. Please. I don’t want him to come back after you leave.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving, but of course. Get your stuff, I’ll wait outside.” He gave you a small smile, squeezing your shoulder right before you walked off as he gathered his own things, and went to stand outside by his own car as he waited for you.

Once you come out, he turned to face you, frowning at the expression on your face. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just - thank you. For intervening. I know I said I could handle it, but thanks anyway. You’re a good friend.”

“I’ll always protect you, love. You’re my favorite girl,” He grinned and stepped forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, reaching down to grab your bag and throw it over his shoulder.

“I’ve just never really had someone on my side like that, and it felt nice.” You admitted, appreciative that he chose to ignore the flush of your cheeks after his innocent kiss.

“Well, now you do. And, since we’re being honest here, I really wish you would stop telling me what a great friend I am.”

“What? Is that - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” you rushed to apologize, even though you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. You were friends, right?

“No, don’t - I didn’t mean it for you to apologize. I mean, I like you. I thought that was obvious?” Tangerine seemed genuinely confused, as if everyone knew this fact, but you were almost jaw-dropped.

“It - uh, it wasn’t. You like me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, choosing to open up the passenger door and gently set your bag in the floorboard to hide away from the rejection he was about to face. He was such a confident man, yet was reduced to nerves just by being around you. “Sorry, I just thought you knew. I didn’t mean to make this weird.”

“It’s not. I just didn’t know,” you say quietly, looking like you were off in another world as you thought over things. Was that connection you felt with him shared this whole time? Did the way your stomach fluttered around him mean you liked him, too?

“Do you still want me to give you a ride home? I can call you a taxi, if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“No, no - I’m sorry, I-” you shake your head quickly at his offer, reaching out to grab his arm and then dropping it like it’s burned you. “I think I like you, too.”

He grinned, then, and his head tilted slightly. “Think?”

“Yeah, I mean - I don’t think I want to be with anyone right now, seeing as I did just get out of a relationship with-”

“The most vile man alive?”

“A not great person.” You finished, and Tangerine only chuckled. “But, I do like you. And maybe, if you’re willing to wait a little while, we could… you know. Be more than friends.”

Tangerine looked down right merry, and when his hand reached up to cup one side of your face, you leaned into the warmth almost embarrassingly fast.

“I would love to be more than friends with you. But, by the way. We’re going to have to talk about you having more of a back bone. Like - all those please go’s to him? Babe, I know how much of a fucking badass you are, you should’ve kneed him in the sack.”

“Maybe next time.”

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Ghost x City Girl Reader

You and Ghost were trying to keep your little fling a secret from the team. Low-key. Private. For a while, that was working.

Drama, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Break-Ups, Flirting, Banter, Reader smokes, Setting up future smut for the next part, this is about to turn from some nasty smut into something intimate and romantic, but not yet (ʃƪ˘ﻬ˘), i love a good toxic couple to actually healthy, functioning relationship where people grow pipeline

WC: 2.4k ~

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Five

Masterlist

Please enjoy~ (✿˵•́ ૩•̀˵)৴♡*

It's not often that Price asks Ghost about his personal life.

While he hadn't any explicit details, the Captain had been more than aware of his lieutenant's upbringing, alongside his work involving Roba. Had Ghost been a little older, Price was sure the lieutenant would have already matched him in grit and trauma. After all, life never was kind to men like them.

Because of that, Price had respected the man's privacy; it wasn't like he needed a full life story to see Ghost as both a respectable and reliable force of nature. In the Task Force, it's not your past which makes you who you are, it's what you do from here on out.

Actions speak louder than words.

So it's hard not to make comments and have a few questions, after Price has spent the last few hours watching his soldiers eyefuck each other all day. As they have been doing for nearly a month now.

"You and Spice..." The Captain cuts right to the chase, looking up at Ghost from his desk, his expression a cross between being concerned and curious. "Is there something up I should know about?"

Ghost groaned to himself, remaining still in front of Price. No doubt, he knew where this conversation was already going, even as he dreaded it in its entirety.

"...Wha's this about, Captain?"

Price chuckles, having found the answer he was looking for in that response right there. The Captain knows his men and he knows them well, even though Ghost might try and act like it's not true; the lieutenant had been no exception.

And if the Captain's own cunning hadn't been enough to tip him off already, then better yet, he now uses his head to gesture, "Your collar, Simon."

Ghost can't see it yet -- he's kicking himself in the ass mentality as the realization dawns on him -- but some of your lipstick (though barely in Regs on you) had smeared on the corner of his mask, leaving faint marks of the past lust-filled encounter he'd just had with you earlier this day. Left there and forgotten for the perusal of all his colleagues.

Who's to say how long that's been visible there. That would only explain the odd faces Soap and Gaz kept making toward him since returning from lunch. Ghost had merely thought the behaviors had just been the Sergeants' usual ogling natures. Clearly, he'd been mistaken.

The man can't bring himself to do anything other than straighten up and listen, now looking as defeated as he looked irritated. There'd be no lying his way out of this one.

"I'm talking to you about it because I know you'll give me a straight answer," Price admits, placing his pen down now and putting an end to his paperwork, so that he could fully face his subordinate.

No doubt, Price knew if he asked you about it, he'd only receive lies and half-truths. Ghost could be just as dishonest, though the Captain has found his shortness much more digestible. "If you two have something-"

"We don't."

Price can't help but let out a small chuckle at Ghost's quickness to deny that fact. "Right," he says. "Look, Simon, you're both adults. What you two choose to do outside of work is no one's business but your own..."

Ghost tries desperately not to tune Price's words out, however good-intended they were. This had all merely been obvious advice to him, and completely wasted at that, because nothing else was going on. Nothing at all.

Ghost had just been a pit stop on the road for you, and you had just been a minor distraction throughout the day that he ought to forget about already. That's how it looks. That's how it's been.

It didn't make the man's stomach turn any less rationalizing it that way.

At some point or another, Price had come to his conclusion, deep within the unprompted lecture.

"...I just need to know you can keep whatever's goin' on... discreet, yeah? Behind closed doors."

"It won't happen again," Ghost bluntly states.

"Ah," Price shrugs. "That's not-"

Price stops himself when he sees that the lieutenant won't budge. He hadn't been judging by any means. Believe it or not, the Captain had been the first one to come around to you before everyone else.

He always saw you as a troubled soul just needing some focus. And you make mistakes, ones you acknowledge, which the Captain has been more understanding about than you felt you deserved. He wouldn't judge the lieutenant's interest in you.

However, Ghost had already come to a conclusion even before stepping foot into this office; the thought of you and that other man had yet to leave the lieutenant's mind, even hours later.

Images of you kissing that strange man, that man that was not him, it hit him like hot flashes throughout the day, burning in him slowly every time he had to see you again. Between that and this, Ghost figured it'd be best for you both to quit now while you're ahead.

If the jig was up then let it be up for good, Ghost thought. He didn't need the complications anymore.

"Had that been all then, sir?" Ghost asks.

Price sighs, sinking back in his seat in casual defeat.

Alas, there had been another reason Price had been interested in prying into Simon's private life. So the Captain switches things back to an environment both men are comfortable in. Work.

"No," Price says. "There had been something else for you. An assignment."

"What's the mission?"

The sun sets over the base.

A tangerine sky sits above with a peach-colored sun, and the summer air warming the evening. The day was coming to an end now, everyone clocking off so they could do it all over again tomorrow. You were standing in the parking lot with Gaz when Ghost finally found you.

You stood off by your car, a cigarette half gone through, perched between your two fingers, stained by your lipstick. Meanwhile, the Sergeant stood beside you, gabbing on about God knows what that had you laughing yourself to tears.

It doesn't take you long to notice the lieutenant approaching, and for those laughs to all but whittle away. You start to sniff the air, your nose scrunching as you groan unpleasurably. You turn to Gaz. "What's that smell?"

Your eyebrows furrow with disgust, nostrils continuing to smell the air around you, until your eyes have comically fallen onto Ghost's, who stands with mild bemusement a few feet away from you.

"Oh," you say. "It's just Manchester."

Oh ha ha, Ghost had thought. He'd have to remember to laugh in the future.

"Ouch," Gaz laughs himself now.

You turn your back to Ghost once you see he won't indulge you with a reaction, bringing your attention back to Gaz. Those you more or less used him as something to look at as you waited to hear what the lieutenant wanted.

"A word," Ghost says.

