#it’s like work stole my entire day out from under me

[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Chess Not Checkers

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Summary: You and Yunho have been sleeping together in secret for months. Both of you want more, who’s going to make the first move?

Warnings: 18+, Mature Content, Oral Sex (F receiving),

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi hoes and hoochies (affectionately.) I once stole a yunho photocard right from under my best friend’s nose at an ateez concert. This is one of my favorite things I’ve written. Hope you enjoy!

XOXO, Bibi 🩷

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app. ALL WORK IS PURELY FICTIONAL. NOT MY GIF

P.P.S

Likes and reblogs welcome

Thanks For Reading ❤️

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You walked into the KQ Entertainment building, heels clicking down the halls as you made your way to your brother’s studio. Hongjoong was sitting at his computer when you arrived.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he swiveled is his chair to look at his as you plopped down on the couch.

“I have about an hour before my lunch date, I came to kill time.” Which is true. You did have some spare time before meeting your best friend for lunch down the street, but the main reason for your visit had just walked into the room.

“Hi. Hi.” Yunho greets as he walks into the room. His gaze lingers on you for a second longer than it should before he turns to Hongjoong asking what the plan for the day was.

You can feel Yunho’s eyes on you the entire time he is recording. His eyes are burning a hole straight through you. You know he wants to ask why you’re dressed up and waiting in the studio. He is just waiting for the opportunity to present itself. After about 45 minutes of recording, Hongjoong gets a call and excuses himself to take it outside. Leaving you alone in the room with Yunho.

“So…what are you all dressed up for? We don’t have plans do we? I wouldn’t have forgotten that.” Yunho’s voice floods from the booth, pulling your attention from our phone. You look at him, a flicker of mischief in your eyes.

You walk over and press the talkback button.

“No we don’t. I have a lunch date in a few minutes.” It’s like you watched a switch flip in Yunho. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he stared at you.

“I’m sorry. What?” Before you get a chance to respond your brother comes back in the room.

“Hey, that was my manager. There was an error in my schedule. I’m actually supposed to be filming a radio show in an hour. I have to go.” He rushes around the room gathering his things before he stops.

“Shit. Yunho, you need to finish today.”

You can see the vein start to pop in his forehead, which only happens when he’s overly stressed. Being the good sister you are you jump in.

“I can finish helping him record. I remember everything.” You’ve been Hongjoong’s shadow since he was still putting together songs in his childhood bedroom. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Thanks Sis! I owe you one.” Then he’s out the door, once again leaving you with Yunho.

You shift your gaze from the door to Yunho, who’s looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You say as you move to sit in your brother’s seat.

“You were explaining to me, how you think you’re going on a date.” Yunho moves to lean against the wall, never taking his eyes off of you.

“No..I know i’m going on a date. In about 15 minutes actually. We need to move this along.” You meet Yunho’s gaze and the jealousy on his face surprises you.

Yunho rests his head against the wall behind him, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he laughs. (author’s note: *insert gif*)

“If you think that I’m gonna let you walk out of this room to go entertain another man with a meal, you’ve lost your mind.”

Yunho pushes himself off the wall and takes off his headphones, before making his way out of the booth. He makes his way over to your chair before trapping you in the chair with his arms.

You look up at him and voice your confusion. “What are you talking about?”.

Yunho leans closer to your ear before he begins speaking again. “You’ve been mine since the moment I met you and you know it. I don’t just fuck anyone into the mattress like I do you.” Shocked by his brazenness you reach out and shove at his chest with flushed cheeks. It doesn’t sway him, but it did make you feel better.

“Yunho.” You lean back in the chair, trying to create space between the two of you.

“Are you being serious right now? You want to be together? Seriously?”

Yunho signs before moving to kneel in front of you. “Princess. I never say anything I don’t mean. But you seem to be a hands on learner. Let me try and change your mind about that date.”

Yunho places his hands on your knees and spreads your legs. He slides his hands up your skirt, long fingers brushing tenderly against your thighs as he reaches to pull down your underwear. Once he has them off, he brings them to his nose and inhales your scent deeply. He proceeds to tuck your favorite lace thong is his pocket. Winking at you when he catches you staring at him hungrily. Yunho spreads your legs further and takes a moment to admire the glistening mound between your legs. He leans in, pressing soft kisses along your thighs. He must’ve neglected to shave this morning because the slight stubble on his face is causing a delicious friction against your inner thighs. Yunho’s large hand reaches out and he hooks his index finger to swipe through your folds. He exposes your clit before diving in. He laps at your pussy like a man starved. Loud slurping noises bouncing off the room of your older brother’s studio. Yunho suckles your clit as he inserts two fingers into your eager hole. Yunho pumps his fingers in and out of you and he continues his assault on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Above him you have your hands woven into his dark hair. Your hips are slowly grinding into his face, head tilted back in pure bliss. You’re trying to be quiet but the man at your feet is trying twice as hard to make sure you aren’t.

“Come on Baby, let me hear you.” His ego had taken a blow. Yunho needed to hear you cry out for him. His girl? On a date with someone else? Over his dead body.

“Yunho” You moan as he replaces his long slender fingers, with his tongue. The tip of his tongue brushes the soft spongy spot inside of you. He feels your body stiffen above him, and he knows he has you. An orgasm crashes over your body, and Yunho keeps his pace. Slurping at your juices until he’s satisfied. Yunho picks his heads up, eyes twinkling and your juices dripping from his chin. Once you catch your breath, he moves to stand up.

“So Princess..What do you say? Still wanna go on your little date” He stands back and watches as you adjust your clothes.

You chuckle as you shimmy your skirt back into place. “Yes, I will still be meeting Y/f/n for lunch. Even though you’ve put

me behind schedule.” Yunho looks at you puzzled.

“As in your best friend? Your female, best friend…” You can see the wheels in his head turning. Slowly you grab your purse and start making your way to the door. “Did you trick me into thinking you were going on a date to make me jealous?” Yunho laughs, he should’ve known. When you wanted something. You got it.

“You little minx” Yunho chuckles as he reaches to grab you. You quickly turn the door handle and run out of the room. As you get further down the hall you turn to see Yunho standing outside your brother’s studio smiling at you. “I’ll see you tonight.” You call as you continue to make you way down the hall. Yunho shakes his head as he makes his way back into Hongjoong’s studio. You sure will see him tonight, and maybe a glimpse of his wooden spoon for your sneaky scheming. He begins packing his things thinking he is done for the day since both you and your brother have now left, when he gets a text:

From: Shorty in Blue 💙

My studio better not smell like sex. I’ll kill you if you fucked my sister on my couch. I’ll be back up in 10 minutes so we can finish recording.

Of course Hongjoong knew. He should’ve known. His sneaky girl. You were definitely getting the spoon tonight.

THE END.

[angelmush]

i love when i get to have a slower morning before work. i ate smoked salmon w chili marinated cucumbers for breakfast. i sat on the green couch with my big dragon dog laying across my legs, his thunderous heartbeat keeping the time while i savored the privelege of knitting and journaling some before i had to leave. recently ive taken to listening to informative radio shows about birds as i brush my teeth and wash my face, committing the birdsong of faraway forests i’ve never visited to memory while i pull on my woolen socks.

[moonlight-prose]

I saw that prompt list you reblogged and so if you’re looking for logan ideas i really liked:

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

Love your fics btw too!!! 💜💜

hunger

a/n: oh my brain went to mush at this one. like actively i've lost brain cells and am currently scrounging to find more. this is basically me being a horny bitch for this man. (possibly cause i'm ovulating). but that's okay. we're all here to do the exact same thing!

summary: things are set into motion the second logan opens your drawer. suddenly you find yourself the center of a show with only one audience member.

word count: 1.7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, hints at oral (f receiving), cigar smoking, voyeurism, dirty talk, he's so filthy i blushed writing this.

Accidental was far from the word he'd use to describe the current situation. He'd rather say it was intentional. At least that's what it felt like when you sent him to your drawer for a pair of clean boxers you stole from him in the first few weeks of dating. Logan was used to the act. Finding his flannels strewn throughout your closet—his leather jacket draped across the foot of your bed like a fancy throw blanket.

He felt it before he saw it. The soft silicone feel of something small—an uninteresting object he normally would have overlooked. He pushed it out of the way at first, mistaking it entirely for the little portable charger you usually keep by the bed.

Only for it to roll to the side, the button hitting the drawer. A loud buzz drew his attention close within seconds. His hand grasping the small vibrator and flicking it off with a smirk. A look he wore when the choice to fuck you into the mattress solidified in his mind.

"Hey what's taking so long?" You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel—water droplets streaming off your naked body, forming a small puddle on the hardwood floors of your shared bedroom.

He close his fist around the small device when he stood, holding the clothes you were waiting for. Logan watched you smile, reach for his hand, and stop short as his other palm opened—revealing the black little toy you only kept for emergencies.

For nights when he was called on a mission that might land them in deep waters for days on end. You never minded—it was part of the job after all—but telling Logan that you fucked yourself in your spare time to ease the thoughts of him that plagues you...wasn't an easy conversation to have. Yet there it was. Staring directly at you; taunting you with the knowledge that he found it before you could locate a better hiding spot.

"Got somethin' to tell me bub?"

Your mouth dried at the sight of his grin—nostrils flaring as your scent sharpened in the air. Thicker than before; the tell tale sign that you weren't angry or irritated. But interested in where he might take this.

Before you could snatch it from his hands, he tossed the clothes back into the still open drawer. His smile on deepening at the sight of your swallow—the steady thrum of your heart now a quick flutter under your chest. There was no hiding how you felt with him. Not when he was so in tune with your body it nearly scared you.

He could smell the pool of slick that began to form in between your clenched thighs. The sharp breath you sucked in giving him enough confirmation to keep going. You wanted this—him. And though he could never understand why, he rarely questioned it.

So he nodded towards the bed, dragging the chair you kept at your desk over to sit a foot away from where you were perched. Your hand still clutching the towel and eyes stuck on the vibrator in his hold.

Logan lowered himself with a sigh—legs spread and body relaxed as your eyes trailed down his stomach to the thick expanse of his thighs. Last night you were perched on one, reduced to a whiny moaning mess as he dragged you along the rough denim. Watching you work yourself into a high that left you immobile.

His head tilted, gaze dragging down your body, tongue swiping out to wet his bottom lip. "You aren't gonna need the towel bub," he rasped.

"I don't know what we're doing."

"Don't you trust me?" You nodded quicker than you expected. "Then drop it and spread those pretty legs for your old man."

A soft whimper barely legible above your gasp echoed in the room. Logan heard it as if you pressed it directly to his ear. You scooted back on the bed, the towel now forgotten and dropped to the floor. He shifted at the sight of your feet pushed against the soft comforter, your cunt on full display for him to view.

"There we go," he murmured.

Your hand slipped down, sliding through your slick for barely a second before he was clicking his tongue. "That's not what I want."

"B-but you said-"

"I said spread 'em. Not touch your pretty little clit."

"Logan," you breathed, fighting the pull that demanded you find some sort of relief. Even if that came in the form of your own touch.

He merely lounged in the chair, smiling at how you battled with yourself in order to be good for him. Oh how he loved the sight of your brows pulled together—need eating away at the very core of your body. If he was a better man he'd let you choose what to do.

He'd follow your lead.

But that remained something he never excelled at.

"Don't worry. She'll get the attention she needs." He leaned over you, placing the familiar device between your breasts—a kiss quickly snuck against your nipple that peaked under the wet heat of his mouth. "I'm real interested in how you use this sweetheart. Show me?"

The breath escaped you with a punch to your stomach as he settled back in his previous spot. You glanced at him—heat spilling beneath your cheeks—and felt a wave of slick drip down to the bed at the sight of him pulling a cigar free. He cut the end off, stuck it between his teeth, and flicked the lighter on with practiced ease.

This was a show and he remained the only audience member.

"Go on," he mumbled, smoke unfurling past his lips. "Be a good girl."

With a shaky breath, you gingerly picked up the vibrator and turned it on. This was second nature to you now. Laying in bed with your legs spread as you listened to the buzzing sound that would bring you your desired orgasm. You'd been here before. You would no doubt be here again.

Only this time Logan paid attention to every minuscule movement. He clung to the way you slid your hand down and pressed the end of it to the very top of your clit. Almost as if you were the best fucking program he had the privilege to watch.

Instead of the rush of sweaty embarrassment you almost expected. You were greeted with a boost of pride at the sound of his harsh groan. The chair creaking under his weight as he shuffled to find some relief for his growing cock.

"How's it feel bub?" he breathed, inhaling another drag from his cigar.

You sighed, high pitched and needy. "Good."

"Yeah?" He shifted again when you slid the vibrator through the lips of your cunt, a moan spilling past your parted lips. "Fuck. You normally take your time with it?"

Nodding, you dragged it back up to your clit, teasing yourself with small circles. "F-Feels better like this."

That familiar tug in your gut began to grow the longer you held it against yourself, building quicker than before. You knew it was on account of him watching you. Licking his lips and white knuckling his cigar to keep from sliding his tongue through your slick. You had half a mind to beg him. To see if you could get him to break.

The minute you slipped it down further and plunged it into your tight walls was enough for him. He snapped with a feral grunt. His hands working the belt buckle of his jeans—a whisper of his zipper being tugged down—before his cock sprang free. The tip red and shiny with precum.

You moaned at the sight, legs trembling as you pumped the vibrator clumsily into your cunt. "Touch yourself," you gasped, stomach going taut. "Please. Need to see you baby."

"Fuck sweetheart. Gonna make me cum like a fuckin' teenager." He spit loudly into his palm, slicking up his cock with a heady moan.

"P-Pretty," you slurred.

"Look whose talkin'," he huffed. The cigar now clamped between his teeth.

The intensity of his gaze only grew when you replaced the device with two of your fingers. Rapidly working them in tandem with the buzzing on your swollen clit. Sparks shot down your spine, heat clamping tight around your stomach. What time you thought remained now worked its way to an eviscerating crescendo.

"Your creamin' around your fingers bub," he grunted, the wet slap of his hand blending with the echo of your cunt. "Want to lick you clean after this."

Your walls fluttered, heart leaping to your throat. "Can I suck your cock?"

A ragged moan filled the empty spaces that lay between. "Can't say no to you."

