#i get a big glass trophy in a few days

[panicbroadcast]

( *¯ ³¯*)♡

so my boss is at a national work conference. and they called during my shift to say i had been nominated and won a national award

its really sad, but ive never had such positive recognition from management in whole working life. where my hard work has actually been noticed and appreciated and they are actually verbal about it, not just a pat on the back type thing

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? - Part 1

In which something magical begins.

Warnings: none, just a bit of mutual pining. but this will be an angsty one i think. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Words: 2.6k

Master List

(a/n: new series alert! friends to lovers featuring lando norris. this one will be several parts spanning from 2019 to present day. I've tried my hardest to make sure the timeline/race results are accurate but I may have adjusted something to make it work a bit better for the story line. this is a total work of fiction, purely for entertainment.)

February 2019 

Woking, Surry, England

“This is not going to be a year of partying and laziness, Chiquita.” Carlos throws you a sidelong glance as he pulls his new McLaren into a parking spot early one February morning. “You are here with me to work, not spend your gap year playing.” 

“If I’m here to work, then you can’t me ‘little girl’ while we’re here, Carlos.” You bite back, hauling your tote bag from the floor of the low slung sports car. 

Carlos chuckles, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both begin the walk into his new workplace: the McLaren Technology Center. “Fair enough, Chiquita.” 

Last spring, you had graduated from high school and had spent one miserable semester at the University of Madrid in the fall before dropping out just a few months ago. 

Carlos dodges the swat that you aim at his bicep, taking a few quick steps ahead of you as you approach the front door of the large white building. The sprawling MTC is an intimidating building and you knew that if you hadn’t been here with Carlos, there was no way you’d be able to find your way. 

After spending a few listless months bouncing from Carlos’ couch in Monaco back to your parent’s estate in Spain, they had laid down the law. You needed to figure out what you were going to do for the foreseeable future if going back to University wasn’t in the cards for you at the moment. They were fine with you not going back to uni right away, in fact, they encouraged you to take a gap year but they expected you to do something productive with your life while you figured out what you wanted to do. 

And that had been when your older brother had entered the chat. He had finished third year as a Formula 1 driver a few months ago and would be changing teams come the new season in March. In December, he had parted ways with his long time assistant, who wanted to spend more time with her new husband and less time traveling. Carlos and you had always been the closest of the four Sainz siblings despite the six year age gap (his 25 years to your 19) so it had been the most natural thing in the world to have you be his assistant and social media manager for the 2019 F1 season. 

Up until today, Carlos had been attending pre-season meetings and putting time in at McLaren’s sim setup by himself but you had arrived at his flat five minutes from the MTC yesterday, suitcases in hand, ready to get started as your brother’s assistant. It had been ages since the two of you had spent this much time together and while you were mostly excited to spend the year traveling and reconnecting with your big brother, there was a bit of trepidation and anxiety sitting in your chest as you walked through those sliding glass doors this morning. 

You were barely 19 after all, little real world experience and you knew absolutely no one in this entire country beyond your brother. All of your friends were attending university in other countries, far away from the world you now found yourself in. Yes, you were excited but you were also insanely nervous. 

Carlos leads you down a long hallway, lined with trophy cases filled with motorsport winners trophies on one side and sleek F1 cars on the other. It was an entire shrine to McLaren history, of which there was a lot, and you were in awe as you followed after your brother. “Where are we going?” You ask as he turns down another quiet hallway, convinced you’d be utterly lost if Carlos asked you to show him how to get back to the front doors. 

“I have a little office tucked away back here next to Lando’s, I wanted to get you set up with the laptop and sync my calendar so you could get yourself ready.” 

You nod, ears perking up at the mention of your brother’s new teammate, Lando Norris. You knew a little about him from a few causal Google searches. He was 19 like you and this was his rookie season in Formula 1. From everything you read, he was a karting prodigy that had been signed by McLaren for a while and had been tapped to drive opposite of Carlos this year. Just knowing that there would be someone around the offices and on the road that was your age made the tight anxiety that sat in your chest ease just a touch, even if you two didn’t end up being more than acquaintances this year. 

Carlos hadn’t been lying about his ‘little’ office. It was barely more than a broom closet if you were being honest. Just enough room for a desk, a pair of chairs, and a bookshelf, but there was a large window that faced south so at least there’d always be sun spilling into the small space making it feel a little airier. 

You pull your MacBook out of the Dior tote Carlos had gotten you for your birthday last year as Carlos chatters away about schedules, press duties, and what he expected out of you. You listened carefully, taking notes in a little spiral bound notebook as you waited for your laptop to boot up. 

“Are you in here talking to yourself again, Carlitos?” 

Your head snaps up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and you find yourself smiling at the boy standing in the doorway. He’s a few inches taller than you, with short brown hair, and bright green eyes surrounded by thick black eyelashes. The deep tan of his skin surprises you a bit, considering its February in England and you hadn’t seen the sun since you left Spain yesterday. 

The boy’s face instantly sobers when he sees that your brother isn’t alone. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He blushes, hand coming to cup the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.” 

Carlos laughs, “This isn’t a guest. This is my sister, the one I was telling you about Friday. She’s going to be my assistant this year.” 

“Of course, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Lando.” 

You stand, crossing the small office in just 2 quick strides to shake Lando’s outstretched hand, “Nice to meet you too, Lando.” You say, polite smile playing on your lips. 

Lando turned around then, not wanting to intrude on the sibling time but also needing a moment to collect himself. He had known that you would be spending the season with your bother and that you two were around the same age but what he hadn’t prepared himself for was for how pretty you were. Your hair was even darker than your brother’s and it tumbled over your shoulders in layered waves that shined in a way that made Lando’s mouth go a little dry. Those dark eyes, round and doe eyed, threatened to swallow Lando whole and he’d barely spent more than a handful of seconds in your orbit.

He leaned against the door frame leading into his office, the sound of your laughter drifting through the walls. He had been used to the constant travel that was required of drivers of his caliber, having spent most of his teenage years on the road but all that time, he always had someone with him. His father, mother, manager. Someone that was ‘in charge’ of him and his schedule.

Now though? Now everything is different. He’s of age, a driver in the pinnacle league of his chosen sport, and totally alone. His friends are either jealous of his success or away at school and Lando often finds himself spending the entire weekend alone in his little flat down the road from the MTC. He was happy, of course, ecstatic that he had been given this chance by McLaren but the truth of the matter was, Lando Norris was quite lonely. 

As the image of your face flickered through his mind, Lando felt the tight grip of anxiety ease just a little bit. There was something so open about the way you had greeted him, something about how easy your laugh seemed to come, that told Lando that you were a good person, someone that would somehow be very important to him this year. 

“That is your teammates sister, mate.” Lando mutters to himself as he pushes off the door frame, making a beeline for the sim rig that was on the other side of the MTC, hoping that the time spent focused on racing would be enough to get your image out of his brain. 

April 2019 

Baku City Circuit 

“Lando, I swear to God if you’ve slept in again I’m ordering fish whenever I eat with you for the rest of my life.” 

Somewhere between Australia and China, you had morphed into not only Carlos’ personal assistant but also the assistant and babysitter of sorts to his stupid, idiotic, hilarious teammate. You adored the boy but most of the time he drove you to the brink of absolute madness. 

“I didn’t sleep in! My alarm didn’t go off!” Lando groans, breathless on the other end of the phone. 

“That is literally the same thing. I have one simple job here, Norris: get you and my brother to where they belong during race weekends and right now? You’re making me look like an amateur.” 

“I just got into the paddock, relax darling, no one is even remotely close to being fined by the FIA. I’ll be on the fan stage in five minutes, meet me there?” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you desperately try to will away the Landache, the term you’ve come up with when you get a headache caused by the Brit. “Fine.” You breathe. 

It’s your fourth race of the season and while Lando and your brother were seemingly hell bent on driving you to an early retirement, you had never been happier. Managing the busy schedule and life of now two Formula 1 drivers had come naturally to you. Engineers and mechanics in the garage were always a little in awe of your ability to keep the two drivers in line and where they needed to be when. The communications team at McLaren loved you because sometimes, you were the only one who would be able to get the Carlando, as the duo was coming to be known as, to behave. 

It was total chaos pretty much all of the time but you were thriving. You and Carlos were closer than ever, working tighter like a well oiled machine. But Lando and you? You two were the textbook definition of Partners In Crime. While you were the picture of professionalism on the track and during business hours, you were the other half of the chaos gremlin duo that terrorized half the grid. 

Right now though? Now the chaos gremlin was the perfect paddock princess that had to make sure her best friend and brother got to the right places on time. You round the corner of the back stage area, desperately searching for the mop of wavy brown hair covered by a papaya colored hat. 

“Lando!” You call, relieved when your dark eyes catch with a familiar pair light colored eyes. Today, they were an icy blue thanks to the bright desert sun of Baku. “I didn’t think I had to add ‘alarm’ to my list of race weekend duties.” You grouse, brushing at the dust on his team polo. 

Lando shakes his head, easy smile spreading across his face. “Am I late though?” 

You glare at him, “No.” You huff. 

“I would never make you look bad, pretty girl.” He winks and your stupid stomach does its traitorous little flip that it’s been doing lately. It’s disgusting. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.” 

“And please welcome to the stage, McLaren drivers Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris!” The presenter calls from behind Lando’s shoulder, interrupting your sparring match. 

Lando gives you a wink before spinning around following your brother up the stairs of the stage. 

July, 2019

Germany 

“That was my fifth DNF this year.” The pain in Lando’s voice sends your stomach twisting. You follow behind him, hands wringing together, as he stalks down the hallway of the hotel in Germany. The race had finished up hours ago but Lando had just been released from media duties a bit ago. Carlos had been caught up in some post-race meetings so you had hitched a ride back to the hotel with Lando instead but now, as you followed his stiff frame stalk down the hall, you wondered if that had been a good idea. 

“Lando, it wasn’t your fault. Your car lost power, it’s not like you binned it into the wall or anything.” 

Reaching his room, Lando stops and pulls out the key before letting himself in. He leaves the door open though, indicating he wanted you to follow him. “I know that.” He groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. The hotel room is pretty normal where hotels are concerned, 2 queen sized beds dominate the space with a large flat screen tv on the opposite side. Lando flops down on the farthest bed, his eyes closed. 

“I’ve barely finished in the points yet this season. Haven’t had a sniffing chance at a podium. I feel like such a fucking fraud.” 

You had stopped just inside the door, wanting to give Lando some space as he had his tantrum but now, seeing how truly upset he is, you cross the carpeted floor and sit down next to your best friend. “Lan.” You coo, running your fingers through his hair, knowing how the scratches from your nails relaxes him. “Lan, it’s okay. You knew coming in, just like Carlos, that McLaren is in a bit of a rebuilding stage. This isn’t unexpected.” 

The problem with Lando is that he is utterly too hard on himself. You had clocked the fact quickly, by the time you had been landing in Australia for the first race of the season, you knew he needed to work on his confidence. 

“I know. I mean, I don’t know but I know that you know and I trust you enough to know that you know what you know is right.” 

Your head spins. “Pardon me?” 

Laughter spilling from your lips pops the bubble of tension in the room, Lando unable to keep the smile off his face either.

“You heard me.” He gripes, sitting up. “And I know -” He stops, glaring at you when you double over with laughter once again. “I know you understood me, you cheeky monkey.” 

“I’m sorry but I’m just so terrified by the fact that I did understand that whirlwind of a sentence and can’t decide how to process it.” You say, chest heaving from laughing so hard. “We’ve been spending too much time together.” 

Lando grabs the remote from your hand before turning on the movie you had both fallen asleep to last night before the race. “Are you going to be mean to me all night, or are we going to finish this movie?” 

You roll your eyes, but toe off your shoes before settling against the headboard of the bed, shoulder bumping with Lando’s as he joins you. “Pizza or sushi for dinner?” You ask, grinning because you already know the answer. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Love you too, Lan.” You counter, pulling out your phone to order some pizza. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

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[waynes-multiverse]

Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

(Dean Winchester // Soldier Boy // Beau Arlen // Russell Shaw – Edition)

Prompt: How would your favorite men surprise you for Valentine's Day?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader // Soldier Boy x reader // Beau Arlen x reader // Russell Shaw x reader

Warnings: +18 for some language and spice, tons of fluff, a smidge of angst

A/N: Something sweet to sweep you off your feet for the most romantic day of the year 😉 Happy early Valentine's from me, my loves 💖 (And big thanks to the lovely, amazing @zepskies 💜 for starting this trend in the first place. It's addicting 😂🫶)

Dean:

Dean isn’t big on Valentine’s Day and romance. Not because he thinks it’s an unnecessary holiday invented by greeting card companies, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to be romantic.

You’re aware of this and don’t care if he surprises you with a big gesture. Because truth is, Dean’s romantic when it comes to the little things.

You don’t care if he brings you flowers because he brings you your favorite take-out order when you so much as mention that you’re hungry.

You don’t care if he gets you a card because he gets up in the middle of the night and saunters all the way to kitchen to bring you a glass of water when you tell him you’re thirsty.

You don’t care if he gets you chocolate because he creates personal mixtapes for you with songs you said you liked during random drives.

He listens to you. He holds open doors for you. He protects you. He keeps you calm. He takes care of you when you’re injured. And he loves you with every fiber of his being.

So, really, you don’t care if he makes a big deal out of one random calendar day a year or not. It doesn’t prove his love for you – the little things do.

However, you’re still sweetly surprised (and moved to tears) when you find the Dean Cave dipped in the warm glow of fairy lights and candles.

He’s picked out your favorite chick-flick and your favorite snacks.

He opens his arms with a big, cheeky grin and invites you into his snuggly embrace on the couch.

There’s a box of chocolates on the coffee table, a few of them half eaten, and a note that reads: I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is. Be mine?

You smile and kiss his scruffy cheek. “Always.”

Flustered, he smiles, cheeks tinged pink, and kisses your crown. “Happy unattached-drifter-Christmas, sweetheart.”

Soldier Boy:

To say Ben’s old-school when it comes to romance would be an understatement. While the rest of the year his bedside manners leave much to desire, he strangely shines on Valentine’s.

Mostly, because he knows sex is a given on this holiest of holy days. No sickness or period can stop him.

If you accidentally died, you’re even sure he’d pull a full Weekend at Bernie’s and have a night out with your corpse.

First, he surprises you with a delicately wrapped gift on your bed: a tight-fitting, beautiful emerald evening gown and the matching lacy lingerie set.

Of course he got you underwear, even though he won’t mind if you don’t wear anything at all under that dress.

He then takes you out to the fanciest restaurant in the city, where he reserved a private room away from all the other commoners.

His attention is only on you.

He praises you all night long and gives compliments as if he's never done anything else his entire (long) life.

He orders the most expensive bottle of wine and the best steak and makes sure you know that it is.

He encourages you to play footsie under the table with him before he slips the heel off your foot, and your toes massage the growing bulge in his slacks.

He holds your hand in public and protectively guides you goddamn everywhere with a palm on the small of your back, showing you off like arm candy – the trophy wife.

Sure, you could protest and critique his… traditional views.

You’re not a fucking award he’s won for bad acting!

But your cheeks flush furiously every single time he brags boisterously about you to anyone who will listen. And those who don’t listen are forced to listen.

But you can’t deny it feels good to be so wanted, so desired.

When you come home at the end of the night (with a fucking horse-drawn carriage no less), Ben can barely keep his large hands from roaming your curves. You know he expects his reward now for being the best possible lover ever.

On the kitchen island, you also find a huge bouquet of red roses waiting for you. You can barely appreciate its beauty before the zipper in the back of your dress slides open. Well… rips open.

Between the thorny stems, there’s a card attached, too. It doesn’t read “Be Mine,” however.

Nope, it says, “You are mine.”

And you know he fucking means it.

Beau Arlen:

Your favorite cowboy sheriff will pull out all the stops as soon as the calendar on his desk reads February.

He doesn’t wait for D-Day either. Every day for thirteen days straight, there’s a little surprise waiting for you when you get home.

Your favorite flowers, your favorite meal, your favorite movie, a framed picture of you and him from your first vacation together, a necklace you saw in an antique store you mentioned in passing…

Some might say he’s a little overcompensating.

But Beau has made mistakes in his past, especially on the relationship front, and will be damned if he hasn’t learned from them.

So, he will make sure you feel wanted and loved till the day he dies, even though you keep repeatedly telling him he doesn’t need to make a fuss about Valentine’s Day.