You chuckle like you didn't think he was serious. However, seeing as he hadn't budged, you groan, flicking your cigarette away and looking back over at Gaz.

And then, you rest your hand on the Sergeant's shoulder, letting your fingers graze him soothingly as you make your way over to follow the lieutenant. "Tell me more about it later," you purr.

Ghost didn't even want to ask.

You admit, when Ghost pulled you into an empty room you thought you two were going for round two. While you hadn't been planning on it -- your crotch definitely still throbbing from your last interaction -- you had been more than down for another go at him.

However, fucking you had been the last thing on Ghost's mind. Well, not the last, but it wasn't the first.

He makes sure the door's shut behind him before turning his full attention to you. "You're getting sloppy," he points to the lipstick smear.

You giggle, bringing your hand to your mouth rather mockingly. You hadn't actually noticed that you left that there, though you wish you had. It was perfect. "Who saw?"

"Price," Ghost sighs. "Though I'm sure the entire team knows by now."

Now you've started laughing, which only seemed to further irritate the man, feeding more to your sick humor. It's no secret you like to sleep around, so it made no difference to you if people knew or not.

However, it had been a first on the team.

"Hey," you start to tease. "You should be proud. You bagged a baddie. That's worth some boasting, yeah?"

"Stop it," Ghost no longer felt interested in trading banter with you anymore, wanting you to hear him when he says, "Look, I'm putting an end to this, Spice."

You scoff now, mockingly. "Don't tell me you're embarrassed now-"

"No," he stops you right there. "Of course not."

It takes a moment for his words to take meaning to you, but once they have, your whole demeanor changes. Gears shifting. For a moment, Ghost could have sworn you looked upset.

"Why?" You ask.

Why? Because now it's become a disruption. A hiccup at work. "This has gone on long enough," he answers. "Let's not pretend this was going to be a long term thing here."

"I wasn't."

That makes Ghost pause for a second, though he hadn't been sure why. It had just been the way you'd said it -- like that hadn't even been a thought to you, this small thing being something more.

"We're on the same page then," he says plainly. "It's done."

Only that answer did little to satisfy you. In fact, it did the opposite. Frankly, you had no intention of ending things; not without it being on your own terms that is.

And you had a funny feeling the lieutenant wasn't ready to end things either. He has plenty of buttons to push for you to find out.

"Did a little bit of lipstick spook you, Manchester? Or was it the whole jealousy thing-"

"Enough," Ghost intersects. He knows if he doesn't put his foot down at some point, he couldn't rely on you to leave this. Not without making it messy, which had not been something he signed up for. Then again, he knew he'd been playing with fire when he decided to involve himself with you. It's that which got you both here in the first place, and he'd be a liar to say it hadn't kept him warm all this time.

You cross your arms like a pouty little princess, going as far as to look grumpy while doing it too. Of course, you were being more dramatic than you actually felt about the matter, it wasn't like you couldn't find someone else to sleep with. Though, there hadn't been anyone quite like Simon...

"You know, this wouldn't be an issue if you'd just take off that stupid thing-"

"That's not happening."

"Why?" You start making jabs at him now. "Scared you might like having it gone-"

Ghost takes an intimidating step forward, no longer wanting to use words to silence you. Not when his presence could do the trick. He glares at you, demanding your silence.

Silence you would not give him.

Any time the lieutenant felt the need to step up to you, it only triggered your fight-or-flight senses to do the same. So you step forward yourself, keeping your arms crossed and a smile on your face, as you glare back at Ghost, reading everything he had to say in his gaze.

You look him up and down, letting your eyes grow half-lidded and sultry. "You know," you coo. "I think you might like a little kiss on the lips. It might make you act like less of an asshole."

You approach him, until your toes are a small tap away, his body-heat resonating through his uniform to you. The sound of his breath making a low, irritable huff as he exhaled made the hairs on the back of your neck stand, as you kept your eyes locked on his.

Ghost doesn't budge, not wanting to further humor whatever it was you were trying to do. Not that you made it easy. Any time you came close like this, your perfume blanketed him like a warm welcome, your eyes inviting him in. And you knew what you were doing too.

"Don't tell me you never thought about it," you purr, bringing your hand down to his. "I have."

Oh, Ghost has thought about it, from time to time. Mostly when you were alone together and he had you close to him. They were often mere seconds. Urges that pass where he's watched your lips, seeing how full and lush they were, just begging for his mouth to take them in with his.

You continue to let your words try and coax him into action, letting your fingers run delicately up his arm, slowly as you spoke.

"And I'm not talking about those short little pecks we give each other when we fuck," you tell him. "I mean something real. Something deep. A kiss."

You've seen Ghost's eyes drop to your lips now, lingering, taking in every detail. Battling with his own self control. And yet, he remains still, refusing to budge.

So you push even further.

You let your hands slide up slowly, making sure that he's felt every small essence of you which grazed him, until you've let your fingers fall short of his collarbone, where the edge of his mask lie.

"Come on, Manchester," you step on your tippy toes now, mocking his accent as you speak. "Give us a kiss."

Even now, there was just something about the way the air felt between you two this close. As though the air around you had become a bubble, zapping the oxygen out, and slowly drawing you near each other for another breath of fresh air.

Ghost would sooner suffocate if it meant he didn't have to long for another scarce breath of you that wouldn't last long enough to really ever fill him. You would sooner let the flame burn the oxygen away, until its suffocated you both in its ash and soot, if only it meant the fires which burned you would be hot.

And boy did you make those flames look inviting to burn in.

Ghost stops your hand just short of reaching his mask, his touch both tentative and yet so sure of itself all at once. Though his gaze softens, his tone does not.

"No more."

You pull your hand from his and step away, giving him the distance he's so asked for. "Fine."

Somehow, Ghost had doubted everything had been fine. But time had not been on his side for him to see.

"I'd tell you not to be a brat about it," Ghost starts to quip. "But I know that'd be asking for too much."

You cross your arms and smirk. "Glad you know me so well, Manchester," you say. "Now, was that it then, sir?"

"We've got new orders."

You pause, straightening up some.

"We do?"

Part Five Here!

You know what, how about I put some plot in your porn now. I wanted to have fun typing this, so I'm not trying to spend too much time dreary on about mission details and whatnot (since this is fake and my "military" knowledge extends to Google, my ex-husband and my time in ROTC, so in other words, inaccurate), so I hope this reads snappy and kinda flowy.

At the end of the day, you already know where I'm trying to go with this. An easy breezy read. Some chapters might be short, some might be long, it'll be whatever feels right. However, I'm finishing up the outline to this, that way it's not just a meaningless read. And, I'm still working on my other WIPs, I promise!

@13thprogenitor @cabreezer0117 😃

[yetanothersparrowofthedawn]

St Jude

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt, ex!Jake

Context: Y/N’s Bachelorette Party and an open bar don’t mix very well for one Jacob Thomas Kiszka.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come.

Previous Track: The Way I Loved You

Chapter soundtrack: St Jude – Florence + the Machine

Another conversation with no destination, Another battle never won, Each side is a loser, So who cares who fired the gun? And I'm learning so I'm leaving, And even though I'm grieving, I'm trying to find a meaning. Let loss reveal it. St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes. St Jude, we were lost before she started.

(By the way, for every ‘Chapter Soundtrack’, basically the idea is that it’s a song that YN eventually wrote with that chapter of her life in mind)

Alright, let’s get into this.

_______

The Florida sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the expansive beach. Gentle waves whispered tales of excitement as the beachside bar awaited the arrival of the bachelorette and her entourage.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation when Sam, Danny, and Jake walked through the door, greeted by a lively crowd of friends and colleagues of YN’s.

As they took in the venue, Sam couldn't help but chuckle, "Well, would you look at that? The three of us are early for once!”

Danny grinned in agreement, “Must be some kind of cosmic event."

Jake, however, remained unusually quiet, his eyes scanning the room as though searching for something elusive.

The trio made their way to the bar area, where the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations offered a lively background. Sam raised an eyebrow at Jake, sensing something brewing within his brother. "You alright, man? You're quieter than a library on a Sunday."

"Yeah, just tired,” Jake took a sip of his drink, the bitter taste doing little to soothe the turmoil within. “Probably just need more of this," he quipped, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Truth was, he had been having a hard time getting proper sleep. Eating too, but he’d blamed it on the stress of their upcoming album.