"Logan," you mewled. "'M gonna-"

He snarled, abruptly sitting forward, hand still working his cock in rapid strokes. "C'mon. Cum for me. Give me a show."

The string holding you together broke in two, flooding your body with bliss and turning your vision blurry. His name was a broken cry torn from your throat—hips canting up into your touch as you pushed the vibrator harder against your clit. Until the pleasure began to seep into pain. A whimper echoed in the room when you pulled away, legs falling to dangle off the bed—body now entirely spent.

The soft press of his lips against your knee jolted you slightly; the nerves under your skin still sensitive. He dropped to the floor, eyes latched onto the way your entrance fluttered, cum now forming a mess between your thighs.

"Made such a pretty mess for me bub."

You sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "You like it?"

Wet open mouth kisses trailed along your inner thigh, his nose pressed to the curls above your center. "I fuckin' love it," he sighed, inhaling your heady scent with a groan.

"It's yours."

You gasped when his tongue slid along your cunt, thumbs spreading you to reach every fucking inch. "Yes it is." He pressed a kiss to each lip, sucking them into his mouth as if he was kissing you. "All fuckin' mine."

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ THIEF! ★

Based off this ask by @raphuna-nekomada !!

The first time, Neuvillette brushed it off as if nothing had happened.

He spent the entire morning looking for his dedicated Monday bow, black with silver intricacies that you personally picked out for him many years ago.

"Must be a sign from the universe not to go into work," you hummed from the bed, rolling over and inviting him back under the blanket. He hadn't indulged you on Monday, instead opting to use his Tuesday ribbon and huffing about how he would find the missing article later.

The second time it happened, he was suspicious.

Two days in a row his ribbon had gone missing, now his Wednesday ribbon had been used for Tuesday. It irked him, and while he had no other reason to suspect that you were the culprit, the way you beckoned him back to bed again flicked a switch in his mind.

Ultimately, he hadn't indulged you on Tuesday either.

The third time it happens, he saunters up to your side of the bed immediately.

"My love," he calls, and for a moment you think he hasn't caught you because he's lacking any sort of stern tone— the kind he would address Wriothesley with.

"Yes?" You peer up at him with a glimmer of mischief, clutching something to your chest. His eyes narrow and he kneels onto the bed beside you.

"Have you seen my ribbon?"

"I haven't."

"Are you sure? I'm certain I left it on the dresser last night."

"You must be imagining things, dearest."

You give him a sly, lazy smile and that's when he knows you're nothing but a terrible liar. He nearly scoffs in your face, leaning down closer so he can look at you with a hardening expression.

"And what exactly is your ploy here? Would you like me to wrestle it out of your hands?"

Your eyes widen in surprise for a moment before you laugh, clearly finding his suggestion humorous. "Would it keep you at home longer if you did?"

The gears turn in his head at your words, slow realization washing over him as you blink up innocently. (Feigning innocence, actually. Poorly.)

Ah, so that's what this is all about.

"You want me to stay home?"

A beat of silence. "And if I said yes?"

"You know my answer." Yet he hasn't pulled away, gotten off the bed, and left for work like he does every morning. In fact, you're pretty sure he's drawn a couple inches closer to you.

The fabric you stole from him suddenly wraps around the back of the neck and you rein him in until he's hovering just above you, arms and legs caging you in on either side.

"Got you," you sing quietly.

His gaze flickers down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "You got me," he repeats in faux defeat, swooping down to capture you in a kiss.

He starts to think that maybe a day off wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but he has more than one trial today and there is no one to fill his role in his absence.

Still, Neuvillette decides that he can come to a compromise if only to hold you like this before his busy day. Besides, if he didn't indulge you now this would never end.

"Ten more minutes."

"Ouch. Stingy."

He smothers you under his body so you'll stop talking.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[tackykachowch]

Silco was set up to be Fishbones from the start

Disclaimer: I won't take season 2 into account At All, because it can't work with setups and payoffs even if its life depends on it.

Alrighty. As we've seen Season 1 paid a lot of attention to set up canon things from LoL into the show as naturally and logically as possible, and at least from my point of view, it handled the job with flying colors. Jayce's hammer, Vi's gauntlets, Vander/Warwick etc, nothing felt out of place. But how does Silco fit into this at all? Let's get down to business to defeat the huns

First of all, what even is Fishbones? In the canon of LoL, it's one of if not the most iconic weapon Jinx has. And it is not only a weapon to her, but a loyal and "beloved" companion, as it's described in one of her skins. She constantly talks to it, and in contrast to her chaotic and impulsive nature, Fishbones is very pragmatic and calm. Sounds like a certain someone, doesn't it? But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

But how does Silco go from being Jinx's father to one of her weapons? There are a lot of points that support that actually, I was surprised myself ngl.

- Silco is the only character in the entire series who is directly and tightly connected to water and underwater creatures. Silco was "reborn" in the water when Vander tried to kill him, the first office he had was placed under the water, with a huge observational window. Silco is also fond of underwater creatures, and while other people call and see them as monsters, Silco pays no attention to it, as he thinks that there's "a monster inside all of us". And here's Fishbones, who is designed after a shark, arguably the most famous "underwater monster". But what is more interesting is that it debuted is the finale of season 1, which is titled "The monster you created". Quite a throughline there.

- Silco was the reason behind Fishbones' creation in the first place. While it does seem that it all started with Jinx, who stole the hex gemstone on the Progress Day, we also need to remember WHY she did it. She did it to impress Silco specifically, to make him to be proud of her. This want was triggered by her screwing up the smuggling mission earlier that day, and while Silco didn't scold her for it much and only advised her to rest for a bit, she saw this as him thinking that she's weak. So, after all of this Silco asks Jinx to make a weapon with the use of gemstone. Not necessarily to use it against Piltover, but to have it as a wild card if his plans go wrong. Jinx agrees and attempts to reverse engineer it, but it triggers her memories when she killed Mylo and Claggor with her bomb, so she tells Silco that she can't do it. He then goes to the river he was nearly killed in with her, and "baptises" her to help her let go of her fear of pain. This seemed to have worked, at least for a little while, because she managed to finish the weapon. So, in conclusion: Fishbones' creation was triggered by Jinx's want to impress Silco, and he helped her with its creation on every step of the way.

- this point is somewhat meta, but I'll use it anyway. In previously mentioned episode 9 Silco tells Jinx that everybody around them betrays them, and they have only each other to love and lean on. He says, quote: "Everyone betrays us, Jinx. Vander, her. It's only us". At the same time, in LoL Jinx says this line to Fishbones: "It's just you and me, Fishbones!". Well.....it's certainly a callback if I've seen one. Like- it's not even funny. They couldn't have written this line on accident.

- now onto the most interesting part for me personally. We all now that there are no accidents in animation, like. At all. Even if there are this is extremely rare, as every frame is created intentionally. Now, we do now that there are quite. A few discrepancies between writers and animators of arcane, but I don't think this applies in this particular case. Now onto the actual point. So, in the finale of season 1 Jinx kills Silco, and it's shown to us like this.

He's turned with right side ("human") of his face to the camera, while the left side ("monster") side is hidden.

As Jinx fires Fishbones at the council

It's positioned with its right side to the camera, which alignes with Silco's "monster eye". Also, Fishbone's eye has a black scar pattern around its eye, which again, resembles Silco's damadged eye. That could mean that Silco is once again "reborn", and now continues to live on in the monster Jinx created.

And here comes the most awesome part in all of this. When Silco adopts Powder, he hugs her and tells her

Do you see how the frame is positioned? Exactly. It is exactly the same framing scene with Jinx and Fishbones has. And, most importantly, when Jinx pulls the trigger, we hear the exactly same line on the background: "We will show them all". It simultaneously shows: that Jinx's attack on the council is her way of dealing with grief of killing Silco; her way of honoring Silco's fight against Piltover; and a direct transition of Silco into Fishbones. Although he's dead in body, but Jinx's memories of him and his voice now continue to live in Fishbones, her new eternal companion.

I am at awe with the fundamental work that's been done with this setup, and although s2 never followed up on this, I still can get enjoyment from the clear intent creators put here originally.

[joshslater]

Resizing

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Care to make it more interesting?" the guy said. We were both about the same age, size, and build. Me, a ginger electronics engineer student dedicated to exercise for years, and recently getting serious with bodybuilding, and he, a Latino who obviously didn't skip gym or his meal plan too often. I guess that was why he'd asked me to spot for him at the barbell. He returned the favor and I felt the need to use the same weight as him and do his reps plus one. That led into testosterone fueled adventure hunt through the gym where we one-upped each other on various equipment and exercises. No one else was in there at this hour. Very mature behavior conducive to optimal results, not. We'd likely regret this the rest of the week.

"Interesting how?" We were standing under the pull-up bars.

"Most pull-ups win muscle and size."

"Isn't that always the prize?" I asked.

"I suppose it is. Chin must come above the bar and then the head fully below it for it to count. Are you in?" He held out his hand. I shook it.

"I'm game," and took a small jump up to the bar and started without any hesitation. I could feel fatigue from what we had done previously, but I tuned it out best as I could. He was counting. I came past eight pretty smoothly, but then I started to struggle. I would have hoped to at least would be past twelve by that point. By thirteen I had to really push it to get number fourteen above the bar, but then I had to give up. I felt a bit disappointed, as I normally can go past fifteen, but he should be just as tired as I.

"Strong going," he congratulated and slapped my shoulder. Then he leaped to the bar, also trying to show off, and began. While it didn't look easy for him, I couldn't see him struggling too bad either, rhythmically going up and down, perhaps slowly getting closer to the agreed limit above the bar. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." His pace didn't falter. "Thirteen. Fourteen." He made a little smirk. "Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen." That last one wasn't perhaps a legal pull-up, but I had already lost. Perhaps he felt it too, so he dropped down to the floor.

"Fuck, I'm tired," he said, no need to pretend anymore. "Well, at least I won. I shall claim my prize," and he grabbed my hand again. Suddenly I was in agony. It felt like the dull day-after-soreness after a particularly grueling gym session, but there was more to it. It felt like I couldn't move anymore, at least not much. I wasn't frozen in place, but my body refused to detach from him, refused from stepping away. I was hot. I could feel droplets of sweat running down my body, and my eyes were watering up, making the entire room hard to see. But I could see that everything was somehow shifting.

Once he let go I felt unsteady, my body still in flames and sore as hell. His face however wasn't in front of me anymore. Instead I stared right into his chest. I looked down at my body. Years worth of work was gone. It was still an athletic body, but all definition in arms and legs were gone. Pecs and shoulders like any track and field student. "What the hell did you do!" I shouted.

"Muscle and size," he said calmly and flexed his now much larger arm. He looked down at me. "Don't worry. Girls like short boys with abs. Boys too I guess."

"Fuck you! Turn me back!"

"Or what? You're going to tell someone a guy you don't know stole your height at the gym?"

He had a point there. If I hadn't just seen it happen it would be completely unbelievable to me too.

"Just be the bigger man," he said and walked towards the showers.

[zablife]

A Cozy Night in with Tommy

Tommy Shelby x female reader

A/N: Wrapping him in a blanket and putting logs on the fire, requested by @brummiereader. Children's story referenced is the Aesop fable The Lion and the Mouse. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Warnings: drinking, unwanted advances, bodily harm Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

"A lion lay sleeping in the forest...," a soft voice lilted, the melodic tone wafting into Tommy's office like a gentle spring breeze.

Removing his spectacles and dropping back into his chair to listen, Tommy hummed in contentment. This was his favorite part of the evening because it signaled the beginning of the children's bedtime routine. Within the hour, you would be here with him, reading your own book quietly on the sofa as he finished his paperwork and stole glances across the room.

It had taken weeks for you to feel comfortable enough to accept his nightly invitation, thinking it improper to be alone with a man twice your age whom you'd just met. However, you acquiesced as the pained look of sorrow grew in his eyes.

Frances explained he'd lost two wives under tragic circumstances which left him an achingly lonely widower. Upon hearing this, your kind heart urged you to look after him. It was the least you could do considering his benevolence, offering you shelter when you came to him for help.

Now you'd been with the Shelbys six months and you'd made it your duty to bring cheer to the entire household. One thing the family seemed to enjoy was your storytelling and though Mr. Shelby didn't often finish his work in time to join you, you always hoped he was listening.

You had no way of knowing he cracked his door at the same time each night, straining to hear every word. In fact, he was in rapt attention at that very moment. When you imitated the roar of the lion followed by the high pitched squeak of the captured little mouse, he couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips.

"Spare me! Please let me go..." you begged in an overly exaggerated plea, clasping your hands in prayer dramatically until Charlie and Ruby erupted in giggles at your theatrics.

However, little Ruby soon turned pensive. "Does the lion hurt the mouse?" she gulped, clutching onto your sleeve.

The contact startled you as Ruby had been decidedly standoffish, unwillingly to accept any sort of mother figure so quickly after the death of her own. You placed an arm around her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "No, he's quite generous," you assured her.

By the time you'd finished, Tommy was relaxing with whisky tumbler in hand, trying to be patient as you answered the children's questions about the moral of the story.

"It's about repaying debts," Charlie nodded solemnly. "Dad says a person should always pay their debts. Do mice?" he pondered, tilting his head to think for a moment.

You giggled at the firm assertion and his businesslike tone, so much like Mr. Shelby at times. "Well, according to this fable they do," you conceded. "But more importantly it's about kindness and how it's never wasted." Ruby hugged you tightly in reply, proof that the time you'd spent with the Shelby family was bringing her out of her shell.

Your heart swelled at the notion, a contentedness coming over you as you tucked the children into their beds and watched them snuggle beneath the covers. With a feeling of satisfaction, you skipped happily down the stairs toward Mr. Shelby's office in hopes of brightening his evening as well. Only then would you feel your day was complete.

However, the moment you glimpsed his hunched postured and tense looking jaw in the fading firelight, you paused. He seemed as though he were considering something of great importance and you were reluctant to disturb him. "Is everything alright, Mr. Shelby? Would you like to be alone?" you asked, peering into the shadows of his office.

He slowly raised his head from the desk, exhaustion evident in his bloodshot eyes. "'M fine," he mumbled before straightening in his chair. "Come," he urged with a wave of his hand.

