#i see you’ve copied my beard

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅?

been watching criminal minds lately and this guy does things to me😩

summary - you think your boss hates you but maybe it’s something else…

warning - slight sexual innuendos/tension, feeling hated, mentions of slight violence.

18+ only please, the gif and divider I use isn’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You thought he hated you and you didn’t have a clue why. Whenever you entered the room, he always seemed to grow angry. Did he question your position on the team?

You walked into the BAU, coffee in hand and a tired expression on your face. You couldn’t count how many times your boss kept you up, the thoughts and conclusions about him nagged you throughout your day and night. You had dreams that he kept you up in other fun ways but the universe wasn’t with you on this.

“L/N.” You blink, zoning back in as you nearly bump into someone. Your gaze moves up, feeling your insides twist at the sight of that damned beard. “Is it that hard to watch where you are going? Or are you planning to knock everyone down as you go?”

You cleared your throat, clutching your coffee tighter. “No sir. I wasn’t paying attention, it won’t happen again.”

His glare somehow hardens, you couldn’t help but wonder how one man could make you feel so small when you’ve built yourself up to never feel small again. “It better not. We don’t need an agent to be zoning out when we are out in the field.”

Before you can respond, he turns and heads up to his office. You stare ahead, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

“You alright, Y/n?” You hum, seeing Derek standing in front of you.

“Yeah,” You nod. “Just can’t wait to get this day over with.” You sigh, shaking your head and walk with him.

You let out a breath, the case had finally been solved and you guys caught the killer. You groaned as you relaxed into the jet, your muscles screaming to be stretched and massaged, your eyes fighting to stay open but you didn’t want to let your guard down even with your team. Especially not when Hotch sat across from you, his eyes never seeming to leave your form.

You didn’t even let out a sigh of relief when the plane landed, you were so tired and you still had paperwork to do when you got back. With a groan, you followed everyone else, the one man that keeps you anxious making sure to stay behind you even though he had every chance to go before you. Your eyes rolled when you notice everyone else leave in one car, leaving you and Hotch to drive together.

You hop into the passenger seat, resting your head against the glass. Unable to relax with the strange tension in the air, your eyes moved as you watched the scenery pass by before the car finally came to a stop. Just as you’re about to get out, Hotch speaks.

“Agent. What you did was reckless.”

Your brows furrow, wondering what you had done? The unsub had tackled you? Or did you miss something?

“Coming to work exhausted and unfocused is not what is expected when you work on my team. You put your life and the team’s life at risk.”

You turn, a frown and glare on your face. “Are you serious, Hotch?” You shake your head, hand grabbing the door handle and letting the door swing open as you stepped out. Without another word, you slam the door behind you, sick and tired of being hated for no reason.

You gasp as you’re suddenly pulled back and pressed against the car, eyes immediately connecting with Hotch’s as he looms over you. His eyes dark, mouth set into a frown. His hand slowly moves to your throat, resting it there. “You didn’t let me finish.” Your thighs press together as you try to swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “I can’t be distracted with making sure you’re okay while we’re out in the field.”

You blink, trying to clear your mind as your brows furrow. “….What?”

Were you wrong this whole time?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[bitchface24-7]

I love the name combos- We got Honey and Sugar PLUS Sugar and Spice! My FBI agent has to know about my growing hunky Latino men addiction. My tiktok is feeding me Jayce content with “Beso Al Aire” and it's making my latina heart do fucking backflips.

Do you think we could get a DILF!Jayce with a reader who takes care of his kid and homelife while he's working. They know he’s a busy man so they guarantee him that his kid tucked in sound asleep, the house is clean, and a warm plate of food is waiting for him.

I so desperately need to talk to someone to feed my growing Jayce obsession.

DADDY’S HOME - JAYCE X READER

synopsis: you're the babysitter to a incredibly cute little girl, Isabella. Her dad unfortunately has a very busy job and is constantly out of the house (against his will, of course) so you take care of her for him. You take care of him too. Who wouldn’t want to care for Jayce Talis?

warnings: age gap (early 40’s Jayce, mid-20s reader), oc daughter, teasing, flirting, risky sex (like hello there's a kid in the house), quiet sex

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. Older dilf Jayce save me. Please older dilf Jayce 🙏🙏

Isabella Talis is the cutest little girl you've ever seen. She's damn near a carbon-copy of her dad. Big brown eyes, bouncy black hair, sun-kissed skin, and big 'ol dimples when she smiles.

You've been babysitting her for a while now, about a decade now. You got the job when you were fifteen, now you're twenty-five. You started babysitting Bella when she was three, now she's thirteen. Honestly, she makes you feel old.

Especially since so many people assume you're her parent.

Going grocery shopping with her, going out to eat, having girl's days together, going to school events and celebrations; you can see where people are coming from.

Especially since Bella listens to you without hesitation. She only calls you by your name or nickname, but that doesn't matter. You're her parent in all the ways that matter.

Isabella's mom wasn't ready. She didn't want to be a mom, you can't blame her. Jayce was in his late-twenties to early thirties when Bella was born, her mom was a few years younger than Jayce. So Jayce became her single-dad with Grandma Ximena helping care of her.

So, you’ve gotten quite used to caring for young Isabella Talis.

You’ve also gotten used to caring for her dad, Jayce Talis.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce Talis is a very well known man. A co-creator of Hextech, a councillor of Piltover, constantly working. Poor thing is exhausted.

So you ensure he’s taken care of.

You clean the house, you make hot meals for him, you even meal prep for him.

He can’t tell you how grateful he is for that.

But he shows it in his actions.

He ensures you’re also cared for, he pays you well for your work (even though you try to deny it every time. He insists), he gets you gifts that you’ll appreciate for life, he’s even physically affectionate.

Sometimes you think it’s wrong, but you don’t care.

A kiss to your cheek, your neck, his beard tickling your skin, his hands on your waist, your hips, long loving hugs. Hands playing with your hair, hands massaging your neck.

God, you feel like you’re in the foreplay section of a porn video.

“Babysitter gets ruined by Older Hot Boss. 35:12”

You’ve always found Jayce attractive, you obviously didn’t act on it since you were underage. It was wrong, taboo. Now, you’re an adult.

Having your fantasies isn’t wrong, it isn’t against the law.

But you’re quite certain Jayce feels the same way. You remember the last time you were cooking for Jayce after he came home, Isabella already sleeping in her room.

You remember Jayce pining you essentially to the stove top as you stirred the boiling pasta. Kissing the nape of your neck as he slowly ground his hips into your ass. You felt how needy he was, and you let him continue.

Poor thing is pent up, and you did promise yourself you’d do anything to help him out.

It also helped it made you feel good too.

You two didn’t talk about it when eating dinner together, but your heated gazes said more than any words could.

Turns out the fantasies you’ve had since you were a student at the academy may actually come true.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You have to be quite. No if’s, ands, or buts. Isabella is sleeping just down the hall, and you don’t want to traumatize her having her hear you two have sex.

So you cover your mouth desperately as Jayce pounds into you. Thank god the bed doesn’t squeak.

The two of you angle yourselves so your skin doesn’t slap together. You don’t want her to hear anything. You know how awkward and traumatic it is to hear your parents have sex and you don’t want Bella to go through that.

But damn does Jayce fuck like a sex god.

His salt and pepper hair falling into his face, his mouth curled into a sneer as he holds back his moans, his hips punishing.

Your eyes water at the overwhelming pleasure. You rip your hand away from your mouth and desperately kiss Jayce. His hips stutter a bit before picking up speed, the two of you whining into each other’s mouth.

A desperate grip causes Jayce’s back to get red lines. The cuts lightly bleeding as you cum around his cock. The fluttering of your hole cause Jayce’s eyes to roll the back of his head as he cums inside you.

The two of you pant as you kiss, Jayce essentially falling on top of you. You grunt due to the weight but don’t complain, he’s the perfect weighted blanket. You caress his face, his beard surprisingly soft.

“We probably shouldn’t have done that.” Jayce states quietly, your hand pauses for a moment, “Probably. But I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I. Stay the night? I don’t feel comfortable having you leave so late at night.”

You smile sweetly at Jayce, he’s always cared for you the entire time he’s known you. What a sweetheart.

“Of course.”

Jayce smiles, the crows feet near his eyes deepening as his pearly whites beam at you, the little gap between his front teeth make you want to coo, “Isabella is gonna freak out knowing you slept over and it wasn’t with her for once.”

You lightly laugh as you slap Jayce’s back, he laughs too.

“You’re such a shit disturber.”

“You have no proof.”

Yeah… your fifteen year old self would be screaming and fainting right about now. Your inner teen is immensely satisfied.

As are you as a twenty-five year old.

Dilf Jayce 😩😩 he 100% gives girl dad

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Paradigm Shift 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you get transferred to a new position but it's hardly a breath of fresh air. (plus!reader)

Characters: Loki, Bucky Barnes, this reader is known as Billie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“So, I’m sending you over to logistics,” Mr. Odinson nearly knocks over your pen cup as he sits on the corner of your desk. He gargantuan figure makes you fear for the integrity of the furniture beneath him. “I trust you can keep things tidy there.” 

You want to ask why you but don’t dare. Thor can be pleasant enough. Personable, friendly even, but you’ve also heard how his voice turns to thunder when he’s angry. You’re not shy of the stories either. Wandering eyes and hands. You don’t think they’d ever find you but you’d rather steer clear of the risk. 

“Logistics?” You wonder. 

“Mm, yes, my brother and his new partner,” he waves his hand dismissively, “they’re in need of a desk jockey to mind their dates. When I tell you how many meetings I’ve shown up to and met only an empty table.” 

“Uh, yes, sir, that sounds... bad,” you eke out. 

“Mm, yes,” his eyes flick up and down, “as it were, Fandral said you did rather well on his little task force so you will go down and sort them out. I would warn you but it better you find out for yourself. Perhaps those two will not be so difficult for one such as yourself, eh?” 

He taps the tip of your nose and you blink in surprise. You’ve witnessed it before. A bit too touchy for HR’s liking but they don’t do anything about it. After all, if you make money, then who cares how you behave? 

“When do I... start?” You ask. 

“Now,” he shrugs, “suppose sooner is better.” 

“Now?” You can’t help the shock in your voice and he narrows his eyes, “yes, sir. Um...” 

“There are boxes in the copier room, pack up your things, they should be expecting you... I think,” he stands and scratches his beards, “who’s to say if they read the email.” 

You’re hardly feeling good about this. He hasn’t said one thing that’s made you confident in your reassignment. You prefer the familiar and after two years, this is finally comfortable. Of course you’re the sacrifice they’ve chosen. Now you have start all over again. 

You get up as Odinson leaves and you head off to the copy room. You find an empty paper back and return to your desk. You put your pen cup inside, your ergonomic keyboard and mouse, the next person can put in a request, and you empty your single drawer into the bottom. You put your bag and coat on top and bid a wordless goodbye to your cubicle. No one else even seems to notice as you pack up your laptop. 

Logistics. You’re not even sure where that would be. You stick to your little corner of the company and keep your head down. 

You look it up in the office directory. A whole floor down. You get on the elevator and bob impatiently as you descend. You step off and march toward your fate. You slow as you pass between the desks of clacking keys and the smell of stale coffee. No one looks very happy. Even if they gossip terribly upstairs, at least they’re lively. 

No one looks up as you stroll by. Right. Where exactly do you go. You’re not seeing a free desk. You near a door with a placard on it. Laufeyson, Odinson’s brother. You glance over to the next door. Barnes, a newly acquired consultant. Alright. 

You knock on the first door and wait. And wait. And wait. You tap a little harder and hear shuffling from within. You step back as the door opens with a harsh swing inward. 

“What do you--” The tall main with his oily black locks stops himself mid-sentence and tilts his head, “and who are you?” 

Your eyes round. Does he not know? Your brows arch and nearly meet in the middle. You frown. 

“Your brother--” 

“Secretary,” another voice grits like gravel from behind you. “Remember?” 

You turn as the blue-eyed man blows across a mug and tastes his coffee. His hair hangs around his square jaw, a thicker set than the other man. You glance between him and Mr. Laufeyson, “secretary? Well, not exactly, your brother sent me for clerical--” 

“Secretary,” Laufeyson insists, “very well. Suppose it will ease the burden of tracking those mindless check-ins,” he makes a sarcastic quotation with his fingers, “as you will. Send a ticket to IT, have them add you to my calendar.” 

The door closes as swiftly as it opened and you stagger back. You look over at the other man as he approaches the next office and rests his grip on the handle, “My partner, Loki Laufeyson; Bucky Barnes,” He motions to himself with his cup, “send that ticket in and add my name.” 

“Yes, sir, but er, wait, I--” 

He just as quickly dismisses you with the open and close of his door. You stand dumbly in the hall and look around. What a warm welcome. You look down toward the bullpen of desks and further down the hall. So, where are you supposed to work? 