Guests mingled, sharing anecdotes and laughter as the sun set over the horizon. Yet, Jake remained on the periphery, a shadow among the revelry. His gaze occasionally flicked towards the entrance, a subconscious yearning for something unseen.

In a sudden burst of energy, YN and her bridesmaids, including Josh in his bright pink bridesman attire, finally made their grand entrance. The room erupted in cheers and applause and the air filled with an infectious effervescence.

YN, radiant in her sparkly dress, moved with a grace as she made her way through the crowd, greeting friends and well-wishers. Jake was surprised to feel his chest tightening with an indescribable unease.

As YN approached the trio, her infectious energy lit up the space around her.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, behold the miracle,” Sam playfully teased, “she has arrived, and only an hour late!”

"Very funny, Samuel,” YN chuckled, giving a light shove to his shoulder.

Danny smirked, raising his glass. "Taking punctuality lessons from Josh, YN?"

Amidst the banter, her eyes met Jake's. "Hi," she beamed at him, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m so glad you could come.”

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world," Jake replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the night progressed, the sky darkened, and the party came alive with the sounds of music and champagne bottles popping open. The bachelorette, seemingly everywhere at once, danced from one group to another. Her laughter mingled with the rhythm of the music, a joyful symphony that echoed through the night.

Meanwhile, Jake found solace at the open bar, the cool glass in his hand offering a temporary escape from the overwhelming ambiance.

Each drink served as a futile attempt to drown out whatever was going on with him as he watched her from a distance. The alcohol in his empty stomach brought a temporary numbness, but the reprieve was only fleeting.

The atmosphere in the venue grew electric as the bridesmaids gathered to present YN with a playful gift—a sparkling tiara adorned with rhinestones spelling out ‘Mrs. Styles’. The crowd erupted in cheers as they crowned her, and YN, with a laugh, embraced the moment, wearing the gift with an air of mock regality.

Jake, however, felt an odd pang in his chest at the sight. He could’ve sworn the glittering tiara had been taunting him.

The night wore on and the tension within the guitarist continued to escalate amidst the pulsating beats and laughter. The bar, as per usual, turned out to be both his refuge and prison.

His gaze regularly flickered to her figure, unable to escape the magnetic pull she exerted, however much he tried to convince himself otherwise. And she looked so fucking happy.

The event carried on, and it seemed everything and anything only added fuel to the growing fire. A well-intentioned bridesmaid, unaware of the complexities that lingered beneath the surface, approached Jake to toast to the newlyweds.

A bitter taste lingered in his mouth at the girl’s words, and he thought he might just get sick all over the poor girl. It’s probably just the whiskey, right?

He somehow managed to retain composure, turning back to the drink he was nursing while the confused girl walked back to the dance floor.

It’s only a while later that a familiar voice interrupted his wandering thoughts.

“One Negroni, sugar.” Patty. “And don’t skimp on the Gin.” YN’s manager materialized to his side as she addressed the bartender. After a moment she turned to the guitarist. Leaning against the counter, she broke the silence.

“It’s nice for you to have come, Jacob.”

He clenched his jaw at her words. Yes, that was him, Jacob nice-guy Kiszka. He absolutely had not considered setting himself on fire for the past three hours.

The two of them once had a lovely friendship, if you could call it that. They never had that much in common, but they’d always shared one priority. YN’s well-being. Everything, of course, had turned sour when the rocky days of his and YN’s relationship creeped in, forcing Patty to step in more than once.

Memories of years past came back to Jake. Hushed conversations between the manager and him. Arguments behind closed doors. It’s for the best, Jacob. She won’t admit it, but she’ll eventually break if you two keep on going that way. It’s a necessary evil.

Patty had almost always been right, of course. Still, the bitter memories left his very flesh feeling raw.

“I can’t imagine it was easy,” she continued with a knowing look. Jake stared at his glass in silence. “But trust me, this, it’s good. It’s right.” she stated, “I suppose some things are just- meant to be.”Jake knew exactly what she’d meant to say. And some other are not.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Patty truly knew YN. Not the performer, not America’s sweetheart, not the tabloid-pleasing, award-winning, photo-posing girl. The true YN.

To be fair, she probably did. After all, Patty had been by YN’s side much longer than he had. She’d protected her in ways that went far beyond her role as manager. She’d cared the way a mother does. She’d wanted the fairytale for YN and, of course, with that came the prince charming, on his white fucking horse, with his stupid fucking English accent.

The chaos that clung to Jake’s very skin had most definitely clashed with that picture. Of course, the early days were fine. More than fine, in fact. Before Patty had witnessed them at their worst, she’d seen them at their best. But when the time came, when the chips were truly down, she had, of course, put YN’s interest first.

“If that make you feel better,” Patty carried on, “I’ll still look after her in London.”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat and he thought he might have misheard. He finally looked up to meet her gaze. Patty nodded, as sad understanding in her eyes, “They’ve been looking through houses, for after the honeymoon.”

Jake’s grip tightened around the glass in his hand. He might have burst out laughing had it not been so ridiculously tragic. He hadn’t even considered that an option. Why couldn’t Harry just move permanently to the US, huh? If he really was so giving and good? Why couldn’t he make that sacrifice? Asshole. And why on earth would YN ever accept to settle down with that guy to the other side of the world? Since when was she the kind to just follow someone around?

“You must be happy,” Jake eventually mumbled, taking another sip.

He couldn’t help but act as though it was all Patty’s doing. As though she had somehow planned the whole thing, the way a Bond villain does. As though she had wanted to make sure YN remained out of reach forevermore.

Maybe it was simply easier to believe that, than to accept the fact that YN, his YN, had wanted to follow her husband so far away. 4000 fucking miles away to be precise. That she had chosen all this.

“I am,” Patty replied with a gentle nod, “so long as she is, too.”

Some voices beckoned Patty back to the dance floor and with a gentle squeeze of his arm, she finally retreated. “Go easy on the whiskey, Jacob,” she uttered as she walked away.

Jake let his mind wander. A London townhouse. With a backyard and a fucking cat. An extra room on the second floor, just in case, with walls waiting to be painted in shades of pink or blue. Fucking baked beans for breakfast. And tea. Yeah, Harry probably drank tea. Harry probably wasn’t one to drown himself in booze and send the car flying off the road, glass shattering all over her skin.

YN would go to bed without worrying about where he was. Harry would be in bed before her, probably reading some posh poetry collection; reciting some Keats verses as she slid next to him.

Jake had never been one for words. It had been the delicate strumming of his guitar that filled the air when YN slid next to him in bed. Of course, that was before the stupid fighting, the tears, and the nights away. She must’ve had gotten used to sliding into an empty cold bed, with only the sound of city construction nursing her to sleep.

Now he was the one going to bed alone. Or he might as well have been. The coconut-smelling girls coming in and out of his apartment didn’t exactly constitute company worth mentioning.

 A bitter ache ran through him, and he ordered another drink.

It was around two in the morning when toasts started echoing through the venue.

 One of YN’s bridesmaids, took the stage. As she stepped forward with the microphone, the room fell into a hushed silence, the soft murmur of the ocean outside the only background noise.

She spoke eloquently, weaving tales of love and destiny, her words painted with the vibrant hues of celebration. "And here's to the happiest I've ever seen YN," she declared, raising her glass. "It's like fate itself intervened to bring her and Harry together. It's a love story for the ages, one that was truly meant to be."

Jake, further lost in the depths of intoxication, sat at the bar with clenched fists, the whiskey in his glass nearly forgotten. Each word intensified the throbbing ache within him. His gaze fixed on YN, who smiled with genuine joy, seemingly oblivious to his anguish.

As the applause erupted, drowning the room in a symphony of congratulations, Jake felt a surge frustration. No longer tethered by reason, he downed the remaining contents of his glass in one swift motion. The sharp burn of the alcohol igniting the dormant embers of his emotions.

 With an intensity that surprised even himself, Jake pushed away from the bar, his movements unsteady as he navigated through the sea of well-wishers.

Without a second thought, driven solely by a raw, unfiltered impulse, Jake ascended the small stage. The bridesmaid, caught off guard, relinquished the space, her eyes widening in surprise as Jake snatched the microphone from her hand.

The atmosphere hung heavy with a mix of tension and anticipation as Jake took center stage with a stumbling step. His jaw clenched, and a fire burned in his eyes.

"Good evening, everyone," Jake began, his squinting gaze momentarily lost in the sea of faces before him. His words slurred slightly, a testament to the alcohol coursing through his veins.