Really, you’re good with picked flowers from the garden.

But Beau’s stubborn and won’t be discouraged. The southern gentlemanliness is rooted deep within his heart and soul.

This day is all about his endless love for you.

Honestly, the sheer amount of everything makes you even slightly uncomfortable. It might sound dumb, but how could you ever compete with that level of commitment?

There ain’t enough blow jobs in this world to make up for his devotion to you.

But on the big day itself, you are actually the one who surprises him with a romantic weekend trip to a cabin in the mountains and excellent fishing spots close by.

You know the biggest gift you could give him is some peace and quiet, time for himself, and a listening ear because he will surely talk the entire time about God and the world while you’re stuck on a boat with him.

But on the night itself, when you give him your gift, he’s actually speechless. Tears brim in his green eyes because you thought of him.

He’s moved, and it moves you.

Because, after all, to you, there’s no bigger gift in this world than his smile.

Russell Shaw:

You don’t expect much when Valentine’s Day looms in the distance. In fact, you don’t expect anything at all.

You’ve only been dating Russell for a couple of months now, and you barely ever see him. Your time together mostly consists of text messages, late night phone calls, and the occasional video chats.

You know his job is complicated. You know he can’t be around as much, even though you direly wish he could.

On the morning of the dreaded day, you receive a simple text message:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart! I’ll call you later!”

You hate to admit it, but you feel a little disappointed – disenchanted even. You don’t want to make a big deal out of it because it’s a stupid, unimportant almost-holiday.

All day long, you curse the greeting card companies and the poisonous claws of consumerism for making you care in the first place.

You’re a strong, independent woman. You shouldn’t need a man to give you flowers, gifts, or attention to feel appreciated.

Still…

As you park in the driveway after a long day at work where you watched your colleagues fawn over the bouquets they received from their partners, you feel disheartened when you still haven’t even gotten your promised phone call.

Russell always leaves you wanting more… That can both be a good thing and a very bad one.

But as you close the car door, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You all too keenly pull it out and pick up, almost dropping it because your hands are jittering with excitement at this point and your heart is pounding furiously.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Russell greets you on the other end, the deep timbres of his voice sending immediate shivers down your spine. “You home yet?”

All your worries and sorrows are instantly forgotten when you hear the big smile on his freckled face that he’s surely carrying.

He’s worth it, you remind yourself, even when it’s not easy. Life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

“Uh, almost. Unlocking the front door as we speak,” you tell him.

“Sorry I couldn’t call you sooner. Was stuck on a plane. Long flight,” he says mysteriously. You don’t even ask at this point. You know he can’t tell you.

“No worries. I was busy, anyways,” you lie and hope he buys your nonchalance. “Anywhere interesting you are now?”

“You could say that, yeah…”

“Well, if you hold on a second, I’ll slip out of those clothes and make your evening even more interesting with some pictures,” you tease flirtatiously and push the door open to your dark apartment.

The light switches on by itself, though. You blink in surprise before the phone falls out of your hand when Russell beams broadly at you.

“As much as I love getting your dirty little photos, I think I prefer the real thing tonight,” he says slyly.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” You surge forward into his strong arms so forcefully you almost tackle him to the ground, your hands slinging around his neck. If you could keep him caged there forever, you’d be fine with it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” Russell says with a warm chuckle and claims your lips in a searingly passionate kiss that shows you just how much he’s certainly missed you too. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Hope you enjoyed these little snippets, friends! Do you agree with these? 😉

I legit stole Dean's half-eaten box of chocolate and the Forrest Gump note from another fic of mine. I couldn't resist. I can totally see him doing something silly and cute like that 😂

Happy Valentine's 💕

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[yuwuta]

PLS PLS PLSSSSS keep talking about kids with olympic athletes! gojo and nanami pls pls pls i have to Know. everything u wrote about yuuta was already so so cute

(prev olympics au here)

the gojo twins are hilarious because your baby boy looks exactly like satoru, but has very little of his personality—it seems like the only things he inherited was satoru’s love for sweets and love for you. still, even though he’s a strong swimmer, he much prefers to relax in his floaties alongside you if you’re also in the pool, or chill by your side on a lounge chair, glasses too big for his face keeping the sun out of his eyes as he shares his smoothie with you, and asks to borrow your phone to take pictures of his sister and daddy in the pool. 

your baby girl on the other hand… she might have your face but she’s got satoru’s everything else—his competitive streak, his confidence, and definitely his mischievous nature. she’s the one who tiptoes into your bedroom at five in the morning, tapping at her daddy’s shoulders, and putting her little finger over his lip to shush him before he can wake you up; she’s always the one to convince satoru to take her swimming the backyard at the crack of dawn, and why by the time you and your baby boy wake up, she and satoru are already past warm up laps and swimming lessons and onto who can make the splashiest canonball competitions (she always wins because while her tiny body can endure a belly flop, satoru’s years of training physically doesn’t allow him to do it… and maybe because he’s not so competitive when it comes to his baby girl, he’ll always let her win). 

kento’s professional judo career honestly doesn’t last very long. after his first olympic games, you two start dating and he proposes just after he wins gold the second time he’s in the olympics; he does maybe two more years of national competitions while you’re pregnant, and decides that the intense training for the next two years in preparation of a third olympic competition isn’t worth missing time he could spend with you or your baby girl—plus, with all the money he’s made from competitions, winning gold medals, brand ambassadorships, commercials, and collaborations, he had enough money to provide for all of your for the rest of your lives. so, that’s what he does (his dream has always been to be a househusband, anyway...) his previous salaryman career comes in handy when deciding how to invest his money, how to buy a house, how to take care of his friends, how to set up a fund for your daughter, and an extra account or two… just incase more babies come along… 

by the time your baby girl is four, she’s already kento’s biggest fan. she loudly and proudly proclaims to everybody that her daddy was basically superman and won all the shiny trophies and medals in the house from when he was being a superhero. if anyone recognizes kento when they’re out together, she always confirms their suspicions, proudly boasting, “yeah kento is my daddy! he’s a winner!” it always makes kento’s heart swell to hear her praise. he doesn’t compete professionally anymore, but he does train from time to time, and has taken on a few mentees, and your daughter LOVES to watch him coach/train. she’s got her own uniform that she always puts on whenever they go to the gym together, and gets so excited when kento or ino or yuuji pretend to spar with her. 

she’s honestly kento’s mini figure. she’s respectful and reserved, but strong and knows when to fight and how to use her voice. there’s a time when he gets a call from her school saying that she got in a fight, the principal frames it as your daughter needlessly pushing around an older kid, but your daughter is certain in her words when she tells her dad that it was because the kid was being mean to the younger kids, and to her. kento doesn’t say a word to the teachers—doesn’t even fight them sending her home early for the day, because he’s happy to scoop her up and take her out for ice cream and tell her that he’s proud of her.

[magicfootballstuff]

Dirty Little Secret - part 6 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 6/?

Read other parts here.

———

You’re a European Champion.

You don’t really know what to do with that information.

To be honest, after the first twenty four hours that pass in a hungover blur, you end up on a bit of a downer. You should be delighted, riding the high of being the first England team to win a major trophy in fifty-six years, but after two glorious months in camp with a group of girls you’re now bonded with for life, returning to your hometown for a couple of weeks before pre-season is a dose of reality that’s just a little bit too big to swallow.

You’re happy to see your family, of course. You’ve spent most of the summer away from them with only limited visits while you were in camp. But after the best summer of your life with a football at your feet, it takes all of about three days for you to be itching to get back on the football pitch again.

A few days into your two weeks off, a few of the girls get together for what is part post-Euro reunion and part farewell dinner for Georgia, who departs for Munich the next day. It’s a mixed group - a few Lionesses and some of the girls from Manchester City - but it’s the familiar dark hair at the end of the table that catches your eye, deep in conversation with somebody else you don’t know.

You’re surprised to see Leila who, apart from having her own Euro hopes dashed by Georgia’s extra time winner, has no reason to know Georgia.

You take a seat next to Lauren, who notices you looking at the two girls at the far end of the table.

“Oh, that’s Laia and Leila,” she explains. “I invited them. They’re still settling into the team and there’s so many City girls here, I thought it would be nice for them to get to know people a bit better.”

Leila must feel your eyes on her because it’s at that exact moment that she looks up and her dark gaze meets yours. There’s no change to her expression, no giveaway to anybody else that you know each other except for the fact that her eyes linger on you for longer than they would if you were just strangers who happened to make eye contact, until she finally turns back to her conversation with Laia.

You feel a rush of giddiness go straight to your head, blocking out all the sounds around you as you continue to look at Leila, admiring the sharp angles of her side profile. It almost feels like the Arnold Clark Cup all over again, having this secret that nobody else around you knows. You enjoyed your time in Barcelona with Leila and getting to be all coupley with her in front of her old teammates, but you’d forgotten how much of a turn-on the thrill of secrecy could be.

———

As the evening goes on, you don’t forget about Leila - how could you, when she is right there and looks so damn good - but you get a little distracted by everything else. There are enough Lionesses present that means you spend a lot of time talking about the Euros, reminiscing over the best summer of your life, then because tonight is about Georgia leaving, you end up talking about old times at City. It’s been years since you played for them, a scrawny teenager playing alongside Keira and Georgia, all three of you with big dreams and no idea that you would one day become European Champions together. But even as you reminisce, there’s always a part of you that’s aware of Leila’s presence at the other end of the table and you can’t help but glancing at her throughout the night.

“All us OG City girls are gradually leaving the nest,” Georgia says, smiling fondly at you and Keira. “I wonder who’ll be next.”

You notice that Keira is suspiciously quiet and has suddenly taken a deep interest in the ice cubes at the bottom of her empty glass. With the performances she’s just put on at the Euros, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got interest from other clubs too.

“City’s got some new blood now though,” you say, your eyes wandering to Leila once more. “Not that it’ll matter, Arsenal will still beat City this season.”

Predictably in a room full of mostly City players, your comment causes outrage. Arsenal and City are due to play each other soon for the first fixture of the new season and you always enjoy the rivalry against your old club. And with Leila on the other team, you’ve got extra incentive to go out there and put on a show this time.

You let them banter with you for a moment. Even Georgia, technically no longer a City player, takes great joy in slandering Arsenal. 

When the conversation finally moves on, your eyes wander back to Leila, and you tune out the voices around you as you stare, mentally trying to figure out if there’s a way you can subtly change seats to be closer to her without alerting the entire group to your motives.

There isn’t, and Leila chooses that exact moment to meet your gaze while her lips are still wrapped around the straw in her drink. She lets the straw slip out of her mouth but you still get a glimpse of the pink tip of her tongue and there’s no way in hell you can pay attention to whatever conversation is going on around you now.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, anything to give yourself a chance to get away and recompose yourself, and thankfully they’re all too busy laughing at something Georgia is saying to pay any attention to the flush of your cheeks, nor the way that Leila’s gaze follows you as you go.

You hear somebody else enter the bathroom as you flush the toilet and when you exit the cubicle Leila is standing at the sinks checking her appearance in the mirror. Her dark eyes find yours in the reflection, and her mouth twitches in a smirk of recognition.

“Hi,” she says.

You glance around the bathroom, checking that all three stalls are empty, before you approach the sink to wash your hands and reply, “Hi yourself. How are you finding Manchester?”

“I like it. It’s a nice city.”

“At least the weather’s been nice since you got here. Just wait until it rains every day.”

You walk over to the paper towel dispenser to dry your hands and Leila turns around, leaning back against the sink to look at you.

“Everything is always about the weather to you English people,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Too hot, too cold.”

“What can I say - we like to complain.”

“Are you going to complain right now?” Leila asks.

The air in the bathroom suddenly feels a lot thicker, the way that Leila is watching you as you dispose of the balled up paper towel, coupled with the teasing lilt to her tone, reminding you of just how attracted you are to her.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Actually, there is one thing I want to complain about,” you say, taking a couple of steps closer to Leila.

“What‘s that?” Leila asks, her eyebrows crinkling together in a frown.

“I want to complain about the fact that we’re alone in this completely deserted bathroom and you haven’t kissed me yet.”

“You haven’t kissed me either,” Leila points out.

“Is that an invitation?” you challenge her.

Your words have the desired effect of provoking a reaction from Leila, because her eyes flash in defiance and she retaliates, “I want to complain about how annoying-”

You don’t give Leila the chance to finish her complaint, because you grab her by the lapels of her jacket and pull her in for a kiss. She lets out a surprised little grunt when your lips collide with hers, but melts into the kiss quickly, her hands finding your hips as her lips settle into a familiar movement against your own.

You only realise now that you’re here, kissing Leila in a secluded bathroom like your life depends on it, that it’s actually been months since you last did this. In all your focus for the Euros, the hard work and the euphoria, you’d sort of forgotten that you hadn’t actually kissed Leila since you bid your goodbyes to each other in the departure lounge of the Barcelona airport after your brief visit at the end of last season. Not even after your game against each other during the tournament did you kiss.

And with the way Leila kisses you, stealing the air from your mouth with such hunger, you vow never to go another three months without kissing her again.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumble against her mouth, when you have to draw back for breath, to save yourself from passing out from sheer lack of oxygen caused by Leila’s kiss. “I’ve missed this.”

Leila’s hand finds the back of your head and she uses it to pull you closer, not for another kiss, but to rest your head against her shoulder as she wraps her other arm around your back. You snake your own arms around her waist, burying your face into her neck and savouring the feeling of her arms around you, not wanting this moment to end.

“I’ve missed this too,” Leila murmurs, her fingers stroking through your hair.

She’s right, it’s this that you’ve been craving. Not the kissing or the sex, though you’ve spent more time thinking about that in the nearly three months since you last slept together than you’d care to admit, but everything else too. The intimacy of being held, of having somebody to share the little moments with, the ability to go from teasing each other about the weather to making out against a sink to cuddling like this, with each of those things feeling just as natural as the last.

And maybe, just maybe, all of that will be easier to facilitate than it was when you lived in different countries.

“Stay with me tonight?” Leila asks, feeling her voice rumble beneath your cheek as much as you hear the words.

You’d been planning on getting a taxi back to your parents’ house on the outskirts of Manchester, or maybe crashing with Lauren or Keira if it ends up being a late one tonight, but that was before you knew that you’d see Leila tonight. Now that this offer is on the table, there’s nowhere else you want to spend the night.

“Of course.”

———

Waking up the next morning, there are two things that you feel. The first is comfort, Leila’s warm body wrapped around your own with your hips nestled back against her own, feeling happy and well-rested after a night of good sleep in her arms.

The second is the desperate urge to pee.

You try to extract yourself from Leila’s embrace without disturbing her, but Leila only tightens her arms around you to stop you from leaving and mumbles words that you don’t understand in sleepy Spanish.

“Leila,” you murmur, trying to wriggle free. “Leila, I need to pee. Where’s your bathroom?”

Leila reluctantly lets you leave her arms and mutters in Spanish again, before she says in English, “Left.”

You slip out of bed and leave Leila’s bedroom, following her directions by finding the bathroom through the next door to the left.

When you’ve been to the toilet and freshened up a little with some cold water to your face and running your fingers through your mussed hair, you exit the bathroom and immediately stop in your tracks when you see somebody sitting at the dining table eating breakfast and drinking coffee. You think you recognise her as one of Leila’s new City teammates, though her name slips your mind, but you wonder if you really walked right past her without noticing her on your way to the bathroom.

“Hi,” she greets you, an amused smile gracing her lips. “I’m Deyna.”

You glance at Leila’s bedroom door, which stands slightly ajar as you left it, then introduce yourself to Deyna.

“Arsenal, right?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “And you’re at City with Leila?”

“Teammates. Roommates.” Deyna pauses, then adds, “Just regular mates.”

“Cool,” you say, unsure whether you’re supposed to continue to make smalltalk with Deyna out of politeness, or if it’s acceptable to make your excuses and return to Leila’s room.

Luckily you’re saved at that exact moment by Leila herself, who emerges from her bedroom with sleep-tousled hair to investigate what’s going on.

“Oh,” she says, when she sees Deyna. From the expression on her face, she’s as surprised to see Deyna as you are. She turns to you, then says, “This is Deyna.”

“She knows that already,” Deyna grins. “We were just getting to know each other.”

“Coffee?” Leila asks you, as she walks over to the kitchen units and grabs a couple of mugs out of a cupboard.