You pace up and down the short hallway. You find a closet full of old mice and keyboards, and the breakroom with its worn-out coffee maker and humming fridge. You can’t exactly work in either.  

You sigh and return to the hall. You plunk yourself down between the doors of your new bosses and open your laptop to balance on the box. You sit on your jacket and keep your purse against your thigh as you sit on your feet. You open up the support portal and file the ticket; first task done. You have to wait for access until you can do anything else since neither of them seem to want to explain very much. 

You shake your head. Why on earth did you think it couldn’t get worse? It surely feels like a demotion to be sat on the carpet with cardboard for a desk.

You wonder why you? You suppose you’re not interesting enough for Mr. Odinson to keep around. Still, he doesn’t need to punish you for not being his type. 

Well, so long as you’re paid, you’ll just have to make it work. 

[astheskycries]

Twisted Games- Meetings

Growing up with a hitman for a father, Andy Barber has never wanted to go near the mafia and used the money from the family to go to law school. When Steve Rogers offered him help after a hit on his family, he was more than happy to ensure no more unnecessary hits were made. As long as everyone is at arms’ length, he can keep them safe.

I want to take the time to give a MASSIVE shout out to @stargazingfangirl18 , who not only read this over for me but also has listened to me ramble and brainstorm over this AU and gave me amazing advice. This series wouldn't exist without her ❤️ I hope you all enjoy! If your name is not tagged it means I physically can't tag you, but I will be redoing my Tags soon so please keep an eye out for that!

Masterlist Buy Me a Coffee

The sun sparkles over the water of the Harbor, starting to set over the horizon as I review the documents for the umpteenth time. Though the hours are long, it’s been well worth the investment. Taking out money from a waitressing job was a huge risk, especially for someone who can’t afford college or a car that ran without being patchworked together, but somehow I turned a small business worked in the little time between jobs into a booming construction company, expanding into design and even buying out several companies in the greater Boston area.

“Ma’am? Your appointment is here.”

Speaking of.

I relax back a bit as I watch the lawyer slip inside, my assistant nodding once before shutting the door behind her. In other circumstances he would be a welcome distraction- short but soft brown hair styled up, a full beard with just the slight hints of grey, and the most beautiful baby blues I’ve ever seen. Tall and well-built, it’s no wonder Andy Barber has the reputation he does.

“Good Afternoon,” He greets smoothly, relaxing in his chair as he grabs his file folder. “I’m assuming you’ve reviewed everything?”

“Of course,” I lock the computer and move to my own paper copy, lazily opening it with a finger. “You’re nothing if not thorough, Mr. Barber.”

He hums, a slight smirk on his lips. “Well, it’s part of the job. Mr. Rogers wanted to make sure everything was covered.”

Yes. That.

“I saw that,” I flip through to a specific section, humming once. “Unfortunately, I’m still not interested in selling.”

Mr. Barber raises an eyebrow, watching me carefully. “Mr. Rogers has offered an unusually high payout for this company. If it’s stability you’re concerned about, he’s clearly stated money is no object.”

“It’s no object for me either, the answer is no.” I let the file close with a little smack, relaxing against my chair. “Will that be all?”

Mr. Barber shifts to lean closer, toying with a pen. “On a personal level, I think you may want to reconsider. Mr. Rogers has hired me for all of his business dealings; I know how he works. He’ll wait as long as it takes to acquire the company.”

I mirror his movements, leaning closer and crossing my hands on the desk. “I’ve done my own research, Mr. Barber. I’m fully confident that I will not be signing any deal that hands my company over to him.”

He makes a noise, putting away the file and slowly rising to his feet. “I’ll inform Mr. Rogers of your response. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again shortly.”

I hum, watching him until the door shuts before sagging against the chair with a breath, glancing over at the clock and seeing how late it is. I turn to look out at the skyline again, biting my lips as I let my mind wander.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow we can plan for the next one.

…

“I assume it didn’t go as planned?” Steve muses, pouring a glass of bourbon as he watches Andy pace the floor of his private office. Though the leader of the group, the blonde looks innocent, almost angelic with his bright blue eyes and clean shaven appearance. He's a walking Greek god, a perfect covering for the horns holding up the halo.

“She turned the offer down. Again.” Andy fumes loosening his tie as he continues to pace, flipping through the file for the hundredth time.

“Is this the third time? Or second?” Steve leans against his desk, eyebrows raised as he looks over his drink, downing it in one swig.

“Third offer. Second refusal- no one ever refuses your deals.” Andy turns, unamused by Steve’s expression. “I even warned her you wanted to continue negotiations. She said money wasn’t an object and sent me packing.” He sighs, accepting the new glass Steve offers. “I told her I’d let you know and be in touch.”

Steve smirks, hiding it behind another drink. “See if you can find what she wants, come up with an agreement. Take her to one of our best restaurants.” He lets his shoulders relax, taking a moment to observe how ruffled the lawyer is. “I have to admit, this is refreshing.”

“Fuck off,” Andy mutters, finishing the glass. “I’ll get to work tomorrow.”

Steve hums, taking a slow drink. “I mean it. I haven’t seen you this animated in a while.”

Andy hums, rolling the ice in his glass. “I can’t get a read on her. It’s frustrating, you know how long I've worked on our offers being airtight? We’re more than generous when we buy out.”

“Well, it’s good for you. Something different.” Steve takes his friends’ empty glass, setting them aside. “I trust you to handle it. I’m not sparing any expenses, this would give us control over the other side of town. More leverage.”

Andy nods, glancing at his watch. “I’ll make it happen.”

“Andy?” Steve waits for the man to pause and look back, hand still on the handle. “Take her to that high rise restaurant.”

“I’m not taking her on a date.” Andy swiftly leaves, leaving a new voice to laugh from their place lounged on the sofa.

“You’re setting up the hard ass?” Lloyd muses, smirking over his drink as his rings gently tap against the glass. His loafers are shining in the light as he crosses his ankles, thick mustache doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You really think this is a good idea?”

Steve hums, moving back to his seat. “You’re complaining?”

“Fuck no.” Lloyd grins, continuing to spin his knife in his fingers, enjoying the way it glints from the lamp light. “Just determines whether I plant those cameras in his office.”

“No.” Steve focuses on his computer. “But send him my black card. I’ll cover his ‘dinner’.”

Tags: @janeyboo @mylittlefandomfanfictions @palaiasaurus64 @averyrogers83 @guera31 @soulmates8 @coffeebooksandfandom @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @pegasusdragontiger @mizzzpink @onetwo3000 @see-you-again-my-sun-and-stars @sleepylunarwolf @wheresmyplums @smoothdogsgirl @marvelouslyme96 @esoltis280 @jtargaryen18 @k-evans-writes @rainbowkisses31 @buchanansebba @katiew1973 @patzammit @time-for-a-lullaby @openup-yourmind

Twisted Games: @hangmanscoming

[callalillywrites]

Surprising His Omega

This story was originally written for the Horny Hoes Hootenanny event hosted by yenzys-lucky-charm and sweater-daddiesdumbdork, but I took down the original alongside all my other works due to personal reasons. I'm slowly bringing stories back here and on AO3 after either edits/expansions being made to each.

This story was exactly what I wanted it to be minus a few edits, so it's coming back first.

Pairing: Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader (female)

Word Count: ~2200

Summary: You've been grumpy due to life, and your alpha has something special planned to get your back to your bubbly self.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics/verse; fluff; implied smut; not much else

Prompts used:

🍁 A: "Oh, come on, grump. It will be fun, I promise” B: "What do I get if it's not?" A: " What do you want?" 🍁 A/B/O 🍁 partner plans surprise event/night 🍁 autumn Getaway Extra Wheel Prompt: A Quickie

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

*****

It’s been a long month.

Between the heatwave that descended on your city and the trials and tribulations heaped on you at work, you’ve hit your limit. Your usual sunshine demeanor has taken one too many hits until all you want to do is grump and grumble. Maybe hide away until life decided to be kinder to you.

But that wasn’t possible.

Your alpha would never allow you to wallow. That wasn’t his style.

Sure, he’d let you rant and vent to your heart’s content when you needed it, but he never let you stay low for too long. He needed and loved your sunshine too much to see it dimmed or diminished due to life.

No, your Steve always came up with a plan to bring your bright smile back on your face. He liked that bounce in your step and the cute wiggles you did whenever you were truly happy.

So, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise when he leaned in the doorway of your shared apartment’s living room. His arms crossed over his broad chest while he regarded you for a moment before saying, “Get up, sweetheart. We’re going out.”

You glanced at the smile on his face and burrowed further into the blanket covering you.

“No thanks.”

“Oh, come on, my little grump.” He pushed off the wall and dropped next to you. His hands made quick work of removing the blanket from you and tossing it across the room. He ignored your glare as he pulled you into his lap and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You couldn’t help grumbling, “I’m not a grump.”

That earned you an eye roll and a huffed laugh.

“I could smell your grumpiness from the hallway, sweetheart. So, get up. I have a little surprise for you. I think you’ll really like it. At the very least, it’ll be fun. I promise.”

You did like his surprises.

Yet, you resisted, which really wasn’t like you. That told you more than anything that you needed whatever your adoring alpha had planned for you.

It didn’t stop you from asking, “What do I get if it’s not?”

“Hmm,” Steve pressed another kiss to your nose this time as he considered you. A chuckle slipped out when you wrinkled your nose because of his beard.

You had to fight not to squirm when he rubbed his beard down your cheek to your jaw, little kisses and nips tickling your skin. It grew worse when his lips and beard found your bond mark. On his way, he made sure you saw the playful twinkle in his gaze.

His teeth nibbled along his old marks. Shivers danced along every nerve and had you unable to sit still in his lap. No doubt by design with the way he kept doing it.

When you made to get away, he tightened his hold on you but finally relented.

You gave him your best reproachful look as you crankily mumbled, “You never answered my question.”

“I don’t need to because I know you’re going to love it.”

Your look turned withering at his teasing assuredness.

As much as you wanted to be mad at him for messing with your perfectly acceptable plans to sulk, you couldn’t. He was a good alpha who always did his best to make sure you never lacked for anything, especially his love and attention.

After another moment passed in quiet, Steve relented again. “Okay, okay, beautiful. What would you want?”

Well, you hadn’t expected him to actually answer your question with one of his own. That wasn’t his style, so you had to make sure your answer would be a good one. It needed to be something you actually wanted while also having the power to surprise your alpha. If you didn’t keep him on his toes, then what was the point?

While you continued to ponder how to answer, Steve kept himself distracted by moving one arm so he could trace patterns where your hoodie’s sleeve had hiked up. His lips resumed their earlier teasing with little nibbles and nuzzles against your neck until you couldn’t take it another moment.

Gripping handfuls of his hair, you tugged his head backward until he could no longer reach you with those sinful lips of his.

“If I don’t like whatever you have planned,” you tightened your hold in his hair to make sure you had his full attention while also pulling a groan from him, “then you owe me one of the best quickies wherever you’re taking me. Don’t care where you do it or how, but I want you to rock my world in the shortest amount of time possible.”

His eyes darkened with promise at your words, but you refused to give into that look.

You arched a brow at him. “Do we have a deal, Alpha?”

The way you emphasized his designation worked the way you hoped it would. Another groan escaped him, louder this time while his lustful eyes closed.

“That’s a dirty trick, and you know it,” he growled, his voice low and almost menacing in ways that had you shifting your position on his leg. His hands moved to your hips and held you still. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feel the evidence of your effect on him against your thigh.

If you felt a bit more daring, you might’ve teased Steve some more.

When he did open his eyes again, his lustful gaze met yours.

“Yes, ‘mega. We have a deal.”

He held you another moment before finally setting you on your feet and smacking you on the ass.

“Now, love, go and get dressed in something warm. You’re going to need it for the drive. I’ll handle everything else.”

You moved toward the bedroom but turned back. “Wait, how far are we going?”

“Uh-uh.” Steve shook a finger at her. “Not going to ruin my surprise, sweetheart. Now, go. It’d be nice to get there before it gets too late.”

The sun had gone down not long ago, but it went down earlier during these late Autumn days.

Within thirty minutes, you had changed into the warmest clothing you had within your summer wardrobe. It hadn’t been much which reminded you to dig out your winter clothes as soon as you could. The nights dictated warmer pajamas though the days still held a touch of warmth when the sun shone down on a cloudless, windless day.

Trading your cami and shorts for a longer sleeved shirt and some form-fitting jeans, you picked up the hoodie you temporarily removed and wiggled back into it.

Emerging from the bathroom, you spotted your overnight luggage sitting on the bed. Your brows rose as you took in the items Steve had chosen for you while including brand-new toiletries that he must’ve picked up on his way home.

