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theostrophywife · 8 months ago

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my collar.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: she's my collar by gorillaz (feat. kali uchis)

author's note: sometimes theo just needs to be put in his place and i'm more than happy to deliver that 😏

It was heinous.

It was criminal.

It was downright torturous.

Your boyfriend leaned over, his lips grazing your earlobe as he lowered his voice to a husky, seductive tone. “Are you okay, principessa? You seem a little distracted.”

Crimson colored your cheeks as you straightened against the wingback chair, clearing your throat while you looked around the table, which was currently occupied by your closest friends. All of which were none the wiser to the effect Theo had on you tonight.

“I’m fine,” you squeaked out.

“Really?” Theo drawled, sliding his hand down your thigh and squeezing firmly. “Because you haven’t stopped shaking your leg since dinner started. A shame. Malfoy flew in a private chef from France. He really wants to impress his girl. I know what that’s like.”

You inhaled sharply as his hand trailed higher, his rough and calloused fingers slipping underneath the slit of your dress. “Teddy, please…”

“Begging already, dolcezza? I thought we agreed to save that for the bedroom.”

The teasing and taunting, the push and pull, the cat and mouse routine between you and Theo had been constant all night. Punishment for turning down his proposal for a quickie before dinner. It was hard enough to say no to Theo on a normal day, but declining your boyfriend’s proposition of hot, frantic sex while he looked absolutely sinful in a custom three piece suit was nearly impossible. Not to mention painful.

Still, if you’d taken him up on the offer, you most likely would’ve never made it to dinner. You couldn’t do that to Draco. He needed emotional support. Tonight was his first time ingratiating Hermione into your friend group and you promised that you’d do everything in your power to make her feel welcome.

With a sigh, you pried Theo’s fingers off of your thigh. “Behave, Theodore.” Your boyfriend pouted like a petulant child. “Draco needs us.”

You nodded towards the blonde who looked equally panicked and appalled while Blaise recounted embarrassing stories to Hermione. The golden girl seemed amused by the antics, but Malfoy was anything but.

“Save him before he ruptures a blood vessel,” you murmured to your boyfriend. For good measure, you batted your lashes up at him and gave him a look that he couldn’t refuse. “Please, baby.”

Theo sighed, mumbling in Italian under his breath. “Gentlemen. Care for a cigar?”

Thankfully, Zabini’s plan to embarrass the hell out of Draco was momentarily forgotten. Crisis averted. Draco shot you a grateful look, knowing that you were most likely behind the save. Salazar knows that Theo would’ve delighted in the effort of sullying his oldest friend’s reputation if he hadn’t been distracted.

The boys rose from their chairs, excusing themselves from the room. Theo lingered beside you, dipping his head to place a kiss right underneath your jaw. He sucked lightly on the sweet spot and smirked as you melted against him. The bastard was playing dirty.

“You owe me for that, cara mia.”

Desire bloomed in your core, flooding heat through your body as you peered at your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but admire him in his suit. The midnight blue fabric draped over his tall and lean figure like your own personal gift and the deep stormy color brought out his eyes. You flushed as he turned, training his intense gaze on you like he was savoring the sight. With a cheeky grin, Theo shot you a wink before slipping out the door.

Beside you, Pansy tutted in disapproval. “Get a hold of yourself, Y/N.”

You flushed as Hermione bit back a grin. The curly haired witch patted your hand. “You have my sympathy. When I first saw Draco in a suit, I nearly spilled wine all over myself.”

“See, Pans. I’m not the only one,” you murmured in self-defense. “I can’t help it.”

Pansy shook her head, her glossy bob grazing her chin. “You can and you will. Don’t let Nott turn you into a simpering mess. The Y/N I know would bring a man to his knees.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “I think Pansy’s right. You should show Theo who’s really in control.”

You smirked as an idea started forming in your head. “You’re more devious than you look, aren’t you, Granger?” Hermione flashed you an innocent smile, which made you laugh. Draco had his work cut out for him. You liked her all the more for it. “You two have a point. Maybe I’ll give my boyfriend a taste of his own medicine tonight.”

Once your mind was made up, the three of you moved on to more important topics. You were fascinated to hear about Hermione’s work on curing lycanthropy while she was equally curious about the proposed laws that you were in the process of bringing before the Wizengamot. The bill was a passion project of yours because it would give rights and protections to muggle born wizards and witches that had never been afforded to them before. You were ready to fight tooth and nail to see it come to fruition.

Needless to say, you were a little too passionate about it. The last time Rita Skeeter interviewed you under the guise of bringing light to the cause, you nearly strangled the sneaky little witch for taking more interest in your romantic relationship than the work you were trying to achieve. You were glad that Pansy worked her high society charm and publicity experience to diffuse the situation.

In the end, she bribed and threatened the proper people to have the story killed. It was a blessing in disguise since you ended up giving exclusive rights to the Quibbler, which was now spearheaded by your old classmate Luna. She truly did the story justice. As a bonus, her tenacity seemed to have caught the attention of the pickiest witch you knew. No matter how many times Pansy denied it, you knew your friend was smitten.

“Babe, you should take your own advice and just ask Luna out already.”

Your friend nearly choked on her wine. Hermione watched the interaction with an amused expression. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she turned over to Pansy. “I happen to know that you’re just her type.”

Never in your life had you seen Pansy Parkinson blush that furiously. She caught herself, holding her head high in that aristocratic way of hers. “Of course I’m her type,” your friend declared in a haughty tone. “I’m everyone’s type.”

You and Hermione looked at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles. Pansy cracked a smile and laughed along. The three of you were in full hysterics by the time the boys came back.

Theo slipped back into his seat, squeezing your shoulder gently. “What’s so funny, dolcezza?”

“Girl talk,” Hermione answered on your behalf. “It’s not for you boys to hear.”

You nodded in between giggles. “What Granger said.”

Draco groaned. “Bloody hell, they’re unionizing.”

Your boyfriend raised a brow. He placed his hand back on your thigh, resuming the torturous contact from earlier in the night. “Keeping secrets from me now, Y/N?”

You plastered a saccharine sweet smile on your face. Theo observed curiously as you peeled his fingers from your leg before firmly holding his hand. “I thought you liked a little mystery, baby.”

Theo swallowed thickly as you leaned in to whisper in his ear. He held his breath while you pressed your palm against his chest, twirling his tie between red painted fingernails. You lowered your voice into a dark, seductive tone. “Have I told you how good you look tonight? I could just eat you up.”

Lust blown eyes stared back at you, those familiar piercing blue irises completely swallowed by darkness. Theo shifted in his seat as his gaze dropped down to your mouth. You flashed him an innocent smile before releasing his tie and returning to the conversation happening around you. You could feel that burning gaze on you as you laughed and talked with Pansy and Mattheo.

For the rest of the dinner, you kept up the nonchalant act. You mustered every ounce of self-control within you and rebuffed all of Theo’s advances. Every time he leaned in for a kiss, you gave him your cheek instead. When the group moved to the sitting room, you walked by his side instead of leading the way because you knew Theo would take advantage and smack your ass when no one was looking. To his surprise, you slapped his backside with a sly little smirk, causing him to glance over at you in shock.

By the time you were seated on the expensive velvet couch, Theo was practically jittering. His knee bounced beside you as Hermione continued telling you about the Paris trip Draco had planned. Without looking at him, you placed a hand on your boyfriend’s leg and stopped his anxious bouncing. He sighed beside you, no doubt pouting like a petulant child. Yet you didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement, which only made him more desperate.

“Let’s get out of here,” Theo whispered into your ear. “You can devour me all you’d like, cara mia.”

You shook your head. “We haven’t even gotten to dessert yet, my love.”

When Draco brought out a spread of chocolate covered strawberries, the opportunity to tease Theo even more quite literally presented itself on a silver platter. You pinched the ripe fruit between your fingers before wrapping your lips around it. Theo watched with rapt attention as you took a slow, deliberate bite, making a whole show of sucking and licking off the chocolate. He gripped the armchair so hard that his knuckles turned white from the strained effort.

You bit back a smirk as he crossed his legs and tried not to groan. It was obvious that you had the upper hand now. Theo was barely paying attention to whatever anecdote Enzo and Mattheo were rambling to him about. Those electric eyes were trained on you as you picked up another strawberry.

“Want a bite, Teddy?” you asked lovingly. “They’re sweet.”

Theo sucked in a breath before nodding slowly. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment. You offered the fruit to him, cradling his cheek gently as he wrapped his lips around the strawberry in a suggestive manner. Theo kept eye contact as he sucked the white chocolate off. You stared back, smiling sweetly as he devoured the fruit in one bite. He seemed frustrated at your unaffected expression, but you were determined not to break. You were going to come out on top tonight. In more ways than one.

Usually, the two of you would be the first to leave. You rarely made it through an entire night without Theo dragging you into the floo so you could tear each other apart back at your shared flat. Tonight was different though. You lasted all the way through midnight, forcing yourself to laugh and chat with your friends as you ignored your boyfriend’s fuck me eyes from across the room.

For that, you made sure you were the last to leave. Theo was convinced he was slowly dying. As soon as the two of you stepped through the floor, your boyfriend scrambled towards your direction, itching to get his hands all over you.

You stepped out of his reach and shook your head. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Theo looked utterly confused. “I’ve never needed permission before.”

You chuckled darkly. “You really think I’d reward you for acting like a brat all night? You’re going to learn that it’s a bad idea to tease me like that in front of all of our friends.” Theo gaped at your words. “Now, sit. You can use this time to think about what you’ve done.”

“Dolcezza, please —“

”Did I fucking stutter, Theo?” You jutted your chin to the bed. “Sit. I won’t tell you again.”

Judging by the look on his face, Theo was stunned at the sudden change, but you knew your boyfriend well enough to notice that he was entirely turned on by it too. He settled on the edge of the bed, watching in anticipation as you made your way over to the vanity table. As slowly as possible, you took off every piece of jewelry one by one. The diamonds glittered brightly as you removed them from your neck, ears, and fingers.

A tense silence settled in the room while you pulled the pins out of your updo, sending your hair cascading over your shoulders. Theo squirmed in place, groaning at the sight. You knew that seeing your hair down was his weakness.

“Baby,” he pleaded in the darkness. “Can I touch you?”

You cut him a disinterested glance over your shoulder. “You can help me take my dress off.”

Theo sighed in relief as you sauntered over to him. His slender fingers struggled with the zipper, eager to tear the fabric off of your body. You met his gaze through the mirror, giving him a stern look.

“Slow, Theo. You need to be patient.”

Your boyfriend swallowed thickly, struggling to reign himself in. He concentrated on undressing you slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled the zipper down. He cursed under his breath when your dress pooled around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a little lacy green set — his favorite.

The struggle was evident in his expression. His gaze raked over your body, settling on the spiky heels that you purposely kept on. The red soled stilettos clicked against the wooden floors as you closed the gap. You smirked as you settled between his legs and tugged on his tie.

“Your turn,” you rasped while Theo gazed at you with pure hunger. “Let me undress you now.”

“Okay,” Theo murmured, dazed and confused as you unbuttoned his shirt.

He hissed when you raked your nails over his chest and made quick work of his tie. Theo started unbuttoning his shirt, but reeled back when you swatted his hands away. Your boyfriend gazed up at you expectantly, letting his hands fall neatly to his sides while you took over. Without much effort, you expertly unbuckled his belt and kneeled before him to help him slip out of his pants. Once he was stripped down to his boxers, your eyes flickered back to his face.

“Get on the bed,” you commanded.

Theo was mesmerized, inching backwards towards the headboard on his elbows, but keeping his attention on you as you crawled on the mattress with your heels still on. Your boyfriend was completely under your spell as you brought your face close to his, your hair tickling his chest while he eagerly drank you in.

“What do you want?”

“I want to kiss you,” he answered without hesitation.

”Then learn to ask for it.”

Theo nodded, biting his lip. “Can I kiss you?”

You raised a brow, utterly unimpressed. “Try again, Theo.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, canines sinking down. “Can I kiss you, please?”

You smirked, pleased with the magic word. “Good boy.”

Something dark flashed in Theo’s expression. Your words seemed to awaken a new level of lust and desire within him. The praise gave him a rush that he had never felt before. Theo surged forward, his mouth slanting over yours eagerly. He tasted like wine and strawberries, heady and sinful while he kissed you deeply. His tongue slipped past the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You granted his request, licking the roof of his mouth as you battled for control.

Theo welcomed the challenge, groaning into your mouth as he pulled you into his lap. You straddled him and tugged at his hair as you flicked your tongue over his bottom lip, licking and sucking until he groaned with need. Theo took liberties without your permission, his greed getting the best of him as he grinded his hard length against your ass.

You weren’t going to reward his impertinent behavior. You promised to teach him a lesson tonight. Theo gasped as you bit down on his bottom lip before raising his arms above him. He blinked in confusion as you bound him to the headboard with his own tie. It all happened so fast that by the time he noticed, it was already too late.

Theo tugged at the restraints, squirming underneath you. “Please, cara mia. I want to touch you.”

You sighed in disappointment. “Then you should've asked.”

His biceps flexed as he struggled, the veins on his forearms stark and prominent against his olive skin. Panic filled his eyes when he realized that there was no getting out of his binds. “I’m sorry. I got greedy. Please untie me, principessa. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll make it up to you.”

Theo sounded desperate. You traced his swollen lips with your fingers and tugged at his messy brown waves. His eyes were wild as you straddled him. “Oh, you will,” you drawled, flashing him a devious smirk. “After I’m done with you, you’ll learn not to disobey me, my love.”

Your boyfriend panted heavily as you kissed down his chest, sucking and nipping at his flesh in a punishing manner. He was barely breathing as you trailed further south, licking a stripe down his torso. Theo whimpered as you pressed sloppy, openmouthed kisses along his abdominal muscles, leaving hickies in the shape of your initials on his skin. You continued taunting him with your mouth, flicking your tongue along his sinfully delicious happy trail like you had all the time in the world. When you grazed your teeth against his v-lines, Theo tugged at his arms so hard that the headboard rattled.

He was practically in tears as you palmed his cock through the fabric of his underwear. Theo held his breath as you toyed with the band of his boxers, hooking your fingers over the fabric before sliding it off his long legs. His eyes rolled back while you pumped him, applying just the right amount of pressure to have him writhing against your touch.

A desperate little whine slipped past his lips as you licked at the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over his tip and slurping up his precum. His moans filled the room when you took him down your throat, holding his hips down so he can’t fuck up into your mouth like he wants. Theo cursed in Italian as you pumped him with both hands, all the while sucking down and hollowing your cheeks to suction him in.

“Fuck, bella. I’m so close,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “I’m going to cum.”

You withdrew your hands and your mouth at that moment, making him whine and groan from the sudden absence. Theo’s eyes flew wide open, tears filling his vision as you shook your head in disapproval.

“I thought I told you to ask,” you chided. “If you want to cum, use your words.”

“Please, please, baby, I’ll do whatever you want —“

”I know,” you said before settling over him and sliding off your panties. “And what I want is for you to get me off. Think you can help me with that, Theo?”

“Yes, yes. Just untie me and I will. I’ll make you feel good, dolcezza. I promise.”

“Oh, but you can do that right here, right now. With your hands tied.” Theo groaned as you grinded against him, spreading his precum and your slick over him. He moaned when his cock rubbed against your swollen clit with the perfect amount of friction. Theo was bewildered, his breaths coming out in ragged spurts.

“Be a good boy and let me use you as my fuck toy. You can do that, can’t you, Teddy?”

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in his mind. Theo felt the words escape him as you grinded against him. He felt dizzy. His cock was so hard that it hurt and he couldn’t even think straight. You hummed, brushing a finger over his balls before cupping them in your hand.

“Use your words, pretty boy.” Theo blinked back, unable to speak. You grabbed his jaw roughly, forcing him back into focus. “I asked you a question. I expect you to answer.”

Theo whimpered before nodding weakly. “Use me, dolcezza. I’m yours.”

You smirked in satisfaction. Theo groaned as you rubbed your pussy against his cock. When his shaft brushed against your clit, his eyes rolled back so hard that he was convinced he could see the vacantness of his empty mind. You rode him hard and fast, using his body to get you off. The depravity of it turned him on even more. The blood rushed out of his head at the dominance you exhibited. You were utterly selfish, taking what you wanted when you wanted it, and he was so fucking aroused at how cruel his girl could be.

You raked your nails over his chest as you balanced, teasing him with your wet folds without letting him feel you. Theo bit his lip so hard that the action drew blood. You licked away the crimson droplets and he sighed against your mouth as you gave him relief, sloppily kissing him while you moaned his name. He could tell you were getting close by the way you convulsed above him and he cursed as your pussy squelched against his cock.

Theo was in awe as you cried out, cumming while you screamed his name. You slowed the roll of your hips as you lost yourself over to the orgasm, denying him of his own again. Your juices trickled down your thighs and pooled against his stomach. At that point, his cock was so sensitive that it throbbed painfully. Theo was in shambles, his wrists raw and red from tugging so hard.

“Please, please, baby. Let me fuck you. I need it. I need you. I’ll die if I’m not inside you.”

You chuckled, brushing the salty tears pooling underneath his pretty eyes. “Pathetic. Are you begging for me, pretty boy? So desperate to fill me up, to feel my pussy hug around your cock while you pump your cum inside of me, hm?”

“It hurts so bad,” Theo whined. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything you want. I’ll get on my knees and beg. Please, principessa.”

“Look at you crying for me,” you cooed, caressing his cheek. “Poor Teddy. You’ve been so good. Let me take care of you now.” You soothed him with praises as you untied his arms.

You kissed his wrists as Theo sighed in relief. “Do you want to touch me, baby?”

Theo nodded shyly, which made you smile. His large, rough hands carefully gripped your hips. He looked to you for approval, making sure to check with you for every little thing. You only nodded, dragging his hands up to rest on your breasts. He busied himself with your bra strap, breathing raggedly as he freed your tits from the fabric.

“Can I touch them, please?” Theo asked earnestly.

“Is that all you want?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “I want to kiss them. I want to suck them.” His gaze flickered to your amused expression. “Please, baby.”

“Go ahead. You earned it, pretty boy.”

Theo wasted no time, kneading your tits while kissing down your cleavage. He gasped in surprise when you sank down onto him, nearly sobbing in relief when he felt your pussy hug around his cock. His shaky little breaths seeped into your skin as you took inch after inch, making yourself comfortable on his lap as he sheathed himself inside of you. Theo whined when you lifted your hips until only his remained inside of you.

“Don’t whine, Theo. Be thankful that I’m fucking you instead of punishing you.”

He rested his head on the crook of your neck, attempting to ground himself. “Thank you, baby. I’m grateful. I don’t deserve it, but you’re so good to me.”

With a proud smile, you slammed down to take all of him again. Theo was rendered speechless and his mouth fell open as you bounced on his cock. Desperately, he scrambled to catch your perky breasts into his mouth. Your boyfriend sucked on your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples. You moaned as he nipped at you, tensing when you yanked him by his hair.

Theo stared at you, waiting for direction. Knowing that you had this much control over him made you clench. In your relationship, Theo tended to take on the dominant role, but now that you knew that your boyfriend was more than open to being submissive, you were ready to explore this new dynamic.

“I like this side of you,” you murmured, kissing down his jaw and neck. His breath hitched as you slowly rolled your hips. “So obedient. So willing. So submissive.” A shiver shuddered through him as you wrapped your fingers around his neck. “Tell me who you belong to, Theo.”

“You, baby,” he rasped. “Only you.”

“Show me,” you commanded as you squeezed his throat. It was enough to make Theo feel dizzy, momentarily cutting off his oxygen. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The desire to please you overwhelmed him. All thoughts of his own pleasure faded. It was secondary to the need to hear you praise him, to validate him, to call him your good boy. He hooked his arm around your waist, shifting his hips to fuck into you at a deeper angle. You moaned above him as your bodies melded together. Sweat, sin, and sex permeated the air while he worshiped at your altar.

Theo watched his cock disappear between your folds, his gaze flickering from your pussy to your face, eager to know if his actions pleased you. You brushed his hair back, gentle and loving, while you talked him through it.