"As some of you may know, I am the ex-boyfriend and now dear, dear friend of the bride-to-be,” he paused for a second, the words making him nauseous. “Anyway, where was I?" he chuckled, the sound tinged with a bitter undertone. "Right. Y/N. What can be said about her? I mean, she truly is something, isn't she?" A nervous ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, uneasy with the unpredictability of the guitarist's unfiltered words.

Sam and Danny exchanged concerned glances, realizing that this impromptu speech had the potential to become quite a spectacle. "She's full of- surprises, a real freak, if you know what I m—" someone from the crowd attempted to interject, but Daniel swiftly got on stage, a diplomatic smile plastered on his face. He gently grasped Jake's shoulder, a silent plea for restraint.

"Come on, man," Daniel murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Let's go get some fresh air, huh?"

Jake brushed off the boy’s attempt with a dismissive wave, his focus resuming on the microphone. "No, no, no, it's okay," he insisted, his words carrying a touch of defiance. "I'm just- joking around. That's what you do at a bachelorette party, isn’t it? Recount the future bride's past adventures,” he giggled bitterly, looking to the crowd, “and boy, you would not believe—"

"Jake, let's go," Sam intervened, his presence adding a sense of urgency to the situation. The crowd's gaze shifted from Jake to Sam, to Danny, and a hushed murmur swept through the venue. Jake, however, seemed caught in a trance, his eyes seeking YN’s figure in the crowd.

Sam and Danny attempted to guide him off the stage. "Hey! Let go of me," he protested, swaying unsteadily in a mix of intoxication and defiance. "Come on, I'm just joking around!” he resisted, his hand still holding tightly onto the microphone, “Sammy, come on, you, of all people would know what I'm talking about. I mean, you did catch us fucking a couple times, didn't you?" A collective gasp swept through the crowd in audible shock.

The atmosphere shifted from celebratory to uncomfortable in the blink of an eye. Jake's words hung in the air, leaving those in attendance in a state of stunned silence.

Before Jake could utter another word, Josh leaped onto the stage. Swift and decisive, he forcefully grabbed the microphone. The screeching feedback filled the room, momentarily drowning out any further words from Jake. The abrupt halt cut through the tension and the venue filled with an uncertain hush.

Sam and Danny, each with a firm grip on Jake, guided him away from the unfolding chaos, their expressions a mix of concern and frustration. "Alright, time for bed," Sam asserted, his tone firm as they led Jake out the door.

Back on the stage, an uncomfortable silence lingered. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Josh, perhaps for the first time ever, found himself dumbfounded with a microphone in his hand and spotlight shining on him.  

 His gaze met YN’s. Clearly shocked, she stood completely still. Patty at her side, was offering a comforting presence by rubbing her shoulders. He searched for words to fill the void left by his brother's reckless outburst.

"Alrighty then,” Josh quipped, attempting to inject a dose of humor into the tense atmosphere, “seems like my brother has, in true Kiszka fashion, overindulged in the open bar." A few chuckles broke through the awkward silence, and he offered a sheepish grin, acknowledging the awkwardness that lingered. "You know how it is with rockstars, always a bit- unpredictable." The crowd responded with a mixture of laughter and relieved smiles, grateful for the comedic relief.

As Josh said a few more words, the music gradually resumed, filling the venue with lively beats once again. The party mood, momentarily disrupted by Jake's impulsive antics, slowly rekindled.

____

A few yards away from the vibrant venue, Sam and Danny grappled with Jake, who continued to argue drunkenly, his resistance growing more erratic with each step. The trio moved further away, the rhythmic waves providing a somber soundtrack to the guitarist's inebriated protests.

Eventually, Jake crumpled to the ground. His suit, now adorned with wet sand, presented a testament to his unwillingness to cooperate.

Danny sighed, glancing at Sam who, frustrated, chose to distance himself from the situation for a moment. Few things could truly irritate the youngest Kiszka, and the disruption of a good party just happened to be one of them.

Left alone with Jake, Danny stood silently by his sitting figure, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

Sam returned after a brief respite, holding a glass filled with seawater. "That ought to sober him up," he declared, tossing the contents of the glass in Jake's face.

 "Hey, what the fuck?" Jake sputtered, lurching to his feet abruptly. His venomous gaze settled on his younger brother, and in an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Jake, fueled by alcohol-induced bravado, was in a fighting mood.

Sam, unyielding, met Jake's gaze with a stern expression. "Just calm down, Jacob,” he urged, his tone firm but laced with brotherly concern, “You're making a fool of yourself.”

The stars overhead witnessed the unfolding drama, casting a gentle glow on the sand as the two youngest grappled with the complexities their bandmate’s emotions.

Jake stood defiantly, wet sand clinging to his clothes.

"Come on, man” Daniel's voice cut through the night, firm but gentle, “you have to know you were way out of line." He always served as the voice of reason, an anchor attempting to steady a ship tossed in turbulent waters.

In that moment, however, Jake couldn't help but despise the drummer's calm demeanor. He only wished for a spark, an ignition to match the wildfire within him, and his bandmate's rationality only seemed to fuel his own frustration.

 "And what the fuck would you know about that, huh?" Jake spat with anger. His words edged with bitterness as he got up in Daniel’s face, "Always playing the calm, collected one, like you're above it all. Just back the fuck off." The night echoed with the strained conversation, the waves crashing against the shore.

Jake, fueled by a concoction of alcohol and resentment, wanted a release, a confrontation to validate the storm within him.

Daniel sighed, a weary acknowledgment of the futility of the situation. "We're just trying to help. You don’t want to do this."

Jake scoffed. Feeling the weight of his own frustration, he muttered in defeat, "Whatever.” The sand crunched beneath his shoes as he turned away, a solitary figure against the backdrop of a restless sea, “Just go back inside."

"Oh,” Sam sneered, “if you think we're about to leave you unsupervised after this shitshow, you are dead wr—"

"You should get back inside," someone interrupted from behind them. Jake's face dropped, recognizing the voice instantly. Sam and Danny turned around to see YN standing a few feet away with her arms crossed. An unreadable expression was etched on her face.

Sam and Danny exchanged glances. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog that refused to dissipate.

 Sam sent YN a inquiring look. Are you sure? They respected YN's judgment, yet the worry lingered like a silent undercurrent beneath the surface. They were all too aware of Jake’s unpredictability when he drank too much.

She nodded wordlessly, her gaze shifting to Jake’s back. Her eyes, once filled with laughter and joy, now held a depth of emotion that was difficult to decipher. Sam and Danny eventually walked past her, offering apologetic smiles. They headed back into the bar, leaving Jake and YN alone on the moonlit beach.

The distant murmur of the party and the sound of waves crashing against the shore served as a backdrop to their silent standoff. The night held its breath, caught between the residue of a disrupted celebration and the muted tension.

With his back still turned, Jake closed his eyes.

The stillness was finally broken by YN, unable to bear the quiet any longer. "Aren't you gonna say anything?” Her tone was sharp, a mixture of bitterness and anger lacing each word, “you seemed to have a lot to say back there."

Jake flinched, the gravity of his actions washing over him like the freezing tide. Slowly, he turned around to face her. There she stood, arms crossed against the night chill, her hair gently swaying in the wind. Goosebumps adorned the delicate skin of her arms as she seemed to shiver against the breeze. The moonlight cast a melancholic glow on her features, framing a face etched with disappointment. Caught off guard by her candor, Jake struggled to find the right words.

"I—" he began, but before he could complete the thought, she sprung towards him.

"I cannot believe you would do this to me," she spat, her words cutting through the night air like shards of glass. A forceful push against Jake’s chest caused him to stumble backward, "you, fucking asshole!" The sting of her words hung in the air as she continued to unleash her frustration.

Jake, attempted to downplay the situation with a dismissive sigh. "Come on, no one will remember a thing in the morning," he remarked, reaching out to grab her wrists to stop the damage.

YN struggled against his grip, her eyes ablaze with a mix of anger and hurt. Feeling the weight of her gaze, Jake's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, he saw the hurt reflected in her eyes. "Come on, it's a just party, for Christ's—"

"That's not the issue here!" she asserted, pulling away from him. "Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? How could you pull that crap?" Her voice wavered slightly, and he could feel the weight of her hurt settling in his chest. "Why even bother coming?" she shook her head in disbelief, "If you were just going to—"

"Well, it's not exactly like we'll have that many opportunities to see each other,” he spat, the bitterness in his words slicing through the night air like venom, “once you officially become Mrs. Styles."