“Yes please,” you reply. At the table, Deyna’s attention is now on her phone as she eats, and you say to Leila, “You didn’t mention that you had a roommate.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a deep sleeper,” Deyna interjects, glancing up from the screen of her phone with a smirk gracing her lips.

Your cheeks burn red and Leila retaliates with what you can only assume is a string of Spanish expletives. 

Deyna apologises, mostly directing it at you, before she asks, “So how did you two meet?”

“Champions League,” Leila answers, busying herself over the coffee again.

“We played each other twice in the group stage last season,” you elaborate.

“I beat her twice,” Leila says, glancing across at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Leila got a yellow card for trying to break my legs.”

“I didn’t … it was an accident,” Leila insists. “It was passion.”

“Strange way to flirt, but okay,” Deyna teases Leila.

“That’s what I said!” you exclaim in agreement.

Leila wanders over with two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which she offers out to you, and she leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips as she mumbles, “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

You thank her for the coffee, bringing it to your lips and taking the tiniest sip from the mug, letting out a satisfied hum.

The only other time Leila has made you coffee was when you went to visit her in Barcelona, but the coffee is perfect, like heaven touching your tongue.

“You remembered how I take my coffee?” you ask.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

The domesticity of it is nice, as if you’re existing in a bubble where only you and Leila matter.

Until Deyna interrupts your moment.

“Go and be cute in your room,” she tells Leila, dismissing you both with a wave and a roll of her eyes. “I’m trying to eat.”

Leila nudges you back towards her bedroom and you soon find yourself nestled against Leila’s side again, propped up against the headboard with steaming mugs of coffee cradled in your hands.

“You promised me a tour?” she says.

“Of Manchester?”

Leila nods eagerly.

“You’re gonna have to wait a bit longer,” you tell Leila apologetically. “I can’t hang out today.”

The disappointment that flashes across Leila’s face is almost enough to have you reaching for your phone to call your agent to cancel your plans for the day.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be going back to my old junior club today. Helping out with some training, taking photos with the kids, letting them see my medal. Inspiring the next generation and all that crap.”

“It’s not crap,” Leila assures you. “Well, maybe for me if it means we can’t hang out.”

“Didn’t know you were so clingy,” you tease her.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet,” Leila replies flirtatiously.

You smile across at her.

“And I can’t wait to find out.”

———

You return to London a couple of days later, regretfully without having seen Leila again since that morning at her flat, but you start to message each other more often. Not quite every day, but a few times a week, little things like talking about your days. It’s more familiar than it’s ever been before, with most of your conversations prior to the Euros being laced with flirtatious pictures and suggestive messages. But this is different - you talk about mundane things like training, or what you’re having for dinner, or the latest English slang words that Leila has learned from her new City teammates. 

But that doesn’t mean your relationship has lost any of its spark. It’s still flirty, especially because Arsenal’s first fixture of the new season is away at City. It reminds you a little bit of those first couple of encounters in the Champions League last season, bantering about the upcoming contest in a way you hope leads to sparks on and off the pitch.

And then the game gets cancelled. 

All that build-up, the jokes about yellow cards, the promises that you’d let Leila do whatever she wants to you if she let you score past her, falls away into nothing the moment that the game is called off.

You feel empty. And not just because football is your life and you’d been looking forward to the league starting up again, but because once the season starts you don’t know when you and Leila will both get time off at the same time. It might be months before you get to see each other again.

———

Two things happen when the season finally begins and September morphs into October.

The first is that you pick up a hamstring injury. It shouldn’t surprise you too much, given that you pretty much went straight from last season into the Euros, straight into pre-season. You’re in your prime as an athlete, but you’re not invincible. You work hard on your recovery, even if you’re a little bummed to be spending so much time in the gym and staying on the sidelines as the Champions League group stage begins.

The second thing that happens is that fifteen Spanish players, including Leila, step back from their national team in protest of their working conditions. You don’t know the details but you remember Leila alluding to some problems during the Euros, when she pointed out that talent alone doesn’t win Championships.

You don’t really know what you can do to support Leila, especially from London. The story blows up in the football media world and you imagine it must be particularly hard for Leila, being so far from Spain and away from most of the other girls involved, but you don’t know if there’s anything you can do or say to make it easier.

You eventually settle on messaging her a few hours after the story hits the headlines.

You Proud of you for standing up for the right thing! Always here if you want to talk about it or if you want a distraction instead?

Leila likes your message after a few hours but doesn’t reply.

The red heart that taunts you from the screen of your phone is something you’ll come to realise is probably the beginning of the end.

[peachhcs]

Can you write emma and gabe celebrating the gold !!! Love your fics:))

literallyyyy knew they were gonna win it all again 😽 if this is bad i’m so sorry but i wanted to write a request about this before it got too late for me to be writing about it LOL

first day of classes tmr for spring semester, wish me luck y’all :))

au masterlist

the girls were on their feet as teddy got ahold of the puck. he skated down the ice, the goal becoming close and closer. everyone was on their edge of their seats, even the boys on the bench as they leaned over the railing to get a closer eye on what was about to happen.

as soon as teddy shot it into the back of the net, everyone was on their feet and a slew of cheers broke out in the arena. the usa boys bombarded the ice, tackling teddy as he celebrated the victory.

emma, samy, julianne, and olivia jumped on top of one another in excitement as they watched the boys celebrate down on the ice. the blonde’s smile was wide seeing her boyfriend’s happiness down there. their gear went everywhere and the fans were going crazy that the us just won back to back. phones were out and parents around them were trying to get photos of the celebration while the medals and hats started coming out.

things were a bit of a blur as the boys were awarded their medals, were presented with the trophy and sang the national anthem. somewhere in between all of that when samy had pulled the girls down to the glass to catch the boys before they headed back down the tunnel, emma caught gabe’s eye. he excitedly skated towards her, eyes wide and smile big. she shared the glow on his features.

“i’m so proud of you!” emma exclaimed when gabe showed her the medal up close.

he took the hat off his head and tossed it over to her. she giggled, fitting it onto her head. “i love you. i’ll see you really soon after!” she nodded and let him go to be with his teammates.

the girls waited around the lobby of the arena knowing the boys had a lot of celebrating and media to do before they could leave. a few of them caught up with some fans who recognized them. samy excitedly called will to tell him the happy news. there was so much happiness in that lobby it was something emma’s never experienced before, but she could definitely get used to it.

gabe finally came out almost an hour later, freshly showered but in his jersey still with the gold medal hanging from his neck. he immediately rushed to emma where he lifted her into his arms and spun her around in a bear hug.

“i knew you could do it, i’m so happy for you,” she grinned.

“can you believe this? i’ve got 3 of these now,” gabe put her down to show her the medal up close. the blonde slid her finger down it in disbelief.

“better hang them proudly,” she kissed his cheek, but gabe took her face in his hand to kiss her properly, not caring about the others around because he was still on his high.

“i’m so glad you came. couldn’t have done it without you,” he mumbled when they pulled apart. emma blushed.

“i love you so much,” she smiled and gabe kissed her again. this time a few whistles broke them apart and hot blushes spread across their cheeks when they saw the others grinning at them.

ryan roughed up his friend’s shoulders while samy stepped in for a quick hug. “you’ve got two wins tonight,” ryan teased gabe.

“so proud of you, gp. you deserve it,” samy smiled.

“hey, i want a photo!” ryan’s mom quickly cut in.

everyone squeezed themselves together, smiling wide for the photo that mrs. leonard got.

“alright, we gotta get back, but we’ll catch you all at the celebration back at the hotel!” the boys had some last minute things to do before leaving.

gabe looked at emma again before he let her go, “i’ll see you back at the hotel. i love you,” he mumbled, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“i love you. congrats again, amour,” the boy flushed and forced himself to pull away so catch up with the others.

the girls were teasing emma when he was gone, a large flush coating her cheeks as they left the arena together to get ready for the post-win celebration.

like last year, the team booked out one of the large conference rooms in the hotel for the party. the hotel catered the drinks and food and the room was full in minutes as families poured in waiting for the boys to get there with their trophy.

a few minutes later, ryan pushed the door open holding the trophy high in his hands. the families clapped again for them, parents going to their sons again to give more congratulations. emma tried looking for gabe, but the room become chaotic and crowded fairly quickly. she wasn’t a huge fan of crowds, so the amount of people overwhelmed her.

the blonde hung back, hoping she could see her boyfriend over the taller people in front of her, but he got lost in the crowd somewhere and emma was not about to push her away through. julianne and samy braved the crowds and olivia went too, so the girl was left on one of the sides by herself trying to find an out before it got too crowded and panicked.

however, she saw a flash of dark hair and then gabe came through a moment later and a wave of relief washed over her. she quickly smiled when he snaked his arms around her waist.

“hey, sorry. i lost you for a second there. you okay?” he wondered when he saw her slightly panicked state.

“yeah, just a lot of people but i’m fine,” emma nodded.

“yeah, it’s crazy in here, sorry. wanna go somewhere else?” the boy wondered and the blonde quickly shook her head.

“no, no i don’t wanna pull you away from all of this. i’ll be fine.”

“are you sure? i wanna make sure you’re okay,” he searched her gaze and emma was stunned for a moment because no one’s ever said something like that to her before. they always told her to get over it or that she’d get used to the crowds.

she stared at the mass amount of people behind gabe and he seemed to read her look, so he took her hand and tried finding the easiest and quickest way out of the room. she trusted him as he pulled her through, making sure not to lose his hand as they miraculously made it out of the conference room and into the much quieter hallway.

gabe pulled them to a bench a little ways down, “better?” he asked.

“yeah, actually. a lot. thank you,” emma smiled a little.

“it always get so crazy. i should’ve warned you,” he said and she chuckled.

“it’s okay. i know i already said this, but i’m really happy for you. you did so good,” she tugged on his jersey he was still wearing and the boy flushed.

“i’m really glad you came. it meant a lot having you here with me this time,” he pushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“thanks for bringing me. it was a lot of fun. i think i really like hockey now,” the girl laughed and gabe grinned.

“that makes me happy to hear. i’m still trying to wrap my head around it,” he leaned back against the wall, memories of the game winning goal still replaying in his head.

“i have your hat in my room still. you can come get it whenever,” emma smiled, leaning back as well as the boy wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to his chest.

“keep it. it looks good on you,” he hummed making her giggle.

the couple sat there in silence for a few minutes taking everything in and finally catching their breaths after the last few hours. gabe’s rapid heartbeat finally started slowing from the feeling of emma’s head on his chest. emma’s own racing heart finally slowed hearing her boyfriend’s beat against her ear and the anxiety she felt a few minutes ago eased being in his arms.

“do you wanna go back in? i don’t wanna keep you from the celebration,” the blonde mumbled knowing gabe would probably wanna keep celebrating with his teammates.

“we don’t have to if it’s too much for you,” gabe said and emma sat up. she met his gaze, “i’ll be fine. i want you to celebrate.”

“i’ll be celebrating with them for the rest of the year. i wanna be with you,” his words caught her off guard and emma flushed a bit.

“wow, you’re charming,” she poked his shoulder and the look he gave her made her stomach do a little somersault.

“plus, i can think of some other ways i can celebrate,” he mumbled and let his eyes wander. emma blushed a deep red.

“i see winning a 3rd gold medal’s started getting to your head,” she teased a bit, but pulled the boy closer so she could kiss him again.

gabe happily obliged and after a few minutes, the couple were walking away from the party to one of their hotel rooms for the night.

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

Dipper Vs. Manliness

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 2, The Inconveniencing (previous)

Special thank you to @disregardedblasphemy for beta reading! You're awesome <3

At one point, Stan had a bit of a crush on Lazy Susan. She’d been real cute and pretty sweet back when he first met her and she hadn’t been too upset about what happened to her eye. As the years passed, she was just one of the few single people left in his age range. That he actually liked, anyway.

Who knew so many people got married when you got old!

Now with his baby face in the way, Stan just didn’t feel right flirting with her like he normally did.

Using his ‘charming young man’ powers on her though―!

“You do split plates, right?” Stan asked, ducking his head shyly and peering up at Susan through his lashes. “We’re just poor, hungry kids on a budgeted allowance…”

Susan laughed and pinched his cheek.

“You’re just like your daddy, aren’t you? We always make an exception for Big Stan ― I can do it for Little Stan, too!”

Stan chuckled awkwardly, ignoring the ‘daddy’ comment, and offered the waitress a blinding smile.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a shutter sound and some muffled giggles.

“Tambry!” Mabel whispered, practically climbing over the back of the booth to speak to the girl on the other side. “Send me that for my scrapbook!”

Stan did his best to ignore that. And the fact that Tambry was still taking pictures of him when he wasn’t looking. Instead, he just pushed on with his order, ignoring Mabel’s protests that she wanted pancakes.

He could have made those himself if she'd wanted them so much!

Dipper, however, was more sympathetic to his sister’s plight.

“Don’t worry, guys!” he said confidently. “Pancakes are on me. I’m gonna win them by beating that manliness tester!”

“Manliness tester?” Stan asked blankly, remembering the machine that had been in the diner forever.

“Beating?” Mabel asked incredulously before bursting into laughter.

And Stan might have laughed with her if he hadn’t seen how scrappy the boy really was,  getting into fist fights with psychotic nine year olds and breaking into buildings. Still, the boy was built like a noodle and not in the typically stocky manner most Pines boys were. He didn’t even have their trademark nose, his mother’s genetics probably the cause for that. The color of it was right on point, though.

“Hold on there, sweetheart.” Stan put a hand on Mabel’s head to quiet her down, but wasn’t quite able to stop the snort that came with the mental image of Dipper beating the tester. “Your brother’s not as geeky as he seems, sometimes. I wanna see him try! Besides, it’ll be a good chance for me to see where he is before I start yous two on boxing lessons!”

“You’re going to teach us how to box?” Dipper asked skeptically.

Stan’s grin widened and he flexed his arms, thick cords of muscle visible even under his baby fat.

“You’re lookin’ at the best boxer from Glass Shard Beach! Goldmill Gym’s got all my old trophies lining the walls!”

At least, it had forty years ago. Old Man Nicky was surely dead now and probably had been pissed enough to throw out Stan’s medals when he’d disappeared into the night. Besides, the man had been friends with Pa ― Stan wouldn’t be surprised if the medals were melted down to make gold chains.

You’re a bum, Stanny. But you can take a hit and give ‘em back twice as hard.

Mabel latched onto Stan’s bicep, giggling wildly as he curled his arms a few times, threatening to drop her back into the booth.

“Hmmm,” Dipper hummed, eyeing Stan’s arms thoughtfully. “...okay. I mean, how different could it be from kickboxing?”

Stan grinned at him. “That’s the spirit, kiddo! Now ― go win us some pancakes!”

Dipper beamed at him.

It didn’t last long, however, the boy failing miserably and running out in the face of Manly Dan showing him up. Stan didn’t think the man meant anything by it. He probably just wanted more pancakes or was trying to feed what he thought was a bunch of hungry kids. He was just like that sometimes. Blunt and lacking tact.

Stan was the same.

He looked between his plate and the empty doorframe, conflicted.

Was he supposed to chase after the kid or give him space so he could lick his wounds?

Moses, he missed Old Nicky ― the man would already have a diet planned to help put muscle on the kid or have him chasing chickens and bench pressing hogs. He had a weird way of training his boxers, but he’d made Stan quick on his feet and able to find a weak spot on guys with more fat rolls than average.

“He’ll be fine,” Mabel rested her hand gently on Stan’s arm. Her smile was familiar, but it didn’t really meet her eyes. She almost looked guilty.

“Of course, he will.” Stan smiled back at her half-heartedly. “He’s a Pines. We always end up alright.”

Mabel didn’t look convinced, but she let it go for a moment. She began eating her pancakes, but some of her enthusiasm was lost.

“... do you think I shouldn’t have laughed at him?”

Stan winced, hearing the hurt in her voice. “Probably didn’t help…”

Mabel deflated, losing some of her usual vibrancy. “He’s really serious about becoming a man. Growing chest hair and wishing his voice would stop cracking…”

“People make it into a big deal.” Stan shrugged, remembering how he’d waited for those body changes a lifetime ago. There’d been the awkward days with acne and voice cracks, not to mention realizing he could have a crush on nearly anyone who showed him a smidgeon of positive attention. He could only sympathize with how Dipper was feeling, especially with Stan around in his current state. The kid was probably wondering when he was going to start shooting up and filling out like his uncle. Shermie and Alec were both built big as well. Dipper probably was feeling left out. “He’s gotta figure out his new place and his body’s going through some… changes. Speaking of, please tell me your mom has had The Talk with you…”

Mabel snorted, a gleam returning to her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Grunkle Stan.” she snickered. “Mom told me everything to expect last year.”