“That’s it, Teddy. Fill me up.” Theo thrusted as you bounced, groaning as he hit the sweet spot that made your body sing. “Just like that. Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so good, baby.”

Your forehead dropped to his, rewarding him with sweet little kisses every time he hit the spongy spot that had you seeing stars. He relished in your compliments, felt himself craving it like a drug. When your pussy clenched around him to signal your release, Theo continued to fuck you through the orgasm. There was a reverent glimmer in his eyes like he was witnessing something holy when you came.

Theo could feel his own release nearing, but he knew better than to cum without asking. It was abundantly clear to him that you were in control tonight. “Can I cum? Please, principessa?”

“Of course you can,” you replied with a blissed out smile. “Good boys get to cum.”

He held his breath, feeling warmth spread throughout his body. “I’ve been a good boy?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “The best boy.” Even though you were sensitive and overstimulated, you made sure to reward his good behavior. Picking up the pace, sliding easily up and down his cock thanks to your wetness, you whispered the words that you knew would push Theo over the edge. “Now be a good boy and cum inside of me, baby.”

Theo cried out with a shout, shuddering underneath you as he shot hot ribbons deep inside your pussy. You could feel his cum filling you up, warm and wet as it trickled out. He panted against your neck as his cock twitched inside of you, releasing his load with each pump. As he emptied himself out, Theo slowed, his body collapsing from the intensity of the orgasm.

When he regained consciousness, he was flat on his back. Theo blinked away the white spots in his vision. It felt like his soul had left his body entirely. He had cum so hard he passed out. As he rejoined the physical realm, Theo opened his eyes to find you cleaning him up. You were so sweet and gentle, the complete opposite of the selfish lover you’d been just a few moments ago. It warmed his heart to know that you’d always take care of him no matter what.

Theo smiled as you kissed his forehead. A small whimper escaped his mouth as you pulled his boxers over his legs, his cock still sensitive from the intense sex. You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, soothing him as you brushed your fingers through his hair. Theo cuddled against your side and sighed happily.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

You giggled, pressing soft kisses all over his face. “Did you like that?” You asked, teasing your boyfriend. “It seems like you did.”

He hummed against your skin, brushing his lips against your neck. “Fuck, I think you just unlocked a new kink for me.” You chuckled at his words. “That was so fucking hot, baby.”

“You know, I was trying to teach you a lesson,” you mused. “I didn’t quite expect you to enjoy getting degraded this much.”

“Degrade me whenever you want, dolcezza.”

"Really?" you hummed, musing on his willingness. "How far would you let me go? If I broke out a leash and collar, would you have stopped me?"

You were half-joking, but the eager expression on your boyfriend's face told you that he was more than willing to make your suggestion into a reality.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, cara mia." Theo wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. "I'd crawl to you on my hands and knees if you asked. If you're the one asking, there's nothing I wouldn't do."

The power definitely gave you a head rush. As much as you relished in the hold you had over him, you tucked the knowledge away for later. There was plenty of opportunity to act out all your dirtiest, filthiest fantasies, but for now, you were more than content to snuggle with the love of your life.

You smirked, nipping at his jaw. “That’s my good boy.”

#i want to put him in a pretty little pink collar #theo nott #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott x you #theodore nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theo nott imagine

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itsonlydana · 9 months ago

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"I Didn't Know That I Was Starving Till I Tasted You" | hobbit

➛ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

➛ When you get stood up by your date all you want to do is morph with the couch, eat ice cream and watch Pride & Prejudice. It's a shame your roommate/best friend Thranduil doesn't agree with those plans.

➛ warnings/tags: modern!au, roommate!au, friends-to-lovers, chef!thranduil, swf, kissing

➛ words: 9,3k

➛ an: sooo let's ignore that i said i wasn't writing anymore <3 i'm still not taking request but i have a few fics that i'll post over the next few weeks!

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The sound of keys turning in the lock sounds through your apartment before the door opens and closes, making you wince.

The piano music playing through the expensive stereo system is loud enough that you could blame your reaction for not reacting to it. After a brief moment, a deep voice echoes from the hallway, marked by an incredulous "Huh?" and followed by an urgent "What?" accompanied by hurried footsteps.

"Hello?! What– what are you still doing here? You should be dressed up and in a cab by now!"

Your roommate and best friend Thranduil rushes into the living room, you can see his tall figure out of your peripheral vision.

Not that it would change where he stands.

You don't bother to turn around and continue to hide between the mountain of pillows and blankets you had accumulated on the couch, watching the movie playing on the big screen in front of you.

"Uhh– Mister Bingley arrived from the North," you comment on the happenings of the Bennets' house, a spoonful of ice cream held to your mouth.

Thranduil steps closer, dropping his coat and a bag on the wing chair next to the couch. "What–"

Instead of answering his question, you let the ice cream melt on your tongue, mumbling a "5000 a year?" with a mouth full of chocolate.

"Talk to me, woman!"

"He's single!" you sigh happily and throw a dramatic hand in the air.

Before you can lower it again, Thranduil snaps and snatches your hand, cold fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you towards him. Finally, you look up to him and are confronted with your very baffled-looking best friend.

"If you don't tell me why you aren't on the way to the fabulous third date with Marcus-"

"Jake."

Thranduil rolls his eyes at the interruption: "Fine, why aren't you on the third date with Jake right now and instead sulk on the couch watching Pride & Prejudice again? I thought we promised to take a break from watching it anyway."

You push out your lower lip, pouting. "I'm not sulking," you say in a tone so drawn out it completely defiles your statement. Thranduil doesn't say anything, he just lets his gaze slowly wander over the blankets you are buried under, to the half-eaten ice cream bucket to the TV where the Bennet sisters are currently caught eavesdropping on their parents' conversation. He doesn't need words to express himself, the judgment is silent in words but loud in the raise of his dark eyebrow.

"Fine," you groan, admitting defeat. "He canceled."

Thranduil's gaze softens as he sits down next to you on the edge of the sofa and he slowly drops your hand from his grip. "He canceled," he repeats, eyes falling back to the ice cream.

"He canceled," you confirm with a sigh "Just like I predicted- so I don't know why I even bothered to dress up. I even bought that stupid dress just because he wanted to go out to this new fancy Italian place. He canceled and because I waited 15 minutes for him to not show up, standing outside - in the cold might I add- I think I am allowed to sulk a little!"

In the end, you had talked yourself into quite a rage and fall back into the pillows, your arms crossed in front of your chest. "And no, you said I should take a break from watching that movie but since you are not my mother I am allowed to watch whatever!"

You pierce him with a glare but only for a moment before you deflate.

"Sorry for getting all bitchy there," you shuffle around, hands searching for the remote to stop the movie.

"It's alright," Thranduil says and cocks his head. "Now that you are done, am I allowed to go after him and nail his balls to the ground for standing you up?"

A smile tugs on your lips as you shake your head. "No, you are not. I'm sure he has his reasons." The reason wasn't spelled out in the message but after hopping around in the dating scene for a while now, you know what ´I'm sorry but I don't think we really fit. You are a great person though!´ means.

It was nothing new, though it hurt the same as it did the first time.

"Well, unless there was a sudden death in his family I don't see a reason why he couldn't have canceled before the date," he huffs "-you know like a normal person would do"

You shrug your shoulders. "It's done now. Maybe it just wasn't supposed to happen."

"No, it wasn't. Not with a guy like him," Thranduil shakes his head, the long braid of silver blonde hair getting even more disheveled by the movement. "You deserve a man that doesn't cancel, doesn't let you stand outside in the cold!"

"Yes," you sigh again, staring wistfully at the TV "my Mister Darcy."

"He was literally the reason why Elizabeth ran out into the rain and cold," Thranduil responds deadpanned and you throw a pillow in his direction which he elegantly catches.

"I will not stand for this Darcy-hate! Ugh, you are such a bad friend," you whine, "I got stood up and you are making fun of one of the two people who have never let me down.. one person now that you decided to be a meanie!" You once again pout.

This time it works, a little too well because suddenly Thranduil looks at you with that one look of him, the one that breaks through every defense you could build up. He looks at you like you just told him you were dying, all the compassion he can find in his otherwise cold heart spilling out of his cerulean eyes that wander over your face.

"You know you have every right to feel sad about the date not happening," he says carefully, tilting his head slightly in a way that oozes pity, "You were looking forward to it, you even bought a dress for it. Let me cheer you up, I can cook something for you and we can watch a movie later or we can go out and drink until I have to hold your hair in the bathrooms." He smiles softly, sincere and it makes you want to jump up from the couch and hide in your room.

You two didn't do sincere; you bantered, you made jokes on behalf of the other and you most certainly did not comfort each other after a failed date. Your friendship needed lightheartedness, it thrived on sarcasm and arguments about everything and anything that came to your minds.

But the offer is tempting, especially the cooking part. Thranduil is a chef, working in his own restaurant; 'The Green Leaf' and he did a damn good job at it. Most nights, like this one, he comes home and cooks for you because apparently, Goldfish crackers were not as good for your diet as one part of the name misled you to believe and even though you made fun of Thranduils diet as well, fully vegan and with a distaste for anything that made life worth living like chocolate ice cream, he knew exactly how to whip up a meal that had you salivating.

You stare him down, weighing your options. Option one was to remain on the couch where you would shovel the ice cream down until you would inevitably get sick, watching Pride & Prejudice and mourning the never-happening and probably very boring date you would’ve had.

Option two would entail a doubtlessly very delicious meal as well as the possibility of getting drunk as fuck in a bar.

The choice comes easy.

"Okay," you agree and raise a pointed finger at him as a victorious grin spreads on his lips "But-" you wiggle the finger "you will not do this out of pity because I do not need pity from a man!"

Thranduil's grin only seems to grow, lightening up his eyes "No of course not. No pity here. I promise!" He stands up from the couch in a hurry, grabbing the bag he had left on the chair. When you don't move except to reach for the remote again, he shakes his head. "Leave Mr. Darcy for another day, you have to change!"

"Change?" you ask bewildered, looking around the apartment. "I thought you were going to cook here and not at the restaurant. Why would I need to change now?"

Thranduil scoffs, turning his back to you to walk towards the kitchen, his voice growing louder as it's accompanied by the sound of the fridge opening.

"Because I know you spent the entire day planning your outfit. You said you bought a new dress and I will not cook you an entire meal for you to sit there in your sweatpants!" he calls out and you throw your head against the couch with a groan that has Thranduil leaning out of the kitchen door

"You want the food, you follow the chef's orders," he copies the raised finger in your direction "Don't be a brat, get your butt off the couch and into your room before I have to spank you! I'll call you when you can come out."

The threat is met with you sticking your tongue out and one second thinking you could defy the order but that is until he fakes a quick step back into the room and you peel the blankets away squeaking "I'm moving! I'm moving!" while stumbling through the living room. "Jeez"

Despite knowing he would never hurt you the thought of Thranduil spanking you has you blushing a ridiculous amount and you don't turn around so he doesn't see it.

"But just so you know, I will wear the dress but only so I don't have to squeeze myself into it after dinner when we go out!" you yell over your shoulder instead and you swear you hear him chuckle before you slip into your room and close the door behind you.

The sweatpants land on your bed, followed by the sweater you had put on after getting the text message from Jack. You remain in your underwear, which you hadn't been bothered to change and stare at yourself in the mirror of your wardrobe. You are confronted with the blush the spanking comment had left on your cheeks and down your neck, and you scowl at the image.

He is your best friend and roommate.

Get a grip!

The dress you had bought for the date still hangs on the wardrobe door, a short, and black number that wasn't something you would normally wear but when you had stalked the Instagram Account for the place you would’ve eaten at today, nothing already existent in your closet had seemed fitting.

Staring at it now you question the length as well as the relatively deep front and back. After all, this was a normal dinner with your best friend, right? Yes, you would maybe leave for a club or bar after this and you had worn all kinds of clothes for a night out with Thranduil in your company but this dress had been bought for the sole reasons of looking sexy and with the hopes of getting lucky.

You shake the thoughts away and grab the hanger with the dress on.

This was a normal dinner with your best friend and this was just a dress. He had seen you in other skimpy clothes and literally any other form of dressed as well as undressed on several accidental occasions. There is no need to think this over and fall into an endless spiral of doubts.

With a nod to yourself for this mature thinking, wow, aren't you a well-functioning grown-up? – you slip the garment over your head, pinching and twisting the fabric until it sits to your satisfaction.

The hem barely covers your thighs, just doing enough so it wouldn't flash your bottom at the slightest movement but showing enough leg for you to feel powerful. The same was with the deep neckline. Bending forward was not an option, though it would draw eyes on you, hopefully.

You put the discarded jewelry back on again, a subtle choker necklace and a pair of more flashy earrings with - sadly fake- diamonds dangling and catching the light in them. The makeup is done quickly as well, some touches of a brush on your jawline, some lovely shade of lipstick on your lips, the movement of routine flows through your body with no need to really think about it.

After spraying some of your favorite perfume on your neck and behind your ears you wait.

Sitting on the edge of your bed you wait and you definitely don't think back to Thranduil's statement. No. Never.

Maybe a little bit.

Because when he calls out for you a fifteen-minute heads-up, you feel the blush coming back and the suspicion confirms itself at the last look in the mirror. You raise your head, challenging the woman in the mirror with an arch of the eyebrow before walking out the door and into what could only be described as a fever dream.

The living room is dark, the moss green curtains pulled closed except for a small gap where the afternoon sun filters through into the flat. The dining room table is clear from all the jackets, mail and stuff that accumulates throughout the day and week that are usually thrown on it and instead, there are candles.

Candles!

Candles in silver candleholders, like actual burning candles. Next to the expensive-looking candleholders is a vase filled with lavender, full and flourished purple flowers that fill the room with a soft and dizzying smell.

Suddenly you are very glad you are not in your sweats anymore, there is a heat rising in your body and setting your cheeks aflame.

Fidgeting with your hands you quietly step forward into the room to the kitchen, your eyes flittering from the table to the cleaned-up sofas and then you can see Thranduil rushing from the counter to the stove.

His back is turned to you, offering you a view of broad shoulders and arms flexing beneath the white shirt he had changed into, and even worse, the tight black pants he now wears, showing off his long legs and- you look a little higher, checking him out and blushing like it's a guilty pleasure.

Of course, the pants would show off his perfect arse as well.

You shouldn't stare.

No matter how magnificent the sight is.

And oh, it surely is magnificent.

You snap back into reality, take a lavender-filled breath, and walk into the kitchen.

It's a beautiful kitchen, not one of the reasons you had first checked out the apartment but one that had tipped the arguments for it in the end. And you are glad it did, because when you had taken roommate applications Thranduil simply waltzed into it, nodded and offered you the first year of rent with 25% on top of it if you would remove the pop-into-the-microwave-Lasagna from the freezer and never dared to buy something like that again.

His brisk and bold and sometimes very harsh attitude would've maybe frightened any other person off but you had seen the money, the prospect of a cook as a roommate and a handsome one at that, and had held out the contract with one hand while the other threw out the lasagna.

And look where that had brought you.

The kitchen is now filled with more vegetables than you have ever seen in one place that isn't a market, there is nearly always a pot with something ready for you on the stove and the fondest memories you have with Thranduil are baking Christmas cookies, throwing flour into each others faces so that your hair had been colored white like Thranduils, or you learning how to cut vegetables under his stern gaze because "No, you can not cut a carrot the same way you cut the bell pepper!"

Now here he is again, creating a memory that will never let you go.

You let your eyes wander over the stove, where one pot is cooking rice, the other has some onions caramelizing with garlic from the smell of it and Thranduil has one pan in his hand, throwing some cut tofu into the air while he brushes some oil onto white dough stretched into hand-sized bits.

He is fully in his element, maneuvering what seems like a three-course meal without any help or breaking a sweat. Setting down the pan with the tofu (hadn't that been a fun journey of convincing until you had let him cook that without any protest?) he wipes his hand on the towel thrown over his shoulder and turns to the cutting board on the kitchen island. He has even more flowers on the island, pink gerberas and white orchids stand next to his array of mint, basil and rosemary.

You have no idea what has gotten into him, there have never been this many flowers in your apartment except for the few ones some of your dates had bought you and even then they landed in the trash a couple of days later.

Sometimes Thranduil had even said he had confused them for some swept-in leaves after you asked him where the last bouquet went.

The man was truly an enigma.

"Smells good in here," you say and lean over the stove.

Thranduil clicks his tongue against his teeth. With a soft growl, he presses out a "Move," not sounding really annoyed but disturbed by you being in his way and with a giggle you move away to grant him free access to the pots.

"What is on the menu today, Chef?" you ask as you hop onto the island. No matter how much space Thranduil needs for cooking, he always leaves that one spot on the corner free for you to sit on.

"Tofu Tikka Masala you noisy girl," Thranduil doesn't turn around and for a minute you want him to see you, see the dress you have put on but then your gaze falls onto his back again and you blush.

Thank god, he didn't turn to find you checking him out, again.

"Couldn't you have waited until I told you the food is ready? Now I have you sitting around here, distracting me, even though I don't have a lot of time to begin with."

You know he is lying. He had told you more than once that you were a pleasure in the kitchen. Not at the stove but looking pretty sitting on your spot on the island and not touching a thing.

"Well, we could have ordered some pizza," you tease him, and he grunts. When he still doesn't turn around, you lean forward, a smirk on your lips. "Or we could have gone out to 'Oakenshields' and-" The rest of the sentence dies on your lips as Thranduil's whole body snaps around and you nearly squeak when he leans into your space.

Nose against nose, he stares you down, cerulean eyes holding yours without any playfulness in them. "You are on very thin ice," he says quietly and while you know he still doesn't mean it like that, you squirm under the gaze and sudden rush of adrenalin that his proximity is causing your head to swim.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly, sounding way too excited for your own good, and you try kicking him against his chin but he catches your leg before it hits him, and as soon as his hands grab the bare skin he lets go again, falling back like it had shocked him physically.

Cerulean eyes drop, leaving your face that suddenly goes up in flames and for a second you can see his breath hitch, his chest moving at the sharp inhale of air as he takes you in. The moment builds up, the atmosphere between you changes and charges with something and for this short, stopped moment in time you allow yourself to think:

'What if?'

Then a timer goes off, distant at first but growing louder when Thranduil's face shifts back to the usual calm facade that reflects not a thing of what is going on in his head. He sniffs, hiding behind his dark eyebrows when he lowers his head and pats you gently on your thighs.

"I'll rather perish than go to 'Oakenshields'," he rasps, the raw edge in his voice the only remnant showing that he was affected by whatever that had been between you.

Then he turns around and pushes the tray with dough into the oven.

He covers it up professionally with the joke, of course, because Thranduil Oropherion could never have been seen with feelings that go deeper than what any human would consider barely amiable.

Yes, he is your best friend and he makes an effort around you to not be the coldhearted asshole he is too, for example, Thorin Oakenshield, owner of the restaurant slash bar that the last critic had called a "serious opponent in the gourmet chef world".

Thranduil took the news so well that he had a furious meltdown of cooking for nearly 20 hours to create a menu that he would serve the critic to show him Thorin was not to put anywhere near him on a culinary level before he threatened to buy the paper the man was working for and fire him.

He only calmed down when he found out the critic had persisted to order his own wine choices and not the ones Thranduil had carefully paired with each course so he had decided that the man had no taste whatsoever and he couldn't give a shit about what he had said.

You had seen the irony in his statement and the state of him, tired, overworked, still behaving like a diva and you had just stifled a laugh and helped him clean the mess in the kitchen.

It was one of those moments that shows you he cares more than he leads on, about life, about people, about what the world thought of him but when it comes to love the man is as warm as deep diving naked in the antarctic would be.

He can be nice, living with him was pleasant and it got a whole lot more comfortable when you got to know each other better.

He makes jokes, he shows you how much he appreciates you through his food, you two watch movies together, go out, get drunk, get home and giggle when one of you trips on the doormat and after a few months he even lets you fall asleep on him when you came home crying because a date didn't go well.

