#like. hello. hi. i see the buttons on your shirt HANGING OPEN.

[piningbuddies]

arguably more important than the moustache. why is no one talking about peter krause’s chest.

[king-of-the-underworld-hades]

Can you please do a Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair x Male Reader imagine? Where Reader is from a popular family of hybrids and tribrids, where Reader is a Vampire, a Witch and a Shapeshifter. And the three of them became roommates temporarily because there were no more available rooms for him in the boys' dormitory.

Tri-problem (Male)

Art by TanyaF2022 on X/Twitter.

You sigh as you feel the bumps of the road as the family chauffeur, Jack drives you to Nevermore Academy. You pull out your phone and start swiping on Instagram to see all your "friends" stories and whatnot. Rolling your eyes you start to block them all one by one. "Are you okay young sir?" Jack asks as he looks at you in the rearview mirror. "I told you to call me Y/N," you said annoyed. "But if you must know I'm just annoyed. Why am I being punished for something that my parents agree was the right action?" "Well, I doubt the school board was happy to hear you almost ended the life of your classmate," Jack said causing you to roll your eyes. "Please. No one would've missed him. He deserved it. He assaulted Normies to feed his ego. There is no excuse for that." "Yes, but you decided to, hex him, suck out almost two liters of his blood, and shapeshifted into a silverback gorilla to break both his arms," Jack said flatly. "And?" You said as if it wasn't a big deal. Jack just sighed.

"Well Mister L/N your father had informed me of your... predicament," Larissa Weems, the principal of Nevermore said as you sat across from her. "We have had your uniform custom made as your family requested but... I- uh..." she stumbled over her words causing you to raise an eyebrow. "We have no space in the boy's dormitory... and well... since you have no family in Jericho... I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the girls dormitory..." "You gotta be kidding me..."

She was indeed not kidding... here you were... standing in front of a dorm in Ophelia Hall... "Fuck my life..." You sigh and knock. Not like you had a choice all your stuff was there... "Enid. The door," you heard a flat cold muffled voice on the other side of the door "Coming~" you heard a second, sweeter warmer muffled voice. Soon the door was opened. "Hello...~ oh- I don't think I know you... have I seen around?" The girl asked her wide smile which showed off her sharp canines never faltering. She was about 5'2, had fair skin, rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes, blond hair with pink and blue tips, a pink sweater with white and maroon diamonds, a maroon skirt, and white thigh-high socks. You see that inside the dorm another girl was sitting at a desk writing in a typewriter. She had pale skin, black hair that was tied into two even braids, anthracite eyes, and a blank yet focused expression. She wore a pair of black boots, black jeans that went over the boots, a black shirt with white stripes that were slightly above her belly button, a black shirt with Ghostface on it that was the same length as the undershirt, a black vest, and a pair of black fingerless gloves. Before you were able to answer the blond girl's question, the ravenette turned and looked at you, her cold piercing gaze locked with your gaze as she spoke. "Y/N L/N. Correct?" Her voice was cold and monotone. "...Y-Yeah..." You mumble as the blonde's expression lit up. "You're our new roomie!" She exclaimed grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. Now inside you, we're able to see the room clearer. It was split in half, the spider web window was only halfway filled with color on, what you assume is the blonde's side, the other side had no color and was just normal glass with no tint. The blonde's side of the room was very colorful. Her bed frame was white and her blanket was splattered with multiple colors, her bed was on top of a puzzle-like rug with each piece being colored differently, ribbons were hanging from the ceiling, and a desk littered with notebooks, markers, pens, etc. A bean bag chair, posters, and so much more. The ravenette's side was the complete opposite. There was a lamp, a black cello, a black sheet music stand, a desk with a black typewriter, a black bed, and a black leather chair. All your stuff was neatly set in a corner of the room. The blonde let go of her hand as she looked at you her grin somehow wider. "My name is Enid Sinclair! I'm a Fur, AKA a werewolf! Nice to meet you roomie!" Enid said excitingly as she went to the ravenette and grabbed her cheeks making her look at you. "This is Wednesday Addams! She may look gloomy but she's a softie!" Enid exclaimed before Wednesday leaned away scowling. "...Nice to meet two..." You mumbled. "So~," Enid said as she leaned closer to you so close you could feel her breath on your face. "What are you? Fur, Scales, Fangs, Psychic, or something else?" She asked curiously. "Personal space Enid," Wednesday reprimanded her from her chair causing Enid to lean back pouting muttering "I was just asking..." under her breath. "I'm a tribrid... I'm part Vampire, Witch, and Shapeshifter," You explained as Wednesday stood from her typewriter. "Your family is known for that are they not?" Wednesday asked rhetorical. "Your family is known for giving birth to Hybrids and Tribrids," She said monotone with her cold expression. "Yeah... they are," you said as Wednesday nodded. "Weems had informed us of your... incident. Try to behave yourself," Wednesday said as she headed for the door. "Unpack and try not to make a mess of things," she said before leaving. "She always like that?" You ask. "Pretty much," replies Enid.

As the next two weeks passed you got accustomed to living with the two. You found out that Enid would try and snoop when you were on your phone or laptop to find something to put on her blog. When you caught her she blushed and turned away but after that day she would randomly ask to things, favorite color, would you rathers, song taste, etc. You got used to "Addams schedule," as Enid calls it. Basically when she did her writing when she wanted to be left alone, when she would leave for coffee, etc.

As time went on Wednesday had admitted she got used to your presence and even let you watch her write. Yoko, a fellow vampire and friend of Enid said that most Vamipres have a calming presence around them. Ironic. So since Wednesday hadn't really spent a prolonged time near vampires she was getting a heavy dose of it.

Enid on the other hand would paint your nails, do your hair, take you on friend dates, etc. You would talk to her about werewolf stuff, since you had cousins who were part werewolf you could relate in some aspects. After five months of living with the roommates, Weems came to visit.

"Hello girls, and Mr. L/N." "Yo," you did a two-finger salute from Enid's bed, your head in her lap as she dyed the tips of your hair. "I have news, one of the boys has moved out of his dorm as his parents found a suitable house in Jericho, so that means that Mr. L/N here will finally be moving to the boys' dorm. Fun!" Weems said with a smile but Enid stood up causing your head to fall onto the mattress. "What!? B-but he can't- I mean-," Enid stammered but Wednesday spoke I'm her usual monotone and cold tone. "What Enid is trying to say is we don't wish for Y/N's leave. He's been here for six months now. We have grown attached. So much so," Wednesday said as she stood from her desk and walked over to you, who had sat up. She cupped your face, causing you to raise an eyebrow, she then leaned down and kissed you softly. Her hands were cold to the touch. Her lips were soft and plush and tasted like coffee. Wednesday soon pulled away and looked at Weems. "We've started a polygamous relationship," She said as she looked at Enid who was blushing. Enid quickly walked over to you and kissed you as well. She was nervous, unlike Wednesday. Her lips were warm and soft. They also tasted like milk tea. Weems blinked a few times at this action. "W-well... this certainly complicated things..." she said as she looked at you. "I will... talk to your mother... see what she says about this...," She spoke before leaving. You were flustered and confused. The room was silent for a few seconds before Wednesday spoke. "I have him Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We share Sunday." "T-that works..." Enid mumbled. "The fuck just happened?" You ask as Wednesday rolls her eyes. "You just got two girlfriends."

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Buttons

The request from @toomanytookas: I have such fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to sew on her old Singer. Obviously a WILDLY different context for a million different reasons, but I love the idea of of Pin showing Joel how to sew or just explaining the general mechanics of using the machine. Maybe some physical guidance/touching a la the pottery scene in Ghost?

If you'd prefer to play with other characters, it would be sweet to see her teach Ellie now that she's working at the shop and I imagine she'd be curious about it!

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 900 words | warnings: rated M for dirty thoughts and slightly dirty talk, outrageous flirting, topless Joel Miller | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

‘Nice tits, Miller!’

Joel chokes on his corn chowder as Tommy’s voice rings loud and obnoxious in the half-empty cafeteria, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he makes himself comfortable opposite him, tray hitting the table with a clatter.

‘Seriously though, put them away before Maria sees you. This is a family place, y’know.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up, jackass.’

Tommy studies the familiar green plaid shirt on his brother that is sitting open to the sternum. ‘Buttons fell off, huh?’

‘Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Pin gettin’ a bit rough with ya?’

Joel splutters, raising his fork in what he hopes is a menacing reproach. ‘Hey!’

‘Just jokin’, big bro. And no judgement if she is.’