"Yes, I am getting married!" she yelled in frustration. "I know that! And I tried doing what I could to make it easy on you, but—" she paused, her words hanging in the air like a heavy curtain, "Honestly? I don't even know why I should anymore. We broke up ages ago—"

"Yeah, and whose fault was that?" he interjected, his tone accusing and filled with a bitterness that had long festered in the shadows of their past. The charged atmosphere between them crackled, the pain of their shared memories surfacing like ghosts in the moonlit night.

YN's reaction cut through Jake, the hurt evident in her downturned gaze. In that moment, regret gnawed at him, his impulsive words now a bitter aftertaste. He knew well that their breakup had been entirely his doing, fueled by demons of his own making. But the anger, amplified by the drink, had led him down a senseless path.

 “Believe it or not," she stated, "things were as difficult for me as they may have been for you.” Her voice was a mix of hurt and frustration, "I honestly thought we'd outgrown all of that. But- you—saying that shit about me, in front of my friends, my colleagues, m-my future stepfamily? What is wrong with you? That’s just—” she shook her head, “do you really despise me that much?" he flinched at her words, guilt settling heavy on his conscience.

"Of course, not—" he started.

"Do you hate me so much that you can't stand, let it only be, the thought of me finally being at peace?" Her words pierced through him, each syllable carrying a vulnerability that echoed in the stillness of the night.

"No, that's not it—" he tried to explain, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between them.

"Well then, what the fuck is it, huh?" she demanded, frustration evident in her voice. "A few months ago, everything was fine, we were fin-"

"You wouldn't get it!" he snapped.

"Well, I sure as hell won't get it if you refuse to talk to me," she retorted in exasperation. Almost six years down the line and they were still stuck, facing the same issues they did on day one.

Despite his strong front, Jake remained silent, the weight of his emotions stifling any coherent response. "Jake—” she continued, calmly, “you—this past couple of years, us- managing to be- to get along, it’s been so good, I’d missed it so much," she confessed, stepping closer until her chest touched his. Her eyes sought his, "I’d missed you so much, but this? This angry, bitter jackass? I don't want him in my life,” she scowled. Her words cut through him like shards of glass, each syllable a painful reminder of the person he had become in that moment. “And yes, I know, it probably sucks having an ex get married first but- Jesus Christ, Jacob, grow the fuck up. We're friends, aren't we?"

He clenched his jaw, his throat tightening as he struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions. Stepping away, he attempted to shield the tears that threatened to escape.

“Aren’t we?” she repeated, her voice breaking. A fragile silence lingered in the night.

"Just—" he finally muttered, his voice laced with a bitterness that mirrored the bitterness within him, “just go back to your fucking party,"

The sadness on her face slowly morphed back into anger. She gulped, her resolve finding new strength.

"Gladly," she spat, turning on her heels to walk back to the bar.

He clenched his jaw, hands on his hips, frustration and self-loathing churning within him as he watched her retreating figure. In a futile attempt to reclaim some semblance of control, he shouted out, "Fuck you!"

She didn’t bother turning around, but without missing a beat, she shouted back. "Well, fuck you too!"

____

Jake sat on the sand alone. The weight of the night’s events settled heavily on his shoulders as the alcohol-induced fog slowly dissipated. The crashing waves seemed to echo the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" a voice erupted, and Jake didn't bother looking up, recognizing the tone of his twin brother. Josh sat down next to him, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face. "An asshole, too."

"Yeah, right," Jake scoffed, bitterness coloring his words. "I'm the asshol—"

"She doesn't know," Josh cut him off, gently. The words hung in the air: a heavy truth finally spoken aloud. Josh, with his intuitive understanding, had always read his twin better than anyone.

"Please," Jake eventually muttered, his voice low and strained. "Of course, she does."

"How could she?" Josh retorted; frustration evident in his expression. Jake had watched as YN got in the stable, healthy relationship he had failed to give her. And he had sat patiently as she stepped towards the life of a married woman. Yet, through it all, he had remained silent, failing to express the one thing she’d needed to hear.

"Yeah, well," Jake mumbled, eventually, clearing his throat as he stared off into the distance, "It's not like I can do anything about it now."

Josh remained silent. His brother had a point. The opportunity to come clean had passed, and the consequences of his silence weighed heavily.

"Come on," Josh said finally, getting up on his feet and brushing the sand off his suit. "I'll drive you back to the hotel."

"You're a bridesman,” Jake said, “isn't it your job to be here?"

 "My job” Josh stated, “was to make sure everything went smoothly for Y/N, which I miserably failed to do tonight, thanks to you, brother. Now, come on," he held his hand out, a silent invitation, "I'll drive back here once you're in bed."

Jake chewed on his lower lip, his gaze fixed on the sand beneath him. He finally asked hesitantly, "Shouldn't I go and apologize first?"

Josh chuckled sadly, a knowing expression on his face. It was always impossible to stay mad at his twin for long. "It's probably better to give her some space right now."

____

"Alright," Josh called out, his eyes on his phone as he texted Sam, informing him he was on his way back. The ride to the hotel had been quiet and Jake had collapsed on the hotel bed the second they arrived. "I put aspirin and water on the table, your phone is charging and—" he stopped abruptly as he heard a muffled sound, his eyes lifting from the screen.

"I—" Jake muttered shakily, the word barely escaping his closed throat, as Josh approached his bedside. "I just- I don't know what to do," he managed to get the words out of his closed throat.

Josh didn't need more to understand what that meant, his heart breaking at his brother’s unusual display of vulnerability. He knew the pain that must’ve been tearing him apart. The admission hung in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the emotional turmoil that swirled within him.

Jake had had his fair share of flings after their breakup, and he had expected YN doing the same. After all, she was nothing short of incredible, and admirers were bound to line up at her door. But marriage? That was a different realm entirely. Marriage meant forever. Marriage was the final nail in the coffin of what they once shared.

Josh sat silently at the side of the bed as Jake, exhausted both physically and emotionally, slowly succumbed to sleep.

“Me neither, Jakey,” Josh eventually whispered, pulling a blanket over his twin, “me neither.”

Next Track: All You Had To Do Was Stay

Series Masterlist

Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

Taglist

@aintthatapity

@sinarainbows

@vanfleeter 

[library-ghoulette]

Under the Spell - Chapter 2/?

Pairing: Mary Goore x f!OC

Rating: Mature (mostly for language, SFW, later chapters will be NSFW)

Tags: first person POV, unnamed Sister of Sin OC, he/they Mary Goore, slowburn, banter, jealousy, stressed out overachiever, if I don't admit that I'm attracted to you then it's not really happening

Words: 1704

Summary: Mary Goore is spending the summer at the Abbey to assist with the Ghost Project when one of the Sisters of Sin catches his eye. Can they find love--or even just a place to hook up--under the wrathful gaze of Sister Imperator? (chapter one)

A/N: Sorry not sorry ghesties, but I love a slowburn. And making them fight! It's their foreplay, I promise.

ao3 link

divider by @gothdaddyissues

I spend the next week haunted by Mary Goore. They don’t appear again at the courtyard bench where I take my furtive stress-smoking breaks–not that I hope they will–but that seems like the only place in the Abbey unmarked by their presence.

Everywhere else? They seem to follow like a song I hate but can’t get out of my head. They brush past me in the hall on my way to class. They’re leaving Sister Imperator’s office right when I need to talk to her about something. They even sit on the far end of my pew during mass–which I’m sure they only attend to annoy me–leaning forward across the other worshippers to catch my eye and wave.

They talk too loudly, and they laugh too much, and I have no idea how they’re managing to get any work done for the Ghost Project when they never seem to be in the music room. Why would they do any work, when they could be following me? 

Or when he could be sitting across from me in the dining hall, surrounded by a gaggle of Sisters, all of whom are looking up at him with bright smiles, playing with their hair and giggling at remarks that I’m certain couldn’t have been that fucking funny, touching his arm and–

My roommate nearly shouts my name from across the table, and I snap my attention back to her. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

She sighs. “I was saying, that’s so annoying.”

“What is?” I realize that I’ve lost the thread of our conversation so thoroughly that she could be talking about anything from being put on extra cleaning duty to the cafeteria not having the good french fries today, and I have no idea which. 

She flaps a hand Mary’s direction. I look over just long enough for them to catch my eye and give me a wink before I turn away again. 