You couldn’t help wondering how long he’d been planning this surprise.

The amount of clothing wasn’t much, which spoke of a shorter surprise, yet that didn’t mean much where your alpha was concerned. He’d once treated you to a week-long trip where he’d not only bought you new clothes for the week but almost everything else your heart desired. Steve loved to spoil you with the money he made, and you’re happy to return the favor in your own special way.

“Bout ready, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “Just need to grab my boots from the closet.”

“Already packed in the car. Came back to grab you and your bag.”

True to his word, he strode into the room, zipped up the zipper, and lifted the bag off the bed. While he had only one arm available, that didn’t stop him from swooping low and lifting you over his shoulder. As the world tilted, you could still make out the chuckle that left him at your shriek, wholly unprepared for his stunt.

To pay him back, you reached down and smacked his ass. Once for the one he’d given you earlier and another for not warning you before turning you upside down.

“Save it for our destination, love,” he murmured, another promise clear in his voice.

At the car, he carefully set you back on your feet before opening your door and helping you in. With you secured in the passenger seat, he closed your door, opened up the back door, and tossed your bag onto the seat in quick, efficient movements.

He surprised you when he got into the driver’s seat and reached behind your seat. In moments, he pulled out your favorite blanket and draped it across you, tucking you in. Though, he made sure to leave a space for his hand to creep under the cover and rest against your thigh after he started the engine.

The trip took you both out of the city and into the Catskills.

Soon enough, he pulled off the main road onto a private one until you came upon a modernly rustic cabin. Steps from the unpaved drive led to a wraparound porch and the large front door. The outside gave you a hint of the luxuries and open floor plan awaiting you inside. Small illuminated lanterns sat in the windows, giving the place an ethereal glow.

As Steve killed the engine, he turned toward you, asking, “So, sweetheart, do you like it? It’s ours for the weekend.”

“No, I don’t like it,” you shook your head but met his gaze while a smile emerged across your features, “I love it. And I love you.”

You leaned over the console and grabbed his cheeks in your hands. Tugging him close, you pressed kiss after kiss against his lips until you were both breathless.

Steve finally urged you out of the car and into the house, handing you the key to the front door. He would follow you after gathering your things from the car.

The earlier hints did little justice to what you found inside, wandering about the place. Your eyes couldn’t take it all in. You couldn’t help noticing how your surroundings were erasing the grumpiness that had weighed you down these past weeks.

When warm hands gripped your hips, you didn’t even startle. No, you melted into the solid chest at your back and let your alpha hold you for several precious moments.

“Happy?” he murmured in your ear.

You hummed your answer.

“That’s good, love,” he suddenly lifted you into his arms and carried you towards one of the doors down the hallway, “but I’m certain I can make you much happier in, say, five minutes. Is that too long for a good quickie?”

“But, I didn’t win our deal,” you spluttered though your thighs had already begun to rub together.

Steve merely grinned down at you. “Seems to me you did. I promised you’d like it. Love is not like, so I’ve got some making up to do. After your quickie is done, I’m going to make sure you’re properly fed, then I’m going to take my time tonight until you no longer remember your own name. How does that sound?”

“You can do whatever you want, Alpha. I’m at your command.”

Bonus scene:

Long after Steve had you forgetting your name, he had you spread across him. His hands ran up and down your back in soothing caresses while he pressed kisses to your hair every so often. Your heartbeat slowed to match his.

"What happened at work to have you at your grumpiest today, sweetheart?"

Heat suffused your cheeks as the memory came back. You did your best to hide your face in his neck. Maybe if you could distract him with a few strategic nuzzles and nips, then you could try to forget.

But he wouldn't be distracted.

Lifting your face up by your chin, he kept his sharp, knowing gaze on you until you broke, whispering, "I had to write a company-wide memo. In the span of three paragraphs, I couldn't type hope to apparently save my life."

That got you an eyebrow lift.

Knowing your alpha, he wouldn't let you get away without explaining further, so your cheeks heated more as you grumbled, "I kept typing hoe instead of hope. Happy now?"

Steve didn't say anything at first.

His brows rose though.

Then, his shoulders shook, and your head dropped back to hide your face in his neck. A groan slipped past your lips.

"Oh, sweetheart." His laughter escaped him then.

You grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, grousing, "It's not funny. Do you know what would've happened if my boss hadn't proofread it before it went out? I'm still embarrassed it happened at all."

Steve's hands came up in a surrendering gesture even as his laughter continued to escape in chuckles now and again.

"My poor 'mega, has your alpha not been taking good enough care of you?" His voice dropped to a husky timber that never failed to send a shiver of promise down your spine.

You glared at him though a smile did peek through. "My alpha takes very good care of me, but I wouldn't mind being reminded again how good that care is."

His scent thickened with his desire as he shifted until you were under him. His beard tickled your ear. "Your wish is my command, sweetheart."

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter four

summary: you and luca go to the ballet, bringing up a very important question: is this, and could it be, a date?

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this chapter is all about things left unsaid, the pining TM and yearning TM. shoutout to @arctvrvs who recommended onegin, as the ballet they go to see. thank you again for all the shares, reblogs, comments! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part three | masterlist | part five

You: I have your book. Devoured it over the weekend. 

Luca: Glad you liked it. 

You did like it?

You: No, I clearly hate-read it one weekend. 

I’m kidding. 

Of course I liked it!

Luca: You’re hilarious 🙄

You: I can return it to you later today. 

If you have a free minute. 

Luca: For you? Always. 

Come by the restaurant?

You: Done. See you later.

Text exchanges like this have become more and more regular between you and Luca and it makes you question why you’d ever been so hesitant to tell him about your ex husband in the first place. You know part of the answer: you’d been afraid – afraid of what he’d say, afraid it’d be too much for him, afraid it’d scare him away – and yet, your admission seems to have only brought you closer. 

Which is a fact that makes you feel incredibly seen and also scares the shit out of you. 

But, with Luca’s copy of A Work In Progress: A Journal tucked underneath your arm, you decide you’ll conquer one mountain at a time as you come in through the doors of the closed restaurant.

“Oi!” one of Luca’s pastry chefs, a burlier man with deep brown eyes and a beard that only facial hair enthusiasts could dream of hollers, in an attempt to grab Luca’s attention when you enter the pastry room. The man follows up his exclamation with something muttered in Danish – something that almost sounds like a cat call directed towards the head pastry chef. 

Hey, loverboy. Come get your girlfriend.

You and Luca lock eyes from across the room, and you watch as his face simultaneously lights up as he sees you, while glowering in his coworkers direction. Luca shouts a ‘shut it, mate’ in return before approaching you, 

“Did he just-?” you ask him, with a small laugh. 

“Call you my girlfriend? Yes,” Luca admits, a blush running across his cheeks as he looks down, embarrassedly. 

Brown-eyed-bearded-burly-chef exchanges glances with another chef, focused on weighing dough on a food scale, before asking you with an intrigued hint in his voice:

“You speak Danish?” 

“Barely,” you answer, an apologetic half smile on your face.

He exchanges a knowing look with the other pastry chef in response, then snickers, because he really is only trying to be a good wingman here. 

“I don’t know what the hold up is… but I see it,” he says in English this time, his Danish accent thick as he wags his finger towards the both of you, earning another glare from Luca. 

“Okay, let’s step outside,” Luca hurries, ushering you out of the kitchen and into the empty dining room with a hand on your upper back. 

Your laugh echoes in the barren dining room, since pastry prep starts so damn early in the morning, and the physical restaurant doesn’t open for service till evening. 

“Again, I’m terribly sorry about him,” Luca apologizes, a little more flustered than you expected him to be.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him with a warm smile. “If anything, you at least now know you’ve got a great wingman when you need one.”

You watch a brief flash of, well you’re not sure what, flash across Luca’s face as he wonders if that’s what you’re hoping for. Instead of overthinking it, wondering why you’d want his coworker to act as his wingman in the first place, he pushes it to the back of his mind, moving forward with what he’d planned on bringing up with you anyways. 

“Your book, sir,” you say, handing Luca his copy of the book. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” he grins.

“Yeah, thanks for lending it to me. Took me a few weekends to carve out the time but… once I started, I couldn’t put it down,” you inform him, gushing over the borrowed book.

“I have something for you,” Luca states, as he pulls out a white envelope from one of his apron pockets. “In return.”

“Awww. Don’t tell me you went through all this trouble to get me a bookmark and when I’ve already finished it,” you banter with him, playfully. 

“They’re not bookmarks,” he smirks, as he looks at you with those electrifyingly blue eyes. 

“Ah, tell me more,” you encourage him, curiously. 

“They’re tickets,” he answers, handing you the envelope. 

“Oh.”

Before you can wonder whether Luca went out of his way to purchase you tickets to the ballet, he continues with his explanation. 

“Yeah we’ve got this regular diner. Always entertaining, bringing in investors, board members, the likes... Turns out he’s the Artistic Director of The Royal Danish Ballet. Hooks us up with tickets all the time,” Luca says. 

“Couldn’t make it opening night so but what do you say… to a performance of Onegin Thursday night?” he continues.  “That is if you can – if you want – to take the night off.”

“With you?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your eyes. 

“Yeah, if you’d like,” Luca answers. “Figured I owed you after you purchased the Jazz Fest tickets.” Taking a more playful approach, almost as if he’s testing you as he adds: “Unless there’s something other bloke you wanna take instead of-.”

“No!” you protest, quick to correct him. “I mean, yes. I want to go. With you. Let me see what I can do scheduling wise.”

Was this a date? You wonder to yourself.

For whatever reason, this proposal feels much more like a date than anything else you’ve done with him so far. Bike rides to bakeries, walks through the park, even asking Luca to join you for Jazz Fest with tickets you purchased almost a year ago, still haven't felt this monumental. 

But a night at the ballet? 

A night of getting dressed up and taking off work to spend time with each other?

This feels much more like a date. 

And you might even be excited about the prospect of having one with him, with Luca specifically, something you haven’t felt for anyone in a long time. 

“Just let me know,” Luca says, coolly, followed by his oh-so-charming-crooked smile. 

By the time you take this… proposition – taking off a night at the restaurant for a maybe-a-date-with-Luca – Mathilde and Jesper are practically pushing you out of the restaurant swearing that if you don’t go, they’ll write you out of the business partnership, and that Mathilde is more than happy to run the kitchen all by herself that night. 

While you appreciate the support, it feels like it add pressure – expectations, really – to Thursday night.

You push the thought from your head, choosing to charge forward despite your nerves, before sending Luca your official yes via text message. 

So… what does one wear to the ballet?

-------------------------------

You settle on a silky white slip dress with thin straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a slit in the skirt that travels up the leg in a way that’s revealing yet still appropriate. You’ve draped a blazer across your shoulders because you can’t be bothered to properly put it on during the warmest month of the year but you know you’ll want it when you’re inside of the Opera House. You slip on a black kitten heel to match your bag, then pull your hair back into a loose ponytail, allowing the stray pieces of hair that fall out of it to frame your face. 

It’s not until Luca shows up at your flat with a text that he’s here, do you make your way outside. Your head is buried in your bag, taking a last minute inventory, ensuring you have what you need for the night: phone, keys, ID, extra lip gloss… 

“Hi,” he says on an exhale, as soon as he sees you. 

There’s something in his voice that sounds different, you note, as you lift your head to look at him. 

Holy. Shit… 

Fuck me, you think to yourself, as soon as you see him. He’s dressed in black slacks with a blazer to match, layered over a white button down worn without a tie, and pristine white trainers that you can’t help but notice. 

It’s classic – classy – with a little bit of swag from the trainers that feels… pleasantly unexpected. You look like one of those hip couples that decided to stick it to tradition and get married at the courthouse with a dope photoshoot instead. 

“Hi,” is all that comes out of your mouth, your eyes wide as the two of you stare each other down. 

Yeah, this really feels like a date now. 

“Hi,” he says in return before exhaling. “You look great.”

He’s grinning from ear to ear now, and the man cannot take his eyes off of you. 

“I-,” you start, as you gather your words, reminding yourself that you do in fact know the English language. As your words come back to you, you take a more playful approach instead, making up for lost wit as you say:

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Luca smirks, a twinkle in his eye that tells you he’s pretty damn enchanted by you right now. The two of you share a look – one that feels very not-friendly, emphasizing just how much more date-like this seems to be. 

“Shall we?” he asks you, offering out his arm for you to take. 

“Let’s,” you answer, taking it as he escorts you to the metro.

You and Luca look wildly out of place while waiting for the metro, then on the metro as you make your way to the Royal Danish Opera House in your dressier-than-normal apparel. You share small talk while you wait on the platform, ramblings over your day and then his while finding a place to sit, then nervous giggles and flirtatious stolen glances while seated next to each other on your journey. 