He scoffs. ‘This is gettin’ real weird, Tommy -’

‘Why don’t you ask her to sew ’em back for you?’

‘She ain’t my seamstress.’

‘She’s a seamstress. And your girlfriend.’

Joel snorts. ‘You ask Maria to do all your chores for you?’

Tommy shrugs and replies around a mouthful of mashed potato. ‘Ask Pin to teach you then. What's that they say about fishermen and fishin’?’

He has a point, Joel has to concede. That’s how he ends up at your studio that afternoon, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you on the sewing machine. He likes the steady, mechanical staccato of the needle, the whirring wheel and the metallic squeak of the pedal as your hands and feet all move in almost nonchalant choreography.

He knows that under that ease lies years of experience, and there’s an understatedness about your movements that makes him stop and stare every time you're at the antique sewing machine. 

He waits patiently for a lull, not wanting to disrupt your rhythm. When you pause to inspect the stitching you’ve been working on, Joel knocks on the doorframe. 

His lips twitch when you startle, eyes wide as your head whips around at him, and it brings him right back to the day you meet, just a few feet from where he stands now.

But then you break into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing sneaking up on me, Joel Miller?’

He closes the distance with three steps, bending down to drop a kiss on your lips. ‘Just wanted to say hello - and to ask for a favour.’

You stare up at him, admiring the way a stray lock curls over his eyes. ‘What is it?’

Joel tugs on the front of his shirt. ‘Was wonderin’ if you can teach me how to sew my buttons back on.’

You eye his neckline, which is suspiciously low. ‘I thought you were just trying something new,’ you quip.

Arching an eyebrow, he asks, ‘Is it workin’ for you, sweetheart?’

Hooking your finger into the open V of the shirt, you grin. ‘I’m not complaining, but it doesn’t hurt to fix it. Take it off.’

Joel huffs, joking, ‘Buy me dinner first, at least?’

You watch his fingers push the little buttons out of the holes, baring broad chest and freckles with every downward inch. You hum when he gets to the bottom of the shirt and it hangs open, nothing but bare skin under it. ‘No undervest?’

‘Feel like showin’ off today,’ he winks and disrobes with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

You can’t help it, your breath catches - at the strong shoulders, the soft belly, the way he has one hand on his hip - and by the self-satisfied curl of his lips, you know he knows.

Clearing your throat, you stand and take his shirt from his grasp, the warmth of the fabric comforting in your hands. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘We’re not using the machine?’

‘Not for sewing buttons,’ you reply, opening a little box to find matching ones for his shirt.

‘Okay, step one,’ you seat yourself next to him and hand him the supplies. ‘Thread the needle.’

The thread looks more like a blade of the most delicate hair in between his thumb and index finger, and the needle comically small. But his hands are remarkably steady, and he surprises you by nimbly pushing the thread through the eye on his second try.

‘Pull the thread through and keep going,’ you instruct, snipping it off with scissors when you’re satisfied with the length. ‘Now, we need to knot the end. Loop the thread around your finger a couple of times, pinch it with your thumb and pull the end through.’

He does so with aplomb, and you remark, more to yourself than anything. ‘Your fingers are really dexterous for their size.’

Joel wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘You should know that first hand, hmm?’

A comment like that would’ve had you ducking your head a few months ago. But now, you narrow your eyes at him in playful admonishment. ‘So full of yourself, Joel Miller.’

Dragging your chair towards him, he leans in and murmurs against your ear. ‘Ain’t you the one who was full of me last night -’

Heat rushes to your cheek as he noses the sensitive skin behind your ear. ‘Joel, I thought you wanted to fix your shirt -’

Pushing the needle into a pin cushion, he shrugs and pulls you into his lap with a smirk, his skin hot under your touch.

‘Luckily, I don’t really need a shirt for what I want to do right now, sweetheart.’

More notes: Thank you for this adorable prompt @toomanytookas! I hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a little bit. I love that you have such beautiful memories with your grandma. Mine used to sew and do cross-stitch, I miss her so much 🥹

[manjiroro]

secret lover

character: mitsuya

content: fluff, gn reader

synopsis: mitsuya seems to have gotten into a relationship and the boys are determined to get him to confess who his secret lover is

wc: 529

hello! i’m somewhat back so have this short drabble i thought of because im having mitsuya brainrot <33 my skills are rusty so im sorry if its wonky,, hope you enjoy!!

“C’mon mitsuya just tell us who the lucky person is and we’ll leave”

“Yeah mitsuya it wouldn’t hurt to tell us y’know, your BEST friends”

“Guys i genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about. Just go home already.” mitsuya said, backing up into a corner by his friends, to which mikey pouted, draken and baji scoffed, and pehyan pointing an accusatory finger at him,

“Nuh uh, i saw you holding hands with someone after school when you said you were too busy to hang out with us.” 

Mitsuya sighed, sweat collecting along his hairline. It was because of that accusation that caused the rest of the toman founders to storm into his club room, demanding who this secret someone was that was causing him to be ‘too busy’ to hang out with the boys.

“It’s not like we’re gonna freak out that you’re in a relationship mitsuya, just tell us.” draken calmly said.

“The bigger question is why are you here draken. You’re not the typa guy to hound on me like this.”

“I’m curious. And also so that these two idiots don’t do anything stupid.” draken explained, head tilting to refer to both mikey and baji. 

Just as mitsuya was about to defend himself once again, the doors to the club room swung open revealing an exasperated student, clutching onto their shirt buttons.

“Taka-kun! This is an emergency! My shirt button popped out and i can’t possibly walk around school with my chest exposed for the whole world to see!” you cried, hoping to be met with the open arms of your boyfriend, but soon stopped in your tracks seeing your purple haired lover being cornered by four other boys. 

“Uh- am I interrupting something here..?” you asked slowly, confusion evident on your face. The toman founders turned their attention from you to the poor boy cornered in between them. Said boy was flushed, his face and ears turning a light pink colour, eyes casting downward in hopes of avoiding the other boys’ gazes. 

“So, taka-kun, mind introducing who this lovely person is?” baji teased, wrapping his arm around mitsuya’s shoulder and directing him to you. 

Mitsuya clears his throat, removing baji’s arm and walking towards you, his shaking arm wrapping around your waist tightly, almost as if to ground and calm himself down. 

“This is y/n, y/n these are my friends. Now come with me, lemme fix your shirt for you.” mitsuya guides you to his work table while he turns his head behind to mouth a ‘get out’ to his friends. The boys snickered before they finally left the club room and flustered mitsuya alone.

“I’m sorry taka-kun, i didn’t know your friends were here.” you apologised to your boyfriend, a cute pout making its way to your lips. To which mitsuya chuckled and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“That’s alright my love, i was gonna have to introduce you to them sooner or later.” mitsuya smiled at you and gave you a small pat on your head. Although, it wasn’t the way mitsuya was planning on introducing you to his friends. He was definitely going to kick their asses later.

reblogs are highly appreciated!!

❥ masterlist

requests are closed!!

[communicationthroughlyrics]

Watch The World Explode, From Underneath Your Glow

It was supposed to be a relaxing night with your wife. People forget things, that happens. But the way people look at your wife? Well, that drives you insane.

A/N: Hello friends, thank you all for your continued support and kind words. I appreciate it! As a thank you, a ONE-SHOT, smutty lil' thing with an Intersex Reader. Much love y'all!

TW: Intersex!Reader, P in V sex, jealous/kinda anxious reader, and just some sex that I desperately need to dish to someone 😅

Word Count: 5.1K

I Wanna Take You Home

There was a faint smell of perfume as you crossed the threshold to your shared loft. Tossing your backpack off to the side, you shrug the blazer off your shoulders, hanging it up behind the front door. The space was eerily quiet, which was unusual for a weekday evening. You could've sworn that Lizzie said she would be home tonight when you got off, but it doesn't seem like she is.

"Lizzie?" you call out, waiting for a response as you stand in the middle of your living room. The only reply is the soft ticking of the clock on the wall, echoing through the open-plan space. The loft's high ceilings and large windows normally filled the apartment with a comforting warmth, but tonight they only emphasized the emptiness. You glance down at your phone, seeing it's already 6:42 PM. You start to walk to your bedroom, recalling the conversations over the past week that would tell you where she may be.

Perhaps she got held up at work again or went to meet friends without mentioning it. You decide to call her, quickly pressing her contact photo, a photo that makes you smile at the memory. You had gone to a pumpkin patch to pick out some of the orange orbs for Halloween decorations. Her laughter had been infectious as you both tried to find the perfect one. She had walked ahead of you, oblivious to you fishing out the device from your pocket, and snapping pictures of her as she twirled and skipped through the field. The autumn leaves were a perfect backdrop as her blonde hair swirled around, a bright smile on her face as her eyes finally landed on you.