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. He acts like he owns the place, and everyone falls all over themselves trying to get his attention.” She adjusts the clip holding back her profusion of dark curls and says something that I don’t quite catch, because there’s another wave of giggles from Mary’s table and I look over to see him stretching his arms over his head, the hem of his shirt rising just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin right above his studded belt–

“Huh?” I ask, when my roommate reaches out to poke my hand.

“I said, I’m glad you’re not taking part in all that nonsense.”

“Oh. Yeah, I uh… I don’t really see the appeal.”

She gives me a suspicious look, eyes narrowing and lips twisting to the side in an expression that I know too well. “You’ve been so spacey lately.”

“Yeah, I know.” I drop my eyes to my plate, dragging my fork through the remnants of my salad. “I’m just kind of stressed out about my classes and everything.”

“Well, if you want to do some extra studying together, let me know,” she says. “The summer is going to be over before we know it, and if you want Sister Imperator to approve you to take your vows this fall–”

“Yeah, that would probably be good,” I cut her off, before she can fully launch into yet another reminder of why I’m spending my summer studying instead of… whatever it is that fun people do with their summers. “I’m free tomorrow after–oh shit, what time is it?”

She checks her watch. “Uh, 1:30?”

I swear under my breath, a litany of shitshitshit as I gather my things. “I’m half an hour late for my library shift.”

“Go on,” she says, stopping me as I toss my trash onto my tray. “I’ve got this.”

I might feel annoyed with myself for eliciting the look of concerned pity she gives me, if I had the time to spare. As it is, I almost sprint out the door and across the Abbey to the library.

I stash my bag in the librarian’s office with my apologies, shrug on my cardigan to ward off the air-conditioned chill, and collect a cart of books ready to be returned to their shelves.

I love my shifts in the Ministry library, hours when  I can disappear into soothing work, cushioned by the susurrus of research happening all around me, the turning of pages and the tapping keys forming the perfect backdrop for my thoughts. 

I’m looking forward to resuming the comfort of my usual routine, to clearing my mind and maybe passively mulling over Secondo’s notes on my most recent Latin translation. But when I locate the correct range and turn down the aisle, an all-too-familiar disheveled head peeks around the next shelf, stopping me short.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss.

“Research?” Mary offers.

“Nice try, but try again.”

“Okay, fine. I saw you giving me the eye back there in the cafeteria. Thought you might want some company.”

“You followed me?” I can already feel that tell-tale blush that I hate creeping up out of my collar and across the face, the one that makes people confuse pissed off for something else.

Mary grimaces as they approach. “Followed makes it sound creepy.”

“It is”--my words come out louder than I intend, and I catch myself, because they are not going to bait me into making a scene in the middle of the library--”it is creepy. Go away.”

Of course, he doesn’t go away. 

“Are you trying to deny a humble seeker of knowledge the opportunity to improve their mind and grow in their dark faith?” he asks, voice dripping affronted piety as he plucks a book from the shelf at random. 

“Fine,” I sigh. “But be quiet. And don’t bother me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” They lean against the shelf and flip the book open with an exaggerated motion that makes me cringe for the poor book’s spine. I try to go back to my work, but I can feel their eyes on me, and it can’t be more than a minute before they’re talking again.

“Did you know that weird Cardinal has, like, a whole stash of antique porn hidden in here somewhere?” Mary asks, snaping the book shut, voice getting progressively louder. “I hear it’s the really weird stuff!”

I hear a grumble from one of the nearby study carrels as someone shoots us a glare, and I shush Mary with a light slap on the arm with the book I’m holding.

“Shut up. And go away.” I turn to shelve the book in my hand. “I’m trying to work.”

Mary doesn’t leave, just cocks their head at me mischievously and rubs the spot where I hit them, right over the devil inked into their skin. “Sure, I’ll go away. If you come meet me tonight.”

The retort is poised on the tip of my tongue, but to my surprise, what comes out of my mouth is, “Meet you? Where?”

“The cemetery.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“No, Goore.”

“Ugh! So impersonal!” He clasps a hand over his heart, wounded. “Don’t you think we’re on a first-name basis, babe?”

“No. And I’ve told you not to call me that.”

I start to wheel the book cart away, rolling down the aisle to the next range of books I have to shelve, finished with this conversation. But Mary’s hand shoots out, grabbing me gently around my upper arm, their calloused touch setting off sparks inside me, sparks that I refuse to label as anything other than anger.

I’m about to say something scathing, but they lean close, and the openness of their expression stays my tongue.

“I’m sorry,” they say. “I’m an asshole, I know. But seriously. The cemetery, midnight. We’ll have a little picnic, just you and me.” A lopsided grin. “It’ll be nice.”

I bite my lip, considering, looking down at their hand where it still rests on my arm. For whatever reason, I don’t shrug it off. And they don’t take it away.

Here is the part when I say no, I think. But what I say instead is, “Maybe.”

Mary smirks like he knows, just knows, that “maybe” really means “yes,” and it makes me want to take it back now to spite him. But I can see where the conversation goes next if I say no: the way he will relish teasing me for not having the guts while I get increasingly flushed and flustered, looking every bit the good girl being pestered by the bad boy who won’t leave her alone. Worse, looking like the good girl who doesn’t want the bad boy to leave her alone.

They’re leaning in close enough now that I can smell them: clinging smoke, the salty tang of sweat, and something spicy and earthy. There is a small voice inside of me that urges me to lean in closer, to breathe in more of that oddly intoxicating scent. That small voice assures me that if I just tilt my head up ever so slightly and close my eyes, then Mary will meet me halfway. 

Stupid. What would I want that for? He’s distracting, and annoying, and–

“Midnight,” he says again, breaking my train of thought and the inexplicable spell I had fallen under. “Don’t be late.”

I roll my eyes. “Maybe,” I say again.

“I’ll take maybe.” They squeeze my arm gently, briefly, before finally releasing me, having gotten what they wanted from me. 

I should let them go, should be relieved to be left alone, left to get back to the work I’m here to do. But for reasons unknown even to me, I say, “I’ve seen it, by the way.” 

It works: they turn back, intrigued. “Seen what?”

“Cardinal Copia’s porn collection.” Nonchalant, eyes cast down as I rearrange a misfiled book on my cart.

“No shit? Was it weird?”

I shrug, leveling him with a deliberate gaze. “I’ve seen weirder.”

And just for a moment, I’m rewarded with the rarest of occurrences: Mary Goore rendered speechless. 

And then one of those smiles that says I’ve won this round, while promising that there will be another.

“See you tonight, Sister.”

[lifeofpriya]

OUHHH hello sorry for the spam i'm just now catching up on everything but may I request one last jack fic/blurb of reader and andy 'ganging' up on jack just pulling his leg and all that!

you got it, bestie 🤭🫡

A Prankster's Pair

wc: 2.4k

"Well, if it isn't 500 Miles himself," says Andy, nudging you with an elbow as Jack walks in. You and Jack have been dating for a few months now, and tonight's gathering is a rare chance for you to see him outside the glitz of the tennis courts. His cheeks flush slightly at the teasing, a trait you've come to find utterly charming about him.

You and Jack were over at Andy's house for a quiet dinner, a much-needed break from the chaotic whirlwind of professional sports and the constant scrutiny of the media. The evening had been filled with laughter and good-natured banter, a stark contrast to the intense matches that usually dominated their conversations.

Jack looked at the two of you, his eyes narrowing playfully as he took a seat. "What's this, a conspiracy against me?"

You smirked. "Just a little fun, Jacky boy."

Andy chuckled, setting the plates of food on the table. "You know we can't have a gathering without poking fun at the young prodigy."

Jack rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. "As long as you two don't start singing that song again," he said, referring to the time he had serenaded Andy with "500 Miles" during a 3-hour car ride to a tournament.

Andy winked. "Oh, no promises."

Jack groaned, but the glint in his eye told you he was ready for whatever the two of you had cooked up. You both knew Jack's love for the spotlight and his good-humored nature meant he could handle a bit of teasing.

"Alright, spill it," Jack said, picking up his fork, his biceps flexing slightly as he stabbed at a piece of rosemary-crusted chicken.

You grinned, looking at the untouched plate of food in front of him. "Oh, just a little bet we made."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "A bet?"

Andy nodded, his Scottish accent thickening with mischief. "Aye, a friendly wager."

Jack's eyes darted between you two, curiosity piqued. "What's the bet?"