Stan sagged in relief. “Just let me know if you need… any feminine products. Or chocolate. Or just tell Wendy and I’ll give her the money.”

Moses, was it hot in here or were his ears on fire. He never expected to have this conversation. Why did it have to be so awkward?! He’d had a mother, for crying out loud ― and a girlfriend who’d been very vocal about what cramps and mood swings did to her.

Mabel just laughed at him again, bouncing back to her normal self with an ease he envied.

“Do you think he’ll be alright once he’s done with puberty?” she asked thoughtfully, trying her straw wrapper into a neat bow. “I mean, you seem alright going through it a second time.”

Stan snorted at that. “Nah, I was pretty much set as soon as I hit sixteen the first time. The only thing that stuck around for a while was the acne. That didn’t really go away until my thirties.”

“I thought that went away after you turned twenty!” Mabel exclaimed, her face twisting with horror.

“Nope!” Stan propped his chin up on his hand, leaning close to give her a good look at the bumps on his chin. “Maybe it won’t be so bad once you get over the hump of the hormone changes, but pimples’ll pop up at random forever! But your face thingies helped mine the other day.”

“We should get you some pimple patches for the little ones!” Mabel suggested, poking a red spot on Stan’s cheek. He hissed at the little jolt of pain it caused and she pulled her hand away, expression apologetic. “Ohh! We should do another spa day!”

“Spa day?” a somewhat familiar voice asked from behind them. Tambry popped up over the back of their seat, her eyes fixed on her phone. “Count me in.”

“Me, too!” Wendy announced, sliding into the booth across from them. “We should get Stan some better clothes, too. He’s been wearing the same pair of jeans for weeks.”

“I wash them!” he protested indignantly.

“You’re gonna wear them out like that.” the redhead pointed out easily. “Also, you smell like an old man. Switch your cologne.”

“I don’t wear cologne to work. That’s just aftershave.” He rubbed his chin with a grimace, resenting the fact that his facial hair had been so patchy as a teenager. It looked weird if he didn’t shave every morning. Back when he was old, his five-o’clock shadow had been fine enough for tours ― now he just looked stupid.

“We should get him a jacket that fits!” Mabel suggested, bouncing in her seat with her thoughts a million miles away. Probably lost in some mental mall. “And a comb!”

“I wouldn’t mind getting some gel,” Stan admitted, running a hand over his unruly curls. “S’how I used to wear it.”

Wendy tilted her head, considering his face. “I can see it. Like those guys in Grease.”

Stan snapped his fingers and pointed at her with a grin. “Exactly!”

“Let’s go to the mall!” Mabel shrieked, overcome with excitement. She shook Stan’s arm, moving her body more than his bicep and looking like she was being electrocuted as a result. Or like a fish flopping on the floor of his boat. “Mall Day! Mall Day!”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” Stan groaned.

“Nope!” Mabel and Wendy wore identical expressions, like lionesses about to pounce on some poor, old zebra. Tambry offered a thumbs up from the other side of the booth wall. ____________________________________________________________

“This was a terrible idea.”

Now, Stan was no stranger to shopping with a teenage girl. He’d dated Carla McCorkle for a while before she was stolen away by that mind-controlling musician. He was quite familiar with wandering from store-to-store while a girl ooh-ed and ahh-ed over things without making a single purchase.

He hated customers who did that and he hated being part of a group that did that.

“Grunkle Stan, this is an essential part of shopping!” Mabel punctuated her statement with a pointed slurp of her iced coffee. De-caf, of course. She was already energetic enough.

He responded with a pointed sip of his own, secretly conceding that iced coffee was good. Especially all dolled up with fancy syrups and whipped cream.

Way too expensive, though.

“C’mon, man.” Wendy rolled her eyes fondly and threw the jacket she and Tambry had been fawning over at his face. “Chill out and leave everything to us. All you gotta do is put on what we tell you and say if you like it or not.”

“I was promised hair gel.” Stan muttered petulantly. He felt the soft lining of the jacket, an old-styled bomber like the one Ford had worn as a kid, and noted that it was soft. “Can’t I just pick some jeans and go?”

“Grunkle Stan, you need to learn about style!” Mabel exclaimed, stars in her eyes. “Now that you’re not a gross old man, this is the perfect opportunity to work on my ‘Convince Dipper To Wear More Than One Outfit’ powerpoint!”

Stan stared at her blankly. “What’s that got to do with dressin’ me up?”

“Because!” Mabel exclaimed exasperatedly. “You guys look a lot alike now! Once he sees how good you look, he’ll be inspired to do the same!”

“She has a point.” Wendy shrugged. “You’ve had more women hitting on you these past few weeks than you’ve had my entire life.”

“You’re totally hot.” Tambry confirmed flatly, briefly moving her phone away from her face to show them some kind of website. There were a lot of pictures of him and it made his skin crawl. So did the comments, most filled with the little picture things from Mabel’s ‘motivational sticker pack’.

“Ugh!” Stan shuddered at the girl’s comment and threw his hands up defensively. “I― I don’t even know what to do with all that. It’s… It’s weird.”

His eyes darted around in search of an escape route and he bolted out the door with the jacket in tow. He liked it, but he’d never admit it. Or pay for it.

Stan yanked the tags off, casually dropping them in a nearby trashcan before shrugging the jacket on. Ooooh, it had nice big pockets. Perfect for shoplifting!

“Well, if it isn’t Stanley Pines.”

Stan stiffened at the voice behind him, mind racing as he tried to place it. 

Don’t panic, you’ve been introducing yourself as Stanley the Second for weeks! This is just the con beginning to pay off…

He turned, a conman’s smile curling his lip, before a shocked scream left him.

“My eyes! My poor eyes!”

It was improbable. It was impossible! It had been forty years!

But against all the odds, there was a familiar face from Glass Shard Beach in Gravity Falls.

Old Man Nicky stared at him, his expression as sour and unimpressed as ever, another generation’s worth of wrinkles making him look like a particularly grumpy bulldog. He was still wearing the same old red sweater over a gray tracksuit, thin wisps of white hair peeking out from beneath a black beanie.

It really was his old boxing coach. Really old boxing coach.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?” Stan asked before he could stop himself. A cane shot out and clocked him in the shin, making him yelp and topple over. Ugh, just like the old days.

“Shouldn’t you? Your ma told me you crashed your car into a ditch and burnt up. Guess you just got mixed up in some freaky magic shit out here. Probably somethin’ ta do with that brother of yours.”

Stan winced at the relatively spot-on observation, rubbing his leg as he looked up at Nicky. The man had shrunk over the years, but he never lost the ability to make Stan feel like some scrawny little kid.

“What’re you doin’ in Gravity Falls of all places?” he asked, not bothering with how the man knew about magic. You couldn’t live here without tripping over a gnome every other Tuesday.

“Got myself a grandson who married a selkie. Their kids like the cold and I’m mostly retired. Thought I’d spend the rest of my twilight years with them.” Nicky shrugged before piercing Stan with a stern look. “Thought about lookin’ ya up, but you were too busy runnin’ around and pretendin’ t’ be Stanford. You’re a bum, Stannie. Your impersonations suck.”

Stan straightened up with a frown, properly offended now.

“I’ll have you know,” he sniffed, tucking his hands behind his back and looking down his nose at the old man. His gruff voice smoothed into something more sophisticated and refined, the Jersey accent melting away like butter beneath a summer sun. “That I still do a fantastic impersonation of my brother… Hypothesis! Quantum physics! Exponential!”

Nicky chuckled at him, wrinkled face sagging as it softened fondly.

“That’s our Stanford.” he sighed, turning away. “Now, c’mon back to the gym and fill me in on what happened. Y’not doin’ this without good reason. Yous two hated being mixed up.”

Stan hesitated, looking over his shoulder for the girls. They were a few stores back and a few bags heavier, their eyes scanning the mall in search of him.

“I’ll have to raincheck ya on that, old man.” he hurried to say, voice returning to normal and pitched low. Secretive. “I got a couple of add-ons who aren’t exactly in on it. They can’t know.”

Nicky frowned at him, tilting his head so he could squint at the girls as they approached. Mabel had spotted them, her face lighting up as she rushed forward with a grin.

“Well,” Nicky chuckled as she caught up to them. “This one looks just like you. Braces ‘n all. She box any?”

“Grunkle Stan’s gonna teach me and my brother!” Mabel proclaimed proudly before blinking in confusion at the old man. She shrugged and offered Nicky her hand. “Hi, I’m Mabel! Are you one of my uncle’s old man friends?”

“More like his uncle.” Nicky clasped her hand gently. “You can call me Papa Nick.”

“Okay!” Mabel agreed before Stan could protest.

“Oh, c’mon old man!” he huffed. “You never let me call you Uncle Nick!”

The old man smacked him with the cane again. “That’s cause you’re a bum, Stannie. ‘Sides ��� Filbrick woulda had kittens if he caught you boys goin’ soft on me.”

“Wait, you knew Grunkle Stan as a kid?!” Mabel gushed, her hands squishing her cheeks. “Oh Em Gee ― you’re like, super old! Do you have pictures of baby Stan?!”

“Course I do!” Nicky snorted. “And all’a his old trophies. Tell ya what ― yous guys come for dinner and I’ll dig ‘em out.”

“Nicky!” Stan hissed, panic seizing his chest.

The old man bopped him with the cane once more, gently this time.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, kid.” Nicky gave him a pointed look. “I’ll keep all your embarrassing secrets in storage. For now.”

Stan held his gaze a moment longer, praying that the old man would keep his word, before nodding stiffly.

“Fine. Where’re ya stayin’ these days?”

Nicky smirked, smug with victory, and shoved a business card into Stan’s hand.

“Six o’clock. Come to the back door and don’t be late or you’re washin’ towels.”

“I don’t work for you anymore, old man!” Stan shouted after him as he and Mabel rejoined the rest of the girls. “I ain’t washin’ nothin’!”

Nicky just laughed at him and continued on his way. ___________________________________________________________

“What happened to you, kid?” Stan asked in bewilderment as Dipper trudged into the house, twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair.

The boy sighed and flopped down on the floor by Stan’s armchair.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” the boy mumbled into the carpet.

“Good.” Stan said awkwardly, trying to think of a subject change to get out of another ‘feelings’ talk.

“It’s just these half-man, half-bull humanoids were hanging out with me…” Dipper blurted out suddenly, shooting up with an annoyed expression.

“Here we go.” Stan rolled his eyes. He frowned as the boy’s words reached his brain. “Wait, you talkin’ about those dumb Manotaurs? Those guys are jerks!”

“I know, right?!” Dipper threw his hands up, relieved to have another person on his side. “They wanted me to do this really tough, horrible thing ― but it just wasn’t right. So, I said no.”

The boy deflated, looking as lost as Stan felt after spending too long reading his brother’s journals.

Stan reached down, easily knocking Dipper’s hat off, and ruffled the boy’s tangled curls.

“You were your own man and you stood up for yourself.” he said firmly. Dipper looked up at him in surprise. Stan grinned at him. “You did what was right even though no one agreed with you. Sounds pretty manly to me, but whadda I know?”

Dipper smiled at him, regaining some of the life that he’d lost during his all-day workout. His brows raised as he took in Stan’s new jeans and T-shirt, the outfit capped off by his new bomber jacket.

“Hey, you look good. I like your jacket. And you finally got hair gel?”

“Thanks.” Stan thumbed the collar of his jacket, remembering the one Ford had worn when they were kids. Which, now that he was thinking about it…

“How’s about you go get ready?” Stan nudged the boy with his foot, toes digging into Dipper’s ribs and making him giggle. “We’re headin’ to a friend of mine’s for dinner and you stink.”

Dipper’s face fell. “Do we really have time for me to shower? I― I mean, is it really necessary?”

“Yep.” Stan said firmly, nudging the boy again. “Go ― use soap this time.”

The boy groaned dramatically, but headed upstairs anyway.

He could hear Mabel in the attic, singing along to some pop song at the top of her lungs. Once he heard the shower cut on, Stan bolted for the vending machine.

It was risky as hell, but he’d done worse lately.

All of Ford’s old things that might have given away his identity were stored in the basement. Six-fingered gloves, old home movies and pictures ― they all lived in boxes in the observation room. Along with a trunk of keepsakes that Ma had sent after Pa died and the pawnshop closed. She’d moved in with Shermie those last few years before her death and wanted ‘Stanford’ to have all of the twins’ old things. Probably in hopes he’d use them with a son of his own one day.

And in the trunk, there was a little old jacket with patched elbows that had seen the boys through many an adventure.

Ford’s bomber jacket.

Stan lifted it out of the trunk reverently, like one would a precious artifact. It was soft beneath his fingers, the fabric worn and the fur lining a bit matted. The elbow patches were fraying and it smelled of mothballs and old books.

He buried his face in the lining with a sniffle, wondering why he and Ford had ever drifted apart in the first place.

Stan knew he was a screw-up, but he still had no idea what he’d done to make Ford want to move across the country to get away from him.

“When did you stop liking me, Poindexter?” he sighed, tucking the jacket beneath his arm. He checked the security cameras before heading back upstairs. He’d had plenty of time to get the jacket and hide it in his room before Dipper and Mabel were ready for dinner.

No worries.

____________________________________________________________

“Uh, did you just see that, dude?” Soos whispered to Wendy, his eyes wide with shock.

“Secret door to a secret basement in the Mystery Shack?” Wendy confirmed, her normally cool facade beginning to crack. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Good to know.”

[queenimmadolla]

hi babes

word? Chronic

character? Steve

genre? Humor

trope? First time

xoxoxox

atomic betty, you have no idea how excited i was to see you in my inbox! i love your shit so much, this one is for you! i hope you like it, you wondrous woman ♡ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

  Steve’s nervous.

  Steve Harrington is very nervous. 

  And Steve Harrington is rarely—when not in mortal peril—ever nervous. Ever.

  Regardless of discussion pertaining to the size of his head, Steve Harrington is blessed  with genetics that leave most envious. He’d been an adorable baby, who’d grown from a cute kid turned heartthrob teenager to a handsome man. 

  Steve has also gone through every stage in relation to those age frames. He’d been one pompous asshole when he was a teen and he’d grown significantly as a person in the years since. 

  The crown of King Steve was left behind, encased in the glass display of trophies and framed headlines of high school glory days. He’d traded it in for a new outlook on life, trying his hardest to remove himself from the claws of his father’s control and live a life completely of his own.

  He’d gone into the Business world right after he’d been able to move out, climbing, schmoozing, and sometimes low balling his competitors, to reach the top. Complete financial independence was finally his, and when Steve’s parents were ready to move on from Hawkins, he’d purchased the Harrington home from them—intent on filling those once lonely walls in that big house with laughter, love, and his own family. His kids. And…his wife.

  Steve’s love life fared more notoriously in high school than as an adult. 

  It’s not that he lacks charm or the interests of women—he’s had numerous hookups and one night stands since—when he’d been building a career, romance hadn’t been on the top of his list of priorities. He’d just wanted to scratch the itch; fuck a lot, and get back to business as soon as he’s had his orgasm, and she’s had her several. Personalities didn't matter. He didn’t need anything other than a willing body, warm mouth and wet holes. That was made clear to all his sexual partners, not a single one of them went in expecting more, though a few had left it craving so.

  Steve was sure all of them had fled the earth by the time he was finally ready to provide. 

  He had the home, he had the income, and he had all the love to give. And not a single woman he encountered in two years of dating since, clicked with him. There had been a couple he thought would be more permanent, stick around longer. It had been wishful thinking. 

  None of that mattered now, though. Not with you perched on the edge of his swimming pool, bare legs dangling in the water as you watch him do a few laps.

  You’d been dating for a couple of weeks now, and it almost terrifies Steve how much he cares for you. 

  It had started off as a friendly encounter, though Steve was immensely attracted to you, and when you didn’t seem to hate him, he’d gone in with some flirting. You’d returned it, he asked you out on a date, and the two of you hadn’t stopped; sharing something intense and electrifying in the best of ways. With you, he felt a level of comfort he hadn’t ever achieved before—which surprised him, as he once believed Nancy was his soulmate given how comfortable he had felt with her. You made him feel safe in ways he hadn’t known he was desperately searching for.