The line rings, and just when you think it's going to voicemail, she finally picks up. You can tell she is laughing, her voice having familiar breathiness, before hearing her speak through the line.

"Hi baby," she began. "Did you just get home?"

You nodded even though she couldn't see you, the question echoing in your mind. "Yeah, I was expecting you to be here," you laughed a little, walking around the living room, and rubbing the back of your neck. "Did something come up?"

Her laughter trickled through the speaker, and you felt a pang of annoyance. "Oh babe, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot to text you. I'm at that restaurant on the corner of 12th and 47th. We had some last-minute changes to the project we've been working on, but since we got them all worked out, we are officially done and celebrating."

You leaned against the wall, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. "It's okay," you lied, trying to keep the edge out of your voice. "What time do you think you'll be back?"

"Well, we're just about to order some food," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "But I'm not sure, there's a bunch of people here. You should come, I want to introduce you to everyone."

Your eyes scanned the empty kitchen, the fridge barely holding a few takeout containers. "Okay," you respond, typing the restaurant name into your phone to get the GPS directions there. "I'll be there in 20. I love you, babe."

"Love you too," she says, and before you can ask anything else, the line goes dead. You let out a sigh, tuck the phone into your pocket, and head to the bedroom to change into something more dinner casual. You opt for a shirt you know Lizzie loves- a coppery, silk button-up that shows your tanned skin underneath. After slipping on a pair of loose-fit tan linen pants and some black loafers, you grab your keys and head out the door.

You muss your hair, ruffling it slightly and making sure it looks how you want it to, before pushing the brake pedal to the floorboard and starting the car. The engine purrs to life and you pull out of the garage, navigating the familiar streets to the restaurant. The evening air is cool and crisp, hinting at the coming winter, and the streetlights cast a warm glow that makes the city feel alive. You park and head inside, the buzz of conversation and clinking of glasses growing louder as you approach the large group in the private room in the rear of the restaurant.

As you enter, Lizzie spots you and waves, her eyes lighting up. She stands, and you take in her effortless beauty. The black blouse she chose was tucked into a heathered, almost canvas-like skirt that hugged her hips tight. The black heels she wore clicked through the restaurant as she began weaving through her colleagues with a grace that was as mesmerizing as it was frustrating. She's surrounded by a sea of faces you don't know, all of them looking at you with curiosity. She kisses you on the cheek, and you catch a whiff of wine and something else - a scent that isn't quite her perfume. "Everyone, this is my wife," she says, her arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "This is Y/N, the one I've been telling you all about."

You force a smile, feeling a bit like an intruder in her professional world. The introductions are a blur of names and job titles, none of which you can remember. They all seem friendly enough, though you notice a few lingering glances from one of her colleagues, a man with piercing blue eyes and a cocky smile. You try to ignore the knot in your stomach and focus on the conversation, sipping the wine someone hands you. The room is a whirlwind of chatter and laughter, but it feels forced as if everyone's playing a role in a play you don't know the script to.

As the dinner progresses, the stories get louder and the drinks flow more freely. You sit next to Lizzie, trying to engage in the conversation, but she seems more absorbed in the banter across the table. You can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the ease with which she interacts with her work friends. You've never felt particularly welcome in this part of her life, always the plus-one at work functions and the one left out of inside jokes. The blue-eyed colleague keeps looking over, his gaze lingering just a beat too long.

The server brings out plates of food, the aroma of garlic and butter filling the air. You take a bite of the pasta, hoping the carbs will help soothe the discomfort in your stomach. The conversation turns to the latest office drama, and Lizzie leans in, recounting a story with animated gestures. Her hand lands on your thigh, and you give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to remind her that you're there. But she doesn't seem to notice, her attention fully on her colleagues. You begin to feel a familiar pit of jealousy and anger in your stomach, you don't like to be ignored. Especially when there is someone who is practically eye-fucking your wife from across the table.

The blue-eyed colleague, whose name you've already forgotten, tells a joke that has the whole table in stitches, except for you. You've heard it before. It's not funny, it's just a play on words that only people who don't know any better find amusing. You manage a polite chuckle, trying not to let your annoyance show. But as the laughter dies down, you catch his eye, and he winks at you. It's subtle, but it's there. The wink sends a cold shiver down your spine, and you take a sip of your wine, trying to wash the feeling away.

"Lizzie, dear?" You lean in, trying to get her attention. She turns to you, her face slightly flushed as she is now onto at least her 4th glass of wine.

"Yes, my love?" She purrs, her eyes a bit glazed over as she leans into your chest.

You swallow hard, willing the anger to stay at bay. "Could I talk to you for a second?" You ask, your voice calm but firm. Her face drops slightly, but she nods at you.

"Of course," she says, before she follows you out of the room, her stumble slightly exaggerated as she stands. You lead her to the quieter bar area, where the music isn't as loud and the lights aren't as bright. You lean against the polished wooden counter, the coolness of the marble seeping through your shirt.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, her eyes searching your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "Well, yes, I would say 'OK' is an adequate way to describe everything," you start, keeping your voice steady. "But I just wanted to talk to you about something."

Lizzie's expression shifts from tipsy cheer to concern. "What is it?" she asks, reaching for your hand. You pull your hand away from her, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Actually, it’s a couple of things," you begin, your voice a tad shakier than you intended. "One, why didn't you tell me about this dinner? I would have liked to be included from the start."

Her eyes widen, the concern deepening. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. It just came up, I didn't think it would turn into this," she gestures vaguely to the noisy room behind her. "But I'm so happy you're here now."

You nod, acknowledging her apology but not letting it dissolve your feelings entirely. "And two, while you say that you wanted me here, and you're happy that I came, I cannot help but feel like you wouldn't have invited me had I not called, and you haven't been the most attentive since I got here." You let the words hang in the air, watching as the color drains from her cheeks. She goes to speak, but you stop her. "And lastly," you begin, glancing over to the room where her colleagues were all seated, laughing and clinking glasses as thier banter grew louder. "Flirty Mc Blue Eyes has been practically eye-fucking you all night. Is there something I need to know about, Elizabeth?"

Her hand flies to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips. "What? No, no, it's nothing like that. I swear, he's just a flirty guy, it's his thing." She tries to laugh it off, but her eyes dart back to the table where the blue-eyed colleague is watching the exchange with a smug look. "Baby," she steps towards you, her arms wrapping around your neck as her fingers work through your short hair. You look into those green seas that you find so much comfort in, seeing nothing but genuine honesty within them.

"You have nothing to worry about, darling." She purrs into your ear, standing on her tiptoes to reach. Her breath was warm, tickling the shell of your ear and sending shivers down your spine. "He's just a colleague. You know I only have eyes for you. Do you want me to prove that to you?"

You feel your anger and jealousy shift to desire and arousal at your wife's words. You feel a growl echo through your chest at her words. Leaning down to her ear, you whisper, "Those better not be empty words, baby girl." She shivers in your arms, and you can feel her breath hitch as you pull her closer. You kiss her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under your lips.

Lizzie pulls away, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Now, let’s go be social, shall we?" she says, taking your hand and leading you back to the table. As you sit down, you notice the blue-eyed colleague's gaze lingering on the two of you, his smug look replaced with something resembling annoyance. You decide to make it your mission to show him that she's yours and you're not just some forgotten plus-one.

The conversation turns to the upcoming office retreat, and you listen intently as Lizzie's voice becomes more animated. You lean in, whispering sweet nothings in her ear that make her giggle and blush. You make a point to touch her frequently, your hand resting possessively on her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns that only she can feel. The tension between you two is palpable, and the blue-eyed colleague's glances become less frequent, his smirk fading.

Deciding to test the waters, you lean over, resting your lips against Lizzie’s ear. "You look stunning tonight, doll," you murmur, your voice thick with desire. She giggles again, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she nods. You nuzzle your nose under her ear, right by that sweet spot you know she loves. "Makes me want to take you home and rip that skirt right off of you." She shifts in her seat, her hand flying to your upper thigh, squeezing it tightly. You press a lingering kiss to her pulse point before pulling away slightly. "If you’re that beautiful in those clothes, you must be beautiful out of them, right?"

The room is a blur of conversation around you, but the only voice you’re tuned into is hers. Her hand slides up your thigh, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. "Oh, baby," she whispers, her breath hot against your neck. "You have no idea." Her eyes dart to her colleagues, who are still deep in conversation before she leans in closer. "But then again, you only think you know what’s underneath this outfit."