"That's a secret between Andy and I," you say, smirking at Jack's curiosity. The room's ambiance, filled with the scent of rosemary and a hint of competitive spirit, seemed to hold its breath for a moment.

Jack's eyes widened, and he leaned in closer. "Come on, you can't just leave it at that."

Andy's laugh was rich and deep, like the bass notes of a delicate piano. "Ah, but we can, my friend."

Jack sighed defeatedly, his shoulders dropping a bit, but the twinkle in his eye said he was enjoying the mystery. You both knew he hated being out of the loop. You took a bite of your meal, watching him squirm. It was all in good fun, of course. You'd never do anything to truly embarrass him.

The dinner continued, the conversation flowing like a well-played rally, touching on topics from tennis strategies to favorite movies. You noticed how Jack's forehead creased every time your eyes met with Andy's, as if you two were sharing a secret handshake. It was adorable.

As the night grew darker outside, the living room lights cast a warm glow over the three of you. You and Andy had decided to leave the bet unspoken for now, watching Jack try to deduce what it could be from your subtle hints and the way your eyes danced with silent laughter.

"Alright, I can't take it anymore," Jack finally said, setting down his fork with a dramatic flourish. "What's the bet?"

You and Andy shared a look, the kind that only close friends could understand. It was a dance of 'should we tell him?' 'are we really going to keep this going?' But the gleam in your eyes said it all. You were enjoying this too much.

"Okay, okay," you relented, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. "But you have to promise not to get mad."

Jack leaned back in his chair, his eyes alight with curiosity. "I can't promise that until I know what it is."

Andy clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the room. "Fair enough, but remember, you asked for it."

Jack's curiosity was now a living, breathing entity in the room, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. "Spit it out, you two," he said, a hint of a growl in his voice.

You leaned forward, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "If you can beat me in a game of darts, we'll tell you."

Jack's eyes lit up. Competition was in his blood, after all. "Darts, huh?" He looked over at the dartboard on the far wall, the neon lights casting a rainbow of shadows on the floor. "Alright, you're on."

Andy fetched the darts from the nearby shelf, handing you one set and keeping another for himself. You knew this was going to be a battle royale. Jack's jovial nature didn't mean he didn't have a fiery spirit when it came to games.

"You're on," Jack said, his voice filled with excitement. He took the darts from Andy with a firm grip, his eyes flickering to the board.

You couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. This was going to be good.

Jack stood up, his long legs stretching out from under the table as he sauntered over to the darts board with the grace of a predator approaching its prey. You and Andy took your positions on the opposite side of the room, the distance between you and the board a respectable one, not wanting to make it too easy for him.

"Alright, love," Jack said, turning to you with a cheeky smile. "You're going down."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "We'll see about that, Mr. 500 Miles," you said, your voice filled with playful challenge.

The game began with a ceremonial toss of a coin to decide who would go first. It landed on tails, so you stepped up to the line, feeling the cool metal of the darts in your hand. You took a deep breath, focusing on the board, and threw your first dart. It landed with a satisfying thunk in the triple-20, scoring you 60 points. Not a bad start, but you knew Jack would come back with a vengeance.

Jack took his turn, his gaze intense and focused. The first dart hit the bullseye, the second just grazed the edge of the triple-20, and the third… it veered off course and embedded itself in the wallpaper. You both stifled giggles, but Jack just shrugged it off with a charming grin. "Beginner's luck," he said, pointing at you. "Your turn."

You stepped up again, aimed, and threw. This time, your dart landed in the double-10, scoring you 20 points. Not your best shot, but it was a decent follow-up. Jack's next turn was a bit more successful, scoring him 40 points with a double-18. The game continued, the tension in the room thickening with each toss. The air was electric with the sound of the darts slicing through it and the occasional clink as they hit the metal board.

Jack's competitive spirit was palpable, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he threw each dart. You couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for him; his passion for the game—any game—was one of the reasons you were drawn to him in the first place.

"Alright, let's see what you've got," you said, handing over the remaining darts to Jack. He took them with the same confidence he brought to the tennis court, his grip firm and his stance steady.

Jack took a moment, eyeing the board, calculating angles and distances, his mind racing with the physics of the throw. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent the first dart flying. It hit the triple-19, a respectable shot, but not enough to beat your current lead. You watched his expression shift from hopeful to determined, his jaw set as he threw the following two darts. Both hit the double-8, giving him a solid 44 points for the round.

The score was close, and you could feel the excitement bubbling over. The room was a whirlwind of color from the flashing neon lights, the sound of darts punctuating the air, and the smell of victory wafting from Jack's sweat. He turned to you, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Ready to lose, love?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smirk that tugged at your own mouth. "Oh, you think you've got this in the bag?" You stepped back up to the line, the weight of the darts in your hand feeling heavier now that the stakes were higher. You took a deep breath and threw, aiming for the treble-17. The dart spun through the air, a blur of metal and hope, and hit its mark with a satisfying thwack. The score was close, but not close enough for you to back down.

Jack's smile grew wider as he stepped back up. His throws were swift and precise, each dart a silent declaration of his intent to win. The tension grew as the game continued, both of you taking turns, the points fluctuating like a seesaw in a playground of fate.

The room was a canvas painted with the vivid emotions of the moment—Jack's fiery determination, Andy's amused spectating, and your own mix of excitement and mischief. You watched as Jack's darts pierced the board, leaving a constellation of silver points scattered across the green surface.

"Come on, let's not keep the suspense," Jack said, his voice a blend of concentration and playfulness.

You nodded, knowing that the moment of truth had arrived. You stepped up to the line, took a deep breath, and threw your final dart. It sailed through the air, a silent promise of victory, and landed smack in the middle of the bullseye. The room erupted in a cheer, and even Jack couldn't help but laugh as he slapped you on the back.

"Well played," he said, his voice a mix of admiration and mock disappointment. "You've got the eye of an eagle."

You took a bow, basking in the momentary victory. "And the arm of a dart champion," you quipped back, grinning from ear to ear.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, you win this round." He turned to Andy, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his face. "Now, are you going to tell me what this bet is about?"

Andy clapped his hands together, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? You didn't win, remember?"

Jack groaned, his cheeks flushing slightly from the exertion and the teasing. "Fine, fine. But you two better have something good."

You winked at Jack, the secret still tucked safely behind your lips. "Oh, we do," you said, your voice a whisper of promise.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and light-hearted rivalry. You could feel the bond between the three of you strengthening with every shared smile and playful jab. Jack's eyes sparkled as he regaled you with tales from his latest matches, the passion for his sport so vivid you could almost see the tennis balls flying across the room.

Andy, ever the gracious host, kept the conversation flowing with stories from his own career, his Scottish brogue adding a warm, nostalgic flavor to the tales of epic rallies and nail-biting victories.

As the night grew later, the air grew denser with the unspoken bet. It was a silent undercurrent to the laughter, a secret handshake between you and Andy that Jack couldn't help but feel left out of. You watched him, his curiosity a living, breathing entity that danced in the air.

"Alright, you two," Jack said, setting down his empty glass of water. "I've had enough. What's this bet?"

You and Andy exchanged a knowing look, your smirks growing wider. The anticipation in the air was as thick as the scent of rosemary from the kitchen.

"Ah, Jacky boy," you began, drawing out the words like a cat playing with a mouse. "If you really want to know…"

Jack leaned forward eagerly, his eyes alight with anticipation. "Yes, I really do."

You took a dramatic pause, savoring the moment. "The bet," you announced with a flourish, "was to see if we could get you to sing '500 Miles' again."

Jack's eyes widened in disbelief before a burst of laughter erupted from him, shaking the room with its force. "What? That's it?" He looked back and forth between you and Andy, who had now joined in the laughter, his cheeks reddening.

Andy nodded, his own laughter subsiding into a chuckle. "Aye, that's it. We just wanted to see if we could get you to serenade us again."

Jack's eyes narrowed in mock anger, but the grin on his face gave him away. "You two are something else," he said, shaking his head.

"What can we say?" Andy replied, his own mirth evident. "We enjoy a good laugh at the expense of the young and famous."

You couldn't hold it in any longer and the two of you broke into a fit of laughter, the kind that starts in your belly and bubbles up, spilling over until it consumes you. Jack's initial shock morphed into a playful scowl, but the corners of his mouth twitched as if trying to hold back a smile.

"You're both terrible," he said, feigning annoyance, but the twinkle in his eyes said he was enjoying the banter.