In accordance with your nightly routine, you crossed to the fireplace and carefully added enough wood to last until you retired. However, as you turned to select a book from the large shelves by the desk, the now roaring fire illuminated Mr. Shelby's face, which was much paler than usual. Your fingertips lingered over the spine of a leather-bound volume as worry began to crease your brow.

Noticing your hesitation, Tommy asked, "Haven't found what you're looking for?"

You shook your head softly to indicate that wasn't the problem. Meeting his gaze earnestly, you ventured, "I hope you don't find this presumptuous, Mr. Shelby, but I think you could do with a bit of rest. You look unwell."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a heavy sigh. The silence that followed set you on edge, wondering if he might correct you once again. He was insistent you call him Tommy, but the informality of it still seemed disrespectful.

As you studied his graying temples for a hint of what he might be thinking, Tommy revealed the problem. With gravel filled voice he admitted, "It's true, I can't sleep...haven't been sleeping for some time now."

You felt an ache bloom in your chest at the thought of his suffering, wishing you could ease his discomfort. Without hesitation you complied with his request to join him on the sofa, happy to see he was taking your advice.

Removing the cozy blanket from the back of the sofa, you lightly draped it over his shoulders. With a warm smile, you offered to read aloud while he closed his eyes. However, he politely declined as he reached for your hand instead. Your heart skipped a beat as his long fingers closed over yours, giving a gentle squeeze.

"I like having you close to me, Y/n. Say you'll stay." His penetrating gaze made you feel small beside him and a ripple of anxiety coursed through you at the thought of confiding your plans for the future.

You took a deep breath for courage as you explained, "Mr. Shelby, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness, but it isn't my intention to rely on charity the rest of my life," you began. "I've taken a job so I won't be a burden to you any longer."

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly at your statement. He disliked the news coming from you even less than Maggie at the exchange. She'd dutifully informed him of every call you made to town inquiring about job opportunities for young women. It was the beginning of his many sleepless nights, wondering how he might keep you here.

When your plans sounded like idle gossip, they were easy to ignore. Now the threat of you leaving was real and immediate. He knew he had to do something drastic. Opposite hand rising to stroke your cheek with his knuckles, his sharp blue eyes darted to yours as he blurted, "Marry me."

"I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, head spinning at his overly familiar show of affection. In all the time you'd spent with Mr. Shelby, he'd never once touched you. You felt it had to do with the respect he held for you, or at least that's what you told yourself until now.

"Mr. Shelby..."Tommy," you corrected yourself. "I'm very fond of you, but you've been like a father to me. So you see, I couldn't possibly mar..."

Before you could finish the thought, you felt the rough, chapped skin of his lips brushing against yours. He was tender at the start, but the first taste of you only made him hungry for more. Deepening the kiss, he slipped his tongue into your mouth roughly, making you startle.

He paid no attention to the way your body stiffened, a firm hand coming to rest at the back of your head. Locking you in place, his opposite hand unclasped from yours to roam your supple curves. Heart slamming against your ribcage, you tried to speak, but only a pathetic squeak emerged.

Tommy chuckled darkly, the innocent cry reminding him of the little mouse from the fable. He not only found your shock amusing, but arousing as well. Although you tried to jerk away, he forced your hand higher on his thigh until you brushed against the growing bulge in his trousers, making his need for you apparent. "I've been more than patient with you, darling."

"What do you mean? Please, you're scaring me," you pleaded in a quivering voice. As his teeth grazed the column of your throat, a strangled cry escaped. "Stop!"

He pulled his face from the crook of your neck, a storm of emotion passing through his eyes. You watched them darken menacingly as he wound his fist in your hair and gave a harsh tug. "I don't think you understand how this works. You came to me, remember?" he emphasized, tilting your neck back at an awkward angle. "Show a bit of gratitude," he scolded.

Tears pricking your eyes, you countered, "I know you don't want to hurt me."

The force he was exerting over you proved otherwise, a sneer curling his lip as he watched you tremble under him. "I gave you everything," he spat. "For what?" he asked rhetorically, tossing you away in disgust.

"Kindness is never wasted," you implored, reciting the message from the fable you so fervently believed.

Tommy scoffed at your childlike naïveté. "You've mistaken my kindness for weakness, love. You have no idea what I'm capable of," he threatened. Then with all the rage of a spurned man, he grasped your throat.

Fingers clutching onto his wrist, you silently pleaded with him for mercy, but his grip only tightened in response. "Spare me," you mouthed, unable to croak out the words.

Tommy shook his head at your request, "I won't let you go."

As you slowly lost the fight against him, he leaned down, stubbled cheek brushing against yours to place a kiss. The low whoosh of blood in your ears nearly drowned out his final declaration whispered calmly into the night. "You belong to me."

-----------

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

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@novashelby

[sim-berry]

I'm Tired.

I totally get why many simblrs don't want to name and shame and want to avoid drama, but I'm not one of those simblrs. If I see some bs I'm going to call it out. I only have a few followers (who are lovely and sweet) anyway, so it's not like I'll get a crusade against me. So that's exactly what I'm gonna do, because I'm pissed right now.

I know I don't have a big blog so it's unlikely many will see this, but if you do, please reblog it. Spread the word about creators who have stolen content so that people can stop downloading their cc and supporting them.

One of my favorite creators, Toys of Dukeness, has just deleted all their poses from Patreon and stated that they are leaving the Sims community. Their poses have been STOLEN by other "creators" who have locked them behind paywalls. Keep in mind Toys gives their poses out FOR FREE and they've been STOLEN and put behind paywalls! They're making money off of shit that isn't even theirs! How disgusting is that?? And now they don't even feel welcome in the community that they've given so much to.

And it's funny because I just saw a post from the amazing @simmireen (who makes many of my favorite poses) calling out THE SAME CREATOR for stealing their poses!! Simmireen's poses are stunning and she is kind enough to give them out for free, and she's had her hard work ripped off by an early access paywaller. The same one who drove Toys out of this community: simsulani.

This is a screenshot taken from Toys of Dukeness's post (read the whole thing here) that specifically calls out two of the thieves:

If this keeps happening, more of our wonderful cc creators are going to leave simblr. And I don't blame them one bit. Why put hours, sometimes days, of work into creating content when it's just going to be stolen and profited off of by someone else?

And when those creators do eventually leave, do you know what we'll be left with? Scummy perma-paywallers and early access creators who use minority groups to make money. (As a member of the LGBT I can't tell you how fucking sick I am of seeing "Pride Month Collection- Available to the public on June 30th🥰")

We can't let that happen. We need to support and show love to the creators who allow us to have beautiful cc and amazing poses in our games. I can tell you right now my stories would be nothing without simmireen's and Toys' poses. And they aren't the only creators who have had their cc stolen. We're on here about AI stealing art all the time (which is a totally valid argument, don't get me wrong), meanwhile actual humans, fellow simmers, are stealing content right under our noses, right this moment.

I am TIRED of this. Our content creators are being driven off this site and out of the community entirely because their work is being stolen. Storytellers, including myself, have also had their storylines stolen. I once saw someone take my entire NSB Gen 2 storyline, with even the quotes being copied and pasted! If you don't have creativity, then don't make content, that's okay. What's not okay is STEALING from people who have worked hard on their craft, ESPECIALLY if you're making money off of the stuff you stole.

Again, please reblog if you can. And feel free to share some REPUTABLE creators so simmers know who to download from rather than the thieves. They're the ones who need to be driven out, not the hardworking creators. And anyone who is afraid to vent about this on main can come into my anon and rant all they want. We as a community need to stop this.

-Coco xoxo

[zhelin-thames]

Untouchable Chaos: The Jason Todd Chronicles

prompt idea

@silverblueglitter

It was a regular day in the Batcave, which, for anyone who knew Gotham’s most infamous family, meant utter chaos was just a second away. Bruce sat at the large table, sipping his coffee like a man in desperate need of peace. He'd already survived more than enough crises today — a string of robberies, some new crime syndicate in town, and, of course, Jason's latest antics. But as the latest drama unfolded, Bruce couldn't help but wonder if today was the day he’d finally snap.

"We need to talk," Bruce said, voice heavy with exhaustion.

Jason, who was currently spinning around in a chair like an over-caffeinated toddler, stopped his antics and flashed a grin that could only be described as mischievous. "Why? What do you mean?" he asked, playing innocent. If it were anyone else, they’d have seen through the act, but after years of dealing with Jason, everyone knew better than to fall for that.

Damian stood up from the table, slamming his palms down with the intensity of a kid who had just lost his favorite toy. "That! That is what we are concerned about! Your crimes must be answered to!"

Jason tilted his head, blinking exaggeratedly as though he was the picture of innocence. "Crimes?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes. "What crimes? I’ve done no such thing."

Dick, who had long since abandoned the idea of maintaining his cool around Jason, leaned forward with a dry smirk. "Little wing," he started wryly, "you terrorized the mayor by stalking him for days, pranked the GCPD seven times, let the animals go at the zoo twice, stole priceless treasures to bribe government officials, robbed three banks to fund an assassination plot on the president, shot five billionaires, beat up four other CEOs, and oh, yeah — set Wayne Enterprises on fire to declare your love for Jazz. Pretty sure those are crimes."

Jason beamed at him, a glint in his eye. "No, they’re not. Not anymore. Thanks to the GIW and the Anti-Ecto Act, I’m not a sapient being anymore. I can’t be held accountable for my actions. In fact, no one can arrest me but the GIW. So until they catch me, I’m untouchable."

Tim, who had been silently simmering in his chair, muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "I should’ve just reported his ass to the government."

Stephanie, ever the voice of reason (when she wasn’t laughing at Jason’s latest disaster), nudged him hard. Tim groaned in response and rubbed his shoulder, then stood up, glaring at Jason. "Jason!" he snapped, "It’s still not an excuse for you to jeopardize our work just to flirt with Jazz and overthrow the government!"

Jason’s grin only widened. He was enjoying this far too much.

"What’re you gonna do? Arrest me?" he taunted, cocking his head to the side with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before anyone could respond, Damian and Tim lunged at him, and suddenly the Batfamily was engaged in an impromptu brawl in the middle of the Batcave. Bruce, meanwhile, clutched his coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind entirely. He was pretty sure they were all laughing at him. At him, the patriarch of the family, the one who was supposed to keep things in order.

The fight only grew more ridiculous as time passed. Jason ducked under Damian’s wild swing, using the boy’s own momentum to launch him into Tim, who stumbled into Stephanie. Meanwhile, Dick, who had long ago realized it wasn’t worth fighting Jason's chaos, sat back and watched it all unfold, shaking his head with a wry grin.

Damian growled and attempted to pin Jason down, but the older man slipped out of his hold like a greased pig, laughing the whole time. "Oh, come on, little bat, I’m just having some fun!"

"Fun?!" Damian hissed. "You’re a menace!"

"Yeah," Jason said cheerfully, bouncing back to his feet, "and you love it."

Finally, Bruce, at his absolute limit, slammed his mug down and rose to his feet with all the authority he could muster. "Jason!" he barked, "Get back here."

Jason paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. "What now, Bruce? You want me to remind you about the rules again?" His voice was sweet as syrup. "I’m untouchable. Not even you can make me stay in Gotham right now."

Damian, still seething, jumped up and rushed toward him, only to be intercepted by Jason who effortlessly dodged the attack. "You’re impossible!" Damian shouted, pulling his hair out in frustration.

Jason just grinned. "And you love it, little bat. Admit it."

Bruce massaged his temples, his patience wearing thin. "I’m about to turn this place into a crime scene just to get rid of you."

Jason smirked and strutted out of the room. "Can’t touch me, Bruce. I’m above the law now." He called over his shoulder with a mocking wave, "Catch you later, guys! And remember, chaos is the spice of life!"

Jazz, who had just entered the room, watched the whole scene unfold, looking from one exhausted face to another. "So... I assume Jason’s breaking more laws again?"

Bruce collapsed back into his chair, his hands still covering his face in disbelief. "At this point, he is the law."

Jazz crossed her arms, shaking her head but with a faint smile on her lips. "Well, we’d better get used to it. He’s going to keep doing this, and we’re all stuck cleaning up his mess."

Tim groaned, muttering darkly, "I should have reported him to the GIW when I had the chance."

Damian crossed his arms with a huff. "You all are weak."

Dick chuckled, finally leaning back. "No, Damian, we’re just really tired."

As the rest of the family sighed and rubbed their temples, Bruce shot them all a tired look. "Surviving Jason is not the same thing as thriving."

Jazz raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the door Jason had just disappeared through. "I think you’re giving up too soon. Life’s never boring with him around."

Bruce’s tired chuckle was the only response. At least for today, it seemed, the Batfamily’s most chaotic member was out of the room — but only for a moment.

Tomorrow, who knew what mess Jason would create next?

[zigrethsnotebook]

Hello @zuekdaria and thank you so much for your kind words!!<3 It means a lot to me that you enjoy my little stories so much🥰

I think your ideas are lovely and I would love to morph them into one story featuring Ford, I hope that's alright with you! I hope you enjoy<3

Still waters run deep

Ford x Reader

words: 2,584

tags: sfw, fluff

You had moved to Gravity Falls early this year and needed a job quickly to get your footing. Something that would get you enough money to pass the time until you found the job you wanted. The Mystery Shack, owned and run by Stanford Pines, or Stanley Pines as you later learned, was the perfect place for you.

You were a good worker in Stan's eyes: always on time, never stole anything and did the work he asked of you. However, he was a little puzzled by you. You weren't the most outgoing person. The only times you talked to him instead of the other way around was when you needed something from him. Be it a new task, some clarification on a task or something else entirely.

He also noted that he never even saw you smile. Stan tried to tell you that it would look better for the customers when you greeted them with a smile at the cash register, but he never actually saw you do it.

However, being the massive flirt he is, he tried to get a rise out of you one way or another whenever he had the chance to. You always kept your cool. Unfazed by the old man and his weird but charming persona.

At least that's the way it looked to him. To you, he was slowly becoming your friend. You liked working for him and just generally having him around. So much so that you subconsciously started to put off looking for a different job.

Summer rolled around and you found yourself in the midst of the Pines' family drama. You didn’t mind that much, they had quickly all become very dear to you.