The tease sends your mind racing, and you squeeze her thigh in response. The night wears on, and the alcohol loosens everyone's inhibitions. You watch as Lizzie laughs at every joke, her hand sliding higher up your leg with every touch. It's a silent battle of wills with the blue-eyed colleague, but you're winning. He tries to rejoin the conversation, but she's focused solely on you now.

The teasing touches and remarks continue throughout the dinner, she has finally made her way up to the apex of your thighs, rubbing your member through the loose fabric of your pants. "Someone is liking this," she whispered, placing a kiss on the shell of your ear. "But don't get too excited, I'm not sure if we're going to be able to leave just yet." You bite your bottom lip, trying to compose yourself as the heat builds between the two of you.

You continue to think when you finally get an idea. You scoot back as subtly as possible, excusing yourself to the restroom. You walk down the darkened hallway towards the lavatory, thankful that the majority of the dinner rush has left. You look back over your shoulder, ensuring no one has followed you. The bathroom is empty, the soft lighting casting a warm glow on the tiles. You enter a stall, lock the door behind you, and pull out your phone, typing out a quick message to Lizzie. You feel like you're back in high school.

-Meet me in the restroom. 2 minutes. -

You smile as the text goes from delivered to read, indicating she knows what to do next. Not even 30 seconds later, you hear the door creak open, and her heels click on the tile floor. She locks the door behind her and you can feel the anticipation thick in the air. She opens the stall, and you take in her flushed cheeks and smoky eyes. Without saying a word, she straddles you, her skirt hiking up around her waist. You groan as she grinds herself against you, the fabric of your pants the only barrier between you two.

"Oh, baby, no panties?" you groan into her ear, nipping at the side of her neck as she whimpered and rocked on your lap. She smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Thought you might like that," she whispers, her hand reaching down to unbuckle your belt. You tutt, swatting her hand away. Her eyes dart to yours, a mixture of lust and confusion.

"Home," you growl, standing with her legs still wrapped around your hips. She whined at the thought of having to wait, her eyes misty with passion. You give her a quick, hard kiss before setting her down and exiting the stall. You wash your hands, fix your shirt, and glance at her in the mirror. She straightens her skirt, fluffs her hair, and fixes her lipstick. The sight of her doing this in such a public place sends a thrill through you.

"Good thing you chose loose pants," she giggled, leaning into you and stealing a kiss, grasping firmly on your throbbing length. The sudden stimulation causes you to gasp, allowing her to push her tongue into your mouth, quickly overtaking and dominating a very sloppy, passionate kiss. She pulls away, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on baby, let's go."

You nod, leading her out of the bathroom, and glance at the table. "Should we say goodbye?" you ask, a wry smile on your features.

"No," she smirks back, quietly working through the main dining room of the restaurant. "I just want you."

Her words are music to your ears as you both sneak out of the bathroom. You can feel the tension between your legs, a stark contrast to the casual air you're trying to maintain as you make your way to the exit. The cool evening air hits you as you step outside, and you immediately feel a sense of urgency. You lead Lizzie to the car, the engine purring to life as you drive off, the city lights blurring past the windows. The drive home is a battle of wills, both of you fighting the urge to rip each other's clothes off.

As you pull into the garage, the tension is palpable. You can't even wait to get to the bedroom. You press her against the car, kissing her hard, your hands roaming her body. She gasps as you pinch her nipples through her blouse, her hips bucking against yours. You can feel her wetness through your pants, and the thought of her being this turned on because of you is intoxicating.

"Oh darling," you growl in her ear as your body presses her against the passenger door of the car.  "I am going to destroy you for tonight." She gasps, her breaths coming out in short pants as she nods, eagerly anticipating what is to come. Your hand reaches down to lift her skirt, sliding your hand between her legs to feel her heat. She is soaking wet, and you can't resist sliding a finger into her, watching her eyes roll back in pleasure.

"More," she whispers, her voice needy. You comply, adding another finger, curling them just right to hit her g-spot. Her legs quiver around your hips, and you can feel her beginning to lose control. You pull away, suddenly turning and walking to the elevator doors. She stumbles after you, her heels clicking against the concrete floor.

Once inside the elevator, you push her against the wall, your mouth claiming hers in a fiery kiss. Your hands roam over her body, tugging at her clothes, desperate to feel her bare skin. The elevator dings, announcing your arrival at your floor, and you break away, smirking as you pull her out into the hallway. She stumbles slightly, her eyes glazed with lust.

You unlock the door and push her inside, the loft bathed in the soft glow of the living room lights. The quiet starkly contrasts the restaurant's buzz, and it feels like the perfect playground for your desires. You slam the door shut, spinning her around to face you. Your hands trace the curves of her body, the fabric of her blouse feeling like sandpaper against your fingertips. You rip it open, buttons flying everywhere, and she giggles, her cheeks flushed with excitement as her eyes darken to forest-green seas of lust.

Her skirt follows suit, landing in a pool around her ankles. Your kisses become more frantic, more possessive as you devour her neck and collarbone. She arches her back, pushing her breasts against your chest, her nipples pebbling with need. You reach behind her, unclipping her bra and letting it fall to the floor, revealing her perfect, perky breasts. You take one in your mouth, sucking and biting the sensitive skin as she moans your name.

Her hands are equally busy, unbuttoning your shirt and sliding it off your shoulders. Her nails trace the lines of your abs, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You lift her, her legs wrapping around your waist as you carry her to the bedroom. The room is dimly lit by the moon shining through the windows, casting shadows across the bed. You lay her down, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her, sprawled out before you, bare and beautiful.

You kiss down her chest, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her breasts before moving down to her stomach. You can feel her tense with every touch, her breath hitching as you reach her bare waist, nipping and licking above where she needs you the most. She's begging for you, her hands tangled in your hair, guiding you where she wants you. You look up at her, her eyes hooded with desire, and smirk as the smell of her arousal slowly invades your senses.

"What do you want, baby?" you husk at her, not quite willing to give in until she tells you.

Her eyes flash with something primal and she growls, "You know what I want."

You kiss down her body, your tongue tracing the path of your fingers, until you reach the juncture of her thighs. You hover there for a moment, feeling her pulse against your mouth. "Tell me," you demand, your voice low and commanding. Her legs we shaking as they tried you close around your head, but you were forcing them to stay open.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice trembling with need. "I want you to taste me, to make me cum."

With a growl of your own, you give in to her demand, pressing your mouth to her pussy. Your tongue flicks out, tasting her sweetness, and she arches off the bed, her hands gripping the sheets. You lick and suck, exploring her with an intensity that makes her toes curl. Her legs tighten around your neck, and you can feel her getting closer, her moans filling the room. You love the way she tastes, the way she feels against your tongue. It's intoxicating, and you know you could spend hours doing this. You take the opportunity with her back off the bed to push yourself upwards, effectively lifting all but her head and arms off the bed, wrapping an arm around her hips while one supported her ass.

You pushed your tongue into her wet walls, slurping and licking at all of her arousal as she writhed and mewled in your grasp. Her moans were urging you on as you explored every crevice of her pussy. You could feel her getting closer, her juices becoming even sweeter as she neared her peak. You sucked hard on her clit, flicking it with your tongue in a rhythm that had her breathless and shaking. Her legs tightened around your neck, her heels digging into your back as she begged for release.

"Please, baby..." she moaned, as you leaned back, pulling her with you as her back came into contact with your front. You could feel her shiver as you continued to probe her entrance with your tongue. You took her clit into your mouth, sucking and biting gently, while you slid two fingers into her, curling them in that magical way you knew she liked. She bucked her hips against your mouth, her cries of pleasure echoing off the walls. You could feel her getting closer, her muscles tightening around your fingers. She was wiggling and moving you both around, desperate for her release.

Her orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over the shoreline of your senses as she screamed out your name. Her entire body tightened, her pussy pulsing around your tongue as she came hard. You didn't stop, keeping the rhythm steady as she rode out her climax, her heels digging into your shoulders. It was a sight to behold, one that you never tired of. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream as her body trembled in your arms. You pulled away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you let her back down on the bed. You crawled up, resting between her legs as you kissed her passionately.

She moaned as she tasted herself on you. Her hands were everywhere, clawing at your back, pulling you closer as she kissed you with the same desperation she had felt moments ago. "I need you inside me," she gasped, her hips rocking against yours. You could feel the tip of your throbbing member poking at her wetness, and as she kept rocking against you, she began to tease herself with your length.