It’s nice to be reminded that you haven’t entirely forgotten how to flirt. 

From its shoreside location to its sparkling interior, the Royal Danish Opera House is awe inspiring. You take it all in as you and Luca settle into your seats and a comfortable quiet intimacy as you look over your programs, just before the show begins. 

Onegin, you come to find as the show begins, is a story of unrequited love, missed changes, and ‘too little, too late.’ Its relevance is not lost on you as you watch as the young country girl falls in love with the worldly Count. She is young, naive, a hopeless romantic, perhaps the character you would’ve related to when you were younger – before your marriage ended. A younger version of you might laugh at the fact that you somehow find yourself relating more to the Count. He’s cold, jaded, a pessimist even, only to be rejected when he realizes he missed his chance at love so many years ago. 

You steal a glance in Luca’s direction, his eyes fixed to the tragedy that plays out on the stage in front of you. 

He really is stunning, you think to yourself, as you carefully examine the near-perfect symmetry of his face, before returning your focus back to the performance. 

To say that you haven’t noticed the way Luca looks at you would be a lie. And you can’t help but notice how eager you’ve been lately to find any excuse to spend extra time with him too. 

But you can’t help wondering about just how ready you are – how and when you might know when you’ll be ready:

Ready to date. Ready to open yourself up to someone. Ready to fall in love again. 

Would you know when it was time? And was this a sign – meeting Luca – that it’s time for a new beginning now? 

But what if it weren’t? What if you weren’t ready now? Then what? 

It’s not like you’d expect for Luca to wait for you or anything, but the idea of a new beginning, of falling in love again, of possibly getting your heart broken again instills the kind of terror in you that shakes you to your very core. 

But what if this was your only chance? 

You can’t imagine Luca would be single for much longer – the fact that he even is now completely perplexes you – and you’re sure that he has an entire roster of women lining up, ready to take your place. Not that you feel like it’s your place now, though you’re not sure where he’d have the time to entertain an entire roster of women with how much time you’ve been spending together lately. 

You push the thoughts from your mind, trying your best to focus on the dancers, even though it’s the thing that’s got you pensive in the first place. 

And it’s almost as if, right on cue, the minute you turn your attention away from Luca, his eyes are on you, admiring the way that you marvel at the story unfolding in front of you. 

Luca smiles to himself, in pure disbelief that the same woman who brought him much needed inspiration could also be the same woman he’s begun to have feelings for. He finds you extraordinary: you’re funny, you’re incredibly talented, and you make his heart skip a beat every single time you walk into a room. He doesn’t know which deities to thank for meeting you, but he’s sure he must’ve done something right in a past life for it to bring you to him in this one. 

He’s glad you told him – about your ex husband, about the divorce – and while it’s filled in some blanks for him, it’s also brought up more questions. Questions like:

Were you even interested in dating? Were you ready to start dating because he couldn’t blame you if you weren’t? And if you were, would you be interested in dating him? 

These last few months of getting to know each other have been wonderful – and he’s thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you as friends – but Luca wants more. He wants to hold your hand while walking along the Nyhavn waterfront. He wants to press a kiss to your lips when you stop by the restaurant as he’s getting off shift, before heading into your own. He wants to wrap you up in his arms, curl his body around yours as you settle in with him on your shared couch after a long night at the restaurant, going on about your new special, or your recently hired line-cook-in-training.

Luca wants to call you his, and he wants nothing more than for you to call him yours. He yearns for the quiet domesticity he thinks he could have with you – one he knows he could have with you. 

He doesn’t want to miss his chance. It’s why he asked you that question when you told him about your ex husband – are you still in love with him? – because Luca can’t bear the thought of falling in love with a woman already in love with another man. 

He replays the answer in his head – no, I’m not in love with him – almost as if he’s reassuring himself.

Luca knows what he needs to do. He just needs to talk to you and tonight feels like as good of a time as any to do so, considering you’re practically on a date. Luca makes up his mind about it – that he’ll bring it up after the performance, maybe even ask you on a proper date. 

As the performance ends, the two of you applaud with the rest of the theatre before exiting the performance space. You and Luca linger outside of the theatre, watching the other patrons walk by, arrange rides for themselves, head out for a night cap. He’s working up the nerve to bring up the conversation, watching your lips carefully as you go on about the performance, a brilliance in your eyes that he notices you get whenever you talk about something you’re passionate about. 

You’re in the middle of dissecting the end of Act Two as he Luca abruptly blurts out:

“You hungry?”

You pause as your mouth hangs agape, noticing that’s something different, that’s something’s shifted between the two of you. 

“Uh… no. Don’t you have to be up early tomorrow?” you ask back, hesitantly. 

“Ehm. Yes, I do. But eh, I don’t know. I’d ehm, I’d be up for a bite. If you are,” Luca manages to explain because he’s not ready for the night to end. 

You can feel it – the tension between the two of you hangs thickly in the air – and you know this isn’t just a ‘let’s go out for a bite’ kind of ask. 

You wondered how you’d feel when this moment came, and instead of being ecstatic, instead of wanting to jump at the chance, the panic sets in, filling your belly with the urge to jump into harbour instead. 

You wish you felt differently – you want to feel differently – but you don’t. 

So instead, you stammer out a:

“I think I’m just ready to head home, but you should go. If you want to. I think I’m just going to walk home or-.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take you home,” Luca offers. 

You hesitate before agreeing, “Uh… yeah. Okay. As long as you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Luca says as he places a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you in the direction of home. “I’d rather know you got home safe.”

You nod, instantly filled with guilt as Luca’s demeanor changes, his facial expression moving from somewhat-confused-and-disappointed to one of concern, kindness, and genuine care. 

What the hell is wrong with you? You think to yourself. 

But you know you can’t push it – you can’t push yourself to be ready,  to open up – regardless of how perfect Luca is. 

As Luca walks you home, there’s a palpable shift in the dynamic between the two of you. He seems cautious, almost as if he’s tiptoeing around you, uncertain about where the two of you stand. And truthfully, he is uncertain. He’s worried that he scared you off, if he came on too strong, if his ask changes something between the two of you. Luca realizes tonight is perhaps not the night, but he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to wait – be able to keep the way he feels about you to himself. 

“Thank you… for walking me home,” you say, as you arrive at the door to your apartment building. 

“‘S no problem. Had to get you back to your flat safely,” Luca reassures you with a smile on his face. 

You stand across from him, mere inches away. You could do it – close the gap between the two of you because you really do feel like an asshole for earlier – but it feels like something’s stopping you. You wait too long, letting your impulse move too thoroughly through your body, until it’s too late and the impulse is gone. 

You’re at an impasse: Luca opens his mouth to say something before pausing and you’re not sure what to say either, the two of you standing across from one another, frozen in a moment in time. 

Instead of speaking, he simply steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace as he inhales. 

It feels too good. 

This feels too good: the way he smells, the way it feels to be pressed up against him, his hands running smooth patterns across your back. 

“Luca,” you begin as you pull away from the hug, your eyes locked with his. 

He waits, but as you open your mouth to say something else, nothing comes out. 

You’re not sure if it’s a look of disappointment, regret, or something else that flashes across his face, before he gives you a half smile. Luca takes a few steps backwards, almost as if he needs to create space between you and him, his voice a low deep rumble as he says:

“Goodnight, love.”

-------------------------------

a/n: and now we're getting somewhere. i PROMISE we are getting somewhere. just wait ;)

[ladymunson]

Mile High 18+

Fic summary: You Spot the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in the business class lounge at the airport and then he happens to be on the same flight as you. Things are about to get very interesting.

A/N: This is a short one shot Drabble, there will be no additional parts. No use of y/n. No minors, shoo!

Warnings: strangers to lovers, SMUT 18+, mutual public masturbation, public nudity, airplane bathroom, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) cream pie.

Word count: 1244

I do NOT give permission for my work to be copied, translated or posted to any other platform.

Support content creators by hitting that reblog tab.

You arrive at Boston Logan airport an hour earlier than you need to, and spend time in the lounge after checking in. It’s mid evening so they offer you a glass of wine, business class sure has its perks. You take a seat at the bar and sip on your wine as people come in and out of the lounge. While waiting for your flight to be called, something catches your eye. He enters the lounge and stops, standing over by the door, his expensive suit opening up as he stretches revealing his tight and broad shoulders. He’s fucking gorgeous! And possibly the sexiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. His beard full and luscious, his eyes a sparkling blue matching his tie.

He looks around the lounge and stops when he sees you. The top button of your white blouse is open, he catches a glimpse of cleavage, his eyes widen as he continues staring at you.

Your black skirt was short enough to reveal your thighs and he looks at your legs, the black stilettos on your feet... Hunger in his eyes. You both eye fuck each other across the lounge, he keeps his distance and doesn’t approach, at which you quickly glance down at his left hand that is holding a briefcase. He’s not wearing a wedding ring.

The flight is called so you pick up your handbag and head towards the door, brushing past him. Making sure there was a little contact. You can feel the electricity as you touched, had he felt it too? Doesn't matter you think to yourself, because you won't see him again.

You board the plane, the flight attendant pointing you the the right direction. After settling in your seat, you feel someone was standing next to you, you think it might be the flight attendant. But it isn’t... It’s him.

He smiles at you, and you return his smile.

The flight attendants go through the preflight routine which you’ve seen many times before, so you concentrate on the book you’re reading.

As the plane takes off, the rumbling of the engines starts to turn me on. A dampness in you underwear causing you to shift. You haven’t realised, but you’ve been caressing your collarbone and the contours of your breasts (you do that sometimes when you’re thinking about sex). But he’s noticed and been staring at you.

He looks a little uncomfortable; you look around to see if you can figure out why.

Then you see it...

The hard on he had been trying to conceal with his copy of 'The Boston Herald’.

You look him in the eye, and smile. A boldness building within you, so you kick off your shoes and rearrange yourself into a more comfortable position with your legs crossed. So, he can see your black lacy French panties. You pull the gusset of them side to side gently, enjoying the friction against your pussy.

His hand disappears underneath the paper and you hear the sound of a zipper.

He was stroking himself under there, and you couldn't see.

You pull your panties to one side...

For a few seconds you just let him look at your Pussy, wet and pulsing, aching for his touch but having to make do with your own.

You begin to rub your clit, gently at first but soon that wasn't enough. You raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

He lifts up the paper to show you his cock, it’s large and thick and looks like it could give you immense pleasure. His hand works up and down on his shaft, as you work mine on your Pussy. Doing this in such a public setting is so naughty but so exciting, it’s heightening the pleasure you’re feeling.

You’re seconds away from coming; he must've sensed it cos he snatches you hand away and transfers it to his cock...

When your fingers close around his warm skin, you hear him moan.

Then he throws your hand away, zips himself up, and moves out of the chair.

Why?

Disappointment must've shown on your face because he winks and nods towards the lavatory door.

You can’t follow straight away; you don’t even bother to put your shoes on when you get out of your seat and walk down the gangway towards the lavatory.

You knock lightly on the door, the door folds to one side and a strong arm pulls you in...

He’s got his pants down round his ankles, his beautiful dick standing to attention before you.

He pulls you close and kisses you, urgent and probing around in your mouth.

He sits down on the lavatory seat and pulls you towards him; he rolls your panties over your hips, and you step out of them.

You part your legs so they are either side of his lap and lift your skirt so he can see how wet you are....

You lower yourself down onto his cock, letting the head rest against your dripping cunt for a moment. You had meant to hover, teasing him but you can’t. You desperately need him inside you.

You lower yourself down, letting his cock prise open your wetness and penetrate you. Filling you up, giving you what you need.

You lift yourself and begin to pound your Pussy onto his cock, hard and fast.

He bites your hard swollen nipples through your blouse, which sends thrills through you...

One hand on the mirror steadying yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. Your other hand on his shoulder.

You kiss again. His hands on your hips, guiding you up and down, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead.

He starts rubbing your clit making you moan, you started squeezing your cunt around his cock, making him groan as he starts to shake...

You can feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, and from the look on his face he isn’t far off either.

"The plane will begin its descent in ten minutes, please return to your seats" came over the tannoy. It was now or never, you grind your pussy down hard onto him, his pubic hair tickling your clit and triggering your orgasm..

You come hard; the contractions of your cunt sets off his climax. You come together, his cock filling your pussy with hot white cum. He lets out a long moan, your head buried in his shoulder, muffling your screams of pleasure.

You take a moment to catch your breath before you stand up and he helps clean you up and rearrange your skirt down, gives you a quick kiss and shoves you out of the bathroom into the corridor.

Walking in a straight line after such an intense orgasm is a challenge but you manage to get back to your seat. By the time you check your make-up and straightened your blouse he was back in the seat next to you.

When you disembark the plane, he walks straight past you and gets into a car that’s waiting for him.

'There he goes' you think 'The best fuck of my life.'