You had seen him drive home in a frenzy when his mother had called him about his younger brother breaking his leg climbing trees, and he had another friend, Bard, with whom he had a friendly get-together every now and again; it was only the romance part he never talks about, never shows, never ever makes room for.

While you go out for dates- he works.

When you meet someone at the club you dance, you make out, you go home with someone else- Thranduil just ignores any woman or man who talks to him.

Thranduil's love life (if existent) is a mystery to you and that makes it even more confusing why he had looked at you the way he did just now. Why would he suddenly decide to buy flowers, to cook you an entire meal because you had been stood up and play-dress up?

Your brain is steaming with these thoughts by the time you catch up with reality again, a snap of fingers in front of your face pulls you back and you blink, slightly dazed. Thranduil stands next to you, body facing the cutting board in front of him but you can see him sneaking a peek towards you out of the corner of his eyes.

"Do you know what you want to do after dinner yet?" he asks, slicing some cilantro and parsley.

His long fingers wrap around the shiny knife elegantly, drawing your gaze in and keeping it locked onto the movement of him cutting a lemon in half and drizzling a few drops of juice into the bowl with the herbs.

You try not to stare at the few drops wetting his palm.

"We should go out," you say, voice wavering in between a question and a hoarse croak. You swallow and move your head before your eyes follow a few seconds later, blinking up at Thranduil. "There is this new rooftop bar- they opened a few days ago and are still baiting people in with the two-for-one drink offer."

Thranduil smirks, leaning his hip against the counter and wiping his hand on the towel. "Ah, yes, because that went so well the last time?" he inquires, eyebrow raised teasingly.

"I couldn't possibly know what you are talking about, Thranduil," you purse your lips, suppressing the smile just barely that threatens to spill out at the memory of the last time you went to a new bar, trying out the "new and never been done before"-drinks the small hipster bar had promised you and that'd ended up being the worst cocktails you ever had.

"You still owe me for the trousers I had to get dry-cleaned because you missy-" he half-threateningly holds out his pointy finger again, "you missed the toilet"

"You could have shoved me in the right direction!"

"Ah yes, blame the man that saved you from throwing up all over your date," Thranduil turns away again, adding coconut milk and chopped tomatoes into the pot with the garlic and onions.

"Occupational hazard of being my friend," you say, giving him the brightest and most dearest smile when he holds out a spoon he'd dipped into the curry, before leaning in and wrapping your lips around it, letting the flavors swirl over your tongue.

Then a low hum leaves your throat, a sound not only shocking you but also Thranduil by the looks of it.

By the look of him.

There is a sudden pink covering his face, right around his nose, showing off his prominent cheekbones in a way that lifts the gorgeous feature even more. It is such an unusual sight, Thranduil, blushing, that you are taken aback by it and the spoon slips out of your lips, nearly falling when Thranduil pulls it out of your mouth, clearing his throat suspiciously loud and rough that it sounds physically hurtful.

He steps back, hiding behind a "Good then?" that you can only agree to with a low "Yes" because– firstly you could never correct him on the taste of something he prepares, he knows your taste well enough to always get the spices perfectly adjusted to your preferences, and secondly your head is blissfully empty for any other answer.

The moment passes, gets drowned out by another timer going off, followed by Thranduil shifting into chef-mode as you endearingly call the shift in his demeanor into a controlled acrobat when he starts handling all those pants and pots, stirring here, tasting there, focusing on everything all at once with a concentration that nothing could penetrate.

You sit back and watch him with a soft smile, observing him as he pulls the bread out of the oven, and exchanges the tray with two dark green bowls out of the cabinets to warm them up in the leftover heat.

He moves with a grace that you surely could not copy, all of his long limbs knowing exactly when to push the rice away from the burner, ducking away when the steam of pouring the hot water into the sink would have given your face a free steaming and all that while looking extremely put together with his tight pant- braid! and white shirt he didn't even bother protecting with an apron like he always forces you to wear.

It's frustrating and attractive how much confidence he oozes in the kitchen. You wonder how the cooks managed to do their job without dropping to the floor and praising him like the godly being he seems to be.

He looks perfectly put together when he finishes plating up and ushers you back into the living room, where you are forced to sit down while he disappears into the kitchen and brings the plates and bowls, shaking off your offer to help every time you can barely start the question.

So you do what is expected of you and you wait, brushing off some hair of your dress- long silver blond strands that you twirl around your finger.

The kitchen light gets dimmed and Thranduil comes into the living room one last time, holding a bottle of wine in his hands that by the looks of it, and by that you mean expensive as fuck, must have been nicked from the restaurant.

He fills your glass, then his own and finally sits down on the other side of the table.

Before you can say something, he raises his glass, "To this evening."

You smile and raise your glass to his, "To Marcus-" Thranduil's eyebrow twitches but you only smile wider "Thank god he canceled, I much rather spend this night with good food and good company"

A deep chuckle accompanies the soft 'clink' of your glasses. You take a first sip, holding Thranduil's gaze over the rim and over the flicking fire of the candles that illuminate his face just right. The wine is smooth, and refreshing as it wets your suddenly dry throat.

You use the plate in front of you as an opportunity to look away without it feeling like you are fleeing from his gaze, even if the thought is heavy in your stomach.

"Everything looks delicious, Thranduil," you say, gesturing to the bowls with the rice and tofu tikka masala, the dough that turned out to be naan that he placed on a wooden board between the flowers and the candle.

Thranduil gives you an appreciative nod, grabbing a naan and ripping it apart. "I tried to make something that comes close to your planned meal of chocolate ice cream," there is a mocking tone in his voice, a drawl on the words chocolate ice cream that is the perfect mix between friendly teasing and his true disgust towards it.

You let out a giggle, following his example of dipping the naan into the curry. "Oh, you are so gracious for trying but we both know that ice cream is high above this. It doesn't even fall in the same food category to be able to compare. If you truly look at it, it's its own category"

"Never mind everything I have said, I've forgotten that I'm talking to the person who thinks a cup of coffee counts as an entire meal. How very stupid of me"

"Not everyone can start their morning looking like you do and have the energy to go out for a run and then cook breakfast," you shoot back, the realization of the compliment slipping out pours onto you when you see Thranduil's lips curve into a very self-satisfactory grin.

"So you are awake to notice," he leans back in his chair, popping another piece of the bread into his mouth and looking so smug that the urge to kick him is rising in you again. "You simply choose to act like you are non-responsive until you've had your coffee."

Instead of kicking him, you roll your eyes and fill your spoon with rice.

Yes, that was one way to put it.

The other would be that you are simply too scared you would say something very stupid and inappropriate when you watched him do his yoga in nothing but very tight pants while you sat on the couch and pretended to stare into empty space that just coincidently was very close to his arching form in front of the window.

"Yes, I live by the rule that coffee comes before any man."

"How rude, to consider me 'any' man," you want to say something but Thranduil is quicker to continue, shutting you up with that gorgeous smile, "Am I not the only man in your life right now who you don't leave on read after a while?"

"That is a very low bar to measure yourself with"

"Darling, those men you date offer nothing but low standards."

You nearly choke on the wine you'd reached for when Thranduil says these words, this term of endearment he casually throws into the sentence, far too confident to be a slip of tongue, far too soft to be meant as mocking.

He said it as if it had never not been there, as if it wasn't completely out of character. For a moment you consider reaching over the table to poke him, to make sure he is really here and not some (very accurate, word class if it truly was one) robotic imitation.

There is a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that only seems to twinkle brighter the longer you stare at him and you wonder if he feels like he has won the discussion or if he can hear your brain mulling over the 'darling'.

Either way, he doesn't comment on it further, not on this nor the matter of your dating.

Why he thought to do so in the first place was a mystery to you, another piece of the puzzle that was this evening. He had made comments about the men you were seeing before, subtle phrases made after glancing over to your screen and the conversations you were having, never really cruel but you wouldn't say that they were particularly nice either.

Sometimes when you came home from a night out, you never brought them back to your flat, Thranduil would simply raise an eyebrow, not saying anything and so much at the same time.

You dig back into your food and like always conversation flows naturally between you. Pushing the teasing and the sizzling of something warm in your stomach that you had felt in the kitchen away into the back of your mind you let yourself enjoy the moment, the comfort of sitting at the table, a nice dinner in front of you and the home-y feeling that was in the air.

Curry and naan fill your stomach as the wine settles in your head and laughter slips your tongue.

Empty plates get pushed aside, forgotten on the side of the table until later, making room for you to prop up one elbow and let your cheek rest in the palm of your hand as Thranduil talks about his newest ideas for his restaurant.

The candles flicker, coloring both your faces golden as the last bit of sunlight sneaks away from the tiny crack in the curtains.

After another glass of wine and some well-coordinated cleaning up, a hand-in-hand process of taking the plates into the kitchen where you load the dishwasher and Thranduil wipes down the pots and pans in the sink, Thranduil throws you out of the kitchen again.

You hop into the bathroom, spend a few minutes staring at yourself in the mirror and try to think about the outcome of this evening.

A few hours ago you had been ready to go out with someone else but right now, in the dim light that is too bright to conceal how flushed your cheeks are and too dark to be the glimmering sparkle in your eyes, there is not one thought wasted on any other guy.

It's a complicated feeling, being confronted with the crush you'd harbored on Thranduil for a while now and while it wasn't always easy to keep it at bay, it had been nowhere near as hard to keep your focus on the big fat label of 'friendship' that was the only thing ever to be between you.

Yes, you know that that label should hamper the want.. the need to kiss the ever-living daylight out of Thranduil when he stared at you across those flickering candles but who wouldn't want to do that to an attractive man showering you with attention he had given you today?

Any normal-thinking person would.

At least that is what you tell yourself, that these feelings are normal because he is attractive and not just because you are attracted to him.

Back in the living room, you fall onto the sofa, legs stretched and feet propped onto the small table in front of the couch, and fight the urge to cuddle into the pillows more than necessary. Any deeper and you would for sure fall asleep and with how your evening is going, that that would be a shame was an understatement.

"Thranduil?" you call out when another minute passes and the noises of washing up had quietened down and Thranduil still wasn't out of the kitchen again.

"One moment," his deep voice responds with a subtle grunt, "You can begin your search for a bar and please don't let it be the rooftop bar you mentioned earlier."

On another day you would have chosen a bar or even a club to go to, especially after your stomach did that traitorous summersault at the sound of his voice again.

Tonight, with your cozy little apartment smelling like fresh flowers and curry and your mind clinging onto a possessive and dangerous thought of 'What if..'´ you suddenly can't think of anything worse than going out with Thranduil.

Going out would mean that Thranduil's attention wouldn't be on you alone anymore.

"Thranduil?" you call out again, "Let's stay in and watch a movie."

"What?" He pops his head out of the kitchen and you giggle at the sight of soap bubbles on his nose as he wipes his hand over his surprised face. He rolls his eyes, lifting one arm, - oh god his sleeves are rolled up, exposing far too much skin and veiny arms for you to think clear- and wipes the soap away. "I thought you wanted to go out."

"No," you draw the word out, still hung up on the smooth-looking skin, "We talked about going out or watching a movie," shuffling your shoulders into the pillows you smile at him "and I think we should watch a movie. It has been a while since we did that."

Thranduils face softens and he cocks his head, "It has," he agrees, the tenderness in his eyes reaching his voice.

With Thranduil running his restaurant and your work demanding more of you there hadn't been a lot of time you had sat down and watched something together recently.

You still had your mornings full of nursing coffee and yoga and the evenings where you weren't on a date or Thranduil away on business you had gone out together.

The summer with all its warm and sunny days and bars filled with cool drinks and long evenings fading into soft blue nights had been fun- that didn't mean you didn't miss cuddling into a blanket on the couch and watching a movie with Thranduil where you spend the entire time making small comments only to annoy him.

"How about you sort out what movie you want to see and I'll fetch us a snack?" he proposes and you let out a hum. Thranduil starts to turn away, then halters, "And if you could find anything other than 'Pride and Prejudice' I would be very grateful."

You did, in fact, not search further for the movie that you had started earlier.

Something that Thranduil comments with a loud "God, please do not do this to me," when he reenters the living room.

Stubbornly, you shake your head, your finger dancing over the buttons on the remote control. "You won't know if you like it or not if you never stay to watch it through! What if this is your movie? You say you don't have a favorite movie, Thranduil- this could be it!" Your arms flare in the air, pointing the remote to the screen while you try your best to sound as motivational as you can under the skeptical raise of his eyebrow - though the corner of his lips twitch, betraying his amusement however hard he wants to look self-assured in his completely (unreasonable) hate for the movie you consider one of the best of all time.

It's only when he saunters closer that you see what he holds in his hands and it momentarily lets you forget the never-ending argument.

"Ice cream!"

He laughs deep and rough, always a bit darker and richer when he has drunk wine, his voice and tone taking on the velvety edge that clouds your mind just as much as the alcohol.

"That was much more enthusiastic than the reaction to the soufflé I made you a while back. Should I take offense? Is this your revenge for my dislike of this Darcy that you so obsess about?"

Sticking out your tongue you grab one of the two buckets he holds out to you, as Thranduil takes his place on the couch; always on the longer side where he could stretch out his long legs. "Do not disrespect the man of my dreams or I will buy the mac-just-add-milk-cheese," you open the lid of the carton box, reaching over to the table to place it there.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Mhm, I wonder if they still have the ones that only need water?"

"Please just press play you vicious woman," Thranduil pokes his finger into your side, admitting defeat with a desperate sigh and opens his own box of ice cream. When he sees you staring at it, he rolls his eyes. "What now? Can't a man enjoy something sweet once in a while?"

"A man yes," you snort "But you-" you poke him as well, "you're always on me when I buy ice cream and now you eat.. what is that..?"

Leaning into his space you ignore how Thranduil swats at you gently like he wants to get rid of a fly "It's chocolate, no way! My, my, should I call your health insurance and warn them that we will need a checkup? Maybe a brain-"

"Goodness gracious!" Thranduil groans, a sound that reverberates through you as you are still leaning into him, one hand propped next to his thigh, "Will you shut up or do I have to do that for you?"

That does shut you up instantly.

Not a sound leaves your mouth - left wide open as if he had simply pressed paused on your whole body - and you slowly turn your head away from him and back to the screen.

Now, while he did shock you enough with his words to let the teasing about the ice cream slide back down your very much dry throat, you can't help it to at least attempt to have the last word.

To calm your racing heart if not to for the sudden lack of thoughts, "Only if you swear to watch the whole movie without talking shit about Mister Darcy"

"Half of it and a little bit of shit-talking?"

"All of it and none of that!"

"Just let me make my comments and I will buy you your ice cream next time."

You squint your eyes, challenging him to stay with the offer and consider if it's worth it.

You could easily buy your own snacks, you did it every day you went grocery shopping anyway but there was a satisfying pleasure in knowing that the great Thranduil, hater of all sweets, would not only pick out ice cream for you, but pay for it as well.

Maybe he would even throw in something else as well, if you agreed to him and let him make his jokes.

In the end, you were simply grateful that he was here, sitting on the couch to watch a movie he knows means a lot to you, despite his dislike for it, and maybe that was enough..

"Deal!"

Finally, you eagerly press play, allowing the soft piano music to fill the room a second time this day.

While you can't help but smile, muttering the words into the spoons full of ice cream, Thranduil is less mean than you thought he would be. In the beginning, you could see him rolling his eyes whenever Mr. Darcy came on screen - something you commented with a sigh and a giggle - but like you always predicted, he soon relaxed into the cushions.

His face softens, just like his comments, mouth corners turning up as he watches the discussion between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth in the reading room.

In one particularly dramatic scene, you turn to Thranduil with wide eyes. "See? See? Mister Darcy is just misunderstood. He's so in love with Elizabeth, but he doesn't know how to express it properly."

Thranduil rolls his eyes playfully. "Oh, please. He just needs to learn how to be less insufferable."

You lean closer to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, you could learn a thing or two from Darcy, Thranduil."

He scoffs. "Me? Like what?"

Despite the tone he lifts one arm so that you can really lean into his side and you follow the invitation. Drawing your legs up, ignoring that the hem of your dress rides up your thigh, you scoot into Thranduil's space and rest your back against the length of his chest. His arm remains on the headrest of the couch.

You grin. "How to sweep a girl off her feet. Be a little less aloof and a little more... passionate–" your voice wanders into a wistful sigh, words getting lost as you watch with bated breath as Mister Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage.

There is a deep rumble behind you, a hot exhale of breath hitting the back of your head and while it seems like Thranduil wants to say something, he remains silent.

When you slightly turn your head, you see him watching the screen with a look in his eyes that you can't pin point.

"Why exactly does he flex his hand like that?" Thranduil quizzes with what sounds like genuine interest and you nearly bounce off the couch in excitement.

"Okay so there are multiple ways that this could be interpreted, some think it represents his armor cracking because he has been so buttoned-up, closed-off all the time and now his muscles betray the character he is putting on," you start, the words tumbling out of your mouth fast and rushed now that Thranduil shows his interest "It's like he is unraveling slowly but surely."

"It's also the first time they touch," you add.

Thranduil cocks his head, "It is?"

The grin on your face grows wider and you nod enthusiastically. "Yes! It's the first time they touch and it's pure skin to skin contact which was totally scandalous in their time, hence the gloves and long sleeves. Imagine going on through your life with these walls built around you as a way to protect your heart and then there is this infuriating woman."

"I can't imagine," Thranduil throws in yet it's so quietly that you nearly miss it.

Nearly.

Your tongue trips over a few words as you continue speaking, caught on what Thranduil had said under his breath as if it had been meant for only him, "-well and she.. she is rebellious. She does not follow the etiquette of wearing gloves, she speaks her mind freely and she contradicts everything that you have been taught," you count on your fingers "And she must have been the first woman in a long time that has touched him like that, even if it's as simple as using his help getting into the carriage"

"Mhm," Thranduil raises the arm that isn't behind you and taps his lips. "And you find that moment important for their building romance?"

"Without a doubt in my mind."

"Alright."

And with that, the topic is dropped and you both return to watch the movie.

That is until Thranduil's arm drops lower.

At first, you think it could have been unintentional, physics and gravity and all that stuff being the reason that his arm fell or slipped from the headrest on your shoulders.

It happens, maybe it had been tiresome to leave it up there, stretched away at such an angle. That is what you tell yourself in the few seconds where his arm simply.. stays still.. but then his arm bends at the elbow and the movement is so slow, so careful that your brain has enough time to forget the movie and focus on how delicately wary his hand comes into contact with the naked skin of your arm.

At first, it's just his fingertips.

Trembling ever so slightly they ghost over your biceps, giving the impression that he is still unsure on how to proceed and you wait, trying your hardest not to flex your arm and maybe scare him away and it's the hardest thing - this kind of touch was rare.

The waiting and effort are worth every second of agonizing stillness because following the tips is the hot palm of his hand, curving around your upper arm and holding you.

Your senses are aflame like the candles, lavender clouding your mind, cold ice cream melting on your tongue as the rough skin of his fingertips trails over your arm in the smallest circles.

Reflecting on the previous conversation there is one sentiment burning its way through your body, bringing with it all the moments of today, his hands on your leg in the kitchen, the storm of emotions crackling through his eyes like thunder, splitting his facade like lightening, the way he had reacted on spoonfeeding you the curry, the tension.

This has to mean something.

This has to be something.

You make up your mind to confront him about it even before he opens his mouth for the next commentary again.

"Darcy sure has a fantastic way to show his love," his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Nothing screams more 'I love you' than separating the sister of the woman you love from your best friend because you think the family is far too poor and lacks social etiquette," he scoffs, seemingly being his normal self and you would have believed him if his eyes didn't dart towards you, hinting at a touch of nervousness in those cerulean seas which lack the usual confidence.

"Maybe he is unsure how to tell her that he loves her," you say, holding his gaze.

"Well, there are other ways than this," Thranduil says, pointing toward the screen where Darcy is now standing painfully awkward in Charlotte's home that Elizabeth visits.

While you know that he is trying to follow Elizabeths advice of simple conversation, Thranduil doesnt seem to make that connection.