With a groan, you pulled away from her kiss, sliding down to position yourself at her entrance. You looked into her eyes, watching as she bit her bottom lip, her pupils blown wide with desire. You pushed in, inch by inch, her walls clenching around you like a tight fist. She was so wet and ready, and you felt yourself get lost in the feeling of her heat surrounding you. "Fuck," you breathed, as you reached the hilt, her pussy stretching to accommodate your girth.

She arched back in a silent scream, her hands blindly searching for you as they came to rest on your breast, thumbing your nipples as she lay back down. "More," she begged her voice a breathy whisper that sent chills down your spine. You didn't need any more encouragement. You began to thrust into her, your movements slow and deliberate at first, feeling every inch of her tightness. She was so wet, so warm, and so incredibly tight around you. It was like sliding into heaven.

Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper into her with every stroke. You could feel her nails digging into your back as she moaned your name, urging you to go faster. You obliged, your hips moving faster, the slap of your skin against hers filling the quiet loft. Her walls were tightening around you, contracting as she neared another orgasm. You leaned down, your teeth grazing her neck as you whispered dirty words into her ear.

"You're mine, Lizzie," you said, your voice gruff with desire. "Say it." You nipped and sucked at the column of her throat, leaving a trail of marks that would need to be covered if she goes to the office. But you didn't care. It was childish, but you wanted everyone to see your marks.

"I'm yours," she breathed, her voice was a sweet surrender that was music to your ears. You thrust into her harder, feeling the tension in your balls tighten. She was so wet, so hot, and she felt so good around you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your rhythm becoming erratic.

Her nails raked down your back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Again," she begged her voice a whimper that sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't need to be told twice. You picked up the pace, hammering into her with a fierce passion that left her panting and whimpering your name. Her walls tightened around you, squeezing you in a vice-like grip that was both painful and pleasurable.

"I'm going to cum," she screamed, her legs tightening around your waist. You could feel her pussy spasm around you, and it was all the encouragement you needed. You thrust into her one last time, feeling the warmth of her orgasm as it washed over you. You followed her over the edge, your release filling her up. You collapsed on top of her, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath.

You lay there, your heart pounding against her chest, your cock still twitching inside her. You kiss her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath your lips. "Fuck, Lizzie," you murmur, your voice still thick with lust.

She giggles, the sound is music to your ears. "That was... intense," she says, her voice filled with awe. "Maybe I need to get you jealous more often..." she teased, tracing her fingers over the red, angry welts from her nails on your back. You can't help but smile, feeling a swell of pride at her admission.

"Don't push it, darling," you murmur, kissing her forehead. "Or I might just have to take you in public." You both laugh, the tension of the evening dissipating as you lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your passion.

You roll over, looking into her eyes. "I love you," you say, your voice earnest. She smiles, her eyes sparkling. "I love you too," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. You can see the truth in her gaze, and it fills you with warmth.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the distant sirens of the city outside. You kiss her softly, savoring the taste of her lips. Your hand finds hers, your fingers interlocking as you both lay there. "I'm sorry for being such a jealous prick," you admit, feeling the weight of the evening's tension lift from your shoulders.

She giggles, stroking your cheek with her thumb. "It's okay," she says, her voice soothing. "It's kind of hot, actually."

You can't help but chuckle at her response. "If you say so." You lean in for another kiss, feeling the love between you stronger than ever. The sound of her laughter, the feel of her skin against yours, it's all intoxicating. But you know you can't stay here forever. You roll off her, pulling her into your arms. "We should get cleaner up, get some rest," you murmur, your voice lazy with satisfaction. She nods, snuggling closer.

You both get up, a little wobbly on your legs, and make your way to the bathroom. The cold water from the faucet is a shock to your system, but it helps to bring you back to reality. You clean up, and she watches you with a smile on her face, her eyes roaming over your body. You look back at her, the love and lust warring in your gaze. "Ready for round two?" you ask, a wicked smile playing on your lips. She nods, her cheeks flushing with excitement. She grasped your semi-erect member, slowly pumping it as her eyes darkened.

It was going to be a long night.

[fxrmuladaydreams]

her video (sv5)

pornstar!seb x camgirl/pornstar!reader

summary: sebastian helps you film a video for your channel

warnings: !!CONTAINS SMUT MINORS DNI!! smut, fingering, edging

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You had gone out a few more times with Sebastian after the first shared dinner, meeting at different restaurants and cafés to get more comfortable with one another. The more you met with him the more you talked about the collaboration that seemed to become more and more set in stone.

You’d film a video for your channel and a video for his. He asked that you give him a list of your hard limits, of the things you were absolutely not okay with, then another of things you liked and wanted to try. He discussed the use of a safeword if it ever got to be too much, or if you were ever uncomfortable. You were surprised, you hadn’t worked with anyone before, so this was all a new experience, but Sebastian put a lot of planning and care into his preparations for your filming day.

He offered up a studio that he uses as a location, but you told him you’d be more comfortable in your home. He understood, he was once a fresh face too, and could remember how anxious he was when filming in a new place for the first time.

He showed up to your house fairy early, with a bag slung over his shoulder and a soft smile on his face.

“Hello schatz.” He greeted you as you opened the door. He was wearing light denim jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Hi Sebastian. You can come in, and just set your stuff wherever.” You told him, opening the door further for him.

“Can I keep this where we’re filming?” He asks, raising the shoulder his bag is hanging from.

“Sure. I set up my camera in my room, so we should be ready to start whenever.” You tell him wringing your hands. “Did you have any ideas?”

He gives you a confused look. “It’s your video schatz, we’ll do what you want to do.” He sees you nervously hovering near the door to your room. He takes slow steps towards you then takes one of your hands in his. “You’re in control here. You say the word and we stop. Okay?”

You nod up at him, and open the door to your room.

He has to take a moment to take a deep breath as you lead him inside. It looked just like it did in your videos, the same fluffy blankets, the same soft lighting coming in through sheer curtains at your window. He notices the basket of toys that sits next to your bed. Various dildos and vibrators sit inside it.

You glance down at the basket, then back up at the man next to you.

“I was thinking maybe we don’t use those?” You ask, your voice quiet. “It’s just, this is the first time I’m filming with an actual person, why not try something new?”

Sebastian hums in agreement, and sets his bag down near the door. “Yeah, we can forgo the toys.” He sits down on your bed. “So how do you want me?”

You take a deep breath. “Well I’ve seen your videos, and I like what you do in them, so could you maybe be like that? Like kind of mean, but not too mean?”

He nods. “So like a soft dom? Yeah I can do that.”

“Okay, great.” You step towards the camera. “I’m gonna start filming now, and I’ll edit it after we’re done. And I’ll send you the video before I post it just to make sure it’s okay, alright?”

“Of course.”

You press the button on your camera to start recording. Sebastian is sat on the bed, his eyes looking just past the camera at you, waiting for your next move.

You slowly walk over to him and climb onto his lap, straddling him. He leans forward about to kiss you, but you turn your head away.

“No kissing.” You whisper to him.

“Alright.” He presses his lips to your neck instead, leaving a soft trail of kisses in his wake.

You let your head fall to the side, giving him more room and close your eyes. His teeth scrape against your skin, causing a whimper to fall from your mouth. He smirks and slowly moves his hands under the bottom of the dress you’ve chosen for the video.

He brushes against the lacy panties you picked out, his fingers toying with the fabric at your hips.

“How about we see what’s under this pretty little dress?” He asks. His voice has a teasing lilt to it.

He turns you to face the camera, then slowly pulls the dress up off of you. He pulls you back down onto his lap, your legs open over his, still facing the camera. His hands travel over you, softly massaging your skin as they move over your body. His fingers play with the straps of your bra, then move back down your stomach, hovering over your panties.

“So pretty.” He says in your ear.

You gasp when you feel him softly press his fingers against your panties. He slowly traces them up and down, feeling the lace start to become damp.

“You’re already getting wet for me?” He smirks.

“Please.” You whine, your body rolling to meet his hand.

“Look at you, already so desperate.” He taunts.

His left hand goes back up to your bra, undoing the hook in the back and throwing it to the side. Your tits fall out, now rolling with the movements of your body. He cups a breast in his hand, squeezing the flesh. He softly pinches your nipple between his fingers, smiling at the soft moans you let out.

His other hand leaves your lower half and does the same to your other breast. He spends a few minutes toying with them before his hands move back down to your panties.

“You’re so wet for me, I can feel it through your underwear.” He slowly peels the lacy fabric off of you, and holds it up for you to see. There’s a decent sized wet spot on them, the spot slightly darker than the rest of the fabric. “Look at that.” He says, before tossing them aside.