You smooth your skirt down and stop, feeling something, so you reach into the pocket of your skirt and pull out a business card, Andrew Barber; Assistant District Attorney. His cell phone number is written on the back, along with the hotel he was staying at and room number.

'I know what I'm doing tonight' you think to yourself smiling.

THE END

Tags: @cevansbaby-dove @patzammit

[johnbrand]

Smoking Pays

With @aismoker

What? Can’t you see I’m in a rush?

Oh so you heard about the promotion. Yeah it was no surprise really, anyone could have predicted it.

Sure I have only been here for a year, but I came in with the qualities the boss was looking for. 

Honestly, I am a bit embarrassed for you. You’ve been around since what, when the company started? And after all that time you’re still some boring office drone, while I am quickly ascending the ranks.

What’s my secret? No, I didn't bribe the boss to get this position. And before you say it, I didn’t blackmail him either. I just did my research beforehand, I figured out what would help me and the boss click on a more personal level.

Smoking obviously. Speaking of which, you’ve held me up long enough that I have to light up another one. Yeah, this is my third this morning , and I’ll probably chain my way through a pack tonight. I'll likely have some coughing ahead but there’s no better way to subdue the hacking with many more reds. 

How long have I been smoking? Hmm...I guess a little over a year. When I applied for this company I picked it up, thinking it would give my resume that extra push. And boy was I right! When the boss first met me and noticed my carefully placed pack of Marlboros, he ushered me directly to HR for an immediate hire. Said I was “the type of man the office needs.” And now look at me, making six figures and not even 30!

I don’t know what smear campaign you are referring to, but I have not made any sacrifices since I picked up smoking. In fact, I would say I have only benefited from it. The smoking areas in the office are full of real men, dedicated to becoming the best version of themselves. I’m talking mentally and physically, sculpting their minds into commanding personas and their bodies into perfect shape. It was inspiring, and once you get used to all the smoke, the cravings ignite you even further.

I mean look at me. I’m in the best shape I have been in in my life. Super athletic and toned, eventually the muscle will start piling on. My voice is already lower and grittier than it was a year ago, demanding an actual presence. And sure, my hair is thinning but bald men are the true alphas! Once I’ve gone full cueball like the boss, that’s when I’ll start growing out my beard.

And as I continue this transformation, allowing smoking to shape and define me, the higher-ups will notice. The boss will notice. They may not directly see it, but subconsciously it will register. Who better to take his place than him, or at least, a copy of him? In this day and age, smoking is associated with masculinity and success.

You think I’m joking? Look at the people passing us right now. They aren’t looking at two businessmen having a conversation on the sidewalk. No, they are checking out the successful, suited stud with the Marlboro at his lips. Their eyes are gleaming with awe and wonder at the man radiating achievement and supremacy. And their minds simply disregard you, erase your existence through nicotine-fueled admiration and lust.

Look, I really gotta go. I cannot be late to my first meeting as a project lead. I’m working on that new defamation push against vaping. Our main tagline is that vaping shrinks penises. Is it even true? Well I can’t say that, but I can tell you something: smoking certainly does the opposite. Heheh…that was an improvement I had not expected to happen. So technically, it's not false as long as we compare the two.

Alright, seriously, I’ll talk to you later. Or probably not honestly, unless you decide to be a real man and do something with your life. Here, I’m about halfway through this Marlboro, so you can finish it off and I’ll light up a new one for the rest of my walk. Smoking pays, man, smoking pays.

[johnwickb1tsch]

18 👀 I’m curious to see if there’s any scenes that didn’t make the cut in one of your fics?

Oh man, that's a good question Scoob! Usually I manage to jimmy things i write in SOMEWHERE, but this is the only scene I could think of in my scrap pile that I'm absolutely sure I'm going a different direction after banging my head on the table about it. This was fun but way too tame for what the story requires. It's from the Constantine x femVampire!Reader fic. Reader is feeling sorry for herself because Constantine is ghosting her AGAIN, when she meets a mysterious stranger... I know you can guess who it is. 🤣🤣

The Girl Next Door - Deleted Scene

You do your best not to think about John Constantine–and fail at it most of the time. You find that the blood of evil doers nourishes your body, but does not really satisfy. What you really crave, like the most filling meal, and the most delectable dessert, is a 6’1” drink of sardonic demon hunter.

You do wonder why. Things had seemed fine, when you parted ways just before dawn. He’d kissed you with a tenderness that tied up your heart, his big hand dwarfing the side of your face, holding you like you were something precious to him. 

The memory just twists the knife a little more to the left. 

You continue to feel that presence, that omnipresent seething energy, that sensation that you are being watched. But it never shows itself, so you do your best to be vigilant, and continue to go about your business. 

You are delighted one night when you find a bookstore/cafe open late. Shopping has become hit or miss, with your new nocturnal hours. You can order things, of course, but it’s certainly not the same. 

The old hippy at the register offers you a smile before going back to his dog eared copy of Invalids Home From Hot Climates. The place smells like coffee, and books, and you feel like you might have stumbled through the gates of your own personal little heaven. 

Aren’t you supposed to burst into flames or something?

Thinking that maybe catching up on your reading will help get you out of your funk, you start to wander the stacks, pulling titles that interest you. Classics you’ve always meant to read, but never really had the time. Sylvia Plath, D.H. Lawrence, Virginia Woolf and John Steinbeck, James Joyce, Octavia Butler, Margaret Atwood, Herman Melville, and Agatha Christie all pile up in your hands. 

On the highest shelf, Anais Nin catches your eye. You reach for it on tiptoe fruitlessly, balancing your stack of books in your other hand. It is way over your head. You could jump for it without spilling your bookish burden–but you know it would not look human to the few other people milling around the shelves and curled up in the comfy reading nooks. 

A long arm reaches over you, plucking out the book, and only then are you aware of a solid presence looming behind you. No one has managed to sneak up on you like this since the night of your undeath. Unnerved, you whirl, putting your back to the stacks. Only narrowly do you manage not to bare your fangs like a startled kitten in this public venue. 

You find a tall man dressed all in black standing very close to you, his arm still raised with the book dwarfed in his big hand. His angular face is accented by a short beard; longish raven hair brushes his collar. Dark eyes fix on you curiously; the weight of his gaze almost makes you squirm. “Saw you struggling,” he explains simply in a deep baritone, offering you the cloth-bound tome. 

You find you cannot look away from those bewitching dark eyes, almost as though you’ve been hypnotized. It’s more than the fact that he is panty-drenchingly handsome–there is something mesmerizing about him, and you’re not sure if his power is sinister or simply…profound.

Almost absently, you accept the book, adding it to your stack balanced in your hand. 

He looks at your copious selections with a smirk. “Someone’s been eating her wheaties.” 

You realize it probably does look odd, for a woman of your size to be toting around such a load one-handed. You make a show of clutching your stack to your front with both hands, feeling ridiculously shy as a school-girl, as though the barrier of old books might provide some protection from this stranger’s charm. 

 “Just…catching up on some reading.” 

He offers the slightest smile for that, not showing teeth, and you cannot tell if he is flirting with you, or sizing you up. There is something odd about his energy. Human, and yet…heavier. His aura is like a thundercloud, and you’re not sure if you are intrigued, or afraid. He’s just this side of being in your space, and a part of you wants to ask him to back up–a part of you really doesn’t.  

“Have some time on your hands?”

“Something like that.” 

He nods, and makes no indication that he intends to move, his attention fixed fully down upon you. 

He gets the honor of being the only man, aside from John Constantine, who has made you feel even a little nervous since you turned. You’re not sure you like him very much for it. 

“What did you find?” you ask, hoping to break the tension, pointing at a little green book in his other hand. It looks old, older than any of your selections. 

“Robinson Crusoe.” 

“Looks like it's seen better days,” you observe with a sad pout, sorry to see a book in disrepair. 

“I’m going to fix it,” he tells you, the first hint of warmth entering his expression. 

“Oh?”

“It’s a hobby of mine.”

Like this man couldn’t get any hotter. 

He smirks at you, like you said it aloud. 

For some stupid reason, you start to blush. 

“Can I…buy you a coffee?”

“Why?” you blurt, mortified the moment it leaves your mouth. 

His smirk widens to a smile, and he seems to struggle with himself, trying not to show his teeth. 

“Just thought you have a nice stack,” he answers utterly deadpan, and you are dumbfounded as those eyes that seemed like black holes moments before sparkle. 

“Um…thanks for the offer…” 

He takes a step closer, and then he is crowding you against the shelf, his broad body dwarfing yours. Something about his presence makes you forget that you’re a vampire, and you could rip out his spine with your bare hands if you wanted to. He makes you feel small, and a little vulnerable, and fuck you if you don’t kind of like it. 

“You don’t drink coffee?” he fishes, and you feel like the two of you are speaking in code, but only he has the key. 

“It’s not my favorite,” you admit, resisting the urge to tack on anymore. 

“What do you like to drink?”

As though on cue, the spiced scent of his cologne and his skin makes its way to your nostrils; and beneath that, what you are sure would be a heady taste of his lifeblood. If you didn’t know any better…you would think he was baiting you with vampire pheromones, or something. The wave of longing that hits you is intense, and you have to close your eyes and lean back from him. You take a deep breath–which does not help. You feel like you’re paralyzed, and when you open your eyes you find he is leaning over you with an arm on the shelf again, nearly nose to nose with you. 

You try twice for your voice, and it will only come as a whisper. “Please don’t.”

Don’t what, you don’t even know, but something is weighing on you and you feel like you can’t move.

You flinch as he reaches up to touch you, the tips of his fingers resting on your throat, just above your surprisingly pounding pulse. His eyes settle on your mouth, before rising to meet yours, and you are both hopeful and terrified this strange, captivating man is going to kiss you. 

He speaks, though it doesn’t really break the spell. 

“Be seeing you, vampling.”  

With wide eyes and utter shock you watch him stride away from you–and my god, what a glorious view. Long powerful legs, and an utterly biteable rear end. There is a pause in which you presume he pays for his book, before the bell over the door chimes, and he exits onto the street.

You stand where he left you for a good half hour, re-learning how to command your limbs, and maybe, your brain. 

[cheynovak]

The Beach City Reunion

Summary: Follows up fanfiction 'Spikes' Y/N returns to the beach city grill after 5 years. Meeting Priestly who has been going through a break up with Tish.

Warning: none

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Likes/Share/Comments are appreciated.

Y/N hadn’t set foot in Beach City Grill in five years. The place looked mostly the same—faded posters of bands on the walls, the familiar hum of music in the background, and the faint smell of fries and grilled burgers wafting through the air. But as she walked in, scanning for any trace of the old Priestly, her eyes caught on someone who almost looked like him… but not quite.

He was wearing a plain blue button-down shirt, his once vibrant, spiked hair now a subdued shade of brown with a matching beard, smoothed down to an almost painfully ordinary style. She blinked, wondering if she was imagining things.

“Priestly?!” she called out, half-questioning, half in disbelief.

He turned, and when he saw her, his face lit up like a firework. Before she could react, he was around the counter, pulling her into a warm hug.

“Y/N!” he said, grinning. “Wow, look at you! You’ve… changed!” She laughed, pulling back to look at him. “Me? Look at you! W-what happened?”

They slipped into one of the booths, and for a moment, Y/N couldn’t stop staring. She missed the wild, bold Priestly she’d once adored, and this version of him looked like he’d been smothered in beige.

He gave her a sheepish look, glancing down at his shirt. “Tish happened. She, uh, liked me better like this. Thought I should look ‘respectable’—whatever that means. I guess she thought I was only worth dating if I, well, dressed ‘normal.’ So I tried it for her, figured it was worth it if it made her happy.”

Y/N listened quietly, seeing a flicker of embarrassment and something else—something lost—in his eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “we broke things off a couple of months ago. She said I’d come back ‘begging for another chance,’ but… I don’t think that’s gonna happen. I realized I just don’t know who I am anymore. Lost myself somewhere along the way.”

She nodded, giving him a small, understanding smile. “Sometimes, you think someone’s worth changing for. But if it means you stop being you…” She trailed off, knowing he’d get it.

Priestly chuckled, a hint of his old spark showing through. “Yeah, funny to hear that coming from you."

She grinned, and he noticed a faint edge of her old punk style still shining through—rings on her fingers, a subtle black eyeliner that gave her an edge, But the spiked choker was gone and changed for a leather jacket.

“So,” he said, leaning in with a warm smile, “what about you? How’s life been since you flew the coop?”

She shrugged, feeling a mix of nostalgia and excitement bubble up. “A lot’s changed. I went to college, didn't finish, moved around a bit. I’ve grown up, well a little. Showed up at your doorstep.”