  He’s pretty sure it’s going to be you that shares his home with him. You whose belly swells with his babies, ready to fill the rooms. Or at least he’s hoping, praying, ready to beg whatever deity he has to that it’s going to be you. 

  That’s still not why he’s nervous.

  Steve Harrington is nervous because he’s pretty sure the two of you are gonna fuck tonight. 

  He’s fucked a lot, alright? He’s probably slept with more women than the average man, but it was all in good fun for both parties and solely based on getting off. 

  This is not one of those encounters. 

  He’s not just fucking you. There are so many strings attached and he cherishes each and everyone of those strings, so he’s nervous because a lot is riding on this, and while he’s eagerly looking forward to the possibility of you riding him, he doesn’t wanna fuck this up. 

  He’s pretty sure you’re it for him, The One, and he’s also pretty sure he won’t last the second he’s inside you, can feel you around him so yeah—he’s really fucking nervous.

  Apparently, it shows.

  Once he’s done trying to tire himself out—maybe that’ll make him last longer—he wades over to you and uses your lap to prop his arms up on.

  “You okay?” You ask, amusement coating your voice as you run your hands through his wet hair and Steve has to pry his eyes away from your tits. Letting you convince him to skinny dip with you after he’d cooked you dinner had also proved fatal to his libido. There’s no way you don’t notice what’s going on with him under the water.

  “Wha─? OH! No, yeah, I’m fine. Just. Swim.” 

  Your tits also seemed to do his brain in. God—you look so good.

  “I saw. You swam a lot. Looked like you were training for the Olympics.” 

  “I could have made the Olympic team.” He blurts out and you push him off of you to dunk him in the water instead. He emerges laughing as he wipes water from his face. When the two of you just started dating, he might have bragged a bit about his time leading the swim team enough to make it a taboo subject and now he does it to playfully annoy you.

  “So, what exactly are you nervous about?” You lean back, torso stretching out and hands on the ground behind you. Steve has a difficult time remembering how to speak English. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling.

  “Huh? Nervous? Me? You’re mistaken, honey.” He knows he’s caught. You already seem to know him like the back of your hand. It makes his heart flutter and his dick twitch.

  “You were nervous at dinner, too, not like right now but I swore I saw you sweating.” You muse aloud, legs swirling in the water again and Steve’s eyes fly to the space between them just as they close to conceal it. 

  He glances up to see you hadn’t even been looking at him, your stare focused on the lights he’d had strung up above the pool for night swimming as you ponder. You were just unknowingly teasing him.

  “No, no. Not nervous, remember?”

  “It can’t be the house, I’ve been here before…” You trail off.

  “So, we’re just pretending you can’t hear me.” 

  “But this is the first time I come over so late,” The smirk on your face is dangerous and Steve is positive he’s not lasting tonight, “Stevie, am I making you nervous?”

  Your demeanor is so teasing, Steve can feel his face heating up despite the allocation of most of the blood in his body being below hip level.

  “…You’re very beautiful.”

  You throw your head back as your pretty laughter rings out and Steve grins, happy to amuse you and reap the benefits of watching your chest.

  When you're done, your head lulls around and the smile you offer him would make his knees go weak if he was using them, “I might be able to help with that. Can I offer you a smoke?”

  “A cigarette wouldn’t hurt,” He muses, eyeing you curiously. 

  “Not a cigarette, Stevie, though I know you’re a chronic chainsmoker.” You pull your legs out of the pool and stand to retrieve something from your purse. Steve proves the phrase hate to see you go but love to watch you leave applies to your relationship as he unabashedly stares at your ass the entire time.

  When you return, you’ve got a yellow prescription pill bottle in one hand with your lighter in the other. 

  “Think it might calm your nerves.”

  Steve is on you the moment you re-settle yourself, crowding his upper half onto your lap as he smirks, “I think you might be right.”

  After you pull out a joint from your stash jar, and the filter is between his lips, you spark a light and he mumbles around it, “It’s been a while, be nice.”

  You know what that means, so when Steve takes his pull and hands you the joint for your turn, he immediately begins violently coughing and you expect it.

  You don’t expect him to be so focused on his violent coughing that he somehow forgets to float and immediately sinks into the pool. You let out a little shriek, toss aside the items in your hand, and push yourself into the pool after him, water rippling enough to splash over the sides.

  A few moments later, you both break through the surface of the water, Steve spitting out water he’d inhaled when he’d been coughing and gasping down there, and you lead him to the wall of the pool. Steve grips onto the edge, and you grip onto the sides as well.

  After Steve’s done coughing, he starts laughing hard, leaving you to throw him a bewildered look. It only makes him laugh harder, and you truly fail to find any humor in the situation until he wheezes out, “That was so embarrassing.”

  You roll your eyes, but a chuckle sputters out of you and soon you’re laughing with him, despite having ruined your hair and soaked the joint you’d left on the ground.

  “We are telling no one about this. It stays in this pool.” He declares around his laughter. You move closer to him and Steve’s laughter stops but his smile remains, soft eyes filling with lust as you’re nearly nose to nose.

  ”I won’t tell anyone.” You promise in a whisper and Steve barely has to lean in to claim your mouth, the taste of him and chlorine flooding your tongue. He dominates the kiss, mouth easily working yours as he pulls you in closer. Despite his slip up moments ago, you trust him to keep you afloat and press yourself to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands move to grip your ass, hauling you up and you can feel his head nudge against you.

  Steve doesn’t last long at all. But he makes up for it in recovery time and you go at it again in the pool. And once more on one of the lounge chairs, again immediately after the two of you make it inside, then in the shower, before finally ending in his bed.

  Turns out, he had nothing to be nervous about. You’re completely satisfied with everything he’s got to offer.

[thai-with-booty]

What was your favourite sex encounter while you were on the job and working? (At a normal job, not a sex place)

To be honest, mostly with work like in a hotel I have been professional, and there isnt really the chance to do anything or act upon anything if on reception. and places like the massage, i mean sex or sex acts were not really unsurprising.

I think it was when i worked a bit as a maid. It was just after Covid, in fact international tourism hadnt really kicked off but some could arrive and had to quarentine for a few days and so I got a job cleaning villas. They were big villas that often a family or could of families would rent, and had muliple bedrooms and a pool. Though you would get all different kinds of people staying there.

I wrote a long time ago, probably when it happened that I was actually working with another girl, cos there was a group of guys who had had a party the night before and we were in cleaning, I think they probably got charged extra but that wasnt really my concern. Usually i would come in to clean alone but now there was another woman, bit older. So we were cleaning for hours, they were around but mostly ignored us and were laid out by the pool hungover. It was only when I was cleaning one of the bedrooms when one of the guys came in, I asked politely if he needed to use the room, it was more a curtasy, like if he needed to change etc. He said no, and then sort of stood there, I turned again and noticed he was looking at me, not like horny or anything, but more like he wanted to say something. So i asked is everything ok. He said like ok im just going to come out with it, you see my friends over by the pool, I glanced over and could see them looking in the direction of the room through the big glass doors, though they probably couldnt see much from the sunlight outside. He said they had a bet if he could have sex with me, I was genuinely surprised and was like what. He said they had all chipped in and he would get $1000 if he managed it, and he would give me half. I started the whole im not a prostitute thing, and he was like its not that its just a tip for helping me out. It more money than the maid job pays in a month and I had earned very little during covid and with a sick relative was in debt, something that has lingered until even today. So I agreed, it wasnt a quick or straightforward as that but I was like right here right now? and he was like yes. I said one moment and went to see the other girl asking if she would take a break, she seemed to know something was going on, not sure if she had seen the guy enter the room. It was a bit awkward and I dont know how she felt about it but she left, I could hear a noise from out by the pool when she did. I went back into the room and he had pulled the curtain closed so it was dim, but had his swim shorts off and was standing naked hard already. I pulled my shorts and underwear down and went to bed over the bed, he rolled on a condom and started rubbing his cock against my pussy lips until they came alive and moistened so his cock slid in. He fucked me in that position for about 10-15 minutes before he came. He thanked me and took his full condom and my underwear with him as a trophy. I could hear cheers and no way etc. I had enjoyed it, it was spontaneous and just good sex, and I made $500 from it. Though when I was fired, that fuck was used against me so I dont think the other maid had been that impressed with it all

[sholangagaga]

What's your opinion on Monty?

Oh I've been waiting for an ask like this to come across my inbox after how popular my Bonnie theories have been. (full theory and spoilers under the cut)

Short answer: I think he's neat!

Long answer: I think Montgomery Gator is one of, if not the, most tragic character in the entire Glamrock cast. And his tragedy, while of course upsetting to see, is also incredibly endearing from a narrative standpoint.

What does that mean? Well, let me explain.

Monty was not made to be part of the band. That much we know in the canon lore. He was his own animatronic, with his own attraction and his own thing. Whether or not he was there from the very beginning when the Pizzaplex was built, or maybe they added him later to bring in more diversity and subvert the burden on the main band, I don't think we'll ever know. (since every main band member has their own attraction, which probably subtracts from their available time to perform main shows throughout the day)

The only bits and pieces we get of Monty's "life" before his joining the band is narrated through the Gator Golf attraction.

Monty's story starts with him as a One Man Jug Band, playing by himself in his swamp.

Now it's already pretty apparent that the Monty we see here is way more docile and doe-eyed than the one we encounter in Security Breach, but maybe that's the point.

We all know the stories of humble beginnings, of rags to riches. To me, Monty was one of those stories. A little guy who ended up catching a big break down the line.

Now to get this out of the way, I don't believe Monty shattered Bonnie or the theory that Monty hated Bonnie (I went into detail here if you want the full explanation). We actually can easily debunk that theory in a few different ways, but the main thing is everything we see about Monty implies he actually admired Bonnie.

In his ride you see how he looks at Bonnie, His Showtime outfit incorporates yellow stars (like Bonnie), and he even still uses Bonnie's bass.

Now if you hate someone, if you hate them enough to kill them and take their place because you felt you deserved their fame, would you emulate that person? Would you use and wear their items, thereby constantly reminding yourself of someone you hate so much? Why would you go through the trouble of getting rid of them, of wiping them from everyone's memory, just to keep things that will always tie you to them? That doesn't make much sense to me.

You could argue that the items are trophies of his 'kill', but wouldn't you keep trophies or things of the like somewhere no one could see them? Why flaunt them and again, bring attention to this person that you hate so very much?

I think it's the exact opposite. Monty admired Bonnie, the depths of which we probably won't ever know the extent of, and when Bonnie disappeared, Monty took his place but never forgot the person who got him there. He wears Bonnie's glasses (which we never see Bonnie wear aside from in his neon portrait, which may imply that he might have given the shades to Monty directly at some time before he was shattered) and he uses Bonnie's bass, which was ALSO given to him according to the Gator Golf ride

I've seen people say that this scene is actually showing that Bonnie was just setting his bass aside after a show and Monty stole it, thereby using it for his own gain and I. . .don't see how people can infer that from the image? It looks like Bonnie is literally holding it out to Monty, who is on one knee and accepting it with respect and a cheerful expression on his face. Besides, you need some MASSIVE balls to just. . .steal a band's instrument after the show and just get away with it? Especially from what we see in game, there'd be no feasible way Monty could do that without the audience or technicians being like "What the fuck are you doing"

So yeah no, this looks like a mutual passing of the torch.

Anyways, Monty uses the shades and bass as a nod to Bonnie, he was a sweetheart with a baby face who got thrown into fame to replace his idol. I think, in some regards, Monty might've felt conflicted. Like, here he is in his dream job, but at the cost of someone he cared about.

You know who Monty DID hate though? Freddy. We can infer from plenty of sources and in game material that Monty HATED Freddy, and the reasoning for that could be literally anything, but it's not odd for a bandmate to dislike their leader/member because they're more popular (you see it a lot in IRL bands too, the favoritism and jealousy)

It's also easy to see that fame changed Monty, as it does for plenty of people. Having so many eyes on you, feeling the euphoria of all the love and attention day in and day out, it gets to your head. It changes who you are, muddles your humility. And we can see that Monty acts in the stereotypical Rocker way, conceited, destroys his greenroom and other things after shows, etc. It's an all too common trope and its sad to see it happen to Monty, though a lot of his rage could also be compounded by Glitchtrap/Vanny/Mimic being annoying (Notably, you never hear of Monty destroying his shades or his bass. Perhaps there are some things that he's oddly protective of)

And then in the main Security Breach, you only meet Monty at his worst. Angry, Corrupted, feral. You spend your time running from him (since Bonnie's shades protect him from most of Gregory's gimmicks), you hear from second-hand conjecture that he was probably the one who shattered Bonnie (which probably weighs on him too, the children asking where Bonnie is, and the technicians maybe side-eyeing him thinking that he's just a meathead who destroyed Bonnie to take his place) and each time you see him, he just gets more and more split from that sweetheart who was happily playing in his swamp.

Not to mention how he "dies"

Monty comes for Cassie, ruined beyond salvation, his mind still gone from all of the torment he endured being controlled and shattered over and over. To save herself, Cassie uses the Faz-wrench to activate the power and escape, only for the electric currents to turn the water into a death trap.

The thing that decommissions Monty, that finally puts him out of his misery, is Bonnie. That's Bonnie's neon portrait (a bit damaged from the dilapidated building) and it is the very thing that electrifies the water, destroying Monty's hardware. Whether or not its karma for Monty shattering Bonnie, or some sort of heartfelt prose that the thing that finally allows Monty to rest is the one person he cared about most, who's to say? You could argue it both ways, but isn't it just a tad more comforting to think that even in death, Bonnie was always looking out for his understudy?

Monty's story and character progression is a trope of Falling from Grace, of Icarus flying too close to the Sun and plummeting to the unforgiving earth. The more I learn about him, the more I feel bad for him. I think he deserved better. Roxanne for her redemption in Ruin, but Monty is left open-ended. A monster and murderer to some, a washed-up rocker to others.

But I think Montgomery was more than that. I think he had the capacity for gentleness and love, but he was in a position where the world was against him. His older and more experienced bandmates always destined to be loved more than him. He was basically an entry level teenager around mastery level adults. He might've lost his mind back then to the pressure and the negativity, resorting to violence for attention. No one was there for him, and Bonnie, the only person who probably would've been there for him and understood him better than most, disappeared without a trace, leaving him all alone in a world that would never fully accept him.

Yeah, I like Monty a lot.

[seijorhi]

uhm hi this is definitely not fairy can I please hear your thoughts on women specifically atsuko and shin as women for no particular reason? thank you (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ʃƪ)

wow not fairy, it's like you're inside my head and/or on discord where fairy and i have been discussing this hghfjdkfjghjfkd but since you asked <33

in a sentence, those girls are gonna ruin your life.

the two of them have been dating a while. shin, funny and charming, captain of her volleyball team. atsuko, her very tall, very pretty trophy girlfriend.

it doesn't necessarily matter how you cross paths – at one of shin's games, at a mutual friend's party, a meet cute of sorts at a cafe, they're enamoured by you. it's so hard to find good, genuine female friendships these days, of course they wanna see you again!

shin gently bullies you into coming to one of her games with atsu, and when she wins, she wastes absolutely no time in declaring you her personal good luck charm. so, naturally, you have to come to her games to support her, how else is she supposed to win without her good luck charm cheering for her? won't you give her a good luck kiss? aw c'mon, don't make her beg now.

ofc atsuko's proud of her girlfriend and incredibly supportive of her career it's just... well, it's hard sometimes with shin's schedule. she travels a lot, trains a lot and atsu's left to her own devices. you can over and keep her company, right? for a few hours? they have a pool, you two can just laze around in bikinis, swim a bit, it'll be fun! and oh, she was going to do some shopping later too, why don't you come with her? actually, can you come into the change room for a sec, she needs some help getting the zipper undone.

and then when shin is free, she wants to spend time with you too. it's not fair to let her girlfriend monopolise all your time, right?

really, you spend so much time over at their place, why don't you just... move in? there's a spare bedroom since they obviously share, and because they like you so much, they'll offer you an excellent deal!

it's almost impressive how quickly your social circle shrinks until it feels like it revolves entirely around them. but those other girls weren't really your friends, so it's no great loss. if you're sad about it, why don't you let them cheer you up? there's alcohol in the fridge, neither one of them have any plans for the next day...

and yeah, maybe the lines have always been a little blurry with the two of them. they've always been affectionate. shin flirts when she's drunk and atsuko tends to get a little handsy when she cuddles. kisses between friends aren't that weird, right? especially when those friends are dating each other. happily.

you've seen them walking around half naked on more than one occasion, nudity's not a big thing around the house (they've assured you), they're still adjusting to having someone else living there – but you're pretty sure that waking up between them without a scrap of clothing to be found anywhere is pushing that boundary just a little too far.

especially when you don't actually remember what you did with them, or much of anything after the first glass.

but any protests are smothered by indulgent, greedy tongues, and you're pulled back down to bed before you can slip away. they already told you, they don't have anywhere to be today, so just be a good girl and let shin eat out your pretty pussy, hm? then maybe you can lick atsu's.