Then, Stan finished the portal and got his brother back. You didn’t know about the portal, of course. So, when you came to work the next day and saw a man who looked like Stan eyeing the souvenirs in the gift shop suspiciously, you didn’t even bat an eye.

At least not until Stan entered the room as well and you had to do a double take. "Ah, perfect. I see you've already met my brother, Ford." Stan's hand came down on his brother's shoulder who looked at him and then to you. "Oh, hello. I didn’t even hear you enter."

Stan laughed loudly. "Yeah, she does that. Not very talkative. But she gets things done and that's what counts." Ford raised an eyebrow at you, scanning you from head to toe. You didn’t flinch under his gaze, quite enjoying his eyes on you.

As much as Stan was charming and good looking when he wanted to be, his brother was something else. They shared the same good looks, of course, but Ford carried himself better. It made him appear taller, more put together. You liked him.

Stan and Ford quickly came to an agreement that Ford would stay in the basement and keep all his science and research down there, for the kids' sake. What that really meant was that Ford barely saw daylight at all. It quickly started to worry you.

The gift shop was slow one day, so you asked Stan about his brother. "Has Ford eaten today?" Your question was short, but Stan was surprised you asked it at all. "Not that I know of. Why, you wanna bring him something?"

"Yes." Stan wished he could read your expression. Were you just concerned about Ford's health? Did you see something in him? Either way, there had to be a reason and he decided to keep a closer eye on you.

After you got an 'okay' from Stan you made your way to the kitchen and prepared a simple meal. You took the plate back into the gift shop where Stan opened the Vending Machine Door for you.

You knocked on the door to his lab and the door swung open on its own. Quietly, you stepped inside, looking around the new room until you reached Ford, sitting at his desk with his back turned to you.

He was too focused on his work to notice you. Without a word you moved next to his desk, moved a few pieces of paper out of the way and placed the plate onto the wooden table.

Moving his papers was what made Ford look up at you with a raised eyebrow. He eyed the plate you set on the desk. "Did Stan put you up to this?" You found his eyes. Gorgeous big brown eyes. "No." You turned around and left again, leaving Ford looking at the door and the plate in bewilderment.

This became a daily routine. At the end of your shift you would prepare a simple warm meal for Ford and bring it to him without saying much or anything at all. You understood how important his work was and you didn’t want to bother him. Just wanted to make sure that he stays healthy.

A few days into this, Ford came up the stairs suddenly and started looking around the shop frantically. "Whoa, whoa, Sixer slow down. What's gotten into you?" Stan held his hands up as he stepped closer to his brother, calming him down.

"I lost... a creature got loose. It must be in the shack somewhere. It-It looks like a little orange fairy." Stan calmed him down further and asked if the fairy would be dangerous. Ford explained that it was entirely harmless, which seemed to ease Stan's worries. He was always so worried for Dipper and Mabel, it was very sweet.

After they both looked around the shack for a while and came up empty-handed Ford went back down with a sigh and Stan went back to his office. You sat at the register, reading a book. Stan didn’t mind you reading a book at work as long as you did all the things you needed to do.

After a few minutes something caught your eye. At first you thought it was a bee, zooming around the shop but as you looked more closely, you realized that it looked like a little person. This was the perfect opportunity to help Ford with his research.

You grabbed an empty jar from behind your counter and quietly made your way over to the shirt that the fairy was looking at. In one swift movement you put the jar over the fairy, using the shirt as a lid until you quickly put the actual lid on the jar.

You were careful not to shake the jar too much as you made your way to Ford's lab. Down there, Ford was scribbling away in his journal again. Without a word you carefully placed the jar on his desk. He looked up at you with wide eyes. "Thank you!"

You just nodded and headed back upstairs. God, the look on his face was everything to you. You wanted to see his face light up like that again. The rest of your shift you spent daydreaming about Ford and his big brown eyes. Surely, you would see them in your dreams that night.

When your shift was coming to an end you once again prepared something for Ford to eat and brought it to him. "You know you don't actually have to bring me food every day, right?" You looked at Ford. "I know." He furrowed his brows. "Then why do you do it?"

You thought for a moment, not quite brave enough to tell him just how much you care for him. "It makes me happy." Ford's expression softened and he chuckled lightly. "Well, you could have fooled me. I was worried you saw this as just another chore."

"I don't." Ford smiled at you and you felt like you were about to melt on the spot. "Well, in that case, thank you very much for looking out for me." You nodded and left the lab again.

Ford looked at the door for a moment after you were gone. He could not read you at all. It drove him a little wild. He seriously thought you hated having to come down here every day until mere moments ago.

He continued his work for a little while after he had eaten your food. Then, as he brought the empty plate back upstairs and found Stan in the kitchen as well, he decided to talk to him about you. But Stan was quicker.

"So. How's the food?" He smirked at his brother as he watched Ford clean the plate. "It's really good. But you know that already." Stan raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ford looked at Stan as he clarified. "I mean, you know her food is great because you ate it, too?" Stan scoffed. "No, smart guy. She only makes it for you." This took Ford by surprise.

To think that you only brought him food? Made it only for him? Why would you do that? Ford looked at his brother for help in organizing his thoughts. Stan chuckled at Ford's confused expression.

"Well, if I didn’t know any better, I'd think she has a crush on you." Ford stilled. Could that be? "But you know better?" Stan laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say I do."

Ford went back to his lab, trying to clear his head with science. But now, all he could think about was you.

Life continued the same as before. You came to work, did it quietly and efficiently. At the end of your shift you prepare some food for Ford and bring it to him. And, over the course of a few days, you watched his expressions change.

He had started out barely acknowledging you and the plate at all but now, every day he smiled a little smile at you. It made your heart flutter while also feeling appreciated for the work you were doing.

Today was another slow day in the shop when Dipper and Mabel stormed into the room. Dipper was holding something and looked to be running away from his sister. It was her glue gun.

Dipper had backed himself into a wall as Mabel tried to reach for the object. "Mabel! Grunkle Ford's Journal doesn't need to look cute! It's serious scientific research!" Mabel stood on her tiptoes, reaching upwards. "Science can be cute, too!"

A gentle smile graced your lips as you watched them. You put your book down and walked over to them. Being taller than both of them, you plucked the glue gun from Dipper's hand, turning both of their attentions to you.

"Mabel, I know you mean well. But maybe ask your Grunkle if he wants a cute journal?" She looked at you with big puppy eyes. "But... what if he says no?" You smiled at her. "Then I will let you turn my journal cute."

Mabel's eyes widened and a big grin appeared on her face before she hugged you. She quickly made her way down to the lab. Dipper looked at you suspiciously. "You write a journal?" You hummed. "Not a big scientific one. But I like to keep track of my life."

Dipper nodded in approval and then walked back to whichever part of the house he came from. You walked back to the register and placed the glue gun in one of the shelves behind it.

You didn’t know it at the time, but Stan watched every bit of this interaction between you and the kids through the security camera. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you smile at them. And you talked so much!

He took the tape and made his way to Ford as inconspicuous as possible to show his brother this new side of you. When Ford saw it, it warmed his heart. The men only knew you as this cold exterior, but to see some of the warmth underneath it? He wanted to see more of it.

Ford asked Stan for some more of the security camera footage of you. Stan raised a brow at him but obliged anyway. Ford had to look through the videos, surely, this hadn't been the first time you had some reaction to something?

On a tape from two days ago he found something. You were reading a book like you so often do when not much needs to be done. And there he saw it, the slighted crease between your eyebrows and the tiniest tilt of your lips downward. You were frowning at your book!

Ford felt like a child at Christmas, giddy from seeing you express any emotion at all. He now had a new mission. A new experiment if you want. He wanted to hear your laugh.

A few more days passed and somehow, Ford felt like you were even more distant. And he hadn't even started on his new mission. But you weren't even meeting his eyes anymore when you brought him food. Said even less.

He made his way upstairs, feeling it necessary to ask you about it. But when he got to the gift shop, you weren't there. Ford looked around the house but didn’t find you. Eventually, he decided to climb to the roof. An elevated position would surely help locate you if you were outside.

But he didn’t need to look anymore, because you were sitting on the little balcony, quietly sobbing. He felt his heart shatter.

Carefully, he moved to sit next to you and as he did you silently jumped, not having noticed him join you. "Hey, it's alright. I didn’t mean to startle you." You sniffled, wiping the tears from your face and trying to keep it together.

"What happened ...if I may ask?" He was careful, he didn’t want to scare you off with being too forward. But he also wanted nothing more than to hug you tightly and tell you that everything would be alright.

"Too much..." You shook your head, sorting your thoughts before continuing. "Job search is not going well." Ford felt something in his chest tighten. You wanted to leave the shack? "My landlord is about to throw me out. And my family wants me to-" Your voice broke off, unable to finish.

Ford looked at you. "Would a hug help?" You looked at him as well, meeting his eyes, your tear stained cheeks reflecting the sunlight in a bittersweet picture. You nodded.

Ford's expression softened as he moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. After a moment you let your arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer, as you took the warmth radiating off of him in. It helped to ground you, remind you that not everything is terrible.

Letting his own affection for you overwhelm him, Ford pressed a gentle kiss into your hair. The moment lingered for a little bit. Then, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You pulled away from him, feeling better. "Thank you."

Ford nodded, offering a smile. You two sat next to each other for a while, just enjoying the view and each other.

Even though he hadn't reached his goal of hearing you laugh yet, Ford felt like he was slowly getting through to you. Slowly understanding you. He felt pride in being the one to help you feel better today.

And maybe he could talk to your landlord for you. Or he would just offer you to stay here with him, even though that would be way too direct. Either way, he looked forward to every moment he would be able to spend with you.

[number1jeonginstan]

oky so ik u got an ask from ddyskz  about a similar thing but can you do some of the following (seungmin, han, lee know or bang chan) as perv best friends???? idk... its fine if not but i just love your work <3

also can i be /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ anon?

A/N: Hi hi!! I loved this request, so let me know if you want a part two! I’m so thankful that you are loving my work!!! Ofc you can be /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ anon!!!

WC:1.2k 

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: BestFriend Perv!Seungmin x Reader

Warnings: m!masturbation, pervy Seungmin, that’s basically it!

You and Seungmin had been close friends ever since you both debuted. You had accidentally run into him, head-first behind the music bank stage. You ended up profusely apologizing, feeling so embarrassed and he just laughed, saying it was alright. 

From then on, the entire week of promotions, you both were hanging out in secret. It was like a new friendship blossomed between the two of you. You both had similar interests, causing you both to talk a lot more. By the end of the week, you two had exchanged numbers. 

As the years went on, you and Seungmin got closer, constantly hanging out with one another in secret. Sometimes it was just getting coffee, other times you were asking each other for advice on your vocals. One thing no one could take away from you was your guys’s Sunday drama watches. 

You would either go to Seungmin’s dorm, or he would come to yours and the both of you would binge-watch whatever new drama came out. This month was Daily Dose of Sunshine. You ended up coming over to Seungmin’s dorm seeing as the boys had gone back to their houses for the weekend. Seungmin’s family was out on a trip, so he stayed home. It worked perfectly for you as well because your group's new promotions had finally ended, meaning you could indulge in being lazy for a few days. 

You knocked on their dorm door, waiting for Seungmin to open it up. “Open the damn door!” you whined, pounding on it a bit more harshly. He finally did, rubbing his eyes. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only some plaid pajamas. “Put some clothes on you weirdo,” you said, walking to his room, taking off your jacket, and lying down on his bed.

You were dressed in just a tank top and pajama shorts, knowing that you both would be glued to his bed for hours.  

“Why are you here?” he groaned, putting on a shirt from his cupboard. “Did you forget?” 

“Oh shit, what drama were we supposed to watch this month?” he asked, sitting on the bed, putting your splayed-out legs on his lap. “Nuh uh, it’s a secret” you giggled getting up and taking out your laptop from your bag. “Now please go get some snacks,” you said, pushing him lightly off the bed. 

“Okay your highness” he groaned, getting up and taking a good look at you. You were curled up at his headboard, your knees pressed against your chest while your laptop was splayed on his bed, ready to start the next episode. You looked good, too good. No makeup on your face, your hair a bit crazy, but still looking as pretty as ever. 

Every time you guys did this, he always had to jerk off after you left. The scent of you in his bed was too overbearing, and you always pressed against him the entire time you guys watched the show, never leaving his side. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it. 

He came back with a handful of snacks and some drinks, knowing that you would complain about being thirsty and then he would have to get up again and it would cause a whole fiasco. “How much longer Minnie?” you groaned, growing impatient. “Coming, you weirdo” 

“I was wondering, what do you want to eat for lunch, my treat,” you grinned at him. While you were gone, you stole one of his hoodies, it was already over-sized on him, but on you, it looked like a dress. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants, you looked so fucking good in his clothes. 

“Whatever you want,” he said, getting into his bed next to you. He slipped his legs under the blanket, you following suit. You curled up next to him, starting the show. It was peaceful, three episodes went by like this, your koala bear wrapped around him, your head in his lap while his arms were wrapped around yours. 

What you didn’t feel, was his cock slowly getting harder at every movement you made around him. “Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” You got up from his embrace, accidentally falling directly on top of him, your cunt brushing against his clothed cock. You didn’t think much of it, but Seungmin was trying his best to not let out a groan. It was getting to be too much for him. 

As you went to the bathroom, he tried re-adjusting his cock in his pants, trying to hide his growing boner from you in fear you would think it was weird. You came back without his sweatshirt, making an excuse that you were getting too hot, and the blanket was enough. 

As you got back into the bed, you curled up against him, your chest pressing against the side of his body. He began feeling hot, there was one thing when you were wearing a hoodie while hugging him, but wearing just a tank top was too much. He tried not to shift a lot, barely paying attention to the show playing in front of him. 

Before he could say anything, he heard your snores coming from beside him. You began moaning in your sleep and he could no longer take it. He looked over to see your tits spilling out from the shirt you were wearing and gently got up, not wanting to disturb you. He rushed to the bathroom, not knowing how long he had until you woke up and tried taking full advantage of it. 

He locked the door, double-checking to make sure you couldn’t come in, and slowly took out his already hardened cock from the confines of his pants. He slowly began stroking it, using the pre-cum the tip of his cock as a lubricant. All he could think about was your tits, and how good they would look with his cum covering them. 