Priestly gave her a look—one of admiration, maybe even a touch of envy. “I’m glad you came back. You look good, Y/N. Like… like you didn’t lose yourself along the way, you grew, literally and figuratively, I like it.”

She felt her cheeks heat, but she kept her gaze steady. “Priestly, the guy who always makes a girl feel special." She smiles softly before adding, "I aways thought you were amazing just the way you were.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in a long time, he looked like he believed her.

“Maybe it’s time to bring a little of that guy back,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “The boring brown hair and button-downs were never really me anyway.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the grill as if nothing had changed at all. And as they sat there, catching up and reconnecting, Priestly felt like he was finally waking up from a long, colorless dream.

Y/N could feel Tish’s glare burning into them as she leaned across the counter to pay, with a mischievous smile. “Why don’t I take you shopping after your shift?” she suggested, tapping her fingers playfully on the countertop. “It’d be nice to catch up… and maybe ditch the corporate look. Show a little more of those tattoos again?”

Priestly glanced at Tish, who was shooting them daggers from across the room, and then shrugged with a little smile. “Yeah, yeah, why not?” he replied, his eyes lighting up. “I’ll see you at five.”

By the time they hit the first store, Y/N was buzzing with excitement. She dragged Priestly to every section, picking out things that she knew he would’ve rocked a few years back. A leather jacket here, a pair of torn jeans there. She even managed to dig up a kilt, holding it out with a grin that made him snort.

“Y/N,” he said, chuckling as he held the kilt up in disbelief, “I can’t wear this. Not anymore. I feel like a kid playing dress-up.”

Y/N’s grin softened. “You’re in your thirties, Priestly. Maybe a kilt isn’t the answer anymore,” she admitted, leaning against the wall of the dressing room. She looked at him thoughtfully, eyes gleaming with an idea. “But… do you trust me?”

He raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright. Go ahead, show me what you’ve got.”

Y/N set the kilt aside and walked over to a different rack, pulling out a pair of dark, well-fitted jeans and handing him a plain grey t-shirt. She added a pair of heavy black combat boots and a leather jacket to the ensemble. “Just try these,” she said, “I think you’ll be surprised.”

Priestly emerged from the dressing room a few minutes later, his expression shifting from skepticism to something closer to acceptance. He turned to her, hands stuffed in his pockets, giving her a shy, crooked grin. “Not bad, right?”

“Oh wow, not bad at all,” Y/N said, giving him a once-over feeling her cheeks burn. The jeans hugged his frame well, and the boots added a sturdy, rugged vibe. The t-shirt was simple, but it all brought back a hint of the old Priestly’s edge without trying too hard.

But she wasn’t done yet. “Alright,” she said with a wink, “one last stop.”

She drove him to a nearby barber she’d found online, and before he could protest, she leaned close, whispering her instructions into the barber’s ear.

"Oh and keep the beard." she said walking back outside. Priestly gave her a mock look of fear, but he settled into the chair, trusting her, despite his nerves.

A half hour later, Priestly emerged from the barber’s chair with his hair freshly styled. The sides were clipped short, but the top was left a little longer and tousled. No more mohawk, but it was still a look with personality—classic yet cool, modern but still a bit rebellious.

He caught his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and let out a slow breath.

--

Y/N's heart hammered as she watched Priestly walk toward her, his new look transforming him into a vision of the guy she’d fallen for as a teenager—familiar but grown up, rugged and effortlessly cool. She felt her old crush flare to life, burning through her like it had all those years ago. But now, she was older, and so was he, and the spark between them didn’t feel so impossible anymore.

While he’d been getting his hair cut, she’d slipped out to pick up a few finishing touches—things that would bring back a hint of the punk style they’d once shared. As he approached, she held out a heavy, silver chain and a studded leather belt. With a grin, she hooked the chain to his jeans, her fingers brushing against him as she added the belt.

But then, she pulled out something else—a small, worn leather bracelet with faded band logos, the same one he’d given her years ago in the Beach City Grill. She held it up, a little shy but determined, and carefully slipped it back onto his wrist, fingers lingering on the familiar worn leather.

Priestly looked down, his eyes widening. “You… you kept it?” His voice was soft, filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

Y/N nodded, feeling her cheeks heat as she looked up, meeting his gaze. “Of course I did. You were... well, it was special to me.” she said almost looking nervous.

Priestly looked at her, "How old are you now?" She still looked at him, his green eyes piercing her waiting for an answer. "I- Eh... 21." Priestly looked over her in the distance, clearly counting in his head.

They stood there in silence, the air thick while she waited for his reaction, still holding his wrist in her hands, feeling something electric. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought he must be able to hear it.

But before her nerves could make her say something stupid, Priestly reached out, cupping the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair pulling her closer.

He leaned down, his gaze searching hers for a split second, and then his lips brushed against hers, soft and warm, then deeper, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as she had. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them—two people who’d found their way back to each other after years apart.

Y/N knew that what she had been waiting for ever since she was 16 was finally here. Priestly saw her, not as a teenage girl with a crush. But as a woman.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, still holding her close. "I did say 'maybe in a few years' didn't I?"

She laughed softly, feeling her heart swell.

“Welcome back, Priestly.”

--

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[security-chief-odo]

To Love and Be Loved in Return - Chapter Two

Roy Kent x Reader

Read chapter 1 here

Description: The awkwardness from yesterday still lingers between you and Roy. Jamie, Rebecca and Keeley all try to make you feel better in their own ways.

Word Count: ~1.4k

• • •

Chapter 2 - Pep Talk

Coming into work Friday morning is a monumental task in and of itself. You spent most of the night before overthinking every moment with Roy that day.

You had spiraled through every possible analysis of your conversation, but as of this morning you’ve stopped worrying as much about that interaction and more about how any interaction you have today will go. He was still acting awkward about it at the end of the day, so he probably won’t be much better today.

Either way, you have work to get done before your lunch “meeting” with Rebecca and Keeley at noon. This “meeting” had become somewhat of a weekly routine for the three of you. It didn’t take long after you were hired for you to become fast friends with Rebecca, and Keeley was pretty much fast friends with everyone she’s ever met.

You watch the time tick by as you finish up your reports and interview prep for Roy. You consider just emailing them to him to avoid any awkwardness, but you know that he always works better with hard copies to review and mark up as needed. As much as seeing him today has made you nervous, you couldn’t let your feelings for Roy get in the way of doing your job well.

With this new found resolve and the best poker face you are capable of, you head downstairs and through the mostly empty locker room. You find yourself stopped at the door to the office, skimming over the report in your hands, anxiously looking for any errors or really any excuse to run back upstairs and redo it all. Maybe you could push off seeing him again until Monday.

“He’s not that scary,” Jamie chimes in behind you.

You tilt your head to look at him and raise a brow in question. He continues “Roy, ya know, he’s all grumpy with the scary eyebrows” he tries to mimic Roy’s face “and well just his general vibe, I suppose.” He trails off at the end of the last sentence.

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Was that supposed to reassure me?”

“Oh, uh, no. What I was tryin’ to say was that he’s just grumpy but he’s not really that mean. He likes ya well enough, so just go in there. Stop worryin’ so much.”

If only mean was what worried you about Roy, but of course you couldn’t say that to Jamie. The moment that man figured out how you felt about a certain coach, the entire team would know within minutes.

“Thank you Jamie. I appreciate the pep talk,” and it was true. You did appreciate the pep talk even if it was terribly misguided. Though it may be for the best that your coworkers don't all know how you really feel about your boss, and if Jamie knew, he'd give it away before long.

With a deep breath you open the door to the office with a smile plastered across your face.

Coach Beard was the first to acknowledge you. He offered a friendly smile and polite nod which you returned with a small wave. Walking past him, you stood by Roy’s desk and held the papers out to him. “Overview is on top, followed by the analytical reports, then the raw data and the last page is talking points for any press interviews.”

“Oh, I didn’t need this until Monday. You didn’t have to get it done so fast.”

“I like to stay on top of things, coach.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite assistant?”

“I’m your only assistant.” Conversation is flowing naturally between you and much of the tension from yesterday seems to have dissipated.

“Makes it easy to rank then, but I really do appreciate you getting this done y/n”

“That’s what I’m here for.” There’s a moment of comfortable silence that you relish in before turning to leave.

“Wait,” you stop in your tracks, “Do you want to go grab lunch?” He stands up and gathers his things. “It’s about that time anyway.”

“Can’t today, I’m sorry. I’ve got lunch plans with Rebecca and Keeley today.”

“Fuck, right, I forgot all about that.” he waves you off “No worries, go have fun, do “girl talk” or whatever. Let me know how it goes.”

“Of course.” You pause before adding, “Maybe we can figure out lunch together on Monday?” He nods in response and your phone buzzes in your hand. “And that would be Rebecca, see you later!”

You rush out the door before he has a moment to respond.

You arrive at the restaurant with Rebecca first. Keeley texted that she’s running a few minutes late.

You had told Rebecca about your feelings for Roy a couple weeks back and you needed to get the past couple days off your chest as he had consumed most of your waking thoughts for the past 24 hours.

“So, Roy asked me to be his plus one for the gala next weekend.”

“Oh?” Rebecca looked hopeful albeit rather confused, “And why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Well, when he slipped up and referred to me as his date, he panicked at the idea and made it beyond clear he isn’t into me. Of course I knew he didn’t like me, I mean he’s Roy fucking Kent, he dates gorgeous models, not regular office workers, but it still hurt that i didn’t get the chance to ask him out before getting brutally rejected.”

“That’s stupid.”

“What?”

“Roy would be fucking lucky to have you. Just because he’s too stupid to see it, doesn’t make you worth less just because you aren't some model.”

“It just sucks. I can’t stand being alone with him. I think I’m falling in love and he will never see me as more than just an assistant.”

“Who are we talking about?” Keeley walks up in time to hear your last remark. You were waiting to tell her until you were finally ready to deal with her teasing. She had moved on and you knew she would have no problem with you liking Roy, but she would be almost relentlessly supportive, which might just be worse.

At the same time you say “No one.” and Rebecca says “Roy”

“Ooh, falling for the boss?” Keeley adds as she sits next to you.

The waiter comes by and takes your food order. After he leaves your table Rebecca fills Keeley in on the situation. When she finishes you add, “So I’m falling for a guy who finds the idea of even a single date with me so repulsive he panicked at the suggestion.”

“I don’t think that’s it, babes. Roy is always a little panicked, he just usually gets mad about it instead. If he’s willing to show that he’s worried, then he’s dropping that facade a bit. I say you should ask him out.”

“And get turned down again?”

“I don’t know about that y/n. He seemed pretty nervous when he texted me about taking you out dress shopping.”

At that moment, the waiter brings your food, putting an end to that conversation before you got the chance to ask Keeley what she meant by that.

She asks the waiter to bring you a round of drinks. After the waiter leaves you lightly elbow Keeley. “I’ve got to go back to work after this. I can’t be drinking.”

Rebecca scoffs “Well, I’m your boss and I say you need a drink. I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”

Keeley adds, “It’s not like you’d get much done anyways. You’ll be too busy daydreaming about a certain coach.

“Fuck off” you laugh. You don’t really mean it and you all know it. You pull out your phone to text Roy.

Y/N: Hey, I won’t be back after lunch. Everything is caught up. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll see you on Monday!

You see the bubbles appear and disappear for a couple of minutes as you try to subtly keep an eye on your phone. Finally your torture ends as your phone vibrates in your hand.

ROY: Ok.

Those three characters should not be enough to stress you out. There’s hardly anything there to overanalyze, but that won't stop you. You take a long swig of your drink hoping that maybe the burning feeling as it slides down your throat will provide enough of a distraction.

• • •

Read Chapter 3

Series Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten @taytaylala12 @siriuslyreads

Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you want to be added to the taglist for this series. 🖤

[wildemaven]

My sweet Heidi! Congrats again on your 1K bby!! You deserve it and even more!! I was wondering if I could put in a blind drabble request with my love Frankie and numbers 22 and 301. I’m so proud of everything you’re doing and am so glad to call you one of my best buds. 💜💜💜

Meet Cute in the Garden Section

Wildemaven 1k Celebration / 1k Masterlist Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Blog; No warnings, just fluff!

Prompts: "This doesn't smell like roses." / "It was nice meeting you."

You don’t mean to stare. Actually you do, because it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a while. 

Between reading the tiny plant labels and filling your cart with an array of plants you had been looking forward to purchasing for your growing garden, you can’t help but notice a Dad and his daughter an aisle over doing some planting shopping of their own. 

He seems a little lost, removing his tattered ball cap every once in a while to comb through his chestnut locks, as he examines each plant his daughter holds up to him. His furrowed brow gives you the impression he doesn’t shop for plants often. 

As you continue your browsing, you find yourself in the same section as the cute shopping duo. In closer proximity you decide the Dad is quite cute with how his eyes crinkle when he smiles at something his daughter is saying and you think you see a hint of a dimple through his patchy beard. 