[medusapelagia]

Learning to Love 2

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,..)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve /Billy Tags: enemies to lovers, mention of parent's death (Steve's mom), mention of domestic violence Words: 1870

Harrington's place is a solitary house in the middle of nothing, surrounded by the woods and nothing else. Billy appreciates the privacy; no noisy neighbors that might call the police if they hear a few screams, like it wasn’t a normal thing, and no one around to see him limp the day after. Not bad at all.

Neil was even proud of him when he told him that he was going to tutor the richest boy in town.

He literally said, "Kid, I'm proud of you." Which is a first in Billy's life.

If the big house and the heated pool didn't give away how rich Harrington's family is, the doorbell would, it sounds like the doorbell they have in the old big mansions and Billy is almost expecting a butler in a pressed uniform showing him the living room instead of his schoolmate.

"You came." Harrington says, almost surprised.

"Told you I would. Are you disappointed, pretty boy?"

Steve shrugs, moving from the door and gesturing to Billy to get inside. The house is super modern and cold, the living room seems ready to be the set of a sitcom, the kitchen is so clean that it almost shines and Steve's room is the most boring room he has ever seen; there is nothing personal, not a trinket, a picture, a sporting trophy, nothing at all, just a desk and few books there are lying on the side.

"Do you want something to drink?" Steve asks, annoyed.

"I'm not here for a courtesy visit, I'm here to help you because you are too stupid to do your fucking homework and you need a babysitter." Billy snarls, ready to fight, but Steve doesn't take the bait, he sits at his desk and stares at his books.

"Where would you like to start?" He asks, pointing at the pile of books.

"What do you need more help with?"

"Math."

"Let's start there."

Steve takes his book and opens it, staring at the first problem.

"Come on! It is an easy one!" Billy sighs, taking the book and quickly solving the problem while Steve stares blankly at him "Can you just concentrate a little for Christ's sake! You didn't even write the right numbers! Are you stupid? Can't you copy some fucking numbers?"

Steve flinches, moving away from Billy. Billy sighs, this is not going well. He takes a deep breath and thinks about the waves of the ocean, trying to calm himself and when he feels a little bit settled he asks "Why... why didn’t you write the correct numbers?"

"I did!" Steve replies, "I can copy some stupid numbers, ok?"

Billy stares at him for a long moment and he sees how the boy squints while reading.

"Do you wear glasses?" He asks and Steve glares at him.

"Of course I don't, jackass!"

"Well, maybe you should. Have you seen a doctor recently?" After Billy broke a plate on his head.

"I... I don't like doctors." Steve confesses blushing in embarrassment.

“Are you scared of doctors?” Billy mocks him and Steve turns his face, avoiding Billy’s stare “Are you serious?” 

“I’m not scared… I just… I don't like them.”

Billy stares at him for the longest time before Steve finally cracks. “When mom went to the hospital… she never came back, ok? I know that’s stupid but I can’t deal with the smell of disinfectant ok? And I’m young and healthy, I don’t need a doctor!”

Billy can understand the fear of the doctors, the few times Neil brought him there with a broken arm or to fix his nose, he was always terrified that those doctors, who asked so many questions about how he got hurt, would have taken him away. Living with Neil was no fun, but living in a foster family didn’t sound much better either.

“I’m not saying you should do a complete checkup, I’m just suggesting that you might want to see an eye doctor, so maybe everyone will stop thinking that you’re stupid.”

“I don’t give a shit about what everyone else thinks about me! I was their fucking god and now what? You came to town, took my place and all my friends forgot about me. I guess they weren’t my friends after all and you are not my friend either! And I don’t need to study all this stupid shit because I’m going to work with my father as soon as I get out of high school! So what the fuck do you want from me? I’ll give you a good review, I’ll say that you were the best tutor ever. Let me copy you from your test and we’ll be good!”

Billy shakes his head “No.”

“What?!”

“No. I will not let you copy from me and I don’t give a fuck about your stupid opinion of my tutoring skills. I just gave you a suggestion, you don’t want to follow it? Fine.” Billy replies, ready to get back to his place. Harrington is avoiding his stare, he is clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles are white.

“Stop being such a baby. You can’t take any criticism!”

“What about you? You come here, to my house, telling me that I’m either stupid or blind! What did you expect?” Steve snaps.

Billy gets up, grabs his things, and pushes them in his backpack. Fuck Harrington! Billy doesn’t have to help him! He doesn’t owe him anything! It’s not his fault if his sight is shitty!

Only… maybe it is.

Only… Steve actually tried to help Max.

Only… Billy is not the dickhead he pretends to be.

“I could… I could come with you.” He suggests, keeping his back to Harrington, his hand on the handle of the door.

“And what? Hold my hand like a fucking child?” Steve snarls, throwing what’s left on the desk to the ground.

Billy dares to turn, this time it’s Steve who has his back turned. “If that’s what you need.” Billy steps forward, not daring to touch the other boy but wanting to let him know that he is there, that he is listening “Where is your father?”

“Russia? China? Don’t remember. He must have written it on the calendar, I don’t really check anymore.” Steve replies and Billy sighs. He never really understood how lonely Steve must feel now that his friends have turned their back on him and even his girlfriend left him.

“Was she worth it?” Billy asks, and Steve’s shoulders stiffen “Was she worth losing your privileges? And your friends?”

“If I lost my friend it is not her fault. She is… She was… well, she was everything I wanted, the only problem was that I wasn’t enough for her.” Steve says in a self-deprecating tone. “It’s the story of my life. I’m not bad, but I’m never enough, no matter how hard I try. Even my father thinks that I’m not enough and he should know, right? He is my father.”

Billy gets closer to Steve and forces him to turn toward him, “Listen to me. You are the only one who knows your worth, ok? Not Wheeler, not your father, not those stupid boys at school! And if you keep repeating to yourself that you are not enough, you’ll end up believing that! So look me in the eye and tell me something good about you.”

Steve tries to free himself from Billy’s grip “What the fuck? I don’t do this stupid shit. If I needed a therapist…”

“Look me in the eye and tell me something good about yourself.” That’s a game Billy’s mother made with him every time Neil belittled him, and it worked every single time.

“I… I…”

“One thing, I know you can do it.”

“I’m… I’m brave.”

Billy smiles “Yes, you are. Good job, Harrington.” He tells him, patting his back, ready to leave.

“Hey…” Steve calls him, finally getting up from the chair. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I was going to order pizza and watch a movie.”

Billy stops, wondering if Neil would get mad at him “Can I call home? I’m not sure if Susan already cooked.”

“Sure. The phone is in the living room.”

Billy and Steve get downstairs and Billy calls home, it’s Susan who answers and tells him that Neil is not home yet but that he can stay out for dinner, he just has to be home by ten. 

They order pizza and watch a movie and for Billy it is the first time ever. He never invited anyone to his place and he didn’t get invited much, always too unpredictable to be invited to someone’s home. Maybe that’s why he and Steve are perfect; Steve feels like he is not enough, and Billy feels that he is too much.

“Will you book a visit to the eye doctor? I’ll drive you.” Billy asks while they are watching an action movie.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either, so Billy nods and goes back home. As soon as he enters his father calls him, asking him where he was, and when he tells him that he was at Harrington’s house his father seems really pleased. “Those rich boys are always stupid, aren’t they? But my boy is so clever that he is the one who is going to help that stupid kid. You’ll do great things, I know, you are just like me.”

Every time that Neil says that they are similar Billy feels some disgust about himself. He doesn't want to be like Neil, and even if he knows that his outbursts are so similar to the one his father has, he is trying his best not to become like him. Waking up one day and seeing Neil Hargrove in the mirror is Billy’s greatest fear. Not being beaten to death by his father, not getting married to a woman he will never love because he likes boys, not being trapped in a life he knows he will hate every single day. The only thing that terrifies him, the only ones he prays from every night, kneeling on the side of his bed, folded hands and eyes closed, is not becoming like his father. 

He always lived a life where he was always ready to fight for dominance and he is so tired of being alert at all times.

Max is sitting next to Susan, watching a television show together, “Steve’s house is so cool, right? Did you see the heated swimming pool?”

“We studied, I wasn’t there to have fun.”

“I know…” Max snorts “I just thought that maybe… but you are right. You are no fun!” She rebukes, finally leaving him alone.

Billy’s room is full of music posters, he has a big stereo and a vanity made with plastic crates where his few precious belongings rest: a strong male perfume, the same brand his mother bought him years ago, and the golden necklace he received as a gift for his christening.

He stares at himself in the mirror, somehow he feels a little bit less angry and skittish, is it possible that spending time with Harrington might really be beneficial for both of them?

[yearningtraveler]

STARTER 001; @livedtough

it's the first thing tim's met with when he has walked into work these past few weeks;

pamphlets advertising the shining ethic award ceremony.

tim finds it ironic how the department would be rewarding hawk's worth ethic with a trophy, but he'd be incriminated if they found out who he truly was; as if none of his accomplishments mattered, because he is gay.

the reality was harrowing.

of course, this was going to be a great evening. however, the hypocrisy behind it all has been nagging at him lately; a fact so bold that it dawns on him in the way staining a white button up with red wine does— no matter how he looked at it, there was a great big stain in the way of it being pure.

and while skippy had the tendency to spill all of his philosophical thoughts onto hawk, he knew better than to disclose any of his worries. . .

hawk, without having to hear it, should know of tim's precautions better than anyone. he's been hiding for as long as skippy has, if not longer.

unfairness is second nature.

still, skippy's real proud of mr. fuller. he has heard all about his prestigious trophies, and that infamous bronze star which allegedly shields him from the heat of the press if* they ever were to discover his identity. just because hawk had a crowded shelf of awards didn't make this victory any less impressive.

hawk continues to be the best at everything, a role model in that retrospect, and he'd soon have another shining medal star to show for it.

by a divine miracle, skippy had been invited to the ceremony. . . as well as the hotel room that had been rented under another name— paid in full by the event's hosts. he's almost surprised hawk took up the opportunity to stay, because he easily could've spent the night at home.

perhaps the luxurious interior felt more like a vacation, well deserved after all the milestones he accomplished this year. tim's just happy to be there, with him, to celebrate this. within the privacy of a dimly lit hotel room, they could be a couple. . . or whatever* they are, and tim would get high on what it's like to be human— domestic bliss that he wishes would last forever.

"are you getting nervous for your big acceptance speech yet.ᐣ" skippy asks lightheartedly, dressed in his sleekest brown suit, and misted in his priciest cologne. he has to look his best for this special occasion. . . for hawk.

"you know," he starts, voice laced with a teasing inflection, "i heard somewhere that it helps the stage fright to picture the audience naked." tim winks, passing a light glass of whiskey hawk's way to loosen him up a little. tonight is a night of celebration, and not a press conference, after all. either way, the both of them need to be able to form conscious thoughts this evening.

tim then puffs out a quiet, yet content sigh, looking up at hawk with admiration flickering behind those doe eyes of his— he could stand, and gawk all day.

"i hope you know this is a big deal."

skippy wants to tell him he's proud, too, and that hawk deserves this, but the words can't seem to fall off his tongue.

he can only give a supportive grin.

[barclaysangel]

If Junior was at Lochmoor with Nica AU

Well well well…another Junior AU. I know, I have a problem. But watching Nurse Ratched gave me the idea of 10 year old Junior being at Lochmoor with Nica. Does it make sense logically? Most likely not. Did I write it in less than two days? …definitely.

This AU just wasn’t leaving my mind at all so I had to write it and here it is! It’s a bit long but I’m quite proud of how it turned out. I’m not sure if this is gonna be an actual fic, most likely not, but maybe I’ll write a series of oneshots for this AU. I do have a few ideas so if you guys like this, including on how to bring Andy in and how Junior and Nica get out of Lochmoor, so please let me know if that’s something y’all are interested in! I thrive off comments, they fuel my motivation!

Thank you and enjoy :)

Word count: 3K

Tags: @nicascurls @fairchilds-glasses @high-functioning-fang1rl @streets-in-paradise @zelinksupporter

Junior got used to the hospital. 

It was often cold and many of the patients there were scary, but he knew how to keep quiet and sit alone in a corner, drawing whatever came to mind to keep himself occupied until the next round of medicine and shocks. 

He didn’t know if he deserved all of that, deserved to be the only child in a big and terrifying hospital. But those patients committed crimes and he, in a way, did too. 

It just felt like Junior’s life fell apart. Maybe it always was falling apart. His dad was strict with him, forcing him into doing cross-country, forcing him to eat less, always forcing and controlling him. But his mom was there, trying to keep him safe the most she could. 

Then she died. And he was so painfully alone. Junior wishes he could remember what happened during the time of her death to ending up at the hospital, but it was like a blur. He remembered just bits and pieces of everything. 

The funeral, everyone dressed in black. 

His bedroom, perfect and clean before being destroyed and broken from a fit of rage that he didn’t remember. 

His trophies from cross-country shattered. 

The biggest trophy with specks of blood. 

Blood on the back and side of his father’s head. 

The doctors say that Junior had “psychosis”. That he was experiencing “manic and depressive episodes” despite his very young age, the tragic death of his mother triggering those “episodes”. 

His father said that he was a dangerous “psychopath” who tried to kill him. 

Junior hardly knew what any of those words meant. To him, it just meant that he was crazy and a monster who could hurt anyone at any given moment, so he had to be sent away. 

Sent away to Lochmoor at barely ten years old. 

It was hard at first. He hated the way the “vitamins” made him feel, not to mention the shocks they would put in his head. It would leave marks on his temples and make him feel overall terrible. The nurses had to put Junior on his side after each shock session since he would vomit in his sleep, he apparently almost choked to death before when he threw up while lying flat on his back after the very first time he got shocked. 

Some days he wished he did die, then he wouldn’t need to keep being in such a scary place. 

Then other days, it wasn’t too bad. He could be left somewhat alone, drawing with some paper and crayons they would allow him to have. Junior was never the best at drawing, all the art skills belonged to his cousin, Jake. But the more he drew, almost every single day, the better he started getting at it. 

I guess Jake was right. Practice does make perfect. Junior thought to himself and then got sad to remember that he wasn’t going to be able to tell Jake that and deal with his cousin annoying him about how he was right. 

He hardly spoke to anyone there, mainly only a couple of his doctors. They wanted to know what made him “snap”. He told them what he remembered, how controlling his father was and how he was even afraid of him. 

But Junior could tell that they didn’t believe him. That his father was a good and smart man, that he would never do those things or that his “mania and depression” misinterpreted the things his father did. 

Maybe they were right. His brain was sick after all, maybe his father wasn’t as bad as he thought he was. 

Junior didn’t know anything and for the next three months, he kept to himself. He minded his own business, drew whenever he could, took his vitamins, but still cried and tried to run whenever it was time for the shock sessions. Not to mention how he cries himself to sleep every single night, wishing he was dead and buried beside his mom, staying with her instead forever and ever. 

But this was his life now. At least until the doctors finally tell him he’s better. But he doesn’t know when that will ever happen. So for now, he stays still. 

Then a new patient arrived, a woman with dark curly hair in a wheelchair. Junior recognized a new face easily, growing more and more observant the longer he stayed in Lochmoor. It wasn’t anything too new for him, even when she stared at him like she was confused as to why he would be there. 

He got that look a lot, because of his age. He still feels like he should get some kind of award for being the youngest patient at Lochmoor. 

But she would always smile and wave at him, even at times where she looked afraid or upset. For the first few days, Junior didn’t return the smiles or waves. He would keep drawing and try to ignore her stares. But something about her felt warm and kind, a feeling he had forgotten about after so long of not feeling it. 

Eventually, he would wave back at her. And then, after nearly two weeks, he did something else. Junior got up, walked toward the woman, sat down on the floor near her wheelchair, and continued his drawing. He did all of this silently, not knowing what to say since he was so used to just not talking. 