How he would fuck you so well while you were wearing his hoodie. He would fuck you anywhere you asked, even in his changing room during promotions if you asked. That made him think back to the outfit you were wearing for your most recent comeback. You pulled off the girl crush clothes perfectly, what he would do to fuck you from behind in that mini skirt you were wearing. When you were learning the new dance for the tiktok you both made, your tits were bouncing perfectly in your top. 

He groaned, putting the bottom of his shirt in his mouth, scared that you might hear him. You ended up waking up from your nap, getting up, and knocking on the door to the bathroom, thinking he just got in there. “Minnie, are you okay?” you asked your voice still groggy from your nap, and it made him groan. The way you said his voice was enough to make him cum. 

He began stroking his cock faster, needing to feel some sort of a release. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute, I just am feeling kinda hot, I’m trying to cool down.” 

“Okay Minnie” you giggled from behind the door, “I’m going to order some food for us!” 

You went back to the bed, while he finally found his release thinking about your moans on his bed, cumming all over his stomach. Thank god he didn’t get caught, or did he?  

[plussizefantasia]

Hiiii! I just discovered your blog and I LOVE ITTT and can I request either Thorins company or just Fíli x reader where reader is the one to kill Azog and then almost dies and loses consiousness for a while??

LMAO why does that sound like such a pick me scenario now that I actually typed it out😭😭 well anyway, I hope youre doing well :)))

Thank you for the request! Sorry it took so long but between my Internship, actual school work, and my job I don't have much time to write. I hope this is what you wanted because I enjoyed writing it!

Fili x Reader

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: Violence and battle, almost dying, follows the request pretty closely

There was too much going on around you for any one thing to stick in your mind. The past hours, days, weeks hell even months were a blur of exciting moments to exciting moments where you escaped certain death more times than you could count on your fingers. It was overwhelming to sit and think about, so you didn’t.

You didn’t have time to think, you had to fight. You had to fight the elves who threatened your kingdom’s door, you had to fight the men who aided the Elves and then suddenly you had to fight the monstrous creatures who burst through the very earth in front of you. 

If anyone were to ask why you fight, the answer you’d give them would be ‘for my kingdom’, there is a duty and honor in fighting for your king and the mountain he is destined to rule. But that answer wouldn’t be entirely true, sure you fought for the king, but not because he was the king. You fought for Thorin because fighting for Thorin was fighting for Fili, the heir and the dwarf who stole your heart. 

You aided the throne, and it helped that the dwarves who sat upon it were like family. You would die for the line of Durin, you’d kill for them. 

So when you saw those idiot men, full charge on the back of a ram up to Ravenhill and directly into danger you pushed yourself harder than you ever had to get to them in time. You ran up the incline, slashing at any foe in your way. Your mind clear of all except your goal, to get to him, to protect him, to hold him in your arms.

The number of enemies thins out as you reach the top, only a few orcs stay near to the tower and they are taken out easily. You push yourself harder.

Finally, with shaking hands and cuts on your fingers from the jagged rocky edge, you rise above the summit and haul yourself into a standing position, quickly spinning and taking stock of what awaited you.

Thorin, Dwalin, Kili, and Fili are standing in a huddle near the center of the ice. Thorin gives commands and the others nod before splitting off.

Splitting off?! What kind of daft idea is that? You shake your head and scoff under your breath before once again launching into a run to meet up with your beloved and his brother. 

Quietly you slip into the stone structure behind them following the princes as they make their way up the semi-exposed stairway.

You only speak up when Fili utters his ridiculous plan about splitting up even further, you tell him as such.

“That is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard you say out loud, amralime.” Both princes make their best impressions of spinning tops and snap their gaze to your slightly amused one. “Three is better than one in all scenarios, we shall go together and give ourselves a fighting chance.” Your tone left no room for discussion and you motioned for the boys to continue onwards. 

The princes in all their chivalry sandwiched you, Fili in front of you, and Kili behind, all three of your heads were on a swivel. It wasn’t until you almost reached the top that you motioned for your little party to stop and listen.

You didn’t understand black speech but you knew what it sounded like, and though it was soft you could hear a conversation occurring on the other side of the wall you were hiding behind. 

You shift slightly, going to whisper the plan to your companions but before you can the brothers have managed to have what you can only assume was an idiotic silent conversation sealed with a singular nod at each other.

Because one moment, they are crouched behind the wall with you, and the next they are letting out a battle cry and rushing over the wall and directly into unknown danger. You’d take the time to roll your eyes and bang your head against the rock if you had the time. However, you need to jump into action, so you do.

Launching yourself over the wall only moments after the brothers, your eyes lock onto their fight immediately. Four or five orcs, all armored and armed to the tooth tower over the dwarf princes and slash at them from all angles. 

You run through the empty space whenever you see it slashing the sides that the orcs leave open and decapitating them whenever given the chance. Together you take down three before you hear a shout from Kili and the movement around you freezes.

You also freeze when your eyes land on the sight of your lover and future husband in the grasp of Azog the Defilier. He dangles Fili over the edge and speaks loudly down to whoever is standing below. 

You do not hesitate before acting, taking too long lunges and readying your sword you launch yourself at the back of the pale orc, fully sheathing your sword into the space where his heart should be and pushing both of you off the side of the wall face. 

If you had given this plan any thought at all you would’ve deemed it as idiotic as the plans the men had made, but all you saw in that moment was the life of the dwarf you loved, in danger. You acted swiftly and without thought and it could very well cost you your own life. 

You watch as Azog’s grip on Fili loosens and the dwarf is released from his grasp, falling oolong side you and into the snow piled at the bottom of the wall. A fall that will surely bruise him but he would survive and that is all that matters.

Nobody tells you how it feels to fall to your death, it must only take seconds, and yet it feels like a lifetime. An entire lifetime rushing past you, the wind blowing through your hair, and the view blurring out of focus. Eventually, like all things that fall you reach the ground.

You are not fortunate like Fili to land in a snowbank, instead, you land atop the body of an Orc, your head crashing against the ice as you try to roll off of him. 

The orc is unmoving next to you as you stare into the sky above you, your breathing is labored and your vision is growing dim. 

Is this what it feels like to die?

You see Fili’s concerned face hover above your own before everything goes dark, you think you smile but you can’t be too sure.

Your vision is restored all at once, and the first thing you clock is that the view is different. Where you last looked upon the bright sky, with your lover’s face gazing down on you, now you only see dark stone and wooden beams, caressed by the flickering light that indicated a fire nearby.

You hear the cracking of wood and nothing else. You take a moment to do a mental scan of your body. There is a slight pain in all of your limbs and you’re reminded of a knife wound you took to the thigh. The most prominent is the dull but persistent ache radiating from the back of your head. 

You try to sit up to get a clearer picture of what is happening, moving makes the pain worse but it is still not the worst you have felt so you push on. Groaning under your breath you make yourself stand. 

You get a better look at your surroundings, the room your in is decidedly dwarvish, the intricate carvings in the wall, and the build of the fireplace enough to give that away. You were in a room inside the mountain, presumably, one in the furthest reach of the east wings, where the dragon damage was less severe. 

While you stand and gaze around the space you find yourself in, the door to the room opens slowly, and in walks a blond dwarf with a braid matching your own. He carries a tray of food in his arms and doesn’t look up immediately.

When he does he freezes, looking your body up and down and up once more. He blinks twice and a smile with the brightness of the Arkenstone itself radiates from his face. The tray is cast aside onto the table in the center of the room and he takes quick strides to get to you.

He wastes no time pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your hair. 

“You are awake.” He mutters into your locks.

“I think so.” You reply.

“You have been asleep for a week, I carried you down from Ravenhill myself. You were looked at by both Oin and an elvish healer. It was terrifying.”

“More terrifying than fighting a dragon?” You try to tease. It doesn’t land.

“Yes.” Is his serious reply. “You did not hear the sound of your head hitting the ice, nor did you feel the panic I felt when you wouldn’t open your eyes again.” His words are fierce and full of fire, contrasting with the almost delicate hold he has on your body.

“I am sorry.” You whisper. “I did not think, I just saw you in danger and the rest was instinct.” 

“I understand, but I am still not happy.” Fili pulls back slightly and looks into your eyes as he speaks.

You match his gaze, “I can live with that.” You place a singular delicate kiss on his lips, smiling at the feel of his mustache braids on your face. The coolness of the beads makes you feel alive. And you are glad for it.

“Thorin wishes to see you. I promised I would tell him when you woke.”

“Why does he want to see me?” You ask.

“Maybe because you saved his heir and killed the orc that had been hunting us for nearly half a year?” Fili cocks his head to the side and smirks at you. 

“It is bad to say that I wish to spend a little more time with you before being unleashed into the grasp of the rest of the Company?”

“Only if it is also bad that I wish the same thing,” is his easy reply. “How about we just eat for now and then we can decide what to do next after that, hmm?” His voice is soothing and his idea favorable. You nod and he smiles again.

So you two spend the rest of that evening together, talking, eating and hodling onto one another. 

Both of you are sure that this is not the last battle you will face together, but this one ended well and you will cherish the moments of peace in each others company.

The rest of the world can wait.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 16

Jason Todd + leather or Latex

I had like, no ideas what to do with this prompt ngl, so I just kinda went with whatever came to me when writing.

Crime lord Red Hood has always had a special place in my heart

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Working for The Red Hood wasn’t too bad, especially compared to the other rogues you’d had to work for in the past. With Hood you didn’t have to fear suddenly being shot because Two-face suddenly felt like it, or being eaten by whatever plants Ivy had conjured up, or answering whatever riddles the Riddler came up with that day.

Best part was probably the uniform though. All rogues put their people in specific clothes. For the joker it was clown masks and all that junk, Riddler wanted you in stuff with question mark print, penguin wanted you well dressed in suit and tie, the list went on. For Hood just wearing red seemed to be enough. Most seemed to just resort to wearing a red hoodie under their jacket, and that was enough.

Interestingly enough, working for Hood also came with some benefits, like being allowed to keep stuff from different conflicts as long as it didn’t cause issues for Hood. That was where you found your first leather, some rich guy from Metropolis tried to set up in Gotham and was quickly dealt with. If Gotham hated anyone more than each other, it was outsiders trying to barge in and make a name for themselves.

The guy had been wearing a sturdy but not too flashy leather jacket, so after checking the pockets and for bullet holes and seeing it in one piece, you tucked it over your arm and brought it home. You had to cut the tags out and changed the inner fabric to something cheaper, and most importantly, into something red, but the quality was no lie.

You realized you might have had a thing for Leather one night when you had needed to go out for some small run for Hood, and you’d been too tired and lazy to put on a shirt. You ended up going out in a pair of low waisted denim pants, some well worn boots, and your jacket. No one batted an eye, at all, seeing a shirtless guy was far from the weirdest shit in Gotham, but the feel of leather on your skin seemed to have lit something inside you.

After that you might have subconsciously started looking for the stuff whenever you went on raids or into fights for Hood and his territory. Who cared if you stole some hotshot from star cities leather west and hat, or that guy from Texas whose black leather boots you stole right off his feet. You didn’t touch the pants though, even though you really really wanted too, you just didn’t trust them not to be contaminated by all kinds of junk.

You honestly thought you hid it pretty well, your draw to leather that is. Everyone had their thing, and you always wearing your jacket and boots was just something you did. If you went home to get dressed all the way down to just your jacket and boots though to jerk off was another thing entirely.

But it seemed your draw to the last targets pants hadn’t gone fully unnoticed by your boss. Imagine your surprise when he shoved a package into your arms one night and told you to only check it when you got home, the modulator of his helmet making him seem way more serious than he probably was.

You wouldn’t say you were outright friends with Hood, no one could really be friends with their boss in the criminal world, but you cracked jokes with the guy and even got him to laugh on the regular. You patched him up when he needed it, and he dragged you to Leslie’s clinic when you got knocked around a bit too hard, which happened more than you liked to admit.

When you got home you had almost assumed that the package would hold weapons or maybe even drugs, even though Hood didn’t personally deal the stuff. But instead, you found what you immediately noticed was leather, a card placed on top of the neatly folded leather. The letter was in Hoods writing, and you felt your face heat up a tad at the words on the page.

“Next time just let me buy it for you instead of stealing it off bodies” it said, and when you unfolded the leather, you felt your insides flutter. It was pants, they seemed even better quality than the ones you had been eying the night before. But it wasn’t just pants, there was a newer jacket, it was brown and heavy and was very well worn, and when you held it out in front of you, you could see it was one of Hoods own jackets.

You could feel blood running downwards, leaving you fumbling with your clothes as you got undressed, feeling almost desperate to pull the pants up your legs and hips. They were tight, but not too tight, and there was no question about the quality. Your original jacket fell to the ground with a heavy thud, your fingers quickly grabbing the heavy well-loved leather of the brown jacket and pulling it on, a shaky breath leaving you as the smell that was so clearly Hood filled your senses.

It smelled like leather, gun oil, the cigarettes he smoked when he was annoyed or on edge, and something undeniably Hood, and it had you tenting your new pants. Or tenting as well as one could in leather, which meant it was more a visible bulge running down the inside of your thigh. It had felt so good on your skin that you had found yourself grinding against your hand on your couch like some inexperienced fool. Your back had arched off the couch as you stained the inside of your pants, the leather growing slick against you as you groaned.

It was only later when cleaning the leather that you noticed the writing in the waistband, near the back so it would sit near the bottom of your spine. “Red Hood” it said, like some kind of statement of ownership, and you had shivered and exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over your face to dispel the thoughts it awoke in your body.

Next time you saw Hood you had worn the pants, but the jacket was left at home. The worn jacket didn’t go well with the newer shinier leather of the pants, so it was your normal jacket and boots, which had some of your friends joke a bit about you being some kind of leather daddy because of your interest in the stuff. You had let the jokes run off your back, joking along every now and then.

You hadn’t even noticed Hood being there until he had appeared behind you, his gloved hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. Youd almost snapped around and decked him, assuming it was someone else, that was until you heard his modulated voice. “You’re wearing my gift. You like it?” he purred obviously enough that you could hear it even through the voice changer.

You could feel your skin growing clammy as you gave a small nod, not even daring to look at hood as he pressed his crotch against your back, his erection obvious even through all your shared layers. “Good, you look so hot in it” he rumbled, giving your thighs an extra squeeze before he stepped back and wandered off, leaving you unsteady on your feet as you tried to force the obvious hard shape in your pants away, for once cursing how tight they were.