The three of you continued to poke fun at each other, the evening a delightful blend of camaraderie and good-natured rivalry. As the night grew darker outside, the warmth of the room and the friendship within it grew stronger. You watched as Jack's laughter lines deepened and his shoulders relaxed, the tension of the day's training and the looming matches fading away.

"Alright, I'll give you this one," Jack said, his voice still thick with mirth. "But next time, I expect something more… challenging."

You and Andy shared a knowing glance, already plotting the next playful prank. But for now, the night was still young, and the laughter was the sweetest victory.

[dearweirdme]

You know watching AYS just made me realize that no ship is real. These boys are not dating each other and depending on the day, they pretty have a very similar kind of friendship. You know how we always talk about paying attention to the little things? When you really pay attention to those little things it kinda makes it clear that they are all just friends.

In this episode Jk didn’t know if Tae’s glasses were prescription glasses or not, Tae asked Jimin if Jk learned how to flip the soju bottles before opening them from him, Jk attitude too. Sometimes he could be extremely sweet to both and sometimes he just there with both. Like that previous anon said, Tae was basically on his phone almost the entire time and even when they went out to eat, it was mostly Jimin and Jk talking with each other while Tae was either on his phone or just in silence and only contributing to the conversation every once in a while. I don’t think any of those boys are dating each other. They are all just friends and their friendship with each other isn’t even that different when you really look at things.

The previous anon mentioned Tae being on his phone alot and I also did notice that about him in alot of BTS content. We may talk all we want about the company potraying him in a certain way but do we really believe that all these years the company has been making him stay on his phone while Jimin and Jungkook are off playing around? Maybe that is why we always had way more Jikook content because even in Are you sure you can clearly see it while they eat. It also makes sense now why Jimin and Jungkook always spoke about being all nighter friends because even in this show you can see how Tae leaves and goes to bed earlier than them and they stay up together playing or talking or whatever before finally going to bed around 4am or so.

Hi anon!

I just finished watching, and I don't feel the same. I think we look at different things when we talk about 'the little things'. To me the little things are Tae and Jk always going to sit next to each other. It's them always walking closeby. It's the looks they share. It's the softness in their voices. Things like that.. are abundantly present all throughout Are You Sure. The difference between Tae and Jk and Vmin and Jkk is really striking to me. Sure Vmin are seen together a couple of times, because they drive in the car together... it's cute.. it's not intimate. Sure Jkk joke and banter and cuddle for some moments, but it's those tiny moments and there is no draw to each other in the moments that aren't banterous. It's some kind of constant thread between Tae and JK though.

The examples you gave of your 'little moments' weren't what you felt to me. I think they do wear glasses with and without prescription and that's why Jk asked. He even knows his eyesight is worse than Tae's. The soju bottle thingy can just be something he doesn't do often, or has learned only recently.. it's not that deep imo.

I don't see how your last paragraph connects to Tae and Jk not being together. I have always known that Jk and Jm hang out at night together because their sleeping paterns match more at times. I've even told Jkkrs that often enough. That has nothing to do with relationships though. WHy should Jk go to bed when he isn't tired yet? Why shoulds Tae stay up if he wants to sleep (and note that sleep was at one thing a very heavy issue for them.. especcially Tae). There are so many hours in the day, in this show we have only seen about 1 hour of content.. which leaves so very much open.

I have thought since episode one that Tae possibly joined them just to be able to spend time with Jk. That feeling has only grown stronger.. the feeling I have from this, is that Tae was joining Jk on a working schedule just because he could. He was in the show, but he wasn't as committed to it as Jk and Jm were. Not because he didn't want to, but because it was work for Jm and Jk.. and it was work/private time for Tae.

[elephantlovemedleys]

satine/christian for the fandom asks?

buckle up and get ready cause this is gonna be a long way down 😎

• when I started shipping it if I did: i insantly felt their chemistry the moment they started dancing together at the rouge, and clearly she thought he was the duke at first because of some misunderstanding that she saw with tolouse when zidler was talking to her about it. and obviously when we first see christian at the elephant and satine thinks he’s up there to go sleep with her, their banter from the getgo is really hilarious too cause christian is sort of clueless and awkward at first and she's just doing her job and tries to get off at his "poetry" but then he starts to belt into song, his voice and his words light up the city, and her world too.

the elephant love medley is definitely when i think i truly started to feel their connection, it's literally a conversation told through song about their own perceptions of love and what they think could become of them once they give in, and when they finally kiss, it's one that sparks up and sends fireworks blasting up the night sky (i mean literally speaking! lol) .

BUT i will say, it was this moment right here that i felt something in my heart twinged in what i think i can describe as a state of melting away, cause gosh just look at them...........

AND THIS OTHER TINY MOMENT LIKE THAT FOREHEAD KISS IS EVERYTHING TO ME

• my thoughts: honest to god i am being real when i say the very last time i found myself feeling this certain level AMOUNT OF CRAZY towards a ship was eight years ago, and it was with mulder/scully (the x files). admittedly i haven't been too shippy with things in recent times unless they're one of my older recurring fixations that i love going back to, and before i got totally into christian/satine, it was jamie & claire (outlander) when i watched the show two years ago that started bringing back this kind of energy in which i realised i can definitely still find and enjoy certain pairings that definitely meet my own personal preferences of what i consider are OTP levels of qualifications to me. and good lord don't even get me started on how fantastic, unbeatable, and palpable the chemistry is between nicole kidman and ewan mcgregor, it's through their performances and how they deliver it that makes you feel all sorts of emotions from the giddiest of them all to the most heartwrenching.

• What makes me happy about them: the fact that for both christian and satine, it's actually the first time they've both fallen in love. christian early in the movie says he's never been in love, despite wanting to write about it, and for satine, she admits that she can't fall in love and it's due to the means of what she does with her job, but eventually she breaks this rule, and ultimately finds herself caught and drowning in a love she never knew she could ever experience and for christian, he gets the sense that wow this is how loving someone and being in love is like. he is incredibly enamoured by her, and we see satine at one of her most vulnerable instances when she's with him, they enjoy being in each other's company, and they see the good in each other. satine knew what christian's talents were capable of, and christian saw how satine was worthy of shining in the spotlight and her dreams of wanting to be an actress. with him writing the play and her being the lead, it gives them both chances to show what they're great at as individuals too!

and from what i know, there's a part where christian has a poem for satine that didn't make it to the movie's final cut and it goes something like "my heart aches every hour of every day / and only when i'm with you does the pain go away" ❤️

• What makes me sad about them: it's how they almost had it all. they were very close, towards the end when the duke was finally out of the picture, and they were able to reconcile and proclaim their undying love for one another despite what they had to put themselves under because of things that were getting in the way, the show was successful and it did so well and they were happy about it, until one inevitable force (her illness) destroyed any hope of finally running away and spending the rest of their lives together.

• things done in fanfic that annoys me: i think the only thing that annoys me pertaining to this is how you can no longer view or access a lot of the fics about them that were written during the early 2000's cause i know there were definitely some gems written that time especially when the movie had just come out and i would have loved to see what these people wrote before!

• things I look for in fanfic: anything that depicts them in domestic bliss (i am a sucker for these things), or situations where they comfort one another. literally anything that shows how they are so utterly filled with love and the happiness that surrounds them both because it's genuinely what they deserved.

• Who l'd be comfortable them ending up with, if not each: NO ONE IT WILL ALWAYS BE THEM IN THE END ONLY EACH OTHER !!!!

• My happily ever after for them: satine is completely cured from consumption, she's able to fly away, and makes it big time as an actress and christian is a successful playwright. they both end up married, living in london and through the course of several years have three daughters and two cats (girldad! christian is something so personal to me, he'd be the dad who'd tell endless bedtime stories and satine would be the mom who loves dressing her girls up and taking them to parks), and the greatest thing about this is their children would grow up in a household that's filled with many music, laughs, kindness, and most importantly love.

• who is the big spoon/little spoon: christian is definitely a hugger, they're just so comfortable around each other that she can slip into his arms during a lazy afternoon or he can wrap her around his waist whilst joking around during a walk. plus whenever he's got something to write on his typewriter he doesn't mind when she wants to sit in his lap and they'd squeeze in whatever space they have in a chair.

• what is their favorite non-sexual activity: singing and dancing together (obviously) <3 practicing and reciting lines from plays, leaving each other notes when one has to go somewhere or gets up earlier than the other but also cuddling by the balcony.