“This one is cute too Papa! Look at it.” The sweet little girl, who looks to be around 5 or 6 years old, says to her Dad holding up the tiny potted plant. “Can we get this one too?”

He takes the plant from her tiny hands, squinting as if he either forgot his glasses at home or thinks he doesn’t need them and continues struggling through reading small print. 

“I don’t know baby, I can’t really tell what the little symbol is, if this one is saying full sun or partial— maybe no sun?? This one might be a little more difficult to take care of.” He tells her as he goes to place it back in its designated spot. 

“Actually, those are pretty easy to take care of— perfect starter plants too.” You say, giving him a reassuring smile so as to not come off as some creepy stranger in the garden department. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you, just thought you should know.”

“Thanks— thank you. As you might have guessed, I know nothing about plants, or gardening for that matter.” He says, laughing at confessing his lack of knowledge about plants to a complete stranger. There’s definitely a dimple, way more prominent when he laughs. 

“That’s okay, we all start somewhere. So far, all of your choices are great ones, you shouldn’t have too much trouble getting things going.” You tell him as you glance over their selections. 

“So there’s hope for us then?”

“Definitely!”

“Papa! This doesn't smell like roses!” The sweet little girl, who looks like a copy and paste version of her father, declares while shoving another plant into their nearly filled cart. 

“That’s because it’s a succulent, no real scent to them.” You say, and guessing by her confused expression, she doesn’t know what one is. “It’s like a cactus, but none of those pokey needles on them. They’re fun to take care of because they don’t need a lot of water to grow and love the sun, very low maintenance.”

“That’s just what our garden needs, low maintenance.”

He doesn’t have a ring, but you're aware not everyone wears one these days, so you use your sleuth skills to ask about his marital status so you don’t over step any sort of boundaries. 

“Well, I’m sure your wife will be happy with everything you two have picked out.”

“Oh, we’re not married— I have her on the weekends and she’s been begging to plant a garden since she has one at her mom’s place. And I have no clue what I’m doing so I’m just guessing as we go.” 

Cute, and single. 

“I’m Frankie and this is Isabella.”

You give him your name and you continue to talk him through his gardening hesitations, really soaking up everything little detail you’re sharing with him— wishing he had something to take notes knowing he’ll probably forget most of it by the time they get home. 

“It was nice meeting you. I hope you both have fun and I wish you the best of luck in your gardening ventures.” Realizing you had definitely overstayed your welcome, but wishing you could chat more with Frankie— and not just about plants and their needs. 

You give them both a friendly wave goodbye, turning back to your cart to make your way to pay for your own plants, looking forward to an afternoon of planting and deciding what to make for dinner. 

You had finished loading your car with your collection of flowers and a few bags of potting soil, when you hear your name being called, and turn to see Frankie and Isabella walking in your direction. 

“Hey! More gardening questions?” 

“Yeah, I mean— not really. I was wondering, umm if I could maybe get your number. In case I were to have any questions about garden stuff, I could text you or call if you prefer— or I could turn back around and head to my car and we can pretend this lame attempt at me asking to see you again didn’t happen.” He sounds nervous, his one hand firmly tucked into the pocket of his jeans and the other securely around Isabella’s tiny hand— his irresistible smile and charming personality has really won you over. 

“I’d love to give you my number— for gardening and stuff.” 

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Draco Drabble

Thanks to the potions my mother handed me, I no longer feel like heaving my guts onto the kitchen floor, though food is a no-go. My headache is manageable, but now I’m sitting in front of a table with a weepy eyed Astoria who is refusing to have her hair or makeup done because she is embarrassed.

I’ve embarrassed her. How can she possible walk down that aisle when the entire world knows that the man she is to marry is actually in love with someone else.

What, exactly, did you expect to happen when you let your parents arrange a marriage, I ask her.

“I expected you to do your duty!” She shouts, throwing down her tissue and jumping to her feet. Her anger is nothing like Grangers. It’s more insidious. Grangers is all warmth and fire. Astoria is cold and her touch like a fish out of water when she reaches over and grabs my hand.

“It’s one thing to have an affair after we’ve been married but like this?”

I pull my hand back and shift to face my father, who is sitting at the head of the table, popping sausages into his mouth like he has his entire life to burn them off.

“Is that what you planned to do? Wait a couple of years? Get your fancy home, your posh little life, pop out a son and then what? Start up an affair with the first idiot who shows you some attention?”

Astoria’s lips press together, forming that thin little line, and before we can say another word, the door slams open and in steps Guy Greengrass.

Astoria’s father is burly. He’s big and hairy. His beard is trimmed but takes up the entirety of his lower face, his salt and pepper hair is slicked back. And he’s dressed like he’s about to give his daughter away.

To me. His wife, who is a carbon copy of Astoria, looks timid and meek as she follows him inside of the dining room.

“You,” Guy’s finger is pointing at me, his hand shaking, his eyes wide and dark. Cold lumps of coal stare at me, damning me to hell. I have to fight the yawn as I wait for him to continue get on with his rant. I’m not stranger to patriarchs ranting and raving but this is just getting boring.

“How dare you smear our name!” He goes on. “And all for a vile little mudblood.”

“Vile?”

My mother clears her throat, her passive aggressive way of telling me to shut the hell up.

“I should kill you.”

Yeah, yeah. “What, exactly, are you waiting for?”

“I want to renegotiate the terms.” Guy demands, turning to my father. My father, who is still shoving little greasy bits of meat down his throat. His mouth is stuffed with it, his eyes rolling, as he tries to swallow the massive bite.

“And change what?” I ask with a chuckle. “Demand more money?”

“She deserves it after what you’ve put her through.”

“I’d pay you a thousand galleons if it would buy me out of this marriage.” I admit.

Apparently, this was not helpful.

Guy’s wand was out, a renewed anger burning inside of his dark eyes. A wizard can only rely on instinct when someone draws a wand on him. Fight or flight, is it? I imagine muggles feel the same when a pistol is drawn on them.

My wand finds its way into my hand and then Guy and I are standing with our wands drawn, a large dining table between us.

My mother and Astoria’s mother cried out. Astoria descends into sharp wails of despair. My father, inhales sharply, just as a plain owl sweeps into the window.

It’s aiming for me. With a quick stupefy aimed at Guy, I accept the letter and pick up a blueberry from the dining table to feed the bird.

Guy is thrown into the wall, before he slumps and slides down, unconscious.

Astoria starts to scream at me and my mother is moving, hurrying over to my father while I open the letter.

The world around me goes quiet as I read it.

Please, come and clean up this mess. -H.G.

It’s from Granger. She’s asking me to come to her. Yesterday, she asked me to leave. Part of me can acknowledge the fact that she’s upset about what I’ve done. But there’s a part of me that might be delusional but, I believe she really wants to see me.

Because, undoubtedly, I am hers. And, now the entire world knows.

“You bastard!” Astoria’s shouting at me and it jolts me back into the present. When I look up from the letter, I find that chaos has evolved into madness. Astoria is stringing together a slew of curse words as her father still lays unconscious. But my mother, she’s hitting my father on the back, slamming her hand and her fist over and over, as if to give him the beating he’s always deserved.

Horrifyingly, though, she isn’t trying to punish him. She’s trying to save him.

I watch as my fathers face swells, his eyes bugging out. His skin is purple, and he’s clawing at his throat. His greasy lips are turning blue as the bits of sausage tumble from his mouth. He’s stuffed too many pieces in. He’s choking on the bite he couldn’t finish before he shoved more in.

My gods.

My father is dying.

My body is filling with something I can’t describe. A sense of fullness and lightness consumes me as I watch my fathers eyes lock onto mine. I don't know if he is seeing me or not. But together, our eyes remain, as he gasps, uselessly, for more air.

There’s warmth seeping into my face, my fingers feel tingly, and my feet are lighter than ever.

“Draco, do something!”

But, I can’t. I’m stuck. I’m frozen to the floor as my mother cries and panics. She’s running around the dining room, as if in search of something that may save him. But there is no saving this man. The world he built is imploding around him as he dies. Choked out, suffocated by his own greed.

It’s a fucking miracle.

When he finally slumps forward, his face falling into the greasy plate in front of him with a loud smack, I can’t help the choked laugh that escapes.

My mother is too upset to notice, but Astoria is frozen, staring at my fathers dead body before she finally blinks and looks at me.

I fold Granger’s letter back into the neat little envelope before tucking it into my coat pocket.

“Astoria, I think it’s safe to say that we shouldn’t get married.”

She says nothing, she just stares at me. Wide eyed and shocked.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, I am. You deserve more than that. You deserve to marry for love, not...” I hold a hand out toward my family. My mother running around, crying. My dead father, blue faced and covered in sausage grease. “This.”

Surprisingly, she just nods, agreeing.

[tonysslut]

damn now you got me thinking about what it would have been like if Tony had been the one to get the tattoo! imagine opening his shirt one day while you're straddling him in bed and seeing your name on his chest!!!!!! and he'd look at you all soft and nervous, not knowing what you think of it

🥹🥹🥹

pls do not copy or repost my work

tony stark masterlist

You walk into the bedroom, finding Tony laying on the bed, resting his eyes after all his meetings. He instantly opens his eyes when you reach the end of the bed, giving you a sleepy smile as he reaches out for you. You shuffle up the bed till you straddle him, leaning forward to give him a kiss before resting your head on his chest. 

You light scratch at his overgrown beard as his hands roam his body, resting at your waist as he lets out a content sigh. The two of you sit there in silence. You let your hands roam on his chest, slipping them into his dress shirt that was slightly opened to feel his bare skin. You feel part of his skin inflamed, almost like there's writing on it.  

You light your head off his chest, unbutton his shirt to see if he’s hiding an injury, but that’s far from what he’s hiding. 

Your name in bright red ink tattooed on his skin right over his heart. 

A small gasp leaves your lips, eyebrows furrowed as you try and process what you’re seeing. You gently run your finger over the writing again, feeling his heart racing. 

“Surprise,” he whispers, voice shaking with nerves. 

“Tony, this is permanent.” You say, as if it isn’t already obvious. 

“I know, baby.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I meant it when I said you’re it for me. You own every part of me. Mind, body, and soul.” 

You feel your eyes water as you look back up at him. Leaning forward to give him a soft kiss, you can’t help but smile into the kiss. You’ve never had someone love you the way Tony does. “I love you.” You say against his lips, smile widening when he repeats the words back to you. 

“Where’d you get this done?” Your eyes find their way back to the ink, completely infatuated with it. 

“That little shop downtown, why?”

You smirk at him as you get off the bed, reaching for his hand to drag him out of bed. “Let’s go, I want your name on my body too.”

likes, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated! ੈ♡˳

[worthyprompts]

thor odinson sentence starters. quotes taken from infinity war (2018). altered for the sake of rp, make adjustments where you see fit.

‘you talk too much.’

‘you really are the worst (title).’ / ‘you really are the worst.’

‘NO!’

‘you’re going to die for that.’

‘who the hell are you guys?’

‘you seem to know a great deal about (name).’

‘… your father killed my brother.’

‘families can be tough.’

‘i feel your pain.’

‘i need a hammer, not a spoon.’

‘how do i open this thing?’

‘how do i open this thing? is there some sort of… four-digit code, maybe?’

‘i’m taking your pod.’

‘are you mocking me?’

‘i need you to stop doing that.’

‘he stole it from me when he destroyed my ship and slaughtered half my people.’

‘the rabbit is correct and clearly the smartest among you.’

‘only (name) can make me the weapon i need.’

‘i assume you’re the captain. you seem like a noble leader.’

‘will you join me on my quest?’

‘you simply lack the strength to wield the weapon. your bodies would crumble as your minds collapsed into madness.’

‘he already is too powerful to stop.’

‘i bid you farewell and good luck, morons. bye.’

‘you’ll know when we’re close.’

‘he’s been dead before… but, no, this time i think it really might be true.’

‘rage and vengeance, anger, loss, regret… they’re all tremendous motivators. they really clear the mind.’

‘well, he’s never fought me.’ ‘yeah, he has.’ ‘he’s never fought me twice.’

‘every one of my enemies would have rather killed me, but none succeeded.’

‘i’m only alive because fate wants me alive.’

‘(name) is just the latest in a long line of bastards and he’ll be the latest to feel my vengeance.’

‘fate wills it so.’

‘what more could i lose?’

‘i don’t think this thing works.’

‘everything seems dark.’

‘something’s wrong.’

‘go back to the pod.’

‘what happened here?’

‘i know it feels like all hope is lost. trust me, i know. but together, you and i, we can kill (name).’

‘leave that to me.’

‘fire the engines!’

‘more power, (name)!’

‘suicide is facing (name) without that axe.’

‘allfathers, give me strength.’