His left hand holds you over your stomach, pulling you against him, while the other wanders back down to your center. His touch is feather-light as he brushes over your folds, back and forth, then finally over your clit. You jolt at his touch, squirming in his lap.

“Oh, someone’s an eager little bunny.” He says.

His words float around your head, the new name sending a flush over you.

He presses down on your clit, rubbing it in circles. He coos as you whine, your hips moving on their own accord to match with his hand.

He pulls his fingers away just as you start to feel a new wave of pleasure.

“No, why?” You whine, your own hand moving to replace his.

He quickly pulls your hand away and holds it at your side.

“Behave little bunny. Or I won’t let you cum.” He warns you.

His hand only moves back to your center once you’ve stilled on his lap. This time his middle finger runs along your folds. He slowly pushes the end of his finger inside you, gathering your slick on it, and moving it up to your clit.

“More, please sir.” The title falls from your mouth without a second thought.

He grins. “So you do have some manners?” He pushes his finger back inside you, this time curling upwards. “You’re so warm.” He says as he kisses along your neck.

His finger is longer than any of yours, able to reach deep inside you. He pushes his ring finger in as well, the thick digits spreading you open.

You moan at the intrusion. You can feel his fingers scissoring you open as you clench tighter around him.

His other hand moves down to play with your clit, rubbing it in quick circles.

Your whimpers come out rhythmically with every thrust of his fingers.

“You’re so close huh bunny? Do you want to cum?” He asks, his lips brushing against your ear.

You nod frantically. “Please let me cum, please, please, please.” You feel yourself falling closer to the edge as his finger speed up.

Then, nothing. He pulls both his hands away from you, back up to your stomach. He holds you against him as your body thrashes, searching for his lost touch.

“Well I don’t want you to cum yet. You look so pretty whining and begging for me, it’d be a shame to stop now.” He pinches one of your nipples.

You let out a disgruntled whine, pushing your hips forward, looking for some friction.

“You’re so desperate aren’t you? Let’s see just how wet you are.” He pulls your legs apart wider and prods at your folds. His fingers push them apart for the camera. They’re puffy and pink now, covered in your slick.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen.” He says as his hand cups your pussy, the heel brushing over your clit. “You’re going to beg me to cum, but you’re only going to cum when I tell you to. Okay?”

You nod. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” He pushes his fingers in you again, lazily thrusting them in and out. “Now beg for it.”

You plead with him for more, for him to go faster, to add more fingers, for anything. He rests his head on your shoulder and looks down at where his fingers are inside of you. He adds a third finger and pumps them in and out of you faster.

“Please may I cum?” You ask as you feel the knot tighten within you.

“Hold it.” He commands, his thumb now tracing over your clit.

Your moans get louder and louder as you feel yourself get closed and closer to the edge. “Please? Please? Oh my god, please let me cum!”

He’s silent for a moment, then gives you a command in your ear. “Cum.”

A feeling like never before rushes over you. It’s a wave of pleasure like you’ve never experienced before. Your head is thrown back, resting against his shoulder as you cry out. He guides you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing as you come down.

He pulls his fingers out of you, and wraps his arms around you.

You try to catch your breath, your brain still a little fuzzy as he strokes your hair.

“You did so well schatz, you were so good.” He gives you soft praises.

“Thank you sir.” You nuzzle into his neck.

“No, no, no. Not sir anymore, okay? Just Seb.” He tells you. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes, then pulls away slightly to look at you.

“I’m going to get my bag, alright? I’ll be right back.” He softly lifts you off his lap, placing you next to him.

“Seb-” you reach out for him.

He dashes to the door and back to his spot next to you, now with his bag. He reaches behind him to turn off your camera, then turns back to you. He kneels down on the ground in front of you and pulls a soft towel out of his bag. He wipes his fingers off, then softly spreads your legs open. He cleans you up, apologizing when you try to close your legs from the sensitivity.

He pulls out a large sweatshirt next and places it on the bed next to you. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, but I figured it might help you get more comfortable.”

You give him a quiet thank you, and pull the sweatshirt over your head. The material is soft, the sleeves falling past your hands.

The next thing he pulls from the bag is a bottle of water. “I know you probably have water here, but I wanted to be prepared.” He untwists the cap for you and hands it to you.

You take it from him and start to take small sips. He pulls out two granola bars next. He hands you one, and unwraps the other, taking a bite from it.

“It’s important to drink water and have a snack after something like that.” He explains. “How are you feeling.”

“Good, tired, but good.” You give him a soft smile.

“Good.” He nods. He stays with you for a while, just chatting with you, making sure you won’t drop back into subspace.

“So should we get started on your video?” You ask, reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt you’ve got on.

He quickly reaches for your hands, pulling them back down to your sides. “No schatz, not tonight. You’ve done a lot, and you need to rest. We’ll talk about my video later.”

You stay with each other for a little while longer, just taking in the presence of one another before he realizes how late it’s gotten.

He stands up from the floor and reaches for his bag. “I should get going. But thank you schatz, I had fun.”

You’re almost disappointed to see him gather his things and get ready to leave. “Me too, thank you Seb.”

You walk him back to your front door. “Text me later, okay?” You ask.

“Of course.” He reaches for your hand and gives it a soft squeeze, then leaves your home.

He’s not even halfway to his car before he wonders when the next time he’ll be able to see you will be.

[iguana-eyanna]

Got Me Smiling More

Pairing: Victor Tan x pastlover!reader

Summary: Tan hasn't felt alive since his divorce, and a light switches when he bumps into an old flame.

A/n: this is shorter than my past works but I wanted to give Tan a spotlight cause he deserves it. (I’m also a few episodes behind season 7 so don’t judge me lmao)

"Luca, I told you already that they ran out of the protein powder at Target." Tan said as he was hassling his phone, trying to scan the empty shelves by the produce aisle.

Tan just asked respectfully if Luca needed a thing or two while he was doing a grocery run. Tan didn't realize he'd be buying half of the store on Luca's account.

Tan turned around and saw someone facing backward, wearing a red shirt, assuming it'll be an employee.

"Yes, man, I'll ask if they have in the back. I'll call you back."

Tan hung up and prayed under his breath before he went up to the employee.

"Hey sorry, I was wondering if you have-"

The person spun on her heel and faced Tan with fury.

"Ugh for the millionth time! I don't work here!"

You looked up to the seventh person that's been bothering you since you set foot in the store and you see Tan.

Your old high school sweetheart.

"Tan?" You said in disbelief.

He was almost speechless seeing you stand in front of him.

"He-Hey! I'm- so sorry I didn't mean to assume you worked here." He said, apologetically.

"No, you're totally fine. It was my fault that I decided to wear this top today. But I really needed to stock on some k-cups so I came here real quick." You said

"You're still drinking caffeine? Last time we've been studying for our exams, you were surviving on energy drinks and your eye was twitching for a good week."

"Hey! Don't be judging me." You sassed back, making Tan give a hearty laugh.

God you missed that laugh.

You playfully roll your eyes, trying not to show red your cheeks were.

"Anyways, I see you have your hands tied, so I'll let you get back to your shopping. Just don't ask me where the toilet paper is." You joked.

"I'll try not to. But I love to catch up sometime if that's alright."

You were hesitant. Last time you heard about Tan, was that he eloped with someone. You hesitantly look down at his left hand and saw no ring.

He caught on to what you were doing. He always read you so easy, there was no way of ever lying to Tan.

"I'm uh... divorced. It's on the down low so I get it if-"

"No, no it's not like that Tan. I just, didn't want any zealous wife attacking me while I'm munching down a croissant."

He laughs, not realizing how he hasn't felt so at ease talking about his divorce in the past months.

You take one step closer to him and smile.

"But I'd love to catch up with you. Give me your phone."

Tan wastes not a second and gives it to you as you dialed your phone number.

"Here, call me when you think of me. I'll see you later."

You spun on your heel, about to get out of the produce aisle until your phone rang with an unknown number.

"Hello?" You ask

"Just wanted to see if you gave me a phony number." Tan's voice said.

You turn around and see Tan just a few feet away with you.

"You know I'd never do that to you." You said, still talking in the phone.

"I know... I just, wanted to look at you another time."

Your heart pounded faster, and now remembering how smooth this boy is.

"Fuck it, you just wanna grab coffee now?" You said, hanging up your phone and coming closer to you.

Tan throws down his disregarded groceries and goes up to you.

"I thought you never asked."

+

Luca is watching something on his phone until he saw the entrance door swung open. Tan walks in with his hair in a mess and the buttons on his shirt hastily buttoned.