It continued on this way for a while, Hood leaving you presents, and you would wear them around his headquarters. It was never expensive or high quality enough for anyone to target you, but Hood seemed to enjoy it very much. It felt almost like having a sugar daddy or some kind, but he had never demanded much sugar, only grabbing your ass at times, or rubbing his hands up and down your torso that time you’d worn a leather shirt under your jacket.

He was a tease, and you could hear the shit eating grin through his helmet as you ground against his thick thigh one day. You felt so wound up from his lingering touches that you had found yourself in his office one day, or what you guys called his office anyways. Maybe you wanted a fight of some kind, you weren’t sure, but one thing led to another, and you pinned up against the wall, his thigh between your own.

And now you were grinding against his thigh like some kind of pervert, your fingers digging into the worn leather of his jacket as you gasped into his shoulder. You didn’t even notice as he pulled off his gloves or spat on his fingers, it was only when one of his hands was shoved down the back of your leather pants and between your cheeks that you realised. A groan left you as he rubbed the pad of his finger against your pucker, his voice cocky as he asked if this was what you wanted.

You tried to glare at him, but it only seemed to fuel him more as Hood pushed his finger inside, letting you adjust before he started moving to the best of his ability, your tight pants not leaving much room to move his wrist. The stimulation was driving you crazy, the tight leather of your pants doing nothing to lessen the experience as you ground forwards into his thigh, before you pushed back onto his hand.

Running your hands down his torso and up his shirt, you could keep the moan from leaving you as you felt something too smooth and slick to be leather. It was Latex, he was wearing a latex shirt under everything else, maybe it was even a full body thing as it continued as you thumbed at the waistband of his pants.

Your exploring just seemed to fuel him more as Hood added not just a second but a third finger at the same time, letting you just barely adjust to the stretch before he started moving his hand once more, causing you to grind harder against his thigh.

It was impossible to fight back the orgasm that rocked through you, thoroughly slicking up the crotch area of your leather pants as there was no fabric to soak it up, letting it splatter against your thighs and lower body. You could feel yourself twitch a bit as Hood removed his fingers, instead grabbing onto your hips and lifting you up, making your legs wrap around his waist.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask what he was up too as he walked backwards, plopping down on his chair with you in his lap, sighing softly as he started rubbing his hands up your torso, flicking your chest through the leather shirt you had chosen to wear. “You alright baby?” he asked, voice warm and caring, leaving you feeling all types of mushy.

You just scoffed and leaned forwards, resting against his broad shoulders and coiling your arms around him. Hood rubbed your back for a while before rolling his chair close to his desk, the taping of keys letting you know he was working on one thing or the other. In the end you found yourself with both your hands up his shirt, rubbing at his latex covered torso as you rocked lazily against his thigh, no hurry in your movements as you knew you had all night, and it would happen soon if the twitching bulge between Hoods thighs meant anything.

[lawsvalentine]

Them as your Valentine

• OP Men HC • (Fluff)

Characters: Monster Trio, Usopp, Law

CW: some uggestive content, fluff, bit of humor

Cee’s Note: A bit late but Happy Valentine’s Day!!🫶🏽 Hope y’all had a wonderful Valentine’s.

Luffy

Didn’t even know Valentine’s day was a thing 😭

When he noticed you pouting and distant he was so confused until Nami practically smacked him and told him

After it was explained to him, Luffy would practically run all over the ship trying to find you

When he does find you he tackles you and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug

“Luffy what the-“

“Hehe will you be my valentine or are you still mad at me?”

Luffy won’t make big gestures but he definitely will be extra clingy and affectionate

Giving you lots of kisses and holding you close to him at all times

He will show you (more ways than one) how much he loves you 🥹

Zoro

Didn’t know that he still had to ask you to be his valentine even though you two were already together 😭

“Why do I have to ask? You’re my girlfriend”

“You still have to ask 😒”

“But why-“

“You don’t love me 😢”

Finally asked you only after you threatened to make Sanji your valentine 😭

Is knew to the whole romance thing so don’t expect huge gestures

At best he gave you flowers that he stole got from Usopp’s garden sgshdj

Even though it’s not much, he definitely will make up for it later that night in the bedroom 🤭

Sanji

Oh he was prepared for this 🤭

He asked you to be his valentine even before you even thought about it

The entire day feels like something out of a romance movie

He wakes you with heart shaped pancakes and a bouquet of flowers

Literally spent all his berries on gifts for you such as a neckace and a beautiful dress with shoes to match

After begging the rest of the crew to not interfere, he prepared a candle lit dinner just for the two of you

He is literally the perfect valentine and you were ready to get on your knees by the end of the night to show your gratitude 🌝

Usopp

Even though you two been a couple for a while, usopp still felt nervous asking you to be his valentine 🥺

He crafted a big heart spelling out “Be my Valentine” in his workshop for you

He also made you a bracelet he crafted himself

He may embellish a bit about the bracelet by telling his signature captain usopp stories sgdhdj

“Oh this isn’t an ordinary bracelet”

“Oh?”

“Yeah it was personally gifted to me from this queen from an island. It was a thank you for saving her kingdom by none other than I, the great captain Usopp!”

“🧍🏽‍♀️”

He’s lucky he is cute lol

Law

Just like Zoro, he doesn’t understand why he has to ask you to be his valentine when you two were already together

Even when you pout he still will think you’re being silly

You will practically give him the silent treatment all day and he acts unbothered by it but deep down he started to miss your presence while he worked

Will show up at your bedroom door when you least expect it with a sheepish look on his face and a book behind his back

After hesitantly taking the book, you were pleasantly surprised to find it filled with love poems

“Look on the back of the book”

You read it aloud:

“ ‘Sorry for being an ass. You mean so much to me. Even with your sass, my love for you will never flee.’”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the terribly written poem which caused Law’s cheeks to tint red, claiming he was a doctor not a poet shdhjddn

Nonetheless you gave him a kiss and spent the rest of your Valentine’s night under the sheets 😉

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 6

History

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The closer he gets to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Previous Chapter: Relic

Word count: ~4.0k Warning: None [not enough editing/formatting]

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. This is a fuck-it version as my brain doesn't seem to be working right now.

Since Nyx was born, House of Wind lay empty most days and nights. Azriel preferred his old room still, for the familiar privacy, for only the skies, the winds, and the moon to keep him company. But at times like these, when the laughter of his family filled the house and his brothers pretended to be better than an infant, he didn’t mind the city after all. 

Despite the constant ruckus, he welcomed this distraction, especially after what he had done two nights prior. Ayla, for some reason, had trusted him and he ruined the first chance he had with her. She had offered him her kindness and in return, he proved her he was deserving of everything vile and cruel in the world. Every blessed moment they shared, Azriel tainted it by forcing himself onto her.

He had hoped Ayla would ask him to stay, or at the very worst, threaten him again. Instead, she stared at him. She stared at him like her entire being wasn’t consumed with desire as his, like it was one of those meaningless kisses she granted other men she took to her bed. How the light in her eyes flickered out, he couldn’t erase it from his mind. Nor the taste of her lips, or how his own tingled hours after he returned home. 

Guilty as he was, Azriel was more ashamed for not regretting the kiss he stole from her. 

‘I know how to hold my son,’ hissed Rhys. He walked back and forth, cradling his child in his arms, round the sofa for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. 

Nyx loved to torment his father whose perpetual cockiness crumbled under the pressures of parenthood, and Azriel loved him for it. He leaned against the window frame and kept out of the way, for offering advice only made Rhys lose his mind. 

But Cass was oblivious to this sentiment. He reached to take Nyx into his embrace. When his calloused fingers scraped against the tender wings, Azriel winced. Add it to their natural sensitivity and they had a crying babe in their arms. Literally. The tiny wings posed a greater hindrance with their involuntary flexing than the three brothers imagined them to be. Though they understood the plight as Illyrians, they were equally pathetic when it came to a suitable remedy.

Cass backed a step, his hands in the air. It wasn’t his first ordeal facing the wrath of the new parents, yet his biggest challenge was the fervour of their outbursts. Some days, Feyre threw everyone out of the room, and on the others—well, once Nyx’s talon clawed into the wood of the cradle, and Rhys bawled while all his child did was stir in his sleep.

A tendril of shadow tickled the babe’s nose before rising to whirl above his head. Fragile silence settled in the room as Nyx watched, his blue eyes wide and filled with wonder.

‘You can’t keep doing that,’ said Cass through his teeth.

Azriel grinned. ‘It’s not my fault he likes me better.’

‘If I did parlour tricks, he’d like me too.’

His tricks include getting piss drunk and fucking Nesta, said Rhys in his mind and Azriel snickered.

Cass looked between them. ‘What did he say?’ He asked Azriel before grunting at Rhys, ‘Tell it to my face, you coward.’

‘You’re making him antsy,’ warned Azriel quietly.

It was too late. Nyx’s lips trembled on cue as though he knew to milk their predicament to his advantage. Rhys’s spawn indeed. With a nervous smile, Cass took a step towards him wagging his finger in the air. But the wails grew louder. 

Shadows rushed back seeking the quiet around Azriel.

When the doors flung open, Cass took three steps back. But Feyre’s eyes were only on her child—one touch from her and Nyx babbled like a portrait of innocence tugging at her shirt. Nesta walked in with a smirk on her lips, knowing well the cause of distress, and with Mor in her tow.

Slumping into the chair next to the fireplace, Rhys draped an arm over his eyes. ‘I’m learning to respect my mother more. No wonder she bit our heads off as much as she did.’

‘I swear,’ grumbled Cass as he sat across him, ‘if you’re making him do it—’

Rhys peeked over his arm, anger darkening his eyes. ‘Why would I make my son cry?’

As the two bickered, Nyx laughed at his accomplishment, convincing Azriel he might have inherited more than his father’s theatrics.

Feyre chuckled and rocked her babe in her arms. ‘You lasted an hour. You’re making progress.’

Rhys shot a glare at Cass. ‘I would’ve lasted longer if not for a moron.’

‘I’m sure she was talking to Nyx,’ said Azriel.

Sensing the attention slipping from his pudgy fingers, Nyx spewed more gibberish. Mor let out a gasp and leaned over him, matching him with her own nonsense. But, he reached for Nesta instead.

Mor placed her hands on her hips and turned to her cousin. Her blond hair whipped dangerously in the air. ‘How does he not find me adorable?’

Rhys grinned. ‘Clearly, my son has standards.’

Nyx snuggled against Nesta’s chest and grasped at the wisps of shadows that deigned safe to approach him again. Mor smirked, ‘Well, clearly. He prefers Az over you.’

A dark power enveloped the corners of the room swallowing the light and warmth from the hearth.

‘Not funny now, are we?’ 

When Mor made a grab for Nyx’s hand in the air, he squirmed away. Amusement replaced the jealousy in Rhys’s eyes. ‘If only you could hear what he thinks of you.’

‘He thinks of me already! He likes me.’

While the rest of his family flocked wherever the babe was, Azriel always found a corner for himself. And Feyre seemed to notice. ‘He really likes his Uncle Az.’

‘More like Uncle Ass,’ grumbled Cass, still sore from the rejection, earning a glare from both parents.

‘You still won’t hold him?’ Feyre asked with a softness that bordered on pity.

In the beginning, it was easy to make excuses blaming it on the care needed from a mother, or on his tender body. With months passed and everyone grown comfortable with handling a babe, it became clearer that Azriel stayed away the most. And somehow, Nyx was fascinated by him the more he distanced himself. It couldn’t be his shadows for Rhys was the night sky incarnate, or perhaps Nyx sensed a familiar darkness in them.

‘I did when Rhys—I did,’ he sighed offering a smile, however strained it was. 

Mischief lurked in Feyre’s eyes as she walked over, ‘You better begin your training now,’ and looped a hand through his arm, ‘You might not have time to prepare.’

Azriel choked. Him with a babe? He had hardly spent minutes with Ayla. Besides, he forbade himself from indulging in such fantasies. He did once and suffered the consequences for centuries. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. With Ayla, it would be different. It had to be different.

The sisters’ laughter worsened the heat rising up his neck. His eyes shifted, darting to look anywhere but their faces, and he caught the glance shared between Mor and Rhys.

Cass swivelled in the chair, ‘What about us? Nes and I are still ahead of him.’

Nesta went rigid. Feyre looked to her mate for help who merely grinned instead. Fortunately for her, Nyx yawned and she rushed to him. ‘I should take him to bed.’ 

Mor stomped over to the couch, ‘You owe me a night, Feyre.’ She pulled Cass to his feet and held onto his hand. ‘You all do. I’m leaving at dawn again and who knows when I’ll be back.’

Right, Vallahan teased her for months with the prospects of a successful alliance, only to test her patience.

‘I’ll stay with him,’ Nesta said quietly, tearing her eyes away from her mate. Cass only shook his head with a dramatic sigh but he didn’t argue or pull away from Mor.

Feyre and Rhys were silent for a while staring at each other, Azriel assumed, arguing over who got the honour to care for their son. Finally, she said, ‘Elain said something about pruning before sunrise. She won’t mind watching him.’ 

It was then Azriel realised the third sister hadn’t joined them since dinner.

.

.

.

Mor slowed as she took in her surroundings, a frown tugging her lips. ‘I thought we were going to Rita’s.’

‘After last time,’ Rhys shared a secret smile with Cass, ‘they’ll appreciate not seeing us for a while.’

Azriel didn’t know what trouble his brothers had stirred this time, but he resisted his words as he followed them down the cobblestone path he knew all too well. Without sparing even a courteous look at him, his family entered Pharus and went to his usual table as though it hadn’t been their plan all along, as though his mate wasn’t sitting on the dais right in front of him.

Ayla was alone that night. She strummed a tune on her lute, and at the first sound from her lips, every conversation died in the room, every patron straining to listen to her instead. 

Pretty things that did pretty things.

Azriel was convinced he had learnt everything about her from his secret visits. But every time he met her, Ayla surprised him. What else could she do? Who was she beneath the stories he had gathered those months? He couldn’t tell if they were careless gossip from his server or curated tales from her loyal friend anymore. 