It didn’t take long for her to take the initiative. 

“Hi.” The woman said, her voice gentle and light, as if she was being cautious. 

Junior didn’t say anything for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Hi.” 

“What’s your name?” She asked him next. 

The entire time, he was keeping his eyes on his drawing, grabbing a black crayon. “Junior.” 

“Nice to meet you, Junior. I’m Nica.” 

Junior finally looked at her, the corners of his lips turning upwards, the most he could smile nowadays. “Nice to meet you too, Nica.”

The woman–Nica–smiled at him, that sweet and soft smile he had seen her send to him before. The more he looked at her, the more he noticed the scar on her forehead, angry and red, but healing. He didn’t say anything though, he went back to coloring and figured he would be doing it in silence. 

“How old are you?” Nica asked after a few seconds, making Junior think for a moment. 

It was getting harder for him to remember the days and the months, sometimes it felt like his brain was getting fuzzy and foggy. 

“Ten. Ten in September. That was…last year, I think. I’ll be eleven this year.” He finally responded, adjusting his position so he was sitting in a more criss cross position. 

“You’re a child…” She said, sounding shocked and almost confused. Or horrified? He couldn’t quite tell. 

Junior looked at her and merely shrugged his shoulders. “I know. But I can handle it.” He said simply and began coloring in his drawing, scrunching his eyebrows together in concentration. 

“Can I ask what you’re drawing?” Normally, he would be annoyed that someone kept interrupting him. But she spoke lightly to him, so it didn’t make him as upset as he would usually get. 

Maybe the treatments were actually working afterall. 

“My mom.” Junior said softly, finishing off coloring her black hair before putting the crayon down and grabbing the magenta crayon. 

“She looks pretty.” Nica said, noticing her peering down to look at the drawing. It wasn’t perfect, far from it. Again, he wasn’t an artist. But he tried to draw her the most, almost everyday, so he wouldn’t forget what she looked like. 

“Yeah…yeah, she was…” He replied, his voice sad as he stared at the picture. Junior took a deep breath, not wanting to start crying in front of someone. He tried to think of his father’s words instead. 

Don’t be such a pussy, you’re a man! Act like it! It seemed to work for the time being, clearing his throat and began using the magenta crayon to color in his mom’s dress. 

Junior figures that Nica was going to ask him next what happened to his mom, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t say a word. Maybe she already knows somehow, just by that small bit of reaction that he had. 

Whatever it was, he was grateful that she didn’t say anything. 

He was quiet still, his movement slowing down before looking up at Nica. “Do you…wanna draw too?” 

She looked a little surprised at his request before smiling again, nodding. “I would like that, thanks.” 

Junior nodded and passed her one of his other pieces of paper and other crayons that he had. They spent the next few minutes doing that, silently drawing by one another’s side. It was kind of strange to Junior but not enough to make him want to leave. For some reason, it was almost…nice. Nice and comforting and peaceful. 

It was almost like he had a friend he’s known his whole life. 

“Your drawing is really good.” Junior said after a moment, looking up to see the different types of flowers she drew. 

“Thank you, I’ve had years of practice.” Nica said with a smile as Junior began drawing a sun in the corner of his paper. 

He drew suns a lot since it feels like it’s been years since he got to feel the sun hitting his face. 

“Junior…can I ask you something?” She asked him hesitantly. 

“Mhm.” He mumbled simply, already suspecting what she was planning to ask him, the same as some of the other patients. 

“Why are you here? You don’t seem dangerous at all to need maximum security. You’re just a kid.” 

And because Junior expected the question, he answered as honestly as he would with the others. 

“Because I tried to kill my father.” 

The silence was loud enough to hear a pin drop. But since Nica wasn’t leaving him yet, Junior decided to continue. 

“That’s what they said I did. I don’t remember. Something about a ‘psychotic breakdown’. Whatever that means. I think it’s just a fancy way of saying I went crazy after mom died from cancer and tried to kill my father but he was able to stop me. I didn’t mean to try and kill him. I think I just wanted him to stop controlling me. I wanted to be free. But now I’m here for…I don’t know how long. It’s been some months now. I guess we’ll see.”

Now this is the part where Nica leaves. Where she’ll come up with some excuse and then never get next to him or talk to him ever again. Because who would trust a kid who tried to murder their own father? No one, that’s who. And she was going to be one of them. 

But almost a full minute had passed and Nica was still there. Maybe she was waiting for him to leave? That must be why, so Junior started gathering the rest of his crayons so he could get up and move away from her. 

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Nica suddenly said, making him stop and pause, looking at her in confusion. 

“...what?” 

“You’re not crazy. You’re just a little boy who lost his mother. Took out his pain on his father. Did you get help after your mom died? Before you ended up here?” She asked him and Junior shook his head. “You should’ve gotten help. If your father cared, he would’ve done that. You don’t deserve to be here.��� 

Yes I do. I’m a psychopath. He wanted to say but decided not to. 

He didn’t know why. Maybe deep down, he didn’t believe he was that crazy. That he was dangerous and wanted to hurt people. He didn’t know and would probably never find out anyway. 

“Why are you here then?” Junior decided to ask her this time. “You seem nice. I don’t know why you would end up being here.” 

Nica looked sad for a moment, looking away as she fidgeted with her sleeves before looking back at him. “They said that I killed my family. But I didn’t. It wasn’t me, I swear.”

Junior looked at her, trying to read her. She seemed to believe it, and seemed saddened by whatever happened to her family. She seemed to be convinced that she really didn’t do it. 

Or maybe Nica was crazy. But so was Junior, so he didn’t care either way. 

And if she decided to snap and kill him? Then he would just end up with his mother, something he’s been wanting anyway, so he didn’t care. 

“I believe you.” Junior said simply, putting down the rest of his crayons down and settling back into his original position. 

Nica looked a little surprised but almost relieved. “You do?”

He smiled just a tiny bit and nodded. “Uh huh. I do. You don’t seem mean enough to do something like that. So…do you pinkie promise that you didn’t do it?” He asked, holding up his pinkie to her. 

She smiled kindly at him, nodding before holding up her own pinkie and wrapping it around his. “I promise.” 

Junior started to relax, genuinely trusting her, but he was pulled out of his thoughts by one of the orderlies. “Wheeler. Come on, it’s time for your treatment.”

His eyes widened, knowing what the treatments actually meant. 

Shocks. 

It was time for him to get shocked. 

Junior whimpered quietly and started to slowly move away. “Please, please, I-I’ve been good! I’ve been good, I don’t wanna be shocked, please…” But the orderlies started to move closer so he put his cross-country skills to use. 

He sprung up and bolted. 

He knew it was futile but he had to try, screaming loudly when he felt one of the orderlies grab him before Junior was able to get out of the room, now scratching and biting at the orderly wherever he could. Through his screaming, he could vaguely hear Nica’s voice, telling them to stop and to not hurt him, but Junior knew how they were. They weren’t going to stop. Not until there was a needle in his arm and his body started to shut down. He tried to hold on, tried so hard, but he knew it was better to be asleep than awake when he was shocked. And his world went black. 

Unfortunately, just because he was asleep, doesn't mean he couldn’t feel anything. He felt each painful shock, making his entire body jolt, even sometimes waking him up midway only to be put back to sleep after he started screaming. 

Please, make it stop. Please, please, please, I can’t take this anymore. It hurts too much, I don’t want to keep feeling this! Just kill me! Kill me! Please, please, please, please, ple–

Junior doesn’t know when it stopped. He doesn’t remember much after that. He remembered throwing up when he was back in his bed before falling back asleep, his arms and legs still twitching and jolting. It felt like he was fading away, slipping in and out, in and out, in and…

Junior didn’t know what time it was, but it had to have been getting late. 

He needed to get up and go for a run. 

Try to see if he could run an extra mile. 

That would make his dad happy. 

Yes, he would be happy. 

And then maybe he could eat a little more for breakfast if his dad was happy. 

It’s a good idea. 

He just needed to get up right now. 

“Junior?”

What was that?

It was probably nothing, just his imagination again. 

“Junior, can you hear me?” 

Wait, there it was again. 

The voice was soft and warm, so warm…it sounded like mom’s…

“Come on, baby, I need you to wake up. You need to snap out of it, okay?”

Snap out of it? Snap out of what?

The voice did sound like mom’s but it was different. 

But still familiar. 

She sounded like…

“Junior? Honey?”

Junior woke up. 

He blinked a few times, realizing that he wasn’t in his room, back at his father’s house. There were gray walls all around him and a certain chill to it, something that always frightened him. He was at Lochmoor. He’s always been in Lochmoor. Sitting in the very corner of the main room, his knees pulled into his chest. 

How did he get there? 

Did they put him there or did he walk there on his own?

He couldn’t even remember. 

But he did recognize the woman’s voice, it was–

“Ni…ca…” Junior spoke slowly, struggling to find his voice, his words. 

Right. He got the shocks. He remembered now. That’s why his brain was fuzzy and in pain, his insides still twisting and churning. 

This was where he was now. 

“Oh, honey, what did they do to you…?” Nica murmured to herself, but he knew that she knew the answer. He realized that her hands were on his cheeks, gentle and light, looking at the side of his head. 

He had burn marks again, that much he knew. He had seen them before, the small burns and discoloration on his temples. They would go away in a few days, but he hated just knowing they were there. 

“Hurts…it hurts…” Junior managed to mumble out and one of Nica’s hands went through his hair, soothing back the dark strands so gently. 

“I know, baby, I know. Just take some deep breaths, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She told him softly and he started to tear up. 

Normally he could try to stop it, but he couldn’t now. He accepted defeat, accepted the pain he was in, but leaned forward and pressed his cheek against her knee while clinging onto her leg. 

Nica didn’t move him, continuing to stroke his hair in light and soothing notions, whispering to him but Junior didn’t know what she was saying. It didn’t matter though because despite the pain, he realized something. 

He wasn’t alone. 

For the first time in so long, he wasn’t alone. 

Junior finally had a friend and maybe he was going to be okay.

[truthfulpoint]

Sex on the Beach

Slowly, but surely, this cruise was turning into a disaster. I had booked the trip to celebrate my recent tenure as a professor and also to spend some time with Jessica after long months of being cooped up with my research. Now the paper was submitted, and the initial reviews were very promising.

The boat was beautiful and the crew had great attention to detail. The food was fantastic and the other people on the boat seemed pretty nice for the most part. They were obviously way richer than me and Jessica were. I had basically used all the money from the research award I won for my last major paper to pay for the trip.

But somehow Jessica was in a foul mood. She stayed on deck with a book most of the time and didn’t partake in many of the activities that the crew organized for their guests. There, she was usually joined by a man of about 50 or so years by the name of John. John was constantly on his phone or hacking into a laptop and hardly seemed to notice the beautiful surroundings of the Greek islands.

John’s wife Veronica was much younger than her husband was, I guessed about 34 or 35. She had to look of a typical trophy wife with lots of time for manicures, pedicures, Pilates and appointments at the hairdresser. Initially that had put me off, but when I chatted with her, I was actually surprised that I quite enjoyed her company. She was a physical therapist and worked part time in an institution for children that needed rehabilitation after accidents. They apparently didn’t need the money, judging by his watches, John seemed to be richer than God, but it gave her a sense of purpose and fulfillment.

As we both were often flying solo for the group activities, we naturally gravitated towards each other. We chatted a lot over the first few days of the trip and got to know each other pretty well.

———-

One evening, after another delicious dinner on the beach, Jessica got up and said: “ I’m tired. I’ll go to bed. Don’t come too late, please. And don’t drink so much wine, it makes you snore.”

“ yes ma’am” I snapped, in an effort to lighten the mood. But Jessica just glared at me.

Embarrassed and angry, I turned to my glass of wine. What was going on? Why was Jessica so angry with me?

“Another evening all by our lonesome?” said Veronica as she walked over from the table where she had been sitting. She seemed a little tipsy.

“Yep. You too?”

“Yes. He’s already back on that damn computer.”

Maybe more than just a little…

She took a big gulp out of her wine glass.

“ I’m sorry”

“ You don’t need to be sorry. He should be!”

Another big gulp. Veronica seemed angry and determined to get very drunk.

“ He used to be different. He was always a hard worker, but when we were dating, he somehow always managed to find the time for a weekend away or a fancy restaurant.”

Another gulp finished the glass. One of the stewards quickly came by and filled it up again.

“ Now he seems married to his work. Some evenings he doesn’t even come home.”

Half the glass gone again.

“Or maybe he’s fucking his secretary. I don’t know. But I couldn’t care less. It’s not like I’m missing out on much.”

Ouch. Low blow.

“I mean, for real, he couldn’t even get it up without the little blue pills on the best of days. And now he’s so absent-minded with me, that he probably couldn’t tell my butt from my boobs”

Oh man. This woman was angry.

“ Well, why are you still with him?”

“ I don’t know. I guess it’s comfortable. I have to admit that I’ve gotten used to the finer things in life. He also donates a ton of money to the children’s rehab center where I work. That would probably dry up if we get divorced. And that would really suck.”

“Hmmm...” I didn’t really know what to say. “We should probably get to bed.”

She chugged her drink. She was very drunk now.

“Can I stay with you tonight? You’re cute.”

“I think you should return to your cabin and sleep it off, Veronica. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Adam. Sweet dreams”

Walking over the beach back to the boat, I couldn’t get Veronica’s words out of my head - “you’re cute”. She was more than cute. She was beautiful. And the more time I spent with her, the more I felt myself drawn to here.

That night, I did not sleep well. I tossed and turned, awaking often. Every time I woke up, my thoughts immediately returned to Veronica.

———-

The next morning, Veronica showed up to breakfast with a pair of large dark sunglasses and washed down three aspirin with her green tea.

———

Later that day, we had a guided tour of some ancient ruins. Of course, Jessica and John stayed on the boat. During the tour Veronica motioned me to stay back a little.

She hooked her arm under mine and started talking. “Hey Adam. About last night. I think I said a lot of stupid stuff. I was angry and a little drunk. Can we keep this to ourselves?”

“Of course “

“ I mean, I didn’t really mean it. At least most of it.”

“Which part did you mean?”

She squirmed a little and laughed nervously.

“well, I seem to remember that I might have mentioned that I thought you were cute? That part’s actually true”

“I’m flattered. I don’t often get compliments from drunk married women.”

“Now you’re being mean. I just repeated it, and I’m totally sober. Just very hung over.” She laughed and pulled herself closer to me, holding on to my arm.

I have to admit, it felt good to be complimented by a beautiful woman. I suddenly noticed how much I missed being touched. Things between Jessica and me had been pretty cooled down for a while now.

I brushed the thought aside, and we rejoined the group.

————-

The the next day was a beach day. We all chilled under the parasols and pavilions the crew had set up and enjoyed piña coladas and watermelons.

Veronica wore a white bikini that I hadn’t seen yet. After a week under the Mediterranean sun, she was quite tanned, and the white bikini complimented her bronze skin. When she went for a swim and came back out of the water, I had flashbacks of Ursula Endres coming out of the water in that James Bond movie. Hot!

I also went for a swim, but pretty soon had to stop because my shoulder and neck started to hurt. When I came out of the water, I was massaging my neck and wincing with pain. Veronica noticed me.

“What’s the matter? Hurt yourself?”

“ I don’t know. I went for a swim, and I had this strong pain going from my neck to my shoulder.”

“Want me to take a look at it? You’re a little bigger than my normal patients, but the basic mechanics are the same.”

“Sure, thank you!”

She sat me down on the edge of one of the deck chairs and started to examine my neck and shoulders with her hands. Admittedly, I quite enjoyed that. Probably more than I should.

She manipulated my arm and shoulder and stroked different muscles in my neck. The pain started to ease a little, but I hoped she would keep going for a little while longer.

“You are very tense. Probably from all that work hunched over a computer. I can show you some exercises that should help your neck and shoulder mobility”

For some reason, her hand was still resting on my pectoral muscle. I looked at it and she withdrew it, however, not without lightly brushing over my nipple in the process. I felt my nipple harden and blood rushing to my groin. She noticed it too, and gave me a little smile.

———

In the afternoon we were back on the boat. I was heading to the bathroom, which happened to be in a very tight corner of the upper deck. As walked I towards the door, it opened and Veronica emerged. The entry was so tight that we couldn’t avoid brushing against each other. As we were both still in swim clothes, a lot of skin touched. I had the impression that neither of us tried to minimize that contact.