"Why aren't you out and about flirting with women?" It is a slip of the tongue, led on by the teasing you are so used to yet it comes out far too soft, far too wobbly. Quickly you add to the question with what is half cough, half laugh: "Huh, I mean if you are so sure that Darcy is doing something wrong, you should be picking up women, right?"

Thranduil raises an eyebrow in confusion. He opens his mouth, slightly tilting his head. "What? Why should I do that?"

Now you wonder if he was more stupid than you thought or if you heavily missed him having a girlfriend. Or not a girlfriend, or a partner. Were you that ignorant? Did you miss anything he told you about his sexuality?

"I–" you stutter "I didn't want to pry. I´m sorry. I.. I'm just wondering why you never go out on dates"

"Oh," there is a solemn look on his face "Ah, I had hoped this wouldn't come up for a while longer," He pauses, glancing at the TV and a feeble smile has the corner of his mouth twitching.

You don't have to follow his gaze to know that Mister Darcy has just followed Elizabeth into the rain; the only scene Thranduil has ever watched with you.

Maybe you had been ignorant before but the resigned tone in his voice is loud and clear. "We don't have to talk about it!" you rush in, "Really. No need to converse. Let's just watch the movie alright?" Without thinking about it, your hand moves to his chest, a reflex to gently pat him that dies when you feel the hard thumping of his heart through his shirt.

"I could never date someone, let alone think about a woman the way I think about you."

There it was again, the casualness that had tainted the 'Darling' from earlier. You would have laughed, hell, it is already bubbling up your throat when the heaviness of his confession crashes down on you and all that leaves you is a choked sound and a sudden lack of air has you gasping.

The combination of both hurts but not enough to cover the flutter in your stomach.

"What?" you ask not because you didn't understand him, you had heard every word, every syllable clear and distinct, but because you can't believe that you had heard it.

Your hand still rests atop his chest, feeling the heartbeat- hard and fast.

The same way he suddenly pressed his mouth on yours.

It happens quickly, leaving no time for you to react how you want to react and the only thing you can do is gasp.

The kiss ends as swiftly as it has started at the sound yet Thranduil doesnt withdraw completely. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath ghosting over your dry lips. There was a question in it, the same that is in his eyes when you gather the courage to look up.

Thranduil wasn't this hesitant, he was efficient, confident and so fucking sure of himself that his lack of those qualities right now spoke just as much as the kiss itself.

In the background, you hear rain but all you feel is your mind clearing up like the sky after the downpour.

Without further hesitation, you nod and Thranduil lunges forward again, this time with enough force that you lose your balance - or maybe it was the feel of his lips on yours that prevented you from catching yourself as you fall backward and crash into the pillows.

As far as first kisses go, most of the ones you had with guys were significantly worse. They were usually awkward, sometimes even uncomfortable because you weren't yet attuned to each other, but you weren't kissing a strange guy in a bar here.

You were kissing Thranduil.

You had been friends for years, you had seen each other in the most embarrassing situations, he had probably been confronted with your unclothed body more often than others, and if there was one thing he had noticed, it was what disappointed you about your dates.

And while he kissed you silly and stupid you were happy about exactly this perceptiveness.

His hair falls around you like a curtain, his chest presses against yours and you get so used to the weight of his body on yours like it has never been different.

And you hope it will never be any different.

"Shit," Thranduil groans against your lips, and you open your eyes, smiling up at him in a daze.

"What?"

"Now-" he kisses you again "Now that we got this out of the way.." Another kiss, a soft bite on your lips and you are so fucking glad to know that no woman has experienced this from him in a while. You are getting addicted to his kisses fast "..can you please stop dating these assholes and let me take you out for a real dinner?"

You nod hastily and lift your head to catch his mouth again. You only let him go for another second, when the perfect place pops into your mind - the last thought for the rest of the evening probably.

"Let's go to 'Oakenshields'"

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #lotr x reader

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femscottlang · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Week One- Formal Wear with Emily Prentiss

Summary- Every year around New Years Rossi hosts a party at this mansion. Every year you help him cook. Every year you all drink too much wine. This year Emily Prentiss wore a suit.

Word count- 1.3k

Warnings- 18+ MDNI, a little bit of exhibitionism if you squint, Oral R! receiving, lil bit of faceriding, fingering, switch! Reader, switch! Emily, sorry about your wine Rossi my bad, Emily in a suit is a warning in itself.

Authors Note- This is my first time doing kinktober!! I feel like formal wear/ team party is a pretty popular trope when it comes to CM fanfics, but it's popular for a reason. It’s SO GOOD. part two of flustered is coming i promise !! i'm also working on a second part of red blue and black. Anyways, back to Emily.

You had arrived early to help Rossi set up and to be his sous chef, since you were the only one besides hotch he trusted not to cut your own fingers off. The BAU were not known for their cooking abilities. He insisted on everyone coming in formal attire so now you were stuck cutting onions in a raspberry-coloured satin dress and an apron that had “Kiss me I’m Italian.” in large font. You used the back of your hand to brush your hair out of your face, huffing as you prayed that the low ponytail wouldn’t ruin your hair.

You and Rossi were sat at the kitchen table sipping scotch while you waited for the rest of the people to arrive. He cleared his throat “So.”

“So?” you asked, turning towards him and tilting your head.

“What’s going on between you and Prentiss?” he asked in a sinister tone, leaning towards you.

“Okay, we are not doing this” you laughed, shaking your head as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Doing what? You can’t have that much tension with a coworker when you work with profilers. You can’t get away with anything” he chucked, taking a sip of scotch.

“I can’t argue with that, but there's nothing going on between us” You explained with a shrug.

“Yeah, I don’t believe you.” He said in a sing-songy tone as people started to file in and make their way to you and Rossi. The glass of scotch made your insides feel warm and allowed you to relax. That was until Emily Prentiss walked in. She had one hand in her pocket and her phone in the other. She was wearing slacks, a white button-up with the top 4 buttons undone, an untied tie tucked under her collar, and a blazer. You felt JJ use her knuckle to close your mouth, not realizing you had let your mouth fall open at the sight of her. You smiled nervously at JJ “You didn’t see anything” you joked, waving a finger at her.

“I won’t tattle on you,” she said with a grin, putting her hands up in defense.

Prentiss looked around the room before she saw you. She gave a lopsided grin before making her way over to you, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek, “Happy New Year” She said, only loud enough for you to hear. A completely normal greeting should not feel so private and intimate. Your breath hitched as she placed her hand on your back “Happy New Year, Emily” You murmured, leaning back into her touch.

“Alright, Dinner!” Rossi said, snapping you two out of your little world.

You got off the barstool and went to the dining room with Emily not far behind you. She pulled out your chair for you as you sat down, looking up at her with a raised brow and upturned lips. “I guess chivalry isn’t dead” You joked, adjusting the skirt of your dress. She pulled out the chair to the left of you and sat down. “It will be by the end of the night,” She said, giving you a mischievous grin. You gasped, smacking her leg playfully which led to her grabbing your wrist under the table and placing it on your lap “Behave” she said, patting your knee before resting her hand right above it.

You scoffed “It’s cute that you think you’re in charge” you hummed before taking a bite of the meal you helped prepare, moaning at the taste. She leaned over to whisper in your ear, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I know what you’re doing. We can play this game but I will win” She whispered, moving her attention back to her plate of food.

At the beginning of the meal, she would rub your knee, occasionally moving her hand up before putting it right back down to a more appropriate position. That was until after a couple of glasses of red wine. Her hand started to rest further and further up, before earning a subtle smack from you. She chuckled, pouring the last of the bottle into your glass.

Rossi went to get up before Emily motioned for him to sit back down “I can go get it, it’s no problem.” she said with a polite smile before looking down at you “Will you show me where it is?” she asked, feigning innocence, but you knew better. You sneered at her “Of course” You said, getting up and leading her toward his wine cellar in the basement. The farther away you were from the rest of the team, the closer she got to you.

“I love this view” she teased, making you cover your backside with your hands “Aww don’t cover up. I’ve seen you much more vulnerable than this” She murmured.

“You are an insatiable woman, do you know that?” you chuckled, shaking your head as you opened the door to the wine cellar. You walked in and began looking around for another bottle. She made her way in front of you and backed you into the table in the middle of the stone room. You reached out and grabbed her blazer to encourage her to get closer. She traced your bottom lip with her thumb before kissing you, gripping your hair, and running her hand up and down your back. She was holding onto you like you would run away if she let go, but her kisses were gentle. Emily was always so gentle. Not because she was afraid to break you, but more like you were visiting her from the clouds. Touching you with the fear that her lips would go right through you. “Up,” she murmured, helping you as you jumped in order to sit on the table. You could feel the cold stone underneath you in stark contrast to her burning hands moving to hoist your dress up to your hips.

Her lips moved down your neck, leaving bite marks that you were scared to walk out of there with as her hands moved further up until she reached your core. When she felt that there was nothing between her fingers and your pussy she let out a groan, leaning her head back “Fuck. I must’ve been a saint in my last life.”

You let out a breathy moan “I didn’t want any lines showing through my dress” You said defensively, gasping as her middle finger circled your clit. You held on to her blazer, burying your face in her neck “Sure, that’s the only reason you have no panties on” she teased before dropping down to her knees, her face centimetres away from your core. You couldn’t help but admire the view, brushing your fingers through her hair as she dragged her tongue lazily up your slit. You gasped, eyes rolling back as you leaned back on your elbow to watch her "If I knew you were wearing a suit, I wouldn't've worn anything"

“Fuck, really? God, you’re so pretty like this.” She hummed, tilting her head “It’s nice to see you put that snarky mouth to use,” You responded as pulled her hair gently, just enough to hold her still as you moved your hips against her face.

She whimpered, running her hands up and down your legs before gripping your calves to lean in more. You covered your mouth as you felt your high approach, pushing her face impossibly closer. You fell back against the table as she helped you ride out your climax. Your chest heaved, trying to push her away when she didn’t stop “Em please,” you begged, squirming away from her, but she just pulled you back towards her.

She had mercy and stood up, moving to the other side of the table to plant kisses all over your face. “C’mon. We’ve been gone too long” she said, helping you stand and smoothing out your dress. You took off your heels out of fear of falling over after she made your legs practically jelly. "After this, were are going back to my place and I am going to fuck you in this fucking suit of yours." you pushed your heels into her chest for her to carry before grabbing her collar and pulling her out of the room "I have to wear this more often..." She muttered as the two of you made your way back to the dining room where your coworkers sat with smirks on their faces.

“Nothing between you too my ass,” Rossi scoffed "You forgot the wine."

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #Emily prentiss x reader smut #emily prentiss smut

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bitterkarella · 6 months ago

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Midnight Pals: Ssussspicionsss

[mysterious circle of robed figures] Elon Musk: eyyyy i just thinka you should post somethinga besida da transphobia, si? Musk: lika da strega bambino! Musk: da people lova da straga bambino! [chef's kiss]

Rowling: wow elon maybe you're right Rowling: maybe i should take a break from transsphobia to talk about the sssix other booksss that i'm planning to write Rowling: becaussse there are sssix other minoritiesss that have really been pissssing me off lately

Rowling: [counting off on her fingers] sssso my next books are gonna take down the transss, the queersss, the dissabled, young people with blue hair, hoodie ssscum, and fattiessss Rowling: they've all had it too good for too long

Rowling: thank you for having this conversssation elon Helen Joyce: oh no! the dark lord is in trouble! Rowling: i'm fine Allison Bailey: elon musk is attacking the dark lord! Rowling: thatss not whatss happening Jesse Singal: mommy needs our help!

Helen Joyce: how dare you speak to the dark lord like that! Joyce: you will regret this day, elon musk! Joyce: we are, even now, just asking questions about your larynx size on mumsnet Musk: mama mia!

Musk: ey whatsa matta for you? Joyce: wow elon that italian accent seems to be suspiciously averaging in the 75 htz range and i'm hearing a lot going below 50 Bailey: very suspicious Julie Bindel: [tape over mouth] mmf! Bailey: that's right julie Bailey: you sure said a mouthful!

Joyce: i can't believe that elon musk is actually trans! Joyce: why else would someone get bored listening to a constant, never-ending 24/7 stream of transphobia? Rowling: wow i never thought of it that way Rowling: but you're right Rowling: it is the only logical explanation

Musk: issa notta true! i hata da trans people justa as much as you! Musk: my son, he tella you the same! Musk: [falsetto voice, hiding behind couch] eyyy its me, elon musk jr! my cool dad issa real transphobic! ga ga goo goo! i amma NOT a sock puppet! don't a look back here!!

Rowling: you lied, elon! you and your naturally occurring sssmall gametesss, the mark of a lying AMAB! Rowling: but Rowling: if elon was sssecretly transss this whole time Rowling: ANYONE could be ssecretly transss Rowling: any one of you could be a traitor!

Rowling: everyone iss ssusspect! [camera slowly pans around circle] Jesse Singal: Allison Bailey: Helen Joyce: Julie Bindel: Jed the sled dog from John Carpenter's The Thing (1982): Maya Forstater:

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #jk rowling #elon musk #helen joyce #jesse singal #allison bailey #julie bindel #maya forstater #jed the dog

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tgmsunmontue · 3 months ago

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Season to Taste - 7/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You need to work the dough.”

“Stop worrying about your clothes.”

“You will get messy.”

“Come here. Watch me.”

Bradley follows Nonna’s instructions, now fully aware just where Leandro gets his demeanor from, although while she is exacting, she is also much freer with her praise. He’s also meant to be helping Violet with her English, but so far she seems unimpressed with him, watching him fail at making pasta.

“More flour.”

“Now work it.”

“You get strong arms making pasta,” Nonna says, poking at his bicep and Bradley huffs in amusement. “Okay. Stronger arms. You make all the pasta from now on. I can rest my old bones.”

“You’re not old.”

“Never ask a woman her age! Or even imply that you might know it.”

“I know, I know. All women are beautiful.”

“And all the men, sì?” Silvia asks, coming into the kitchen and Bradley flushes, because he hadn’t exactly expected her to find that out the way she did. Fortunately neither she nor Leandro seem to care, and now Violet is looking at him with surprise rather than disdain. It makes a nice change.

“And all the men,” Bradley agrees, ducking his head with embarrassment.

Silvia lets out a mad cackle of laughter and pats his face, leaving a flour imprint.

“Come on now, we still have to make ravioli…”

… … …

He knocks on the door and waits for Leo to come and answer. He’s packed a small bag, basic toiletries and a change of clothes, even if the assumption is that he won’t be needing them. The door opens and he goes to step forward, greet Leo with a kiss except…

“Oh. Shit. Sorry. You are not Leo.”

“No. No I’m not. Nice to know he’ll get a warm welcome though. I’m Violet, one of Leo’s cousins.”

“Oh, hi. Nice to meet you. Jake Seresin.”

“Seresin? Huh.”

She’s giving Jake a once over, and rather than feel like he’s getting checked out he feels like he’s being assessed and critiqued, a bit like he’s undergoing inspection back in USNA and about to be yelled out for having a spot on his boot. However he’s got five older sisters and he can wait out anyone.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm. You’ll do Cinderfella.”

“What?”

“Just what I call you. Leonardo got drunk and talked about you. I called you the one who got away. Like… Cinderella. But Cinderfella.”

“Clever. Except I didn’t leave a shoe behind,” Jake grins, quite intrigued to learn that Leo definitely remembers him. That he wasn’t just a vague memory but had made enough of an impression to not only be remembered, but talked about and for his cousin gave Jake a nickname. He’ll take it.

“No. You didn’t.”

Her voice is low and serious, she gives him another look, this time Jake wonders if he’s being measured for a body-bag, suddenly a little more nervous. He didn’t expect a shovel talk for a hook up. Prolonged hook up sure, but still a hook up. She jerks her head and steps aside, calls out something in what he assumes is Italian which he thinks he might understand half of. He steps in after her, takes the open door for the invitation it is, toeing off his shoes. Leo appears and his face lights up when he sees Jake and he smiles back. Raises an eyebrow when Violet slaps a hand on Leo’s chest and starts talking to him in rapid fire Italian. Leo is still looking at him, although a quick few snaps of her fingers in front of his face bring his attention back to her.

“It’s rude to talk in front of guests when they don’t understand...” Leo states with a grin.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want me to repeat what I just said in English?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, because it’s obviously got to be embarrassing for him, or maybe Leo. Or maybe her, given the way she’s flushing, although he thinks she might be angry with Leo for putting her on the spot.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind…” Plus he’s sure Leo can tell him later if it’s funny.

“She was just saying it was a shame you don’t have a sister…”

“Uh…” Jake starts, because Leo knows he has sisters. Maybe not quite how many, or that one is in fact a lesbian, if that’s what the angle is here, but he’s not just going to toss that out there.

“I was joking! Ugh. Call me when dinner’s ready.”

“Yes your highness…”

She gives Leo the finger and it reminds Jake so much of his relationship with his own sisters it makes him grin. Leo had said he didn’t have siblings, but obviously he’s got cousins he’s close to. Close enough to work and travel with anyway. Then Leo is clearly not caring about his cousin and is stepping in close to him and giving him a deep kiss, like the one he’d planned to give him when he opened the door. Nice to know they would’ve been on the same page at least.

“Hi. All good?”

“Very good… anyone else here I need to meet? Or hide from?”

“No. They’ve all gone, managed to get earlier flights. Just me and Vi. And she’s going back to New York day after tomorrow.”

“And she knows when to make herself scarce…”

“That she does…”

… … …

Bradley feels energized, the other side of fucked out and instead is going to be in a sickeningly good mood which is going to annoy Vi so much. He can’t wait. He is indeed going to make dinner and he’s not going to do anything fancy or new, but he does need something to direct his buzzing energy into so he’s making pasta from scratch, enjoying Jake’s company in the kitchen as he watches Bradley feed the dough through the pastaio.

“You know, I would have been fine with store bought right? Even takeout.”

“Just as easy to make it. And it’ll taste better.”

“If you say so.”

“You can give me your honest feedback…” Bradley says, pausing to give him a kiss, and it drags on a bit longer than he anticipates, Jake shifting to grab and massage his ass and he groans into it, a little amazed because he’d thought he was done. At least for a little while. Apparently not.

“No fucking in the kitchen!”

“Vi…” Bradley groans.

“I told you to call me when dinner was ready.”

“Does it look ready?” Bradley snaps, and she’s interrupted the beginnings of a nice make out session.

“No. And it never will be ready if you keep stopping to…” she pulls a face and waves her hands around, her annoyance at not being able to find the rights words palpable. English idioms were something she’s always hated.

“Play tonsil hockey?” Bradley asks. “Grab ass? Mess around? Suck face?”

“Better than sucking other things. Come on. Cook already. Then I’ll go back to my room and put my headphones on really loud. Because I won’t make that mistake twice.”

He rolls his eyes, pulling away from Jake with reluctance, reminds himself that she’ll be gone in less than thirty-six hours. And he’ll probably miss her when she’s gone, although he’ll only have ten days with Jake and then… well. He doesn’t want to think about what comes after. Instead he lets Jake and Vi make polite conversation and she’s telling him all about her Masters in business and languages while Bradley finishes making the pasta and then starts on the sauce. It’s a simple carbonara with some pancetta and mushrooms because he’s scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of ingredient with it all used up for filming yesterday and then consumed pretty much immediately, and he’d used the rest of it for breakfast and really hadn’t thought it through. At least he’ll be able to go to the farmers market again twice before he leaves. He dishes up and Vi looks at the bowl and then at him, pulling a face and he chuckles.

“Leave me alone. I’m on vacation.”

“I’ll say.”

He puts the sauce on the table automatically, but he sees Jake reaching for it automatically and he grabs his wrist.

“Wait. Just… try it first without the sauce?”

Jake rolls his eyes and does a whole put upon sigh; Bradley tries to ignore the feeling of Vi’s eyes boring holes into the side of his head. Jake dutifully tries it, nods and smiles and then promptly adds sauce and Bradley just lets himself shake with silent laughter. Just his luck the hot guy has god awful taste.

“He’s… you’re… tomato ketchup on pasta? Leonardo.”