"Tan, bud, where's the groceries? Did you find the protein powder?" Luca asks as Tan's hands were empty. He investigates the younger man and sees something out of the oridinary.

"Is that lipstick?"

Tan widens his eyes as he wipes it off and looks down to see your shade of lipgloss painted on his face as he chuckles to himself.

He looks up to Luca who coughed abruptly and straightens up.

"I'm uh- gonna lie down for a bit. I'll get the groceries tomorrow."

Tan bullets to his room and shuts the door, leaving Luca speechless.

"Damn, I should go to Target more often." Luca said before he shrugged it off, heading his attention back to his phone.

[lovelybucky1]

Crane Motel

Kinktober Day 12- Somnophilia

warnings: DARK FIC, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: AFAB!reader, Psycho AU, non-con, somnophilia, struggle fuck, groping, incel!jonathan, oral sex (f!receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ Minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

The sky is pitch black and the heavy rain makes it difficult to see even ten feet in front of your car. You can't continue driving in these conditions, so you take the nearest exit in hopes of finding a place to spend the night or at least a place to pull over.

You drove about five minutes into the town off the highway until you came across a building. Crane Motel the neon sign read. Vacancies. It doesn’t have to be nice, it just has to be dry.

You pull into the lot, gravel crunching under your tires. It’s hard to see the parking spots, but no one else is here and you doubt they’ll come at this hour. You collect your items and make a dash for the porch of the office, locking your car with the remote once you’re away from the rain.

You open the door to the office and you’re met with the warm light from a lamp and an empty desk.

“Hello?” you say. No answer. “Hello?” Still no answer. You notice a bell on the desk so you try your luck and hit the bell. The metallic ring fills the office and from the closed door behind the desk, you hear a thump.

The door swings open and a young man in a light blue button down shirt that hangs off him and khakis appears.

“Hi,” he smiles. “Welcome to the Crane Motel.”

“Hello,” you smile politely. “I’d like a room please.”

“Of course,” he says, taking out the guest book and opening it to today’s date. As he flips through the pages you take note that most of them are blank, and the ones that are written on only have one or two names. “We don’t get many visitors up here,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Well, I’m only here for the night. The weather’s too bad out there to keep driving.”

The man nods in understanding. “I’m Jonathan, by the way,” he says, extending his hand to you.

You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jonathan.”

“Likewise. I run this motel. My mother owns it, but she’s too sick to take care of things around here so I’m in charge of it.”

You nod along as you sign your name in the guest book. “Is it just the two of you?”

“Has been all my life. My dad died before I was born so it’s just been her and I.”

You find it a bit odd that he’s sharing so much of his life with a stranger, but you figure he doesn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“Don’t be. Can’t lose what you’ve never had,” he says with a smile.

Jonathan tilts his head to look down at the guest book and reads off your name. “That’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“How are you gonna be paying?” he asks.

“Cash,” you say, taking out your wallet.

He furrows his brows. “Cash? You’re not on the run, are you?” You look up at him with a confused expression, but when his face splits into a smile you catch on that he’s joking. “I’m kidding. People usually use cash if they’re on the run or having an affair, but you’re here alone, right?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Alright, no reason to be suspicious of you then. That’ll be $30.”

“Only 30?”

“We’re not in demand enough to charge anymore that,” he chuckles. “Besides, you seem nice and you’re just looking for a place to stay.”

“Well, thank you, Jonathan.”

He takes your cash and counts it out, confirming you gave him the right amount. He then unlocks the cash drawer and puts the bills in their appropriate slots.

“Alright, I’m gonna put you in Cabin 1. It’s closest to the office in case you need anything tonight,” he says as he takes the key labeled 1 off of the hook screwed into the wall.

He hands you the key but before you could turn to leave, he catches your elbow.

“I was making dinner for my mother and I but I accidentally made too much. Would you like to join us?” he offers.

“Oh, thank you for the offer but I’m super exhausted from driving all this way. I’m just going to head to bed,” you say.

“Okay,” he says, letting you go of your arm. “You never said where you’re from.”

“Um, about a two hours south from here.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing all the way up here?”

You sigh quietly, growing tired of his questions. “I’m going on a trip with some friends.”

“Sounds fun,” he says.

You nod with a close lipped smile. “Well, have a good night.”

“You too,” he says.

You turn and exit the office, shutting the door behind you. You run to your car and grab your bags as quickly as you can to avoid getting soaked, then take cover again under the roof. You walk across the wooden porch to the door labeled 1 that is connected to the office. You unlock the door and walk into the room, taking in the surroundings.

The room is small but it has a bed and a bathroom, so it will suffice. You drop your bags at the end of the bed and open your suitcase, digging through it for pajamas and toiletries.

You change into your t-shirt and shorts, then disappear into the bathroom to wash up. Unbeknownst to you, the kind man you met at the desk is not what he seems.

He put you in the first cabin not so it would be easier to attend to your needs, but because behind a picture frame in the office is a hole that he can look through to see the bed.

Jonathan was infatuated with you the moment he laid eyes on you. He doesn't interact with many people other than his mother, especially not someone so beautiful and interesting as you. He knew he couldn't let this opportunity slip away. He had to have you before you left in the morning.

He waited for you to return from the bathroom and when he heard a thumb through the thin walls, he peered back through the hole. Seeing you undress was exhilarating. Your body is gorgeous, exactly what he likes. It's almost like the universe sent you to him for a reason.

As kind as you are, Jonathan knows you would never agree to a night with him if he were to ask. That's why he's going to wait until you're asleep to make a move.

Apparently you're less exhausted than you let on, because instead of going right to sleep like you said you would, you stay up for another hour watching TV.

Once you finally turned off the TV and lights, Jonathan waited fifteen minutes for you to fall asleep before sneaking into your room. He unlocks the door quietly and turns the handle before opening it so the knob doesn't click.

He's used to seeing in the dark, so he has no trouble making his way over to the bed. The faint light from the neon sign outside illuminates your face, making you look angelic.

Jonathan gently untucks the covers from your arm and pulls them down, revealing your body. He sighs in delight as he trails his fingertips gently down your arm, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin.

Luckily you're laying on your back so he has easy access to everything he wants to see. He pushes your shirt up over your breasts, revealing even more soft skin and peaked nipples that catch the light from the window. Jonathan brushes the pad of his thumb over them gently, curious as to what they feel like.

Getting braver, he palms your breasts and squeezes them. He's seen plenty of breasts before online, but he's never even been this close to a pair in real life. He is mesmerized by how the flesh jiggles.

He has been hard in his slacks sine you first came to the desk, but now that he is touching you, he is growing increasingly needy. He undoes the fly of his pants and lets his cock hang out from the zipper. Even having it out in your presence made him ache with pleasure.

Jonathan then turned his attention to your bottoms. He slips his fingers under the waist band and gently pushes them down as best he can. They get caught under your as, but he can pull them down enough to get a glimpse of your pussy.

His hands shake as he gently caresses your mound, surprised that you're even softer here. He lets his finger dip between your folds, feeling your wetness. Jonathan then pulls his hand back and holds it up to his face to take a deep breath of your scent. It's delicious, and he can't help but taste it off his finger.

He reaches under your shorts again, exploring your pussy and teasing your entrance while his other hand jerks his cock. He gets a bit too carried away, because his unpracticed hands must have poked you the wrong way and you stir.

Jonathan yanks his hand back and waits to see if you'll wake up. You remain asleep, but you roll onto your side, turning your back to him. He is a bit disappointed at first, but then he gets another idea. He pulls your shorts the rest of the way down and lets them bunch at your knees.

He gently spreads your ass cheeks to look at your holes. He has to stifle a groan when he sees the glistening of your pussy. Jonathan leans down to lick you from behind. At this angle, only the tip of his tongue makes contact with your folds, but it's enough to get a taste right from the source.

He moves his tongue back and forth as much as he can, imagining that he's doing this for your pleasure and not his own perverted desires. Between his legs, his cock his painfully hard and leaking onto the shitty carpet.

Feeling bold since he's done all of this to you and you haven't woken up yet, he decides to go a little further. He eases you onto your stomach and gently lifts your legs so he can slot himself between them. He slowly eases onto the mattress and spreads your folds so he can find your entrance.

He lines his cock up and begins to push in. It's a little difficult when the only experience he's ever had has been with his hand. He manages to get the tip in when he feels your body jolt. You make something of a whine and Jonathan's heart begins racing.