‘it’ll kill you.’ ‘only if i die.’

‘bring me (name)!’

‘noticed you’ve copied my beard.’

‘by the way, this is a friend of mine, (name).’

‘i told you… you’d die for that.’

‘what did you do? what’d you do?!’

[pucksalotguys]

Epilogue- Part 1

*masterlist to series is pinned post

WC: 2.6K , CW: NSFW (minors DNI)

It’s been such a long long time and I felt like now is the perfect time to conclude this lovely series that started it all for me. Here’s part one with a time jump and a surprise 💕. Hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think

(Also sorry if my master list is giving you a hard time, I need to redo it asap)

12 years later

“Mom, tell him to quit” Patrick whined “Seriously, he’s getting on my nerves and he’s doing it on purpose” “Patrick” Lauren chuckled “It’s a big day love, you’re not my baby anymore” “You’re 12” Sidney messed his hair up “It’s a big deal, we have a 12 year old, let me love on you a bit before you fully despise your mother and I” he chuckled Lauren smiled as she pet Patricks cheek, she couldn’t believe he was 12 now. He was an exact carbon copy of Sidney down to the mannerisms, it seemed like the only part of her he inherited was her attitude “What would you like to do today ?” she asked as they sat down in the living room “Your birthday your choice, anything you say goes for today Pat” “Well….I was kind of hoping maybe today I could go out with my friends…..” he said softly “I’ll be home before dinner I promise and then tomorrow I’ll be home all day, so is it a yes ? Please mom….”

Lauren did her best not to look too taken back and gave him a kiss on the forehead, she knew at some point he’d wanna do his own thing but she never guessed it’d be so soon and it made part of her ache a bit “Of course you can” she grinned “Be home before it gets dark and have your phone on you please so you can call us if you need anything” “Cool, thanks mom” Patrick smiled as he got up and kissed her cheek “I love you” “And dad gets nothing” Sidney nodded “Not even a high 5 ?” “See you dad, love you too” Patrick said back as he left out the door “Jesus he’s almost a teenager and already out” Sidney shook his head “We didn’t even get to tell him the news” Lauren chuckled “I don’t think telling him on his birthday would be ideal. This is his day, he doesn’t need anything overshadowing it”

“True” Sidney nodded “But we gotta tell him soon, at least before you start showing”

“I feel like I’m gonna start showing any week now” she put a hand on her stomach “I blew up with him right away, I felt like a whale by the time I was 16 weeks and I’m already pushing 13”

“Oh I remember” Sidney said dreamily as he walked over and sat next to her “God I can’t believe it’s happening again, it’s crazy in the best way” “You don’t feel like we let too much time pass ?” she asked “Be honest” “I’d say we’re in our prime” Sidney said in response “I sure feel in my prime and you sure look in your prime…you only get hotter with age” Lauren playfully rolled her eyes and leaned over to kiss him. At 35 and 47 they were starting all over again and while it scared the shit out of her, it also made her a bit excited to be able to go through things again now that she was older and knew what to expect “Thank you” Sidney murmured as he kissed her “For everything” “What do you mean ?” Lauren whispered as she pet his cheek “For this life” he grinned “With you by my side I’ve had everything I’ve dreamed of, you’ve made me the happiest man alive. You and Patrick are my world, and now this little baby” his hand moved to her stomach “Is gonna make us even happier” “Who would’ve thought me grabbing you in a dark bar to makeout would have us here all these years later” Lauren smirked as she wrapped her arms around his neck “Thank you Julian for ending things with you and thank you Kris for hiring you as his nanny” Sidney said as he kissed her She laughed a bit as his beard tickled her neck “Even though you got punched in the face….twice” “Let’s take this upstairs…you can make it up to me” he took her hand and stood up “It’s been years ! And that happened on MY 23rd birthday and to top it off I was already pregnant with Patrick and didn’t even know it ! You then proceed to dump me and honestly I’m not over it” she took her hand back and crossed her arms “You know what ? I’m going upstairs” Sidney widened his eyes “Why ? What did I do ?” “You ruined my 23rd birthday” Lauren said back simply as she walked away “Let’s get to bed a little earlier, I’ll make up for it alright” Sidney winked as he pulled her close to him “Only because I’m pregnant and horny and you owe me” she gave him a quick peck and went upstairs

It took them no time to get undressed and in bed and as usual she was on cloud nine “Right there” Lauren moaned as he sucked on her clit “Please…..Please more”

Sex wasn’t ever an issue for them, if anything now that she was pregnant again it seemed to be an even bigger thing for her. She knew her sex drive would be up but she never imagined she’d be as sexually active as she was during her first pregnancy

“Easy, you’ll get whatever you want tonight” Sidney said as he inserted a finger gently and closed his eyes “Fuck I wanna be inside you so bad. I fuck you every morning and night and I still can’t get enough” “Oh god” Lauren whimpered as she felt the pressure begin to build and moved her hands down to grip his hair now full of grays “I’m so close, so fucking close” “I want you to cum for me” Sidney pumped his fingers in and out of her “I wanna taste you then I wanna fuck you till you lose your voice again” His words sent chills through her body as she finally let herself release and was barely able to catch her breath before she felt him inside of her and sighed contently “Just like that” “You’re so good baby, so fucking good” Sidney murmured as he kissed her neck “I love being inside of you” She whimpered feeling his hand gently grip her neck, she could feel herself reaching her climax again when suddenly their bedroom door burst open with no warning making her practically push Sidney off her as he fell to ground with nothing but a pillow to cover himself up “Oh my god !” Patrick exclaimed as he covered his eyes “Oh my god I’m gonna throw up” Lauren stayed wide eyed as she put her robe on quickly and threw a sheet down to a sheet down to Sidney and sat in bed *************

“You said you were going to a friends house, why didn’t you call one of us ?” Sidney asked as he sat covered up “I felt bad you guys were home alone so I came back, big mistake” Patrick dry heaved “I’m gonna be sick” Sidney rolled his eyes “You could’ve knocked” “You could leave my mom alone you pervert” Patrick said back “Pervert ? She’s my wife” Sidney couldn’t help but chuckle “Listen I’m sorry you….had to walk in but you could’ve simply knocked on our door Pat. You know better than to barge into the room, it’s about respect” “It’s about keeping your hands to yourself” he made a face “Get dressed and come downstairs so you can feed me. I want mom to make me spaghetti and grandma and grandpa said they’re coming over tomorrow” Lauren glared as he walked away and looked back at Sidney “Every day that child turns more into you it’s absolute insanity. We’re locking the door with the lock next time” “He’s 12, he knows to knock” Sidney threw his shirt back on “I swear that kid is just a trip, I hope this next one takes after you” She shook her head and changed as she freshened up and headed back downstairs “Patrick babe, chores. Take out the trash please before dinner is ready” “I have to do chores on my birthday ? And after what you and dad just put me through ?” he sighed “Being 12 sucks” “Tomorrow I’ll let you ride the golf cart down to the lake and back home” Sidney grinned “But for now take out the garbage” “Fine” he groaned as he went over picked up the bags Lauren watched as he walked outside and began to prepare things for dinner as Sidney took on his duties of setting the table. After a few minutes of Patrick not being back she looked out the window from their kitchen and could see him standing in front of the trash cans and walked outside “What’s the hold up ?” she asked “You’ve been standing here for 5 minutes, you seem something weird ?” “Mom…..what’s this ?” Patrick asked as he turned around holding her positive pregnancy test in his hand “I mean I know what it is but why is this here ? Mom, is this yours ?”

She stayed quiet and nodded “It is” “Who got you pregnant ?” he asked with wide eyes “Your father ! Who else Patrick ?” Lauren exclaimed “Are you being serious right now ?” “He can still make babies ?” he retorted in shock “Mom,  dad’s old. I’m a little concerned right now” “Patrick Joy Crosby get inside the house immediately” Lauren said sternly “What’s with the yelling ?” Sidney said as he came outside “I can hear you guys all the way from inside the house” “Don’t act innocent” Patrick scoffed “You know what’s going on” “You need to watch your attitude” Sidney warned “I’m not playing Patrick, just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you get to be rude to me or your mother. Respect is to always be given no matter what” Lauren gave him a look and wrapped her around Patrick’s shoulders “There’s no need to be harsh on him, he….he knows” “Knows what ?” Sidney asked confused “That you and mom are having a baby” Patrick answered with a frown “I don’t want a baby brother or sister. I like things how they are now with us. I like that we live in Pittsburgh and then come here to Halifax and California for the summer. That’s gonna change, everything��s gonna change with a baby” he emphasized as he leaned into Lauren “Honey, no” Lauren kissed his forehead “Nothing will change” “Pat” Sidney sighed “We wanted to tell you, we wanted things to be in the clear for mom and the baby and then we wanted your birthday to pass” “In the clear ?” he looked concerned as he looked at Lauren “Mom, are you okay ?” “I’m perfectly fine” she nodded “It’s just basic precautions to take when one is pregnant, especially now that I’m older” “You’re not old” Patrick shook his head

She chuckled “I appreciate that babe, now let’s go inside and we can talk all you want during dinner. We know you have questions” Sidney followed as he let them have their moment and walked behind them, deep down he knew Patrick loved him but he also knew the connection with Lauren was much deeper. Patrick and him connected when it came to hockey but other than that, it was your typical short conversations whereas with Lauren he’d see him talk to her about anything. More than anything he hoped that with these few months, he could get closer to him “First things first” Patrick said as he sat down and looked at them both “Do you guys know what the baby is ?” “No” Lauren chuckled “It’s gonna be a surprise, for real this time” she looked at Sidney “We are NOT finding out” “Aw this means uncle Geno won’t give us a cool party” Patrick frowned Sidney laughed a bit “Oh man, your gender reveal was wild. It was one of the most fun nights. We didn’t plan it at all so it was all a surprise, you’ve seen the pictures” “Mom, can’t we know ?” Patrick asked as he looked at Lauren “Please ?” “I thought you weren’t happy about this ?” she served him his plate “You sound pretty interested to me” “I mean I’m still not super excited but I guess it’s kinda cool” he shrugged “There’s a positive” Lauren smiled “He or she is going to be so lucky to have you as a big brother Patrick” “And they get to have you as a mom” he responded with a smile “I think that’s really cool, you’re like the best mom ever” She leaned over and pet his cheek “My boy, I can’t believe you’re 12 and that you’re gonna be a big brother”

Perhaps it was the conversation or the silence that followed but either way Sidney felt out of place at his own dinner table. It was surreal to see his son who looked exactly like him at that age but seemed to want nothing to do with him. He knew it was age and that it wasn’t personal but it still hurt him. As dinner came to an end, and it was time to hand over his gift he sat next to Patrick

“Happy Birthday Pat” he grinned “Hope you like it”

Patrick smiled excitedly as he gently unwrapped the box and took out a pair of skates “Oh….cool, skates. I needed some” he said softly “Thanks dad, they’re so cool”

“Well those aren’t just any skates” Sidney said “These are mine from when I was your age, I got them cleaned and fixed, the blades are brand new. Your initials are right under mine here on the side” he showed him “S.C #87 and then P.C #9 for your number”

“I love them” he nodded as he gave a polite smile and put them down “I can’t wait to go to the rink tomorrow and wear them, thank you dad”

Sidney grinned and gave him a hug “Of course bud”

“And here’s mine” Lauren smiled as she handed him a box “Careful with it, what’s inside is gentle”

“No way” Patrick widened his eyes as he opened it and took out the comic “No way ! Mom, how did you get this ?”

“Searched high and low” she grinned “I bid for it for hours, finally got it last week. It’s in mint condition from 1962”

“Thank you mom” he hugged her “I love you so much you’re the best, this is the best gift ever. When I’m done reading it, I’ll let you borrow it so you can read it too. It’s the amazing spiderman, it’s cool”

“I’d love to read it” Lauren grinned “Remember cake is tomorrow with grandma and grandpa so for now let’s do a cupcake. Baby can you get a lighter please”

Sidney nodded as he took one out of the drawer “We didn’t do our picture yet, we always do a picture for birthdays”

“Fine” Patrick sighed as he stood up and stood next to Sidney “Only one”

“Look how handsome you two are” Lauren gushed “I swear I think I need this baby to be another little boy to complete my little Crosby clan of boys”

“Girl not boy” both Sidney and Patrick said in unison

“I see” she raised her brow “Well I’m glad you two finally agree on something”

Sidney gave Patrick a grin and wink and got a smile back, a genuine one. The night went on and soon after Patrick had gone to bed for the night he called up some people hoping they’d make it for the next night

“He loves you” Lauren whispered “He does, he’s just being a typical boy in his moods”

“I know” Sidney nodded “But I think tomorrow will really make him happy, you’ll see”

“For once, I’m excited to be surprised” Lauren said back as she kissed him