“He’s not making you eat it,” Bradley says with a laugh out loud this time, and he sits down, hooking his ankle around Jake’s. It’s the third meal now he’s seen Jake add ketchup to and he’s starting to think Jake’s tastebuds might be dead. Or unable to taste anything other than ketchup.

“Salsa scandalo. Mamma mia… Nonna e la Nana sarebbero morte.”

“Shut up. They wouldn’t die,” Bradley says, kicking her under the table in an effort to make her remember to at least try and stick with English.

“Oh, I think they would. Then they’d turn into ghosts and haunt you.”

“Salsa scandal?” Jake asks, repeating part of what Vi had said.

“You adding ketchup to pasta. Our grandmothers would both have something to say about that.”

“Bitch. You’d normally have something to say about that. Il cazzo deve essere davvero buono.”

Jake chokes and Bradley looks at him sharply, remembers Jake saying he’d been learning Italian using DuoLingo. Huh. He probably understood something there, dick or good, or both. Vi can be incredibly crude when she thinks no-one understands what she’s saying except for Bradley.

“Jake here is learning Italian, so you might want to watch your language. Don’t want him to think you’re not a lady.”

“Uh, there was never any danger of that…” Vi snorts. “So, Italian huh? That’s a funny coincidence.”

Jake just shrugs and smiles at him.

“No, not really.”

EIGHT

#Season to taste #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #AU

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wolfiemcwolferson · 1 year ago

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So...he's a little pre-race drabble for the racing gods. I have no idea what this is. It's not what I was meant to put out. I was possessed by the holy spirit of RPF, Mr. Gasly himself.

It had been a joke.

Joris had signed him up for it before the ink had been dry on his divorce paperwork as his maman would say. Even though he hadn’t physically signed anything. It was like a…PDF signature. Digital and depressing. Like their entire marriage had been.

Charles thinks that Joris really had done it for a bit and then it had gone too far and before he knew it, he was on a plane to Paris to meet with producers and then he was signing NDA’s and getting fitted with wardrobe and someone that sounded vaguely Italian was cutting his hair even though he kept telling them that his maman did just fine.

He wasn’t…opposed to the whole thing of it - although reality television was a joke, he knew that he wasn’t going to find his soulmate on a TV show, but he was experiencing. He was learning about his sexuality and he was out and he was going to maybe get a couple of brand deals out of it.

Probably cry at least once. He was prepared for that.

One of Lorenzo’s friends from uni had done a very low budget Italian version of Love Island and three of the guys from his Villa were in his wedding and Charles could honestly use some gay friends! His friends from Monaco were trying, but it was hard for them to understand sometimes. He had married a woman after all. He had made a life with her for years and then he had just -

So, yeah. He had walked into this whole thing knowing that it was going to be an experience - one he wanted to take with both hands and that he would try and come out of with dignity and then on the first night, Pierre fucking Gasly walked in and Charles was done for.

He tries to make friends in the house. And he thinks they make progress every day.

He likes to work out with Peter - the guy from Denver who moved to France for university and never left. He attempts to learn to cook from Esteban - the chef who owns two of his own restaurants. He watches movies with the two friends from Italy who talk to each other in Italian constantly and he thinks he’s making friends with them.

But then someone comes in from a date and he just…crumbles.

He kissed me, someone will say and Charles will burn up with rage, his face red and blotchy and he never ever ever congratulates them or asks them questions because he can’t stand it. He can’t stand them and he knows that it’s ridiculous because there are…fifteen men left in this house and only one of them will leave with Pierre, and it’s only been two weeks of this, but Charles cannot stand it - feels as though Pierre is his.

He can feel the cameras on him and he knows that when he leaves the room in a hurry, they’re following him.

He can already see the narrative that’s being developed about him.

Bratty and silly and naive.

He knows the mic’s pick up the way Pierre leans in and says his name so softly and the camera's see the way that Charles’ blushes and it’s so stupid because there are so many accomplished, wonderful men here and Charles is not special, but…

Pierre makes him feel like he’s special - like what they have is special and even though they’ve had a handful of minutes together…Charles knows that he and Pierre could be…

Well, they could be great.

There are eight of them left and Charles is on his second one-on-one date.

Not just his second one-on-one, it’s the second in a row.

Charles has only seen one season of this show - that he watched frantically all in one night two days before his flight - but he doesn’t think it normally happens like that and the only reason Pierre had been allowed to do it was because he had asked Charles during the rose ceremony in front of the other guys.

It’s confirmation for what he already knows. That he and Pierre have something together. The way Pierre looks at him, the way he listens to him, the way he laughs with him, the way his fingers always stray south when he’s kissing him…

They’re on a boat - mic’d up, sitting in front of food they can’t eat.

The boat is docked and Charles would be annoyed by that normally because he loves the sea and he loves to go and he thinks that’s half the reason they’re on this date - a two hour drive through France in the back of a car is all worth it for this moment with Pierre - that Pierre arranged because Charles had talked so fondly about his families boat in Monaco.

Charles is talking softly about Monaco and his brothers and Pierre stops him, “Cha,” he says, running one finger down Charles’ cheek, “Can I have a minute? I hate to call cut, but I need to go and have a talk with production.”

The bottom drops out of Charles’ world.

You only call cut when something bad has happened. That was what they had coached him on when he started. You get to call cut, but only if it’s really really really bad, and Charles thinks Pierre is about to send him home.

That’s the only reason he would call cut right now.

They had been kissing, Pierre’s fingers tucked into his goddamn waistband and then he had pulled away to ask about Charles’ family and…he’s realized he has no feelings for him whatsoever, but wants to save him the embarrassment of a rose ceremony after he -

“Yes,” Charles backs away from him, “Of course.”

He can feel the cameras again, hyper-aware of the way this is all going to get edited.

Desperate. He’ll be painted as desperate and ridiculous and he just cannot breathe and he -

“Charles -” a producer says, and Charles waves him off as he stands, feeling like he might puke, leaning over the side of the boat, trying to draw in breath the way Joris had taught him.

He should go and tell them he wants to go home.

That’s the dignified thing to do.

He thinks that’s allowed. There’s an eject button on this too, but that’s only for big big big emergencies and this might be that.

He was just so silly. To think he and Pierre had a connection - that he was feeling like he and Pierre could be in love - that they could have a real future.

Charles was thinking about moving to Paris. Uprooting his entire fucking life to be close to Pierre’s practice because -

He hears his name being called again as he stumbles towards the sliding door that Pierre had disappeared behind.

There’s a kitchen and a lounge and that’s where the camera and production crew are hiding and he knows that’s where Pierre is and he is just going to tell them all that he needs to go home right now, but he gets to the door and freezes.

Pierre is in profile and he has one hand on his chest and there are tears streaming down his face.

A rather severe looking producer is wagging a finger in Pierre’s face and Charles is suddenly full of rage because how dare he make Pierre feel like that? This is Pierre’s show and he gets anything he wants and -

“I don’t want to go back to the house tonight,” Pierre pleads, tapping his chest. “It’s Charles, it has to be him.”

The producer - Jacques, Charles thinks - pats Pierre on the shoulder like he’s a child. “There are still weeks of filming left. You could change your mind. I know he is nice. Charles is very sweet and he is testing well, but you have such a great connection with Esteban. Don’t you want to see that through?”

Charles is frozen in place. He wants to hear everything. He wants to know everything happening, but the producer that was in his face earlier is shooing him away from the door, back to his spot with a cross look on his face. “You cannot repeat any of that,” he says firmly.

“Repeat what?” Charles echoes back and then waits in agonizing silence until Pierre remerges some time later. He looks stressed and tired, but he sits down next to Charles, placing his hand on his thigh and apologizes to him for the interruption.

Charles leans over and kisses him instead, open-mouthed and too much for fucking television, but Pierre’s fingers are so tight on his waist and he knows somehow that this is it for him.

He’s not walking away from this thing with a couple of brand deals and some friends.

He’s walking away with Pierre.

He doesn’t tell him until their honeymoon.

Pierre in a white linen shirt with too many buttons undone and Charles in a pair of swim shorts he is sure don’t belong to him and a boat that Pierre is renting from some PSG player.

Charles is laying between Pierre’s legs - despite their size difference, it’s the way the two of them prefer to be - Pierre splaying his hand on Charles’ bare chest, Charles hands on Pierre’s thighs, letting the hair run between his fingers.

It reminds him of their last night together before the final rose ceremony. Pierre and Charles had spent the night together in that sterile white suite, but most of the night had been spent like this - on the lounge chair on the balcony covered in the hotel duvet. Talking. Just so much talking.

Away from the cameras for the first time and in love.

And even then Charles hadn’t told him because he was scared of it - there had been a piece of him that had wanted to hold it back. In case…

He tells him now. Maybe because there’s no one else. Maybe because they’re on another boat.

“I heard part of your conversation that night.” Charles twists, cheek on Pierre’s chest. “The night of our date on the boat. You said that it had to be me and -”

Pierre grips his face too hard and forces him to twist around, coming to his knees so he can move and they’re face to face - Pierre’s eyes are blazing and Charles is breathing too quickly - he’s all too familiar with that look.

“You heard me?” Pierre demands. “I told them all that I loved you and you heard me?”

“No!” Charles says, “You - you only said that you didn’t want to go back to the house and that you wanted me and then Jacques told you that you had a connection with Esteban and then I didn’t hear anything else. I had to go and sit down -”

But he doesn’t get to finish. Pierre is kissing him hard and unrelenting and Charles is still trying to catch up.

“Pierre -” he mumbles, pushing on Pierre’s shoulders, “What?”

“I wanted to end it that night.” Pierre tells him, fingers coming away from his cheeks to grip Charles’ chin. “I asked them to end it because I didn’t want anyone else. I only wanted you.” He heaves a breath. “You’ll see when the season comes out, but we were…they were so angry. There’s barely a season after that night. I wasn’t…I knew it was you.”

“You never said -” Charles starts, but Pierre is too strong and he flips them, pinning Charles to the cushions.

“Fuck, I love you and I have loved you since I laid eyes on you.” He sinks his teeth into Charles’ collarbone and Charles forgets he was going to protest.

“I love you,” he says instead.

Pierre soothes the sharp bite with his tongue. “Going to love you forever, Charles.” And then softer, “Husband.”

#piarles #is there a French Bachelor #idk but this is that #a French Gay Bachelor #in my head Pierre is a doctor and Charles works worked at a nonprofit in Monaco and he married wealthy #pre racing drabble sacrifice

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faegoddessog · 8 months ago

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Woman in Red Ch. 8/17

Chapter 8: Be My Guest

Series Summary: She's a very successful woman who can't seem to find a partner that can keep up with her. He is just wanting to find someone who likes him for HIM, not his fame. Neither of them are prepared for what hits them when she walks into that coffee shop.

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, outdoor nudity, Unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll!), butt plug, masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected anal sex, unrequited shower sex.

A/N: In this story, I make no mention of birth control or condoms or STI's. Please, darlings, please love yourself enough to protect yourself appropriately when you have sex. <3

Message me or leave in in a comment if you'd like to be added or removed from my tagged list!

@purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef

Here is the Woman in Red Masterlist

Here is the link to all my posted work: My Dirty Little, and not so little Stories.

Chapter 8: Be My Guest

Aya hears Austin’s stomach growling when she opens the bathroom door.

“Geeze, I heard that from over there,” her arms drape around him from behind.

“Yeah, I’m a growing boy you know,” he smiles, playing off the age gap, “do we have dinner plans for the evening?” he asks.

“Of course, let me text…,” she grabs her phone, tapping with one hand, not finishing her sentence. Austin waits patiently, lightly rubbing her forearm.

“OK, Dinner will be here in ten minutes. Hmmmm, whatever will we do with our time.” Aya tosses her phone and presses her mouth to his skin. She kisses down to that sensitive spot at the crook of his neck. She sinks her teeth in just enough and sucks. Her fingers play lightly at his nipples. Gooseflesh trails down his arms.

“Oh, Mmmmm,” Austin’s eyes flutter closed. He had forgotten how triggering his neck was. He reaches around behind him and pulls her into his lap, cradling her.

“You are incorrigible,” he whispers, hand on her jaw, “I fucking love it.” His mouth is on hers. His full lips softly playing on hers.

They stay here, softly lost in one another. Their lips and tongues tender, languishing in sensation.

‘Ding, ding’ goes the door chime. Austin pulls away from her confused and looks towards the bedroom door.

“So,” Aya sits up, nonplussed that someone just walked in her house unannounced, “you can either stay in here until she leaves, or put clothes on, she’s only 18 so… .”

“Who.. what?” Austin reaches for his clothes, he definitely missed something.

“Oh, sorry I must have had that conversation in my head,” she makes a face, grabbing a pink tank and pulling it over her head, “I do that sometimes. I have employed my neighbor's daughter to make us dinner. She takes care of Kato during the week and when I’m gone.” She steps into a maxi skirt, “She is a fantastic chef and as soon as she is out of culinary school I am going to hire her as my full-time personal chef.” She starts, barefoot, down the hall.

“Oh, well I’m gonna use the restroom, then I’ll be out.” he calls down the hall, “Personal chef?” he murmurs, wondering just how wealthy she is.

When he steps out, a feast has been laid out on the marble bar of the kitchen. A dark haired teen, diminutive in stature is unloading the last of her bags. She is telling Aya the dishes at breakneck speed and with nary a breath taken. Austin leans on the wall just inside the hallway, listening and trying to follow along.

“Sea scallops, obvi, and beef carpaccio with the Italian olive oil you brought me. God that is amazing stuff. Lobster ravioli with mushroom reduction, Yes it’s THE wine.” she shimmes her shoulders excitedly. “I know you SAY you don’t like it, but I brought a nice beluga caviar service, just in case it changes your mind, plus your date might like it. Really, Aya, you don’t know what you are missing. A nice cheese plate with some goat and sheep’s cheeses too because I know how you are. Then for dessert I tried my hand at basque cheesecake. I think it’s ok, but you tell me. Then I was debating some dark chocolate truffles, but they totally didn't work. I don't think I’ll ever be a chocolatier, so, knowing you need chocolate, I whipped up my dark chocolate mousse with raspberries. Who do you have over? I thought you didn’t bring dates here? They must be special. Oh hi Kato,” she follows the movement of the cat, turns and sees Austin leaning with arms crossed.

“Oh HI! I’m…. “ she pauses, “Wait… you’re…“ Her mouth falls open, rendering her magically silent. The girl looks at Aya in astonishment.

“Austin, this is Bee,” Aya introduces her.

“Nice to meet you Bee,” he waves, his voice soothing. Dammit, his sister is right, he slipped right into 'fan mode.'

“You too, Austin, ” she recovers her voice, “Damn Aya,” she casts a sidelong glance at Aya, “You cougar, you.” Then back to Austin, “Listen, if you like my stuff, you owe me a selfie.” She smiles.

“You can have one right now if you want,” he says with a little smile.

“Oh no, I want to know if you like my food first,” she smiles, “I have priorities.”

“You let me know if you want me to come clean up,” she says to Aya, waggling her eyebrows. Then she whips back to Austin, pointing at him threateningly, “You had better treat her right or else.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, nodding seriously.

“Good… enjoy you two!” and she walks out the front door.

“Wow, she’s…” Austin starts.

“A teenage girl,” Aya shrugs, “But just wait until you taste her food.”

They ate out on the deck under the stars. He was astounded by each and every dish. Truthfully, it was better than some of the fancy Micheline star places he’d been. Aya doesn’t touch the caviar and neither does he. He doesn’t mind caviar, but he is planning on putting his mouth on hers later.

“Text Bee and tell her I owe her a whole bevy of selfies.” he says after tasting her mousse.

Aya just laughs.

Bee comes back to clean up, getting pics of him eating her food, a few selfies and an autograph. He helps her clean up, he just can’t help being polite and sweet. “I like him, you should keep him,” she says to Aya as she leaves.

Aya’s eyes go wide and her lips press together, “Bye Bee” she says tight lipped and trying not to laugh.

Bee just giggles and walks out.

Austin pours the end of the bottle of wine into their two waiting glasses and motions for her to lead the way. He watches as she peels off her tank top and tosses it on the couch. With a coquettish glance over her shoulder, she walks outside.

“I love being naked outside,” she says as she grabs a glass from his hand, sipping.

He glances around, her back yard is completely secluded with vegetation on either side. The ocean beyond was down a steep embankment of rock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been naked outside,” he sets his glass down and peels his shirt off.

She raises her eyebrows, and looks pointedly at his lower half.

He shrugs and pulls his joggers off, leaving them in a puddle on the deck.

A randy smile crosses her lips. She tilts her chin towards the couch.

He sits down, wine glass in hand, sipping.

He gives her skirt the same look as she sidles up to him. She puffs out a breath with a slight shake of the head. She drains her wine glass instead. She gathers the hem of her skirt in her hands and straddles his thigh. He knows she has nothing under her skirt, he watched her put it on for christ’s sake. But the feel of her nakedness against his thigh is still exhilarating. He wasn’t quite hard before, but he can feel his balls tighten under her skirt. She was right to leave it on, sexier this way.

Aya settles down, knees on either side of his hips.

“Sasha, dim the lights please,” she speaks as though to someone in the house. The lights lower, even the outside ones

“Who is Sasha,” Austin looks side to side nervously, painfully aware of his nudity.

“It’s the house, silly,” she grins, “I like the whole smart house thing, so I named it. Makes it more fun.”

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head in slight embarrassment. His hands slide up her thighs to her sides, moving with the expansion and contraction of her ribs. His thumbs are under her breasts and he can feel as much as hear the vibration of the low, sexy ‘mmmm’ rumbling in her chest. He pulls her to him, flexing his quads.

She is licking and biting her lip, looking down at him. Good lord he is agonizingly fine.

“Now for the real dessert,” she murmurs into his mouth just before she kisses him.

She pushes away only to let him pull her pussy lips back again over his muscular thigh. She pulls away from his lips with an audible smack. Her head falls backwards as the moon peeks out from behind a cloud, bathing her prominent tits in ethereal silver light. She looks fae. He wouldn't be surprised if she sprouted wings, pointy ears, and horns at this point. Her panting increases as does her hip movements. He is mesmerized by her use of him, even just his thigh.

“God I want to fuck you more,” the words slip from between his lips.

“Do you now,” she purrs, looking down at him, her eyes seeming to glow. “And how do you want to fuck me more,” she mimics his tone and cadence for the words ‘fuck me more.’

She moves to straddle his whole lap, his cockstand pressed between them, the fabric of her skirt catching on his tip.

“Any way and all ways,” he gathers it in his hands, the stretchy waist of the maxi skirt easily allows him to pull it over her head. “That’s better, I like you naked,” he lightly runs his hands down her frame.

He angles his hips, pressing forward and up. She lifts up, but not high enough to capture his long cock, only paint the shaft with her juices. His face is a mask of torture.

“Do you want this pussy, Austin?” she asks, her hands lock behind his neck.

He looks up at her, hunger in his eyes, “Yes, yes I do.”

He knows he sounded a little desperate, but he just doesn’t care. It doesn't matter that he was in her an hour ago, he wants her again. When her hot pussy blissfully envelopes his hard cock, he realizes he might never be able to get enough of her. She is a Venus that needs to be worshiped at all costs. He refuses to take his eyes off hers as he flexes his glutes, pressing into her. Her forehead creases, little mewls of pleasure squeak from her. It just makes him want to fuck her harder.

So he does.

Her ample tits bounce as he thrusts into her. He bites his lip. Lord she feels so damn good, looks so damn good, is so damn good. He’s gonna cum if he keeps this up.

He fills her to the brim, ramming into her over and over. She holds herself up just a bit. She could cum like this. But then she remembers something.

She rises to her feet, pulling off him mid thrust. His eyes flash with frustration for a millisecond.

“I believe you promised me an ass fucking, Mr. Butler.” Her voice is sultry and smooth.

His chest expands slightly, whether from exertion, the abrupt cessation of his pleasure, or the way that she said ‘ass fucking’, she doesn’t know.