Her fingers fluttered along the strings, light and nimble, every note a perfection. With each delicate stroke, her body moved with the music like she couldn’t hold back, and as she did, her hair swayed too, teasing the corner of her smile. 

One day, Azriel imagined, he would take her in his arms and brush those treacherous strands away. His heart tightened at the vision—the intimacy of being so close to her, to touch her so gently, to reveal her beautiful face to him inch by inch.

If only he had used his mind for once instead of acting like a lustful prick.

Ayla had laughed for him. She had shown him a side of her that only a few were privileged to witness. She had extended a ray of hope with her truths, and he snuffed it out with one kiss.

When the fog of guilt and shame cleared later that night, Azriel realised he had failed once again. For each of his questions resolved, plenty more arose. How did she end up in Velaris? What of her family? With Hamra safe and away, was Ayla safe from the mystery woman too? If he had another chance, he might coax some answers from her without her games. But she wouldn’t let him close to her again, let alone trust him.

In a twisted way, he wasn’t surprised. When had he ever made right when it came to love?

Azriel almost laughed. He was mated to Ayla. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t sure he knew what love was. His half-brothers had ripped his heart away when he was a boy, long before he learnt what the word meant. All his life, he only ever ‘loved’ one woman and she rejected him. She chose his brother over him for she saw what lurked under the surface, recognised what he was—a shroud disguising the darkness within.

Now his mate, would she reject him too if she knew the true scars deep under his skin?

Ayla took a breath between verses, and he shuddered. Her voice reeled him out of his fears. The weight in his chest loosened its grip with her every word, yet Azriel held onto the ache. What was he without his burdens? What could he be without this longing?

Slowly, as her song came to an end, his swirling thoughts settled too. For long minutes, not one spoke. Silence embraced the void her voice left behind.

Feyre and Cass looked away first, then Mor. When a gasp escaped Nesta, everyone turned to her, except Rhys. Silver sparkled in her eyes beneath the unshed tears as she clutched her chest. Cass spoke her name but her eyes remained on Ayla who padded down the steps. It was only when he placed a hand on her thigh, that she met his gaze with a smile.

His shadows awoke from their trance too. They slithered up his neck and chanted Ayla’s name in his ears. But Azriel’s attention was elsewhere. As conversations came alive and servers went around the room, Rhys watched Ayla. When she stopped in front of her office and talked to a female among a band of four, his violet eyes shone bright.

‘Rhys.’ Azriel called, interrupting him had he chosen to invade his mate’s mind again. Still, his brother didn’t tear his eyes away from her.

A frown creased between his brows before Rhys blinked. He turned to Feyre first—it had been she who pulled him out of his reverie—and then, Azriel. Neither of them spoke, aloud or in their minds. But a tension lingered in their stares. Feyre ran her palm down his arm and it brought a smile to his lips. He looked away first.

With the risk of other courts seeking someone from Velaris, Rhys was bound to get involved sooner or later. With the fae gone, he would have nothing to focus on except Ayla. And so, Azriel kept Hamra’s whereabouts to himself. As far as his brother was concerned, she was hiding somewhere in the city.

The faerie bowed her head and apologised, holding Ayla’s hand in hers, her cheeks flushing red, while her companions set up on the podium. Ayla nodded with a gentle smile—ever so gracious. She blinked and her eyes pinned on Azriel as though she’d expected to find him there, and his breath caught in his throat. 

Once the faerie left, she went to the bar.

‘Come with me.’ Nesta dragged him along before he had the chance to protest, and he swore his shadows aided her. She perched on a stool at one end of the counter, close to the office, making it impossible for Ayla to leave the room without walking past.

It was Raya who approached them though. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Could she serve us?’ Nesta glanced at Ayla. ‘She made me a drink last time and it was delicious, but I can’t remember its name. We were hoping she’d make it for us again.’ With her smile so earnest even Azriel found himself convinced.

Raya cut him a glare but spoke to Nesta, ‘Tell me how it looked. I’ll make it for you.’

‘I’ll take care of them,’ said Ayla softly, not looking up from the drinks she stacked on a tray. While Raya began to protest, Uri urged her with his eyes, then picked up the tray and waded through the crowded tables.

Watching the defeated bartender shuffle to the other end, Nesta remarked. ‘I thought they liked you here.’

‘Not anymore.’ He ignored her expecting gaze and sat beside her. 

No one was privy to what had transpired between him and Ayla, and he preferred it that way. When his family meddled, she seemed to slip away from him.

Minutes passed. She catered to every patron at the counter, ignoring him and Nesta, including the ones who came after them. Azriel glimpsed over his shoulder and found the glasses empty at their table. Cass hollered to Uri, yet the server turned around and talked to a couple who sneaked wary peeks at the ridiculous male waving his arm in the air. 

Azriel smiled at his mate. Keeping liquor from his family was one, and very efficient, way to encourage them to leave the bar.

At last, with no one else left to tend to, Ayla turned their way though she refused to meet his gaze. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘You have a beautiful voice,’ said Nesta, her words whispered with a touch of awe.

‘Thank you,’ smiled Ayla. She stared for a moment and then blinked twice. ‘You sound good too.’

Nesta sucked in a breath. Compliments weren't meant for her. Everything she did was expected and never deemed worthy of praise. As though remembering her manners, she dipped her chin in a graceful nod.

‘How often do you sing?’ She inhaled sharply, ‘I mean, if I wish to listen to you again, when is it likely for it to happen, again?’

‘You can request to my bartender or the servers. If I’m here, they shall let me know.’

So, Azriel hadn’t been special. Yet, seeing her offer kindness to his friend without hesitation was endearing. Nesta pursed her lips as Cass came to stand beside him. The scent of citrus smothered him before Mor wedged herself between the two and wrapped an arm around him. ‘What are we having?’

Shadows scattered back to his wings. Azriel shifted in his seat, the hold on his shoulder growing unbearably heavy with each passing second. He peeked at Ayla but her focus remained on the glasses she was readying for them.

‘Not the one from the other night,’ Mor leaned over the counter and spied the ingredients she mixed. ‘I still haven’t forgiven you for that.’

Ayla offered the first drink to Nesta. ‘I don’t remember apologising. But, alright.’

Azriel shook with silent laughter and his shadows skittered down his arms. Mother, how had he gone two whole days apart from her?

‘Don’t worry about her. It’s easy to get into her good graces.’ Cass snorted, earning a vicious glare from Mor, but she soon smiled brightly when Ayla served her. ‘Just don’t take her wine from her.’

‘And why would I want to be in your graces?’

A laugh escaped Azriel. When he looked up, none of his friends were laughing with him, they only watched.

‘So,’ drawled Mor, ‘what do you think of our Az?’ Her arm tightened over his shoulder as she pressed closer.

Azriel glared at his brother silently cursing him for unleashing their disaster of a friend. 

The next drink was for Cass. Ayla poured another four and began setting them on a tray, ‘I don’t know enough about your Az to make a judgement.’ 

His name rolled off her tongue in a smooth caress. Blood rushed to his face, and between his legs.

‘Would you like to know enough?’ 

Azriel whirled to his other side where Nesta sat wearing a smirk. Why did they leave Rhys and Feyre behind? Why didn't they bring the whole entourage and embarrass him in front of his mate? 

But then, Ayla said, ‘He can ask that himself.’

Ask, his shadows urged. Ask. The words merged and weaved until all he heard were incoherent whispers. Ask.

Azriel was never at a loss for words, he simply chose not to say them aloud. But with her, he often found himself speechless. Nesta nudged him with her knee, a reminder that he still hadn’t spoken. He cleared his throat, and his friends had the decency to scramble. Cass ruffled his hair, making him hiss under his breath, before he and Mor wandered back to their table.

Nesta made to leave as well, watching them for a breath before staring into her drink. Almost a year had passed since she accepted them as family, yet she felt no less an outsider.

Ayla noticed Nesta’s hesitation and watched the two once they joined Rhys and Feyre. Laughter erupted, drinks flowed, and their eyes often drifted to Azriel.

‘You should dance,’ said Ayla. Nesta’s eyes snapped to her as she watched the ones swaying in front of the dais with a smile. ‘The band loves when people do.’ Right then, Uri appeared behind them with his usual smile and she nodded at him, ‘If you’re shy.’ 

How she knew about his friend or the server materialised at that very moment was a mystery.

While Nesta sat contemplating the offer, Ayla set a drink for him. ‘You two have a history.’ 

She was looking past him, where his family was, and Azriel knew who she meant.

A glass shattered across the bar, and Raya darted to the kitchen mumbling about needing a broom, although the smirk on her face was unmistakable.

Nesta choked on her drink. She quickly got to her feet and patted him on the back, ‘Don’t ruin it,’ as walked away with Uri.

Alone at long last, free from prying patrons and his meddlesome family and her vigilant friends. Yet, Azriel felt no relief. His shadows retreated behind him, barely peeking over his shoulders. Now that he was in a bind, they were silent as the dead.

‘Do you regret it?’ she asked quietly.

All night, Ayla wouldn’t meet his gaze, and now it dawned on him—she believed he regretted the kiss he’d dreamed of for months, his one true glimpse of boundless happiness in ages. And with Mor acting like Mor. . .Azriel couldn’t breathe.

‘I don’t.’ Her words nearly drowned in the chaos around them as she fussed with empty glasses on the counter. ‘Although I’d prefer you didn’t run away next time.’

His shadows fluttered around him, emboldened by her admission. Azriel let out a shuddering breath, the need to explain the past tightened in his chest. ‘It’s not how you think,’ he began. What were he and Mor if they were barely friends in name? What remained to say when nothing had existed between them? Instead, he settled on, ‘It was a long time ago.’

Her face was bare and calm. ‘How many long times ago are there?’ 

When he thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. It wasn’t a conversation he was willing to have with his mate in a bar, with his family undoubtedly listening in on them.

‘Two.’ His shadows hissed in his ears and sank behind him again.

Ayla took a slow breath. ‘And not long times ago?’

She pressed her lips together and they quivered. 

Azriel was a fool—an absolute, blind fool.

‘Well?’ She finally looked at him. The light in her eyes returned, brighter than ever. ‘That many, huh? How about in the past century?’

Azriel held in his smile.

Her eyes widened as Ayla faked a gasp. ‘How about the last fourteen months?’

Fourteen months ago, Azriel walked into Pharus for the first time, he saw his mate for the first time, he saw her smile for the first time. While he tortured himself with the misery of being invisible to her, she had remembered him.

Even the ones he called his friends didn’t know this part of him. And Ayla was unravelling him in mere seconds. A voice in his mind warned him to stop, to think, to run away. But he saw the grin on her face at his unease, the unbridled amusement on her face. 

‘Eight,’ he said and waited for an insult but none came. ‘What about you?’ 

‘One.’

Azriel’s brows rose. He knew there were more—more than eight—male and female, none she invited again. His shadows had whispered so during his secret trysts, and that was before the bond snapped for him.

His mind refused to believe her, yet his craving heart did. For a sweet moment, he tasted relief, then she ruined it.

‘Doesn’t sound fair, does it? Perhaps, we should get even.’

Next Chapter: Sinner

[galaxiasgreen]

🎃🐈‍⬛Cat Burglar

Halloween shenanigans with minor Garreth/F!Reader [T-Rated, 3k words]

“What the hell are you wearing?” “What?” said Garreth. “It’s a pumpkin costume.” “You’re taking a girl, you knobhead! You’re meant to dress sexy! Like me!” Tight trousers, a long, leather coat, and the criss-cross of belts over his bare chest… “You’re barely dressed!” “Exactly!"

A/N: This was written for @garrethweasleyfest! My prompts were Garreth POV on a major holiday, Garreth gives MC a new potion with some unintended side effects, and Modern AU coffee shop, and because I like chaos I decided to (loosely) mush all three, resulting in the most crack thing I’ve ever written.

Very grateful to contribute to the Garreth fandom in whatever small way I can. Special thanks to cuff and Elli for organising the fest. Make sure to support all the other amazing Garreth content using the hashtags #GarrethWeasleyFest and #GarrethWeasleyFest2024! And, as always, please enjoy <3

[read on AO3]

Officer Ruth Singer sinks into the chair opposite with a sigh.

“All right, Mr Weasley, let’s cut to the chase. Where’s the Ferrari you stole?”

To be quite frank, Garreth’s not entirely sure how he got here. He’s not sure why he’s wearing half a pumpkin costume and cinching-on-his-private-area orange tights. Hell, he barely knows what a Ferrari is (just that it’s expensive. And bad to steal).

He does know, however, that he did not do it.

“I know it looks bad, ma’am,” he says, trying to raise his hands – they’re handcuffed to the desk with less wiggle room than a finger up an arse. “But I’m innocent. You’ve nabbed the wrong man.”

Officer Singer has a round, childlike face, but in all her riot gear she looks barely contained in the tiny interrogation room. One swoop of her glower almost makes his orange tights brown.

“Look, kid, you were clearly out for Halloween. Want to look cool for your mates and fancied yourself a new ride, doing doughnuts or whatever.”

“I don’t need to steal anything to have a doughnut! Please, Officer Singer. I know I’m innocent. In fact, I was framed.” The detail comes back to him sharply. “And I can tell you what happened.”

Sort of. He’ll remember the specifics along the way. Hopefully.

Singer gestures vaguely. “Go on, then. Let's hear it.”

Garreth sits up.

“It all started three weeks ago…”

“Froth the milk, Weasley.”

Froth the milk. Right. Garreth turned to the countertop he’d wiped clean of droplets two seconds ago. The monstrosity taking up most of its surface was supposedly called a masheen, a big metal box with loads of buttons and a pipe stuck out the middle. He’d been working at Aesip’s Coffee House for a while now, but this contraption was so complicated he hadn’t got the hang of it yet.

“Yes, Mr Sharp.” He grabbed a carton of milk from the cool box and poured it into a jug, which he stuck under the masheen and whispered, “Heatus Upus… Ventus Milkus… Incendio? Work with me, please.”

“You have to steam the milk.”

He turned sharply. You were about his age and wickedly pretty, wearing form-fitting clothes under a long, black coat, and leather gloves accentuating the slender bones of your fingers. You nodded to the jug, brow sloped in quiet exasperation.

“Put the steam wand in.”

“Wand?” he said. Then he remembered the long pipe. “Oh, right, that thing.”