————

That night I woke from a dream. I didn’t remember any details, but I clearly had the searing image of Veronica in her white bikini in my head. I was sporting a capital boner.

Jessica was sleeping next to me. I glanced over at her and then started to masturbate. I closed my eyes and imagined Veronica in her white bikini coming towards me. Taking the bikini off and giving me a free view of her perfect boobs. Cut. Veronica, reaching for my boner. Cut. Veronica rubbing my cock with her perfectly manicured hands. Cut. Veronicas mouth closing around the head of my cock. Cut. Veronica giving me a sloppy blowjob. Cut. Veronica turning around, spreading her butt cheeks and whispering “ I want you to fuck me in the ass” Cut. My dick in Veronica’s ass. Cut. My dick pumping cum into Veronica’s ass.

With that image, I came. Hard. Cum rained on my stomach and my chest. My cock twitched and a pool of cum gathered on my belly.

Jessica raised her head. “ what’s going on?” She asked sleepily.

“Nothing. I just had a vivid dream and moved around. Go back to sleep.”

I got up and went to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up with a towel and looked at myself in the mirror, slightly embarrassed. Not only had I fantasized about a married woman. While my girlfriend was laying next to me. Also, I had never been into anal sex, but that fantasy sent me right over the edge. I wasn’t sure that I could look Veronica in the eye tomorrow.

—————

As luck would have it, Veronica joined us at our breakfast table the next morning. I had the impression that Jessica didn’t like Veronica particularly well. But I decided to ignore it.

I grinned at her sheepishly and tried to make the most boring conversation ever. She looked at me puzzled.

“Final day in paradise, huh?”

“Yeah I can’t believe the 10 days are already over”

“ Well, Adam, it was very nice to get to know you and for you to keep me such good company during the excursions”

What was she doing? Jessica was sitting right next to us.

“Uhm, yeah. There were quite a few nice people on this boat.” I tried to downplay and defuse the situation.

“Yes, but very few as nice and gentle…manlike as you. I hope to see you later!”

And with that, she walked away, swaying her hips just a little too much for Jessica not to notice.

———-

When we got to our cabin, I could sense that Jessica was fuming. We had hardly closed the door when she went at me:

“ What was that bimbo all about? Thanks for keeping me such good company? Nice and gentle? What the fuck?”

I didn’t know what to say. “Hey, Veronica is not a bimbo, she’s actually pretty nice”

“Yeah seems like it. More than nice from what I can see”

Well, that maybe wasn’t the best thing to start with.

“What do you expect me to do? You never wanted to come to these activities. Most of the other guests went as couple, so obviously the two people abandoned by the partners kind of stuck together.”

Not helping things…

“I didn’t abandon you. I just wasn’t feeling like doing these stupid excursions anyway. This entire trip was all about you, and your fancy research award. Look, I’m Adam, the neuroscience hot shot.”

Ouch.

“Baby, where is this coming from? I booked this trip for us!”

“You booked this trip for you!”

“I’m sorry you’re not having a good time. What can I do?”

“I don’t know. I need some space”

“Ok baby. No problem. I’ll go and come find you later”

“No, I mean more permanently. I think I don’t want you in my life, at least for a while”

“Baby, what the hell?”

“When we get back to London, I think I will stay with my sister for a while”

I was dumbstruck. Without another word, I turned around and left the cabin.

On deck, I ran into Veronica.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Everything ok?”

“No everything is not OK! Jessica and I just broke up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that!”

“You’re sorry? You’re part of the reason! If you hadn’t done your little show this morning, none of this would’ve happened!”

“Is that so? Well, if you ask me, your relationship has to be in a pretty bad place if one tiny flirt manages to break it”

She probably had a point, but I was not willing to admit that just yet.

“Stay away from me.”

—————-

Lunch was on the beach that day again. For me it was a sad affair, as I sat alone, sulking in a corner.

Veronica came up to me.

“Can we talk?”

“Hm, okay”

“I’m sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have done that. Even if I stay by my point that such a stunt could never derail a healthy relationship “

“Yeah, you’re probably right “

“The fact of the matter is that I see us as mirror images. Both stuck in sorta crappy relationships. And…”

“What and?”

“Nevermind. Why were you looking at me so funny this morning?”

“Nevermind”

“You tell me your’s, I tell you mine…”

“Okay, okay. But you go first.”

“Ok, here goes. I thought we were both stuck in sucky relationships. And that I would much rather be with someone like you. Well, you specifically.”

“Oh, wow!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s confusing. I probably have to sleep on this a bit. But I definitely have a bad crush on you.”

She blushed. “Now tell me your’s”

“Ok, whatever. I had a dream about you “

“A sex dream?”

“Uhm, yup” I blushed.

“Was it good?”

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“Did we make out? Did we sleep together?”

“Well, sort of”

“Did you cum in your dream?”

“No, not in the dream”

“What do you mean, not in the dream”

I squirmed under the interrogation. “Well, afterwards “

“Afterwards? What do you mean? Did you jack off thinking of me?”

My head was probably red as a tomato now. “Hm, yeah, kind of”

“Oh, wow. I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered… but it is kind of hot to think that I make you horny.” She giggled.

“It was just a dream! These things happen all the time!”

“Well, why don’t we try if was really ‘just a dream’?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me”

She took my hand and we walked away from the tables to a small secluded bay behind some rocks. Veronica undid the Pareo she had been wearing and spread it on the sand. Underneath, she wore that bedeviled white bikini.

“Adam, I am so sorry. I’ve been a bad girl”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ve been really bad. I think I deserve some punishment “

“Are you kidding me?”

“No Adam. You need to show me my place”

With that, she walked up to me and pinched my nipple.

“Ouch”

“Oh, so sorry. Let me make it better.”

She stepped up to me, pressed her body against me and started gently licking the pinched nipple. A familiar tingling traveled from there up and down my spine. Blood rushed to my groin. I gave in.

“You are right, you have been bad” I said with a raspy voice.

“Yes Adam”

“But I don’t believe in punishment.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I believe in showing the right way” With that I grabbed her hair and started gently, but firmly pulling it down. Her face came up, and I started kissing her greedily. I kissed her mouth, her chin, her neck. Her breathing accelerated.

I let go of her hair and unclasped her bikini top. Her tits sprang free. Glorious, glorious tits. I pinched one of her nipples. Pretty hard.

“A little payback”

She gasped from the mixture of pleasure and pain.

She untied the string of my shorts and let my cock spring free. She wrapped her hand around its base and started stroking. I had a flashback to my dream. This was just like it, but a million times better.

She kneeled down and put my cock in her mouth. Pretty soon, she was giving me a deep, sloppy blowjob.

I needed more. I needed her. I pulled her up. I turned her around and bent her over one of the nearby rocks. Her hips and ass swayed in front of the cock glistening from her saliva. I grabbed her round ass and pushed myself inside her. Her pussy was soaking wet and my dick slid in and out with ease. I started to thrust into her. All the pent up anger and frustration over the trip, the breakup, about Jessica went into my pushes. I fucked her hard.

“Yes, yes, yes” - little screams of pleasure came out of her mouth

“Is this just like your dream?”

“Almost” I gasped between to panting breaths.

“What’s different?”

“In the dream I was fucking your ass”

“Oh, do you want to do that?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never really done it. “

She bent over a little further, put her hands on her butt cheeks, and spread them a little.

“Adam, I want you to fuck me in the ass”

I was stunned. What was happening?

I pulled my cock out of her pussy. It twitched and glistened from her juices. I hesitated. Veronica reached around and placed the tip of my cock on her anus.

“Come on! Take me just like in your dream!”

I pushed forward. My glistening tip, lubricated with her juices pushed past the initial resistance. I heard Veronica take in a sharp breath, as she adjusted to the new sensation. I started to slowly push into her. The sensation was phenomenal. I started moving back and forth. Feeling her tight muscles gripping my cock, hearing her heavy breaths, and seeing my dick disappear inside her caused a rush of arousal and excitement. I realized I would come very quickly like this.

“Veronica, I don’t know how long I’ll last like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. This one’s for you”

As if her words had unlocked something, I felt my orgasm build. A powerful wave of lust and excitement washed over me and triggered my dick to explode into Veronica’s ass. She felt the pulses of my orgasm, and pushed her butt back, taking my cock all the way in. There she stayed, just lightly swaying , until she felt that my penis stopped twitching.

I pulled my dick out, panting. She got up and turned around to me. Her hand on my cheek, she kissed me sensually.

“THAT was not a dream.”

———-

After we had calmed down and gotten dressed again, we went back to our table. The steward spotted us and asked if we wanted to drink anything.

Veronica smiled: “I’ll have a Sex on the Beach, please”

[mslanna]

You can Build Your House on My Hill

Chapter 13 of Be My Guest now up on AO3

Progress is being made on almost all fronts. Time to be soft.

Tav wakes alone in the huge four-poster bed. Disappointment seeps into their thoughts though they know devils don’t sleep. Raphael cannot waste that much time and the sheets and pillow smell of him still. They roll over taking in how every inch of their body feels sore and scraped. Their fingers trace the lines of bite marks on their skin with a sigh.

The table is still untouched. The flowers glow in the soft light and drop lush petals onto the polished wood. Two wine glasses stand untouched next to an open bottle. There are chocolates. There is candied fruit. Raphael indeed prepared a whole stage. And they blew it. And him. Later. Not as an apology.

The night unfolds slowly in Tav's memory and they have to jump off the bed and busy themself before it gets so bad, they run off to drag Raphael right back to bed. Or not. It seems that a bed was optional. Tav splashes cold water into their face.

Tav picks up the books. A novel in verse titled "Medora Out of Her Depth" and a collection of offensive limericks sorted by the number of places they are banned in. They lower the books and pop a chocolate into their mouth. It is delicious. It will go perfectly with the velvety red wine.

Well, today was certainly a day and all days end. Pocketing a handful of candied fruit, Tav steps into the throne room. It’s still empty, if you disregard a few eternal debtors already scrubbing and cleaning the spotless room. But the other doors stand open and they can see Raphael in his study with a devil and more of them gathered in the other rooms.

A day indeed with day activities for all involved. Tav makes their way towards the stairs and is almost run over by a fiend coming down. The devil sends them a scathing glance that skips on Tav's neck. Then she turns into the council room, disgust trailing behind. Arguing voices come from it, but Tav can't make out a single word.

Maybe using the shortcut to the library will be a life-saver once more fiends frequent the House of Hope. For a moment Tav wonders if it even is the House of Hope still, what with Hope gone. But the have no better idea for a name. House of a Single Braincell doesn't flow well and House of Abysmal Communication Skills doesn't fare much better. Also, there is Hope here. Tav hopes the war goes well. They hope to see the sun again soon.

Once Mephistopheles is removed from the equation, they can spend their days in the world again and their nights – well. Tav doesn't intend to leave again. As long as Raphael doesn't kick them out, which as all signs indicate, he will not, this can be a home. The thought draws an impossible grin of Tav's face.

It feels strange that so little has changed when it felt so big. Tav wanders off into the library to find something to busy themself with. Life as a trophy human is boring and they are determined to fill the empty parts.

And just like that a new normal establishes itself. The literary discussions suffer a steel decline for a couple of days until Raphael realises he can just seek out Tav whenever and request their presence for personal matters.

“You know,” Tav looks down at the very happy if rather exhausted devil, “if we spent half as much time talking at the beginning as we do fucking now, we could have started fucking a lot sooner.”

In reply, Raphael pulls them down into a lingering kiss. "Are you concerned about the pace in which we catch up?" His lips brush against theirs.

"Hm." Tav luxuriates in the devil's taste and proximity. It is never enough. The moment they part, the feeling of Raphael's hot skin against theirs is missing decidedly. Unfortunately, they cannot live glued to his side, much less naked. "I'll take what I can."

"That you do." He smiles knowingly.

"Pervert." Tav kisses him deeply. "Don't you have a war to run?"

"I do." Raphael cups his hands around Tav's shoulders. They are not a dainty human but in his arms they look small. Deliciously small. He pushes the memories down for later perusal and flips them over to pin Tav to the bed for a moment. The thought that he has his whole life to return and fuck the living daylight out of them is stunning. It is made all the sweeter by Tav's sheer reciprocal of his desires.

Raphael bends down for a last kiss. He can feel the smile of their lips against his. Ruling all hells with be sweet. Possessing all of Tav will make it even sweeter. He leaves them on the bed, rumpled and happy. The war won't wait and Tav is always there.

Tav watches their devil leave, a little heartbroken about the tension straightening out his tail and corseting his movements as he passes through the door.

What structures Tav’s time into days are their regular appointments with Haarlep and the literary dates with their devil. The latter tend to devolve into more physical skirmishes which is fine because now they always end mutually satisfactory.

And after sulking for a while, Haarlep does come around. It probably helps that Tav siphons some of the intruders to them.

"They need to have a little fun, too," they argue and can see Raphael go soft. It is too easy. Getting anything from the devil is too easy. He looks into their eyes and once his gaze strays down to their throat and up, Tav knows they won.

Alone in the library, they fumble on the skin. They forget how clearly the devil marks his territory. It is a testament to how utterly gone they are, that the bursts of pain when Raphael draws blood is firmly on the side of advantages of their situation. Tav’s fingertips run over the raised crust on their skin fondly.

Soon the devils frequenting the House of Hope get more and more careless around Tav. The census seems to be that if they are in a devil's home, they can look after themself. And know their place. Which is out of the way of a fiend.

Tav is torn between defending their space and getting out of the way to trampling entities that are bigger, stronger and heavier than them. Sometimes they wonder if Raphael knows or if they should tell him. But there is nothing they can hold up as proof that it is intentional harassment.

"Make a list," Haarlep suggests. "I'll help you." Malicious glee shines in their eyes.

"I can't keep them apart." Tav sighs.

"Have you even tried?" Haarlep chides. "You can keep me and Raphael apart just fine."

"Haarlep, my dear," Tav flops down on the bed beside them, "I cannot even keep humans apart. The moment Shadowheart dyed her hair white it was only the braids that told me if I was talking to her or Jaheira."

"A stunning weakness," the incubus purrs. "I will remember it fondly."

"You're welcome."

"You understand that this was my home long before you came?"

Tav turns to look at them with a smile. "And it will be long after I'm gone."

"Oh, certainly not. Either Raphael wins this war and I will be gone, or he looses this was and I will be gone."

"Not planning to stick around?" Tav can't keep the disappointment out of their tone completely.

"Whatever for? I was stuck long enough. And if you think I want to be a proxy for our cambion in one of his conquered hells? Hell no. I want to have some real fun again."

Tav doesn't ask what Haarlep considers real fun. Unbridled violence dances in their words and their eyes shine with malice. A true fiend. But then, everybody in this house is and they the sorry exception.

It makes them work harder on their studies while keeping even more quite about it. If they are just a plaything, some fancy accessory, Tav can bank on being underestimated. They don't enjoy becoming a little paranoid, but it seems wise.

Tav is so concentrated on conjugations that they notice Raphael only, when he stands right in front of them. "I need you to come with me," the devil says. "Back to the suite."

Blinking Tav closes the book and steps into the offered wing. It seems a little intimate considering how public they will walk, but they won't complain. Their hand finds his and this time, Raphael glances down with an indulgent smile. He ushers them down the stairs and into the throne room that is full of lingering devils.

He doesn't slow down until they reach the suite at its end. Raphael opens the door and guides Tav inside. "You may return through the secret passage as soon as you wish, but it is important you are known not to be in a public space."

"Why?"

"There are arch devils coming to bargain," Raphael explains. "I do not want them tempted by your person being around."

"So I am a bargaining chip now?" Tav quips.

"Always have been," the devil replies. "But I prefer if you try to bargain with me."

"On my bare knees?"

"Or any position you can think of." He allows himself another smile, this one suggestive. "I cannot tell how long this will take. But you have everything you need."

Tav glances at the table where food and carafes of water are waiting. Somehow ending up here and not getting ravaged feels wrong. They were looking forward to is when the devil collected them. "Won't be the same without you."

"All the more reason to stay invisible for now and not get abducted."

Tav sighs and rises to their toe to ghost a soft kiss over their devils lips. "For luck."

Raphael returns the favour a little longer with a lot more tongue. "For you."

When he leaves, Tav notices how the devil's tail stops moving freely as soon as the door opens. Poor sod. And also, poor them.