He wasn’t going to remind her, wasn’t going to force her to make good on his mad threat from last weekend. He is actually slightly embarrassed that he even said it in his frenzy of dark mojo. Thank the lord for the bottle of wine they had already consumed, liquid courage and all.

“I did, are you cashing in on that promise now?” his eye brows raise. He’s not well versed in anal, he’s tried it once or twice, but he’s never had a partner that really was into it.

“Oh yes,” she breathes out, running her finger tips along his shaft, “if you are ok with that.”

“I am,” he nods, his dark self flaring up, “ but I might need some guidance, I’ve not done it much and not with much success.”

“I got you, Austin.” she holds out a hand. “C’mon,” she leads him toward the still open glass doors of her bedroom.

“Just so you know,” she stops in the doorway, “it’s my plan to make you lose your mind.”

Austin nods, capturing his rich bottom lip between his perfect teeth.

“In that case, I should inform you that I want to make you forget everything but my name when you cum,” he winks.

“It’s Austin, right?” she teases.

He purses his lips in a smile and narrows his eyes, but says nothing.

She walks to the drawer beside the bed, reaches in and pulls out a clear bottle with a pump top.

“You ok?” she asks, she’s not sure why.

“Oh I’m more than ok,” he whispers, stepping to her and leaning into a passionate kiss.

Aya hands him the lube, ”I'll be back in a few. when I do, you’d better have that cock lubed and ready.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready,”‘ Austin promises, his voice barely above a whisper.

She disappears into the bathroom.

He smiles, shaking his head to himself.

“Jesus, that woman…” he murmurs. He is so turned on, she just hits things in him like no one else ever has.

He positions himself by the open door, so he’ll be silhouetted by the low lights outside. He stands sideways, his hand full of lube, waiting to hear her bathroom door open. He knows how to put on a show, if nothing else. He knows just how magnetic he can be, and he wants her dripping the moment she sees him playing with himself.

Aya steps into the bathroom and blows a long breath out into the mirror. “Fuck me, he is so unbelievably hot.’

She hurries to clean herself inside and out. She brushes out her long hair. She debates slipping into a pair of red crotchless panties and a red lace crop top, but then remembers him saying he liked her naked. She pulls out her pretty steel butt plug. She is about to lube it up and push it into her ass, then she has a thought. If HE puts it in, he will be well on the way to losing his mind. She smiles deviously.

She walks out with it and a towel in her hand, Austin is standing, back lit, in front of the door. His lean form is situated with his side to her. His back is arched, hips pushed forward so his cock juts out. The entire front of his body is outlined in the sparkly lights from the deck as he strokes himself slowly. She can hear his breathy moans.

“Oh… my,” she is barely audible and stopped in her tracks, “You are so fucking sexy.”

Dropping the towel on the bed, she quickly closes the distance between them, pressing her mouth to his in desperate need. His free hand wraps around her back, feeling just as needy.

“You are…” she hesitates, panting slightly, “are you trying to make me lose control, Austin?”

“Oh yes,” he growls into her mouth, pleased at her reaction.

She almost loses it, almost shoves him down on the bed to ravish him. Almost slides her legs on either side of him. Almost pushes herself onto that gorgeous cock. Almost. She takes a big breath, tensing her jaw. She is determined to stay in control of herself.

“Come over here,” she hooks a finger around his and leads him to the bed, ready to play her own card in this game of sexy one-ups.

“I need to stretch my ass a little, if I’m going to take,” she runs two fingers lightly over his lubed cock, ”this magnificent thing. So I got out my favorite butt plug." She holds it up for him to see, "I hope it's big enough." She holds it down near his hard cock, comparing the sizes. His breath catching in his throat is all the response she needs. She climbs on all fours on the tall bed and holds up the plug.

“Do you want to? Or shall I?” she says with a wicked glance over her shoulder.

“Oh, well,” his eyes widen, taking it from her. “I’ve never… but I’ll try.”

“Be my guest,” she leans over and switches on a string of hanging lights that adorn the back of her bed. They give enough light, but keep the mood sexy. She leans her head down, ass up, opening her legs wide.

“Good lord that is a sight,” he murmurs.

He drips lube onto her exposed asshole. It’s a little cold, as is the steel, but it feel oh so good as he rubs it around in the lube and against her tight ass.

“Just go slow, Austin.” she says

“Yes, Ma’am.” he starts pushing.

She inhales sharply, her mouth open.

He pushes harder then relents, her ass pushing it back at him.

“Oh god yes,” she moans, fisting the sheets.

He smiles, ‘who’s gonna make who lose all control?’ he thinks.

“Fuck me with it.” she says, looking over her shoulder, eyes hooded in desire.

Oh Dammit. She is too hot all bent over and just the right height, he could fuck her just like this. No he will fuck her, just like this. He slides the plug in and out, going deeper each time. As it nears the drop off point, her ass grabs it and pulls it from him.

“Fuuu-uu-uu-uck” she says, rocking her hips, letting the weight settle.

“God that is hot, babe,” he breathes, hand caressing her round cheek.

She pulls herself up on her knees and turns around to look at him with a lopsided smile, “‘Babe?” her tone questioning. She shakes her head, she is not doing a good job of managing expectations here.

“Uh… well…um,” usually quick with a retort, his brain is completely derailed with how sexy she is right now. On her knees, looking over her shoulder, her hand fondling her own ass. Her hair flows down her back, begging to be wrapped around his fist.

“You wanna fuck me with it in…Babe?” her words are slightly taunting, but her body, eyes and tone say something completely different.

He crumbles at the sexy, wanton look on her face, not even registering her tease. “Oh, yes Ma’am,” he hears himself say.

She smiles, knowing she just knocked another notch from his self control.

”How do you want me, Austin. You want to be able to see it? Play with it?” This is not her first rodeo, she knows men.

Holy hell how does she know exactly what he is thinking?

“I want you in every way, darlin’”, the way ‘darlin’ drips from his lips all southern-like is intoxicating. What’s better is that he doesn’t even seem aware that he’s doing it.

She is suddenly too turned on to care what he calls her. They reach for each other, lips crashing together hard and passionate. His hand captures her breast, her spine twists to meet him. The heat in the room blazes between them.

His cock is throbbing and he can’t help but hump against her hip. Fuck he needs her and right now, to hell with control. He pushes her back onto all fours and then manhandles her by the hips, pulling her back to meet him. The silver steel of the flange glinting at him in the tiny fairy lights. He rubs his lubed tip in her wet folds, groaning at the warmth. He nudges forward into her clit just a bit while pressing the stopper with his thumb. If the shaking of her hips and her soft throat-born moans weren’t enough to clue him in, the arching of her back and the pressing of her ass toward him was.

Holy shit, she had forgotten how much she liked being tossed around like this. Then to feel his tip entreating entrance? Fuck she wanted him now, control be damned. Her clit and ass pulse together straight into her core as he touches them. He pushes, slipping his head into her wet folds.

The bulge of the plug presses against him. Like the plug going into her ass, once his head gets past the roundness, he feels sucked in as her pussy contracts around him. He can feel it slither up his spine. It doesn’t stop until he is deep in her. Even then she seems to want to draw him deeper. He jostles the plug slightly. He can feel it moving against him, feel the vibrations as he taps it. Her moans of pleasure egg him on.

She is so… full. His cock deliciously stuffing her pussy. Her ass hugging the steel of the plug.

“Please, Austin, fuck me, please,” she moans. She means it, and she also knows that one of the two best ways to make a man go crazy is to show him how needy you are for him.

“Begging for it, huh?” he teases her, pulling back “Ok, but only if you cum on my cock, can you do that for me darlin’.”

Fuck, there it is again, that hint of southern gentleman laced with the promise of dirty deeds.

“Uh-huh, just, my god, fuck me, I need you,” her breathy voice pleading. The other way to drive a man to delirious passion is to cum for him, on him, in front of him, because of him.

He chuckles behind her ear and wraps her hair around his fist, making her wait. Then he thrusts quickly, using his grip on her hip for leverage.

She squeals out a tiny ‘oh’. He thrusts again and again, his growl reverberating low in his chest.

Reaching between her legs, she can feel him entering her and how dripping wet she is. His rhythm gets steadily faster, harder. Her ‘oh’s get louder, more explosive as each plunge into her clicks her gears tighter and tighter.

She knows her body well. One minute on her clit will set her off. She lightly flicks her swollen nub.

“You are so fucking hot under me. No one could even come close to how fucking sexy you are.” He means it too. Austin is not new to women. He knows the effect his voice has, using it to tell a woman just how sexy he finds her is his secret weapon. And good lord, Aya takes the cake on being sexy as hell.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna…” she groans. She is suddenly shivering; arching and curling her spine in an explosive and sexy version of cat/cow. Her pussy is clenching and unclenching on his cock. She fucks herself on him. Low wordless, moans flow from her. He comes perilously close to creaming her pussy. The pressure from her plug is almost too much. Luckily she jerks off of him to lay face down on the bed, panting and shivering.

He smiles knowing he made her cum first. He can't help but reach out and tap the plug, she groans and twitches.

Then, unexpectedly, she says, “Pull it out, I need that cock.” She lifts her hips up to him. He pulls on the plug, slow and steady. She is rubbing her pussy, her fingertips peaking out from between the bed and her cunt.

“Fuckyes, fuckyes! Oh. My, God!” she almost cums again as it suddenly slips out. He puts it on the bedside table.

She rolls over, her eyes clouded with lust, her arms open. “Come’re” her voice sounds almost angry as she crooks her fingers at him.

She envelops him in her arms, pulling him down, desperate to feel his body along her own. Her mouth is greedy against his. She wraps one leg around his waist and pushes against the bed with the other, flipping them over.

She sits up on him like a tiger in the jungle, ready to pounce. She pumps lube into her hand, then wraps it around his cock. She looks for all the world like she is stroking her own cock between her legs. It’s deliciously provocative.

“You sexy mother fucker, I am so … oh .. god… you,” she says with a shaky breath. He is a fucking muse under her.

His hands clamp down on her thighs as his hips lift up into the friction of her hand

“Oh yeah? Well I …. You… are… fuck,” his cock bounces in her hand.

Neither of them are able to form full sentences. The lust is thick and palpable.

She nods at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. He nods back, not trusting his tongue. He is nervous. She reaches behind her with a lubed hand, smearing it on her asshole.

“Hold still,” her voice is commanding "I'll have to go slow at first." 'Torturously slow', she thinks.

He’s never seen anyone so hot as she is at this moment. She leans forward, holding herself up with one hand on his shoulder. The other holding his cock tight against her hole. It takes everything in him not to flip them and rail her into the mattress. But he is willing to take orders, especially from her. He can feel her sphincter tight around his head as she slowly eases down onto him. He is shaking, trying to control his body from thrusting into her. Her ass is unbelievably tight, he didn’t know it would feel this good.

Holy hand grenade, he feels so damn big in her ass. She is breathing though the stretching, she knows if she can get him in and relax, she will adjust. Panting out little breaths she finally makes it down his cock. She pauses there, forcing herself to relax with long breaths.

“You ok?” he asks, trembling. He is so sweet.

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” she breathes,”you are… big.”

A red blush rises to his cheeks and he huffs out a breath, looking down and away.

“Are you being shy?” her eyes narrow playfully as she leans forward slowly, moving on him. “Austin, darling, your big, gorgeous cock…” she can’t help but moan, “...is b- buried, in my tight, little, ass. There is no room for shy now, sweetheart.

Apparently they call each other pet names now.

His jaw is set as he looks up at her through his long eyelashes. His tight little moans accent her movement. He is determined to not thrust as she slides up and down on him a few more times.

She stops with him deep. His face is scrunched up trying to keep himself in check. Even so, he is utterly breathtaking. She leans down to kiss him. He involuntarily moans at the forward movement.

“Oh look at you, all that control,” she taunts him, a slight panting to her breath, “when I know you just want to ramrod into me until you fill me. You wanna watch my pussy grasp at nothing as you fuck my asshole? You can, I’m ready for it now.” she whispers in his ear.

“Oh… you vixen. I may ruin you,” the glint in his eye sparks as his lip curls into a smile, his hands clamping down on her hips.

“I dare you to try.” she smiles slyly at him. It’s always better at this point, when they can take control.

For a split second, Austin considers teasing her back. Pushing her off him and not giving her what she so clearly wants. But where is the fun in that? He locks his hands onto her hips and in one motion, rolls her over in the big bed still buried in her ass.

“What I want, is to watch you come undone on my cock,” he tries an experimental slow thrust into her.

“Oh I will, OH! “ she moans below him with her head back, tits pushing forward, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him further into her.

“Ohmigod.. so tight,” he moans as he rides her slowly. “Can I… are you?… fuck it’s so good, Aya.” He is lost.

“Yes and yes…” she nods, “and you are right, it is.” God he feels so fucking good.

He continues to move slowly, just luxuriating in the sensations. His arms thread under hers, his hands cup her head. He shakes a little as he pushes in, inhales as he pulls back. It is so completely intimate.

She is giving herself over to it, matching him breath for breath. Her fingers digging into his bulging upper arms. It feels so damn amazing. All her senses are focused on the friction. On the in and out of his cock. It winds her slowly tighter and tighter. She is about to reach between them to get to her clit.

“I want to see it,” he says simply and suddenly.

He sits back on his wide knees, pulling her with him. Her hips tilt and he nearly slips all the way out.

“Oh fuck it’s so good Austin!” she moans loudly as he pushes back in.

“Fuck that is hot” his fingers casually pet her wet labia, exploring. Her pussy is engorged, open and willing. Her clit is glistening, beckoning for his touch. His eyes are glued to their joining.

“Oh lord, Austin,” she clenches, even the lightest touch magnified.

He watches her pussy wink at him, he smiles deviantly. Pushing his cock deeper.

“I’m gonna finger this pretty pussy now,” his voice is deep and authoritative, “and you are gonna cum.”

With a nod, she feels his ring and middle finger slide easily into her dripping pussy. He begins to steadily work her. Her eyelids flitter as he pushes and pulls his cock in her stretched asshole. His opposite thumb trails down her inner thigh and alights upon her clit, tracing a soft circle. It feels beyond amazing.

“Oh, oh, oh” each separated by a panting inbreath. She opens the eyes she didn’t realize she had closed to see him staring at her. His nostrils flaring with lust. He looks dark and predatory. Patiently, steadily and inch by inch ensnaring her into orgasm.

She is like a mythological siren under him. Every whimpered vowel, every heave of her chest pulls at him. Her very being seems to be begging him to abandon his steadfast approach and just have at her ass. He will, he tells himself, as soon as she cums. He will pound his cum into her. It won’t take that long, she feels so damn divine. It’s like her tight little hole makes him feel bigger, more sensitive. It’s wild.

Her breath begins to come in rapid gasps. Her hands grasping the back of her knees. She curls up, body straining to cum.

“Please harder! Fuck me harder!” she begs.

He refuses, keeping her on that sweet edge for just a little longer. His thumb, however, can’t help but flash across her clit.

She is poised at the brink, in that maniacal place of almost. She wonders, in the back of her mind, if she’ll pass out before she cums, what with all her panting. His cock fills her ass over and over. His fingers burrow in her pussy, are there three now? Then his thumb sparks across her clit and there is no more precipice to balance on, she is cast into the abyss. Her whole nervous system ablaze, lit up with his cock, switched on by his fingers.

“Austin, Austin, AUSTIN YESSS AUUUUUS-TIIIN!!" she screams from the depths of her soul.

He’d heard women scream his name before, on the street, in bed, at red carpet events. He had never heard his name quite like this. It was primal, like a wild incantation. It triggered him deep in his primitive brain. It pried opened an inner damper as she squirted all over his hands. LIttle flecks of moisture peppered both their stomachs, her inner thighs and the root of his cock. His wet fingers dig now, into her thighs. His body let loose, he rages into her, slamming his hips against her ass.

She keeps screaming “YES! YES! YES!”

He was right. It doesn't take long, or does it? Time has lost all meaning, only reaching the edge and leaping off it with her matters. She thrashes, trapped under his demanding body. She cums and cums, Jesus how much.

Finally he thrusts deep, pumping his cum into her shaking ass. His ‘ugh’ begins as a whimper and cascades into a deep vibrating growl. His hips give a final jerk into her.

With the sudden cessation of his thrusts, Aya can feel his cock throbbing in her ass. She pants, strung out on vivid pleasure. Her eyes flutter open to see him above her, head hanging forward, his mouth hanging open. His fingers still clamped onto her thighs and shaking. He lifts his gaze to hers. They are both just shocked at how good it is. They stare at one another each trying to find a way back, an anchor point. She moistens her lips, dry from moaning and panting. The corner of her mouth lifts in a half smile. He returns it, licking his own lips. He moves to back away and pull out.

“Wait!” she grabs his hands and he freezes, “go slow.”

He nods, looking down at her empty swollen cunt. She reaches between her legs, rubbing her clit side to side with rapid strokes. He pulls out so slowly. It feels so fucking good, her pussy clenches, releases, clenches, releases. She shakes, cumming yet again, spine undulating. Her voice hoarse with moaning. When he is out, she curls up on her side, eyes closed, breath shaky.

“Hey,” he curls up in front of her, “you ok?” He has no idea if this is normal or if he hurt her.

She nods, trying to recover her breath. His arms wrap around her, holding her steady. She presses her forehead to his chest, needing the grounding.

“Yeah, that was just… intense and fucking amazing,” she finally says.

“Mmm hmm,” he nuzzles into her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Come on, we need to shower after that,” she says after several minutes.

“Hmmm, yeah,” his voice is sleepy in her ear, but he pushes himself to sitting.

Aya goes first, just wanting to wash her body, not her hair. Austin slips into the big walk-in shower with her, soaping up her back. She turns around to kiss him, his soapy hands gliding over her torso.

“Lord you are gorgeous Austin,” Aya says, ”It feels like a travesty, to have you in my shower and not have the energy to fuck you, that’s twice now.”

“You take my breath away, Aya,” he says simply. “It’s ok, we can take a rain check on hot shower sex.” Again with the promises of more to come.

Aya is standing in the doorway, the cool night air raising goosebumps on her naked skin. Moonlight streaming in. She turns to see Austin step out of her bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Yup, a total travesty.

She had offered him one of the guest rooms, but he said he preferred to sleep with her. She liked the idea of his beautiful self merely an arms reach away all night.

“If I wake you by riding your morning wood, will you mind?” she says both cheekily and seriously.

“Not unless you mind me doing the same,” he smiles.

“It IS the best way to be woken up, that and ba- ay -ay con,” Aya yawns.

As he curls around her from behind, Kato balled up at their feet, she thinks just how good this feels, how much she has missed having something like this. Before she drifts off, she quietly smothers her inner voice, the one that is reminding her of personal vows made long ago.

Austin feels her deep breaths, feels her fall asleep. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck. It’s been a long time since he felt anything like this. Like a kid in love. Sure, he’s cared about those others, but this feels next level.

‘Why am I having these feelings? Jesus, who is this woman?’ he thinks to himself. ‘It’s just an orgasm-induced oxytocin release, Austin, calm down,’ he tells himself. ‘Yeah but no,’ is his internal rebuttal, ‘I don’t think it’s just that. She is so… I don’t know… just...more. Maybe it’s just the newness of it all. Well, I can either run for the hills, or wait and see how this all plays out.' He shakes his head, heaving a big sigh, just before a well deserved sleep overtakes him.

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #one sexy mother fucker

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hercarisntyours · 2 months ago

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I looove when we get to see the bots learn about earth, not being good at english or english terms, ect, it shows that they're more than robots and I wish we got more of it (in fanfiction aswell) like give me that shit I need it 🫶🏽🫶🏽 gotta be one of my favourites transformers tropes fr fr, I think it's easy to fall into the "they can just download it all" and sure ig but OOHHHH the process of them learning about earth, cultures, languages, kilts it's just so good. so good that i turn into an italian man in a chef hat kissing his fingers and going mwah I need more and I needed more yesterday i soak up content like this like a dehydrated rock

#transformers #maccadam #idk how to tag this 🫶🏽

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soshiharin · 10 months ago

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looking out

summary: in which harin sees hajoon again

set: 5 nov 2019

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mention of food and drinks; swearing; angst

an: words in bold are korean, words in bold and italics are italian. send an ask/dm to be added to the taglist. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

harin’s masterlist

Harin gasped as she was embraced in a hug before the door had fully opened. She wrapped her arms around her brother as he slightly lifted her off the ground. They pulled apart with a kiss on the cheek, walking into the apartment.