“Now pull the leaver. That activates the steam.”

You were right; the milk frothed nicely. Even Sharp seemed mildly impressed Garreth managed not to explode anything, when he took the jug with a raised brow.

“I will brew you the best drink as thanks,” Garreth said to you, when Sharp was gone.

“Just a black coffee is fine.”

“Takeaway?” You nodded. “And does my illustrious saviour have a name? To write on the cup, of course.” He winked.

You pursed your lips. “Prim will do.”

Prim. Oh, he liked that.

It became a routine. Every day you came in and ordered the same thing. He’d chat and flirt, you’d giggle and smile. Sometimes your visits coincided with that of Sebastian Sallow’s, Garreth’s annoyingly handsome, annoyingly charming, and annoyingly annoying acquaintance who through full fault of his own made Garreth look bad – but you hid when he was close, gaze flickering to Garreth under low-lidded eyes. Obviously his humour, good looks and handsome fit in Aesip’s green apron was enough to win you over.

“Hello, Garreth!” piped a voice from behind the counter. “Can I order a cappuccino?”

October cold had webbed the coffee house windows with frost. Garreth rolled his shoulders. The girl was vaguely recognisable, with glasses and pigtails. What was her name? Something stupid, like Gabble.

“‘Course! Anything el—?”

“Made ristretto with half soy and half oat milk and three pumps of caramel and half hazelnut, extra chocolate drizzle, crumb topping and whipped cream in a large cup and no water. Oh, and a slice of strawberry cake. Thanks!”

Garreth frantically scribbled it down as Gabble-Maybe skipped off to find a table. Merlin’s nipsicles, how the hell does anyone talk that fast? He went to grab the milk. Did she want almond? Or chocolate?

“Do you need help?”

Your voice made him jump. You were good at that, appearing silently. “Yes, please?”

You recited everything again, slower, and he wrote it down. “You have a great memory, Prim.”

You shrugged. “Practice.”

“Don’t be modest, you’re saving my arse. Thank you.” He scoured the cool box for soy milk. “Although, just saying, if I had my wand I wouldn’t need to do it by hand.”

“What?”

He blinked, not really sure why he said that. “Sorry. Usual?”

“Yes, please,” you said with a cute smile. “Although I was thinking… maybe adding a syrup?”

“Whoa, flying the broom away, aren’t we?” He winked. “What flavour?”

“Surprise me.”

As he concocted the drink, chatting merrily away and discreetly adding a gloop of pumpkin spice, the doorbell tingled. Sebastian strode inside in a loose shirt and pressed trousers, and a peacoat made of some expensive wool. Oh joy.

Garreth slid the drink to you, and your cute smile widened. “Thank you, and, erm… I… I wondered…” You glanced at Sebastian intensely power-walking towards him, and quickly mumbled, “Never mind,” before rushing to the nearest table to avoid getting trampled.

A second later, Sebastian slapped down some gold rectangle and proclaimed, “Coffee as black as my soul, Weasley. Make it fast. I have better things to do.”

Most days Garreth had no idea if he was joking. His sense of humour was so warped Garreth couldn’t tell anymore.

“Latte with cream then?”

“I’m in a good mood so I’m going to ignore that.” Sebastian plucked a key ring from a pocket and twirled it around. “The stock deal went through. Decided to treat myself. Don’t be jealous.”

“What the hell is that? A lighter?”

“It’s a fob,” he declared, “for my Ferrari.”

Holy shit! Garreth thought. What the hell is a Ferrari!

“If you’re nice I might let you look at it. From a safe distance. Behind a window.” Sebastian stuffed the fob into his coat pocket. “Oh, yeah, and Leander’s party tonight, turns out Missy is going, so I guess I’ll deign to go as well.” He fixed him a sharp look. “You are going, right?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“Good. You can hold my drinks. And a date?”

“It’s Halloween, thirty-first, mate.”

“No, you turd, are you bringing anyone?”

“Oh.” No, and he wasn’t likely to either. Everyone he knew was already going: Natty, Cress, Amit and Everett, Adelaide, Ominis and Imelda. He poured a black coffee and slid it over. “It’s not necessary, right?”

Sebastian took it with a roll of his eyes. “God, Weasley, why do I hang out with you?”

“Bothering me at work isn’t hanging out.”

“Do you think I want to go to Leander’s place? I’m only going because Missy is. Just find a date so you don’t look like the only loser.”

“You don’t have a date either!” Garreth yelled, but Sebastian was already halfway out the door. Merlin’s chapped lips. The bloke would be decent, really, if not for the ego bigger than a planet.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Garreth…”

He jumped. You had magically reappeared again, avoiding eye contact but batting those lovely, luscious eyelashes.

“Could I trouble you for a napkin?”

“Yes! Of course!” He grabbed a wodge. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, and the coffee is really delicious.” You looked down at your gloves. “I really appreciate you making it for me.”

“You’re welcome.” His heart did a little triple-twist somersault. “Happy to help broaden your taste buds.”

You gave him another small, cute smile, which made his cheeks warm, before retreating again to leave—

Just find a date. Sebastian’s words decked him in the face. Holy moly. He was staring at the solution.

Like a drunk shotput, he flung himself out from behind the counter, narrowly missing Mrs Hecat taking her mint tea, and hurried after you.

“Wait, Prim—” he squeaked before you stepped out, then coughed out in his very deep, manly voice, “Er, ahem, wait, Prim.”

Your face brightened. “Is something wrong?”

“D’you want to go to a Halloween party tonight?” It popped out like a stealth fart. Merlin’s uvula! “I mean. Would you— maybe, if you want— but no pressure—”

“Yes!” you blurted. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

Quickly you scribbled a string of numbers onto some paper and tucked it into his pocket. What the hell is that? some inner voice piped, but then he realised you were so close he could smell the pumpkin spice on your breath, so you could’ve given him a used tissue for all he cared.

“Send me the details?” you whispered sensually.

“Yeah, already sending. I mean, I will. Send. The details.”

You gave him a cute wave on the way out, and once you were out of view, Garreth did a little dance.

“Don’t quit your day job,” muttered Hecat, rolling her eyes.

With Sebastian’s help, and some sort of portable communication device called a foan, Garreth found himself waiting outside the café five hours later when a sleek, green mechanical carriage roared around the corner and stopped abruptly at the pavement’s side. Sebastian rolled the window down – and his jaw snapped upwards with an almighty clack.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“What?” said Garreth. “It’s a pumpkin costume.”

“You’re taking a girl, you knobhead! You’re meant to dress sexy! Like me!”

Tight trousers, a long, leather coat, and the criss-cross of belts over his bare chest…

“You’re barely dressed!”

“Exactly! Jesus, just get in.”

Garreth reluctantly slid into the passenger’s side. The carriage was so strange, with an angled front-facing window overlooking the road, plush, leather seats and a wheel that steered itself – allowing Sebastian the chance to snatch Garreth’s pumpkin hat and chuck it out the side. They were going so fast it practically vanished.

“Who’s this girl you’ve invited anyway? Is she fit?”

“I can’t comment on a woman’s weight,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But she’s a customer. Cute.”

Sebastian hummed. “I’m impressed. Didn’t know you had game, Weasley.”

“I get my meat from the butchers, but thanks?”

Leander’s house was a giant three-storey mansion in the countryside, fed light down the driveway by a string of torches and a collection of dancing skeletons. Sebastian tossed the mechanical carriage into an awkward spot in the middle of the front courtyard.

In the darkness, the shape of you was palpable. With a shiny black one-piece that moulded perfectly to your curves and chest, and a pair of cute ears and eyeliner-drawn whiskers, Garreth’s brain became instant mush. You were… dressed like a cat. An attractive cat.

“I like your costume,” you said to him, once you met on the front steps. “Do I look okay?”

“Errrrr,” he stammered out. “Girl… yes… girl hot— I mean, girl thot— I mean— shit—”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Christ, Weasley. Let’s go in.”

The party was already booming. Rock music was blasting from open parlour, and mood lighting was creating a coalescent effect of red, blue and green marbling on the walls. Bodies were squished together and dancing. The host himself was front and centre, in only a sailor’s hat and a pair of skimpy shorts, getting drunk with Natty and Cress as a succubus and a nun who’d clearly lost the way.

Dragon dung, I really did miss the memo on costumes! Ugh, and his tights were so uncomfortable, too!

Sebastian peeled off his coat and chucked it at Garreth. “Go deposit that somewhere safe. If I find any cash missing, I’ll know which skint bastard to blame.”

He immediately dove into the bodies, probably looking for Missy, leaving you and Garreth with the coat like a plonker. You took Garreth’s hand suddenly – his haunches rose.

“Shall we go put that… somewhere private?”

Merlin’s coccyx. Garreth was about to die. Of glee.

“Leander has a coat room. This way.”

The place was fairly small despite the size of the house, and it was already jammed with a variety of fleeces, bags, capes, elaborate headgear and abandoned props. He tried to find a hook near the back but nearly tripped – you snatched his arm and pulled him close to steady him, and your breath, minty and fresh and enticing, whirled into his nose.

“Be careful,” you whispered in that sensual voice. “Let me do it.”

You took the coat and stretched around him, causing blood to rush up his neck. Pretty girl. Pretty costume. His brain managed only caveman utterances as a strong impulse to crush his lips to yours overwhelmed him. When you reached back, however, your hands wandered, going from the coat to his hair, dragging your fingers through like a comb. His mouth went dry tracing the silhouette of your body, and the look of hunger in your eyes.

“Prim—” he choked out.

You placed a finger to his lip. “Outside?”

He took your hand and marched you out front again. Good grief, it was happening. He didn’t make it one step down the courtyard before you pulled him down, meeting his lips with your own. The kiss was so unexpected and warm and amazing all the hesitation in his chest dissolved. His hands met your waist, his chest your own. You tasted like an addiction, poisonous and unyielding. He wanted more, so much more.

The kissing intensified. It was so chilly, yet he was burning up within, throwing himself willingly into the flames of you. Oblivious of the surroundings, he let himself be guided to wherever the hell you wanted. Your tongue skimmed the seam of his mouth and it took all his willpower not to moan. Was this Muggle Heaven? He fell back on something soft, flat out against – a leather seat?

You peeled yourself off as you threw the rest of him into the passenger’s seat of Sebastian’s Ferrari. Garreth yelped.

“Er, Prim—?”

In two seconds you were in the driver’s seat, and revving the engine. The Ferrari purred to life, and when you hit the accelerator, Garreth’s face mashed against the back of the seat.

“Prim! What the hell are you—?”

The carriage swerved left, pitching him sideways until he grabbed the headrest to steady himself. He screamed. Only when you were in some country road did you lurch to a stop. Garreth caught his breath.

“We could’ve just snogged in the courtyard, you know!”

You turned, casting him a sweet, ominous smile, and swung a key ring around your clawed finger. He stared at it, recognising the shape…

“Wait a second… that’s Sebastian’s knob!”

“Fob, Garreth,” you corrected. “And it’s mine now.”

“What? But—”

“I have to thank you, actually. He’s been a target for weeks but getting close to him was impossible… until I met you.” You pressed something on the dashboard and passenger door opened, letting in a rush of frigid air. “I can’t believe you’d break his trust.”

“But— I didn’t do anything!”

With one swift movement, you kicked Garreth square in the chest. He took the blow unprepared, tumbling into the cold and landing on the compacted mud with a thump.

“Sebastian will notice soon,” you said casually. “They’ll find your hair all over his coat. Don’t worry, I’ve confiscated your phone so you can’t contact anyone. Should give me a few hours leeway, but I’m sure he’ll notice you’re gone first. You’re not a bad kisser though.” You winked. “See you next time, gorgeous.”

The door sealed shut, and the metal carriage sped off, churning dust and smoke in Garreth’s face.

“And that’s how I was framed.”

Officer Singer stares at him like he’s become the pumpkin.

“You’re saying this girl Prim used you to steal the Ferrari from Mr Sallow?”

“Exactly right!”

“When she doesn’t exist?”

“What?”

“The number you texted isn’t in service. No record of her at any local business or university. You don’t even have a name?”

Garreth feels sweat drip from head to arse. “N-No, but I swear she’s real!”

“Yeah, okay, and I’m going home to feed my unicorn.”

“Unicorns are real too! And Sebastian saw her!”

“Mr Sallow did indeed see someone that night, but it was dark. She could’ve been any of the other party guests.”

“But she wasn’t—”

“I’m afraid the evidence is stacked against you.” Singer stands. “You’re under arrest for Ferrari-theft—”

“No, please!”

“— where you’ll face trial—”

“No!”

“— and then… Azkaban.”

“NOOOOO—”

“—OOOOOOOO!”

Pain shoots down his head and shoulders. Garreth gulps in a sharp breath and pries open his eyes – everything’s blurry, but he can just make out his legs stuck in the air and the rest of his body awkwardly folded between the foot of his bed and the floor. Except for undergarments, he’s arse-naked. Everything’s spinning, his hair’s dishevelled, and his innards feel like they might quickly become outards.

“Garreth! Are you all right?”

A vague shape above him crystallises into you, staring down at him with a hand over your mouth. You’re barely dressed, just a thin nightgown.

“Prim… what…?”

“I told you that potion was a bad idea,” you scold, helping him onto the bed’s edge. “Enhancing your dreams… try nightmares! I tried shaking you and nothing worked! You just sat there and drooled for thirty minutes!”

“Wait— so…” Everything was a dream? That tavern with the weird masheen and Sebastian’s metal carriage and you being a cat burglar but not the cute kind—

“Prim,” he pulls you into a hug, “Merlin’s nappy rash, I love you. I love you just the way you are.”

“Er…” You pat him on the back. “I love you too?”

“And I will be the best boyfriend ever as long as you never to get me arrested for a Ferrari!”

You fix him a sweet, if exasperated smile.

“You know I would never try to get you arrested, Garreth. Whatever you saw in your nightmare wasn’t real.”

And thank goodness for that. He sags and rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m never drinking that potion again.”

“That sounds like a very wise idea,” you say. “I do have to ask though… what’s a Ferrari?”

Garreth kisses your nose.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

Fin.

My eternal gratitude to CharlesSTBeaufort for fielding all my annoying car questions. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed! <3

[read on AO3]

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