“So?” Hajoon asked as Harin got a good look at his townhouse apartment. He went into the kitchen to continue preparing their dinner.

Harin nodded, impressed at the place her brother called home. “It’s great. It really is.” She walked past the dining room and onto the patio. “The garden is a nice plus!” She called out as she returned to the kitchen.

“Yeah, Tommy was adamant on getting this apartment because of the garden,” he said, stirring one of his pans. Tommy was his close friend and roommate.

“Tommy is very smart.” She walked up to her brother, watching as he moved on to chopping an onion. “What’re you making?”

He gathered the cheeses and eggs that he was going to mix together. “I know you can’t cook, but can you really not tell?” He teased, measuring how much of each ingredient he needed.

Harin rolled her eyes. “This truly just looks like you put your entire fridge on the island.”

Hajoon paused from where he was fetching the herbs he needed. “That’s insulting. I’m making lasagna,” he told her, adding the fresh parsley to his bowl.

Harin looked over the pots and bowls on the island. “Now it looks… more recognisable,” she said, causing Hajoon to scoff as he began to grate his cheese. “How’s the restaurant?”

Hajoon had started a restaurant with Tommy in 2017. Their restaurant, Seoul in Rome, specialised in Italian and Korean cuisine, influenced by their upbringing.

“It’s going good, it’s going good. We bought the open space next door to ours, and we’re gonna turn that space into a fine-dining area. We’re going to add a kitchen on that side so that we don’t confuse the ingredients for the different sides.”

She walked around the island, standing by the barstools “That sounds exciting. I think. I’m not quite sure…”

“It’s exciting,” Hajoon said, getting started on assembling the lasagna. He spread two spoons of sauce over the bottom of the baking dish that he was going to use, adding two layers of noodles over the sauce to cover it. “Thanks to the money you give us every month, we were able to save all the extra cash and put it towards buying the open space.”

“Yeah, well… I’m a humanitarian.” She bragged with a shrug. “But I’m glad that everything’s going well with the restaurant. I’ll have to pay it a visit while I’m still in New York.”

“Sounds cool! I’ll give you a tour of the place and show you what we’re planning on doing,” he said, adding half of the cheese mixture and sauce. He added the remaining noodles, cheese and sauce before retrieving the aluminium foil and covering the dish with it. He placed the dish in his preheated oven, setting an oven for thirty-five minutes on his phone. He turned around to face his sister. “You know you can sit down, right?” He asked, staring at the barstool she was standing next to.

Harin rolled her eyes as she pulled out the nearest barstool for her to sit on. “Forgive me for trying to work on my posture. Eomma might kill me if I don’t start standing up straight.”

Hajoon chuckled, washing his hands before drying them. “Would you like anything to drink? I can offer you water, soda, fresh fruit juice, and wine,” he listed off, walking to his fridge.

“For a house owned by two men, you sure do have a lot of choices,” she teased, holding up one finger.

He understood her request, fetching a glass from the cupboard. “We’re not just two men, we’re two chefs, so our fridge is always stocked,” he told her as he poured her water before passing it to her.

She accepted it with a smile, taking a sip. She played with the end of her hair as Hajoon began cleaning up the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, noona?” He asked, putting the herbs he used away.

Harin shook her head as she answered, “Nothing’s wrong.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “Then why are you playing with your hair?”

She stopped flicking the tips of her hair this way and that, reaching forward to hold her glass. “Um, I… I have something to tell you.”

“Okay,” he said, putting down the pots that were in his hand and moving to stand in front of her.

“Um… I–” she groaned. “I got back together with Dongwook,” she blurted with a shy smile on her face.

Hajoon inhaled deeply, his chest moving with his breath. “Hm,” he hummed before returning to organising the dirty dishes.

“Wait, that– That’s all you have to say?” She expressed her shock.

“What else should I say?” He asked, his voice void of all emotion.

“I don’t know. Maybe ‘Congratulations!’ or some shit like that?”

His back still faced his sister as he asked, “Why would I say that?”

“Because this is a happy moment for me and you’re happy for m–”

“I’m not happy for you,” he interrupted, causing Harin’s smile to drop.

“You’re not?”

“Why would I be?”

“I… I’m dating Dongwook again! We– He’s… We’re back together.”

Hajoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And why would I be happy about that?”

“He’s… He’s Dongwook. He’s great, he’s–”

“The guy that broke your heart?” He asked, turning around and crossing his arms. “Or is this a different Dongwook I don’t know about?”

Harin nervously bit her bottom lip as she watched her brother. “He’s the same one, but… he’s changed. We talked about it. I forgave him. You can be happy for me.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The only times I had ever seen you cry were at concerts, at–at–at your plays, or on other random days, like my graduation. He had you crying everyday for months. So no, I won’t be happy that you’re back together with him, okay?”

Tapping her fingers against her glass, Harin tried again. “Well, he said his family is happy we’re together again.”

He scoffed, rubbing his forehead. “Of fucking course they are, Harper. Why wouldn’t they be over the fucking moon that you’re giving him another chance to break your heart, hm? I mean, I can’t believe how naive you are!”

“I’m not naive.”

“Then why are you doing this! Why were you expecting me to give you flowers and shit for telling me this? If I reacted joyfully, it would mean that I don’t give a shit about you,” he said, turning around to get started on the dishes.

“Hajoon-ah, I know that you have some resentment towards him, but he’s changed. I know he has, and if you just give him a chance, you’ll know it too. I’m a grown woman, okay? I can make my own decisions without you judging me.”

“And when those decisions leave you calling me because you’re having a panic attack and you can’t breathe, I’ll remind you of that.”

A silence overtook the kitchen, only the sound of cars outside filling the room. They didn’t speak for almost five minutes, both trying to calm themselves down.

“You’re the–” Harin swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You’re the first person I’ve told. You’re the first person I wanted to tell.”

Hajoon shook his head, refusing to turn around and look at his sister. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Harrison. Harrison! Are you being serious, right now?”

He sighed. “Can you take the plates out? They’re in the cupboard over there.” He pointed to his left at the overhead cupboards.

Harin nodded, feeling a dull stinging at her eyes. She sniffled, trying to regain her composure. “You know what? I lost my appetite, so I’m just gonna go back to my hotel.” She moved to stand up, waiting for him to say anything.

“You do that,” he said after almost a minute of silence.

“Okay,” she muttered. She walked past the living room and picked her bag up from the couch before going to open the front door.

“Woah! Hey,” Tommy greeted, standing by the door as if he were just about to open it. “Sorry to interrupt your sibling bonding session, I need to fetch something from my room.”

“It’s fine, I’m leaving anyway.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. See you next time, Tommy,” she said, pushing past him and walking down the long hallway. She turned the corner, continuing to walk down the hallway until she reached the elevator. Pressing the down button, she waited for the lift to come. After less than a minute of waiting, she heard hurried footsteps.

Tommy put his arm against the wall as he panted. “Harry said– Oh, just give me a second.” He took a few deep breaths. “Harry said to text me when you get to your hotel.”

Harin nodded, her lips pursed. “He doesn’t even want to hear from me. Great.” She hurriedly pressed the elevator button again.

“Hey, I know it’s not really my place to say, but… Harry may be younger than you, but he looks out for you like he’s older. I don’t know what your argument was about, but I’m pretty sure he was reacting from a place of protectiveness and–”

“I don’t fucking care what place he was reacting from,” Harin interrupted. “I just want this fucking elevator to work so I can go sleep.” She repeatedly pressed the button, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, uh, that button doesn’t work,” Tommy told her. He reached forward to press the up button, the elevator making a ding! sound as it began moving to her floor. “It’s getting fixed next week… But, just give him some time. I’m sure once he’s calmed down, he’ll tell you that he’s sorry.”

“Thanks, Tommy, but I… He needs to fucking grow up,” she muttered as the elevator arrived. “I’ll text you later,” she said, pressing the button for the ground floor before the doors closed.

Harin leaned her head against the back of the elevator with a sigh. She knew that Hajoon had some resentment towards Dongwook, but she didn’t know just how strong it was.She didn’t need his approval to do what she wanted, but to know that he was so against it… hurt.

©️ jang harin

#ficnetfairy #snsd 9th member #snsd ninth member #snsd oc #snsd addition #snsd added member #snsd extra member #snsd member au #snsd imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop au #kpop imagines #jang harin

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queengiuliettafirstlady · 1 year ago

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Taste of Home

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci x Le Comte de Saint-Germaine

Tag: Established relationship Cooking Kisses Spicy lines Fluff

Word Count 991

Author’s Note: The song is La donna è mobile from Rigoletto written by Giuseppe Verdi.

A little something to celebrate Italy with Leonardo and his lover, in a ordinary day with a normal amount of dishes prepared from our italian chef, much to the delight of the residents, with some sweet and spicy adding, I very much hope will be of your taste like this little dish I prepared myself take a seat and enjoy the feast. 🥰

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess

@nightghoul381 @william-rex @writingwhimsey

@fang-and-feather @moonstruckmelancholic

@wistfulwanderingone @rjthirsty @lichtluv

@ike-garden2024 @jollibeeshappiness @starzyquee

@maeko-kun @rkmaru

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was a summer day at the mansion, the whole nation simmered with perfumes and sounds he never heard of more pleasant, except the ones of his native country, an heavy sigh escaped from his lips at the thought as he shifted around the table, filled to the brim with his skillful hands creations.

La donna è mobile

Qual piuma al vento,

Muta d'accento - e di pensiero.

Sempre un amabile,

Leggiadro viso,

In pianto o in riso, è menzognero.

The fragrant perfume of white bread still warm from the oven placed in a plate next to the baci di dama, the unmistakable aroma of gianduia melted well with the bitter scent of coffee of the tiramisu, the yellow color of the polenta stalked in contrast with the red cover of the lasagna placed next to it, on a side of the candid tablecloth stretched a feast of pasta of any kind and pizza with various filling, enough to satisfy every taste, everything rigorously handmade following the recipes he known by heart. Amidst its chaos stood the improvised cook who do not even remotely cared about any intruder immersed in the task of stirring the red tomato sauce in the pot, carefully blowing air on it before savouring its taste rolling on his tongue as he hummed in delight, his fingers from time to time threw some ingredients in one of the pan like a magician practising his magic in broad daylight, bathing everything in sight in its warm hues.

È sempre misero

Chi a lei s'affida,

Chi le confida - mal cauto il core!

Pur mai non sentesi

Felice appieno

Chi su quel seno - non liba amore!

He let out a chuckle, laughing at the irony of singing about the love for a woman, his parents words ringed still clear in his ear.

-Do not show us your face unless you have took a wife.-

-Ah if only they knew.

“What are you preparing today ?”

The arms of his husband wrapped around his torso, like the sun brushing away all his dark thoughts, smiling at the soft kiss he left on his neck

“Geez there are people watching us ya know ?” his low chuckle reverberated in his chest, a tone of defiance in his voice he loved so much hearing sing for him in the bed

“Who ?”

“Someone will surely come out of this frat house you create.”

a soft giggle escaped his lips as he pulled away, he leaned against the counter to face him as he spoke.

“I see you have given Sebastian the day off.”

“He deserved it that poor guy acting all up as he is our maid and butler at once.”

He dipped the spoon in the tomato sauce pot once more, bringing the point to his lips, it tasted like home, like the country he could not come back to if not as outsider or traveller, the one he still felt to belong, both italian and french at once even though he far preferred to call himself citizen of the world, inhabitant of the earth, belonging anywhere and nowhere at once, but when the light goes down and he had to find a shelter he knew exactly where to go, the same place he would have kept coming back to over and over again, the one and only he would have chosen in every universe in every timeline even after thousand years he would have still come back home to him, the only man who intrigued him, he felt to know everything and nothing of every time they talked, a mystery he would have gladly spend all eternity discovering, each side of him a precious treasure he collected in his heart.

Before he could do anything he moved to block him against the counter, a cat like smirk on his lips as he stared in his husband’s golden eyes sensual and alluring, leaning over to press a soft kiss on his nose, his gesture made him smile at his boldness, he never was good at masking his own desire, at least not like le Comte taught from a young age to conceal every emotion and so he took action cupping his face in his hands melting his own lips on his, lacing his own hands on his husband’s hips to steady him.

Their kiss was sweet and deep, intoxicating and exhilarating pervading each and every one of his sense leaving him speechless and astounded, butterflies swirling inside his heart, fluttering with all the love he felt for his husband, the sweetest of flavour invading his tongue spreading on his palate, it was the most delicious meal he had ever had in all his life and it was only the first course he though smiling to himself, for the even sweeter dessert that waited for them both in bed, late at night when all the others were asleep and the clock struck midnight signing the start of the time for lover.

Reluctantly they pulled away panting for air, lost in each other's gaze so much to not notice their butler peeking from the doorframe, sliding noiselessly away once he witnessed that forbidden view.

He kissed his forehead tenderly, revelling in the astoundment glimmering in his golden eyes

“I love you so my ferret.” a smile so bright like the sun itself brightened his gorgeous features

“I love my cat too.” he smiled softly to him, feeling his lips leave a little kiss on his nose making him chuckle, he really did puzzled him one minute he was bold and the other shy, but he knew that despite all their bicker and banter their love was genuine, hidden deep in their hearts only for one another.

Their love confessed countless time with each moan and groan escaping their lips, with every kiss sealing their soul together and that night would have been not exception, basking in the soft alluring gleaming in his eyes at his heartfelt words murmured tenderly on his skin as they laid on their sides looking at one another with only the aster as guardian of their love, because it did not matter how much times they kissed or made love or how many refined dishes they tasted, he always had and always would have been his favourite flavour of them all, because to him his husband tasted like home.

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire comte #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp leonardo #my writing #ikevamp

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maladaptive-jcb · 1 year ago

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Chapter 2: Strokes of Familiarity

Jamie x female!reader fanfic

(fluff, safe for under 18)

Click here for chapter 1 if you missed it.

Summary: Reader is an independent artist who lives on her own in a small town and meets Jamie, a musician, in an art studio where their budding relationship formed through shared interests of different forms of art.

Warning: There will be talks about trauma and PTSD from domestic abuse and dissociative episodes throughout the story.

“Helloooo? Y/n? I said there’s another stack of books coming,” Adrian, my manager snapping his fingers in front of me.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” I say apologetically.

“What’s up with you today? You’ve been day dreaming a lot.”

There’s not a lot of employees here. It’s just me and a couple younger people who are looking for extra cash. I was Adrian’s first co-worker here and we’re more like family now than just co-workers to be honest. Adrian is older than me so he has more of that big brother energy. His thick reading glasses and brown slick-back hair were the first few things I noticed when I applied for the job.

“I’m sorry, Adrian. I didn’t mean to. Alright, look! I’m focused now!” Smacking my face with both hands in front of him to prove it.

“It’s not just that, you’re a lot… smiley… today. I don’t think I like it. You’re creeping me out,” he looks at me over his now lowered glasses.

“Oh, it's um- It's nothing, okay? I'm going to unload the books now. Now may I please go or are you gonna keep interrogating me?"

He squints his eyes at me. "This is not over, y/n."

Adrian has always been protective of me, especially when he knows the whole reason I moved up here. Telling him about a guy I just talked today is probably not a good idea. Besides, what is there to tell? That I had a coffee with a guy from class? I shouldn't even be all smiley about it yet.

There’s a lot of book donations coming here surprisingly. I clean them up a little before unloading according to their categories. Mystery, fantasy, true crime, science fiction, autobiography, vampires… You get it.

____

I glance at the antique clock sitting on the cashier's counter. It's 5:40 p.m. so it's close to closing time. That also means that he's almost here. I pick up the broom to sweep off some dusty areas while wondering if I even have the time to change my clothes. Although, crazy as it may sound, Jamie being spontaneous also got me all excited. I look around the store and Adrian is already leaving as he lets me close up after him. I finally let a tiny giggle escape my mouth now that I'm no longer within his earshot.

He’s here.

Jamie is five minutes early. Seeing his car pulling up suddenly turns my stomach into a knot. Why am I anxious? It’s just dinner between friends, right?

Before I get to open the car, he stops me and gets out from his seat. “Wait!” He did a little jog towards me and then opens the door for me instead.

“M’lady,” in his teasing tone again.

“My, my. Mr. Gentleman.”

Of course he looks amazing right now. Grey shirt with top half unbuttoned slightly revealing his tattooed chest, paired with a leather jacket that hugs his frames perfectly. His hair swept messily to the side and subtle silver chain on his neck. I step into the car and he carefully closes it before running back to his side and gets in.

“You’re early,” I say.

“And hungry!” he exclaims back. “I know this really good Italian place, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, yes I love Italian!” finally sensing my hunger. Apparently the knots in my stomach has more than one reason to appear.

“Perfetto!” his chef kiss motion follows along with it. “It’s kinda nice to have someone to go out with since I’m new in town. Thanks for joining me tonight,” he smiles gratefully.

“Well I didn’t really have a choice, didn't I?” teasing him about driving off before I could say anything.

“You were gonna say yes anyway though, weren’t you?”

“Well, I-“

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” his tone in playful mocking.

“Wow, really?” I jokingly scoff at him.

He starts the car and drives off to the main highway. I usually walk around town to get from one place to another. I have never gone this far through the highway except that one time Adrian needed me to pick up some new shipments with him. I'm starting to wonder if he's actually about to kidnap me.

“You know… I’ve wanted to talk to you too. In class,” his face focused on the road. Fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“Oh?” My train of thoughts disappear as he spoke.

“It’s just, I feel so out of place there and I’m always struggling. I didn’t know what you would think of me. I mean, you’re very talented. It’s amazing.”

He did a quick glance at me before focusing back on the road. No smile this time. Just a look of serenity… or admiration? I can’t tell. It’s getting dark and the low light is casting subtle shadows that somehow highlight his jawlines even more.

“That’s… Wow. Thank you so much, Jamie.”

He glances at me again. That same look.

I clear my throat.

“But you’ve been improving so much too! I love some of your recent work. I’m very surprised how fast you learned."

A smile curls up his lips. His eyes give a faint glimmer in the shadows. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” I put my hand on his shoulder reassuringly. His fingers stop tapping as I did.

“Will you give me some tips next time we’re in class?”

I can feel myself beaming. “I thought you’d never ask.”

____

Chapter 3

Seems like you have a new budding friendship with Jamie now! Wonder how your dinner with him will go next? 🤔

#jamie bower fanfic #jamie x reader #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell x reader #jamie x female reader #jcb #jamie bower #jamie campbell bower #vecna #jamie x y/n #jamie bower x y/n #jamie campbell bower x y/n #jamie bower x female reader #jamie campbell bower x female reader #fanfic fluff #romance #artist #musician #jamie campbell bower x reader fluff

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gryffindorhealer · 9 months ago

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WIP tag

Thanks for the tag @takearisk-ao3 Y'all gotta keep tagging me in this kind of stuff cause it really lights a fire under my butt to write.

Rules:

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!) An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you’re looking forward to writing Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on! Then tag 10 writer friends!

Top 5 priorities for WIPs Well. Hmm. This may depend on the way one defines Work in Progress. Partly this is due to me not starting to post a fic (multichapter, specifically) until the first draft is done, and I'm done editing enough chapters to stay ahead of the curve. I made this decision some time back; far too much time for my taste elapsed between Proposals Chapter 1 and Chapter 2.

That said, the work I'm currently posting is Mystic Dream. I posted Chapter 15 yesterday (1 March), and this is a bit past the numerical halfway point. It's a crossover: Ginny and Harry Potter are on a quiet bus-man's holiday with the boys off to Hogwarts and their daughter staying with her grandparents. She's interviewing American magical athletes for a book she's working on, he's attending an International Law Enforcement conference (with a magical, secret track). What could go wrong? Obviously, something, and since there's a dead American sailor involved, so is Special Agent In Charge Leroy Jethro Gibbs of NCIS. The question is, post a snippet, or a link, or both? It's a WiP in this sense; it's finished (or mostly, minor edits may or might not be happening), and I'm posting one chapter a week.

Snippet, I think. After all, I linked to the fic in the Posting Friday post. In this chapter, they are at a formal dinner-dancing event, and Harry's just asked Ginny how she likes her dinner selection:

She shrugged, ‘It’s good. Not sure Mum would approve of it, but then she doesn’t cook many Italian dishes.’ She winked at him. ‘Doesn’t match your lasagna.’

‘Mr. Potter cooks?’ Bishop blanched slightly at the surprise in her voice, particularly when Patil, Mags, and Gary all exclaimed.

‘His breakfasts are to die for,’ Mags exclaimed, curved fingers touching her lips in a chef’s kiss.

‘He’s surprisingly good at barbecue as well,’ added Patil. Gary chuckled at the expression on Bishop’s face.

‘I can make a passable meal, but Harry’s the cook in our family. You should hear our children complain when he’s home but I make dinner,’ Ginny laughed. Bishop looked at Harry, who shrugged.

‘Benefit of a misspent youth, I suppose,’ he said, grinning, then attacked his steak and kidney pie.

Now, for other priorities, if you call plotting and researching (plus all the other bits and pieces involved in writing) as Work in Progress, I've got three others I'm working on.

Skyclad: I hinted at this one in a later chapter of Dreaming a Life, when Luna visits the Potters at their home in Wales. Luna and Rolf decided it's finally time (what with twins and all) to formally declare their relationship. And, Luna being Luna, it's happening on actual Midsommer's Day, in a very traditional ceremony, that requires a very specific dress code. Or, would it be more accurate to say, undress code…

It's mostly notes so far. Here's a paragraph that is written:

If someone flying a small, private airplane at no great altitude along the western shoreline of Cymyran Bay, even being attentive to their surroundings so as not to collide with either other airplanes or birds, they might well see a small family step out of their brick cottage. They might see a very pretty woman walking with a toddler, both of them with fiery red hair that rivaled the lowering sun. Behind her might be walking a russet-haired boy, waving some toy (possibly a spaceship?) through the air as he walked. And not far behind them, a handsome man with another, younger boy, both of them with a shock of messy raven-black hair. All of them appeared to be wearing dressing gowns. This might bring the pilot of this airplane to presume the smaller building they walked towards, which resembled some far-eastern house or pavilion, to be a bath house.

A Scene I'm looking forward to writing for this one:

Well, I don't want to spoiler too much. There are two. The scene when Harry discovers exactly what the dress code is. And the scene after the ceremony, when Ginny gets to point out to him that yes, once again, she's right.

The next one is Loving Vigil:

Still quite newlyweds, Ginny's busy with the Harpies and Harry's on limited duty after a run-in on a mission with Kedavra Hornets. So he's charged by both Gawain Robards Head Auror, and Kingsley Shacklebolt Minister of Magic, to oversee the training of a new Corps for the Aurors. Field Healer Corps. He doesn't need to teach the Healing parts, because Minister Shacklebolt arranged for an expert in that to help, Gary Gillies, RCMP (Royal Canadian Magical Police) Field Healer. Here's the start:

In a world known for people accepting some rather outlandish clothing, he stood out like a sore thumb.

He strode out of the floo absolutely unphased by the spinning effects of the travel, the heels of the knee-high brown boots (so highly polished they reflected the aged oak floor of the Ministry Atrium) tapping a drum-like cadence as he marched towards the Security Check-in, silver un-rowled spurs flashing in the morning light. Midnight blue breeches flared wide above those boots, a yellow stripe running up the outside of both legs. His scarlet red serge tunic robe caught a number of eyes, all shiny brass buttons and gold badges at the corners of the high collar. Only a few individuals spotted the badges on both epaulettes; a crown over a caduceus. He nodded a friendly greeting to those that caught his eyes, even with his quite businesslike demeanor.

There are a few scenes in this one I'm looking forward to writing, including when Harry brings his new associate and his partner/wife along to Ginny's first birthday party after they've tied the knot.

Third,

Kreacher: He's one of my favorite characters, one that truly does have a redemption arc in canon. When Harry promises to do what Kreacher could not and complete his beloved Master Regulus' last order to destroy the Evil Locket, when he gifts Kreacher the decoy locket, Kreacher finds he can truly respect this new Master. What Kreacher never expected (since the need never arose in his long lifetime in service to the House of Black), is his Master ordering Kreacher to teach Master about the ins and outs of Magical Society that Hogwarts doesn't teach. It's a difficult assignment, someone has to do it, and Kreacher's been ordered to do so.

I'm still outlining the Professor Kreacher stories, but you can see Kreacher featuring in six of my stories, stipulating that one of those is a crossover AU. This still means in five of them, this lovable curmudgeon plays some part in moving things along. In Eloped - Sort Of I wrote his first appearance, and hinted at much more to come.

Kreacher looked around as the Colours in the walls began to glow a tad brighter. “Seven generations of the House of Black Kreacher served, and now the first of Potter-Black.” Stretching a bit to ease the aches in his joints, brought on no doubt by the day of rain, the thought that with a bit of luck he would see the next generation arrive for him to serve warmed his bones. He resumed his walk to his room, looking at the portraits with which Master Harry had replaced the heads of the previous House Elves of the House of Black. He nodded to himself, pleased that Master found a means to honor the service of Kreacher's predecessors. It seemed odd, perhaps, that Master did not like being called that, but Sir sufficed to show proper respect for the Head of House. “Kreacher has served the Dead long enough. It feels good to serve Life again.”

Scene I'm looking forward to writing? Kreacher's reaction when ordered by Harry to teach him. There's just so much opportunity for a House Elf to dread needing to correct, and therefore offend his Master of the House.

Sorry, no poll. I'm not particularly enamored of them.

Tags: Right, here are some (maybe not the required number) @ginnyw-potter (because you tagged me too), @takearisk-ao3 @whinlatter @johnmchacker @nuninho2000 @rmwb-fanfics

#wip asks #ask game #writing

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jonesy-and-max · 2 years ago

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part 4: Lunch

One o’clock finally made its appearance, which meant it was time for Jonesy & Max’s lunch break. Jonesy went to the back room and grabbed her backpack while Max ushered some straggling customers out the door. Jonesy flicked the switch on the OPEN sign off, and hung the “OUT TO LUNCH (back at 2p)” sign in the window. Directly across from Popcorn Video in the strip mall was the Super Grasso Brothers Pizzeria, Jonesy and Max’s favorite pizza place since they were kids. Not only was the pizza delicious, but there were free refills on soda, and the best part was the ancient Donkey Kong arcade that had been there since 1981. Max held the second highest score on it, behind whoever had entered the initials “STN.” The two of them had spent hours and hours eating pizza, gorging themselves on garlic knots, and taking turns racking up levels on Donkey Kong.

Jonesy said hi to Fabrizio Grasso behind the counter, his brother Massimo must have had the day off, she figured, and asked for the usual.

“One large pie, half extra cheese, half extra pepperoni, garlic knots, and two large sodas. You know the drill, Ms. Jones.” He handed her two large cups and gestured towards the fountain. His thick italian accent had diminished a bit since she was little, but his boisterous, husky baritone never had.

She filled one cup with Cherry Coke for Max and mixed the Orange and the Sprite together for herself. She had a seat in one of the booths next to the Donkey Kong machine and watched Max go a few rounds before the pie was ready.

Max opened the back of his van and Jonesy slid the pizza box in first, the two of them followed behind it. She had dug out her weed purse and took a nice big hit as Max grabbed slices of pizza, one pepperoni, one cheese and smooshed them on top of each other.

“Pizza-wich!” He presented it as though a work of art to Jonesy who laughed and coughed at this miraculous new invention.

“You truly are an inspired artist, Signore Swartzwelder!” She chef kissed her fingers.

For the next hour they shared pizza, and knots, and the rest of the bud Jonesy had brought, taking turns noodling on the guitar Max always had in his van.

“Hey Jonesy.” Max strummed the guitar with each syllable.

“Yeah, Max?”

“Ok, so, like,” He looked up at his thoughts, “If you could pick how you’d die. Like number one death. How would you wanna go?”

“Demon possession.”

“Fuck! …That’s good!”

“Yeah, and I’m talking hideous deadite-style. You’d have to chop me up or blow my head off with a shotgun! But before that I’m all like munchin’ on your leg or clawin’ your eyes out, or like, comin’ at you with a rusty knife! Haha!”

“That’d be so fucking metal!”

“Either that or an evil doppelganger. Like, it wants my life, but there’s just something wrong with it, you know? Like, there’s something twisted inside it. Then we’re all like, strangling each other and maybe it bashes my brains in with a rock or something. Hahaha, that’d be rad as fuck.”

“Holy shit, that’d rule.”

“What about you?”

“Asteroid.”

“Like the dinosaurs?”

“Nah, dude. Like, ok. So like, I want there to be an asteroid heading for earth, but it burns up in the atmosphere so much that it’s just, like, the size of a bullet, then BLAMMO: killshot right to the brain. Fucking sniped from a billion years ago. The big bang itself hittin’ me with the headshot from the beginning of time!”

“Dude, that’s fucking cosmic.”

“Like, that asteroid was on a collision course with my skull since the universe was born. Destiny. I wouldn’t even be pissed, I’d be like, hell yeah.”

“Yeah man, that’s like, beautiful.”

“Either that or choked out between Kelly Bundy’s thighs.” Max plucked a wailer of a high note on his guitar and clapped the string silent.

“Oh! Nice!”

The two fist bumped twice in quick succession in perverted synchronicity.

“Excuse me!” A voice came, seemingly, out of thin air.

“Huh?” Jonesy and Max asked the disembodied voice.

“I said, excuse me!” Jonesy and Max turned their heads in the direction of the noise. To their surprise there was a man standing right in front of them. He was a stocky, middle-aged man, bearded, bespeckled, with a fluffy brown pony tail bringing together what was left of his hair. A green trench coat ended at his ankles, and due to his choice of denim shorts, if he had closed the coat it may have given the illusion that he wasn’t wearing any pants.

“What’s up, doc?” Asked Jonesy, holding in a massive grin.

Max buried his face in his elbow to stop from laughing.

The pony tail man wasn’t amused in the slightest. “I’m sorry, but is that pot I’m smelling?? Are you two high??”

Max looked at Jonesy from inside his elbow, her rose colored eyes matching his.

“Uh. Nope.” Jonesy desperately tried to hold in her laughter as Max nearly died.

“Sure. Whatever. I want to rent a movie and the door is locked. Judging by your uniforms, I’m going to assume you’re the clerks?” Ponytail attempted to move past the snickering and cloud of weed that hung around the two chuckleheads.

Max, trying to keep his composure, looked down at his double entendre nametag, “My name’s Haywood Jablome,” He pulled it out towards Ponytail. “...Junior.”

“Can one of you burnouts please get your shit together for five minutes and open the store. I have places to be.” Ponytail sneered.

“How come?” Jonesy asked.

“How come’ what?”

“Why are you in such a rush?”

“That’s none of your concern.” Ponytail avoided their eyes.

Max tapped Jonesy with his elbow, “He’s getting porn.”

“I am not!” Ponytail sputtered.

“Sure.”

“I have a date, if you must know.” Ponytail composed himself.

“No you don’t.” Jonesy chuckled.

“Yes I do!”

“With who?”

“Is it your mom?” asked Max.

“Are you getting porn for your mom?” Jonesy laughed, scrunching up her nose, “Ew, sick!”

“Is she too old to get it herself? What does she like?” Max leaned forward, intrigued.

“They didn’t have porn on tapes a hundred years ago, so she’s probably just like, sampling it all, right?” Jonesy offered.

“You are both disgusting!” Ponytail was red in the face now.

“We’re only messin’ with ya, dude.” Max decided to let the fish off the hook and finally help Ponytail out.

He shuffled his butt to the edge of the van and hopped out, grabbing his soda to take along for the trip. All of a sudden, Ponytail’s hand was moving. It was moving quite fast in Max’s direction. Jonesy saw what was happening, but her brain and her thoughts couldn’t drag themselves together fast enough to understand the gravity of it all. Jonesy’s mouth fell open, intending to warn Max, but all she succeeded in doing was letting out a long “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh…” By the time her brain had worked itself up enough to make the M sound in “Max” it was already too late. Ponytail had slapped Max’s soda right out of his grip. The cup crashed to the ground, its contents splashing against Max’s jeans and all over his right shoe. He looked down, then back up, meeting Ponytail’s gaze. He was smirking, but as soon as Ponytail’s eyes locked with Max’s the smirk vanished. Max snarled.

“What the fuck!” Max barked. Jonesy could see her pal shift into feral mode. He hunched, balled his fists and planted his feet. “I was gonna open the store for you, asshole!”

“Fuck you! I’ll be speaking to your supervisor about this!” Ponytail backed away and started to run.

Max was about to give chase when he noticed he wasn’t moving, Jonesy was holding him back. “Don’t! Don’t dude, he’s not worth it.”

Max looked at Jonesy and back at Ponytail scrambling into his car. He spit on the ground and flipped the man off. “You’re fucking banned, shitbag! Good luck finding another place to rent your mom’s porn!”

“Fuck you!” Ponytail wailed.

“Eat shit!” Jonesy fired back, chucking her soda at him. The cup splattered all over his rear windshield as he peeled out of the parking lot, swerving and narrowly missing an oncoming car.

Max turned to Jonesy, “Can you believe that fucker?”

“Who the fuck was that guy?” Jonesy adjusted her hat and hopped back in the van, laughing to herself.

“I was gonna drink that.” Max sulked and ate a garlic knot.

Jonesy crawled over to Max and pet his head, “Awww, Max! No be cry! Today is Chain-Slaughter day!” She gave him a big hug from behind and bit his ear, “Don’t let that chucklefuck get to you!”

“You shoulda let me bash him up,” Max swatted at Jonesy, “That would’ve made me feel better. Now I’ve got itchy static in my brain!”

Jonesy laid back in the van and sighed. Normally she was the one who was bent out of shape and Max was always there to bring her out of a funk. She hated when she couldn’t do the same for him. Her brain had been baked thoroughly at this point, but she muscled through the fog, through the seductive dopamine being released, until she arrived at the answer. The one thing she knew that could help Max. He just needed somewhere to release all that tasmanian devil energy that was gumming up the works.

She sat up and grabbed the boombox from Max’s van. She rummaged with determination through her backpack until she found exactly what she was looking for: Gang Green’s Another Wasted Night. She set the boombox down in front of the video store and turned it all the way up. “Haunted House” began its opening riff and Jonesy let loose, dancing and skanking by herself with abandon.

“Hey Max!” She motioned for him to join her.

He couldn’t help himself, he smiled, “Yeah Jonesy!” and joined her.

The two danced and crashed into each other, as “Haunted House” faded into the title track, blasting throughout the strip mall parking lot. By the time “Skate to Hell” started playing, Jonesy could see her plan had worked, Max was singing and bouncing around, spinning and kicking and releasing all that unfocused rage. She smiled to herself and jumped onto her pal’s back, hugging him. The end of “Skate to Hell” brought them to Gang Green’s cover of “Voices Carry,” slowing the duo down, Jonesy and Max joined Chris Doherty’s charmingly off-key vocals. The two created a romantic pantomime as the song drowned out the world around them. The instinct to destroy (that guy’s face and property in particular) drained from Max completely, having converted into the primal joy of moshing with your best friend.

As the final cord of “L.D.S.B.” rang out into the dwindling friday afternoon, a punctuated “BWOOP” brought Jonesy and Max’s attention back to reality. A Lake’s End squad car had pulled up next to the van, directly in front of them. Max snarled, Jonesy crossed her arms and spit on the ground in front of her.

“Howdy hey!” A young officer in a clean and crisp, blue uniform emerged from the black and white. He had neat brown hair with blond highlights parted to the side, his toothy smile and apple cheeks shaped his blue eyes into crescent moons. He smoothed his lovingly tended mustache and hiked his belt as he made his way over to the video store.

Jonesy rolled her eyes and leaned back against the store, “Hey Stewie.”

“Fuck off, Stewie!” Max growled.

“What’cha guys up to? Ooh! Dance party?” Officer Stewart Mooney asked with genuine excitement. “I’m particular to the Lawnmower!”

Jonesy and Max stared blankly at Officer Mooney as they watched a grown man humiliate himself.

“The Sprinkler’s pretty great, too!” He demonstrated. “But that’s neither here nor there.” He chuckled, entertaining himself.

“What do you want, Stewie?” Jonesy almost rolled her eyes out of her skull, “We weren’t doing anything. Just playing music before our break ends.”

“Golly, Jonesy, that’s no problem!” Officer Mooney furrowed his brow, looking at his shoes and back to Jonesy. “It’s just that, unfortunately, we got a complaint about…” He raised a finger asking for a moment and pulled out his notepad, reading from it, “A pair of rude thugs loitering in front of the video store…” Jonesy and Max smiled and nodded at each other, fist bumping twice in quick succession.

Officer Mooney continued, “...harassing respectful and handsome potential patrons.” He looked up at them with his guileless baby blues. “Possibly out of jealousy.”

Max scoffed, “That’s bullshit! Come on Stewie, you know us. You know that’s a load of crap!”

“Well, Max, I mean, I know you guys are a couple of sweet little sugar cookies. All buttery and comforting, warm, like a Sunday morning in June.”

“Okay, well, no that’s…stop saying stuff like that.” Max made sure no one was around to hear this. “We’re more like, nachos. Or maybe like, pickles…?

“What are you doing?” Jonesy interrupted.

“I don’t know!”

Mooney continued, ignoring them, “Just, crunchy exteriors. Hiding a soft, whipped, nougaty inside. Best friends. Just two lovely, sweet-”

“Yeah, okay!” Max cut him off. “Look, dude, that guy was starting shit with us, he slapped my soda out of my hand. Before that happened I was just about to let him into the store and everything.”

“Well, dang, that’s rude!” Mooney frowned, “Are you alright?” He took Max’s hand.

Max quickly took his hand back, “Hey, come on…”

Jonesy snickered at the bristling Max, “Stewie, is there something you need us to do, or whatever?”

“Nah! No worries. I just love an excuse to hang out with my oldest and best pals.” Mooney beamed.

“Is that how you see this?” Max asked delicately, raising an eyebrow.

“See what?” Mooney could not be phased.

The three just sat in thick silence for what felt like the rest of eternity, glancing at each other.

“Well!” Jonesy finally broke them all free from the conversational stand-off, “Looks like our break is just about over. We better get back to work and all…”

“Fiddlesticks! We were just starting to have some fun, too. Oh well!” Mooney was genuinely bummed their time together was ending. “Hey! You guys gonna be at the theater tonight?? I mean, it’s opening day of Chain-Slaughter 6, so I know that’s a goofy question to ask, but I just figured-”

“Yup, we are.” Max desperately searched for the store key in his pockets, desperate for an escape.

“I was thinking about catching that one myself! Now do I have to see the other five to understand what’s happening in this one, do you think?” Mooney began following them.

“I mean, it probably would improve your viewing experience…” Jonesy elbowed Max, whispering, “Come on, man.”

Mooney chuckled, “You’re right, you’re probably right! You two are the experts! You know I’ve never been a big fan of scary movies. All that blood and killing. It’s a little ghoulish, don’t you think?”

“Stewie, we gotta get going, dude. Sorry! Store and all, you know.” Jonesy desperately tried to untether them from this conversation.

Mooney finally realized he had been following them into the store, “Golly! Sorry, guys! I’ll let you get back to it,” He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks and spun back around, “I almost forgot, do you guys have Free Willy 2 in stock, by any chance? I gotta see what kinda mischief that big ol’ fish has gotten himself into this time!”

#opening day #web serial #writing #90s #original story #original characters #slice of life #jonesy and max #clerks #vhs #video store #oc #story

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