You try to adjust your position, still mostly asleep, but when you find yourself being restrained, you start to thrash. You kick your legs and claw at the sheets, all while yelling out.

"Get the fuck off me!" you cry, shaking your body like you're a mechanical bull trying to throw him off.

Jonathan doesn't want to stop. He's made it this far already. He presses down on your shoulder blades to keep you from squirming and your arms are pinned under your chest so you can't try to hit him.

You're still screaming, but now it's broken up by heavy sobs and pleas. You can scream as loud as you want but the only person around to hear you is the one making you scream.

Jonathan continues to push his cock into you, though he faces more resistance now that you're awake. You're so much tighter when you're scared, he notes.

"Don't hurt me, please. I-I have a family, please stop," you beg.

Jonathan frowns. "I'm not hurting you," he says.

How could he be hurting you? Sex feels good, and women love to have sex. That's what he's seen in all those videos. They love it so much they'll even beg for it.

Jonathan ruts into you and after a while, you lose the will to scream for help. All you can do is lay there and sob while he violates you. Jonathan, however, is enjoying himself very much. The tight, wet heat of your pussy around him is like nothing else he's ever experienced. It's addictive, and though he feels himself getting close, he doesn't want this to end.

Jonathan tries to stave off his orgasm but he's too worked up. He bucks his hips quickly, jackhammering you until he cums. He's fucking you like a fleshlight, using you as a place to stick his dick weather you're willing or not.

He buries himself deep inside you when he cums, emptying his overfilled balls into you. Jonathan is moaning and whimpering above you, completely overwhelmed by pleasure. He lays himself over your back and tucks his chin over your shoulder.

His face is far too close to yours and you scream again, hoping it will make him leave you alone. With a satisfied sigh, he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. He bends down to look at his cum leaking out of your pussy, just like he sees in all the videos he watches.

He grabs your covers and pulls them back up over you, tucking you in. You lay facing away from him, body shaking with silent sobs.

"I'll see you in the morning for breakfast," Jonathan says before exiting your room and heading back to the office.

Tonight he'll sleep on the sofa in the parlor in case you need anything. And he'll wake up extra early to watch you get dressed in the morning.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

You Were Made For Lovin’ Me

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 4.4k

Notes: This is connected to I Was Made For Lovin’ You

Day 9: Somnophilia

Eddie watches you carefully through the screen. You guys were gonna be late, he knows it. But he can’t really be bothered to care, especially knowing you’re finally going with him. 

God it took you long enough to finally come around to accepting a date with him, he wasn’t pushy, he wasn’t aggressive, and he gave you time to think about going on a date with him. 

Even if it made him a little crazy when you’d shyly turn him down each time, always acting like it was some sort of joke. It was never a joke, not when it came to you. 

You’d changed at least six times, personally, he really liked the black dress that you deemed “too sexy” for tonight, which honestly it was perfect for tonight.

Actually.

He grabs his other phone from the charger and dials your number. He watches the way you jump suddenly, fumbling with your makeup and reaching for your phone. He mutes the feed as soon as you pick it up.

“Hello?” 

“Hey gorgeous”

You flail a little and take a deep breath before clearing your throat 

“Oh hey Eddie,” you say as nonchalantly as possible and he melts, watching you wriggle excitedly 

“Have you uh, already decided what you wanted to wear? I thought we could match” 

He watches you stop for a second, looking through the doorway to your bed full of clothes 

“Um…why don’t you pick! You know the vibe of the party more than I do”

He grins, switching over to the next camera as you go into your bedroom 

“Why not something black? Maybe something a little… skimpy?” 

Your mouth drops open and he grins widely as you look back over at that dress from earlier. 

“Seems kinda scandalous don’t you think?” You joke a little and he can see the burning embarrassment on your cheeks 

“I just know how Buck’s parties can get… and I know you want to fit in with my friends, even if they already love you. If you’re comfortable with it baby girl, honestly I think something you know, a little more revealing might be nice” 

He watches you stare at it, and the heels you paired with. You’re really thinking it over, you bite the tip of your thumb and sigh. 

“What are you gonna wear?” 

“What do you want me to wear?” 

Why is this reverse what are you wearing and why is Eddie so into it? He can feel his cock twitch in his pants as you mull things over.

“I have a silk shirt” He offers, watching you hold that skimpy little number he’s craving to see you in up to your body. 

“It’s red… with a pair of black jeans maybe?” 

“I have red heels,” You say distractedly 

He knows. 

“Sounds like we have an outfit! I’ll come get you in 20 minutes okay? You hurry up and get dressed” 

“I will! I’ll see you soon!!” 

“See you soon pretty girl” 

He hangs up and unmutes the feed again, watching you squeal and stamp your feet excitedly. He fixes the collar on his shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone, and fixes his hair in the mirror before grabbing his other phone and heading out. 

He’s got a stop to make first. 

Eddie arrives at your house exactly 20 minutes later, he comes up to the door with a skip in his step and knocks twice. He’s tempted to just unlock it himself and come right in, but no, no he needs to wait for the right moment for that. 

He knocks again, getting a little antsy. He didn’t mind being late. But he also needed to make sure you were there long enough to be tired and need to go home or else tonight was not going to be what he wanted it to be 

“I’m coming!!!” You call through the door, he can hear the loud click of your heels as you come running to the door. You throw the door open and Eddie’s mouth falls open slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” You look down at your dress, doing a little spin and checking yourself all over and Eddie squirms a little, having to… adjust some things 

“Y-you look… holy shit,” He says quietly and you blush, running your hand over your dress. 

“Y-you like it? Really?” The spaghetti straps are doing their job of keeping you in the low-cut top and Eddie both hates and loves them for that 

“These are for you” He pulls the flowers from behind his back and pushes them in your face. A dozen of the best roses in the shop, he’d had them readied that afternoon. 

“Oh!” You giggle and step back a little, taking them from him “They’re so beautiful. You wanna come in for a second? I’ll just drop them in a vase real quick and we can go. I’ll arrange them later” 

He eagerly follows you in, it’s the first time he’s stepped foot in your house… by your invitation anyway. 

“Nice place,” He says, slipping his hands in his pockets as he follows you into the kitchen. You bend over to grab the vase from under the sink and he openly stares at your ass as you root around. You take out the blue one he likes, you’d made it one summer in a pottery workshop, and fill it with ice cubes and water. You plop the roses in and turn around to set them on the counter. He didn’t bother hiding the hungry look in his eyes, there wasn’t really a point, not with you dressed like that, he couldn’t hide how that dress made him feel. 

“You um- you ready t-to go?” You ask, your voice a bit high-pitched and he nods, reaching out for your hand 

“I’m very ready to go” 

The party is in full swing by the time you get there, everyone is there, Tommy comes over and squeezes you, lifting you off the floor and you wheeze. 

“Can’t breathe!!” You wriggle in his arms and he lets you go 

“Shit- sorry” He laughs a little “Oh hey Eddie!” 

Eddie is standing there, his hands itching to be back on you, he gives Tommy a fake smile, it doesn’t really reach his eyes and he’s glad he doesn’t really seem to notice that.

“You guys come here together?” Tommy bends down to your height and you roll your eyes, flicking his nose and he laughs 

“Yeah, actually we did!” Eddie fake laughs, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you back against him and you look up at him with a silly smile on your face, which seems to ease the tension he’s feeling a bit. He leans down and nuzzles his nose against yours and you giggle. 

“Wow, you guys are disgusting!” Buck says as he comes over, his hands full of red solo cups. Eddie grabs two and hands you yours as you try and kick at Buck.

“That’s not nice” Tommy chuckles, putting his arm around Buck’s waist 

“We can be just as bad” He kisses him, yanking his waist flush against him before pulling away. Buck giggles, he actually giggles and both you and Eddie snort, trying not to totally harass him for that.

“Shut up!!”

After that, Eddie is glued to your side the entire time, just like he promised. He doesn’t let you take two steps without him taking three, his body stays pressed to yours and you don’t mind it in the least. 

You’re not doing very much talking but he’s not surprised by that, you don’t know a lot of the people here, he however seems to know almost everyone and everyone just seems to love him apparently. 

You frown a little at that but get over it quickly. You’ll know everyone soon enough. 

The music incidentally, is great. You’d known Buck for a while now at this point and his taste in music was definitely improving. 

Eddie pulls you over to the makeshift dance floor as a slower song comes on. The beat pumps through your body as you dance against him. He takes your hips, grinding against them as you dance together. You reach back, cupping the side of his face and pulling him closer to you, he buries his face in your neck, kissing you softly and inhaling your sweet perfume, it’s the one he likes the best. He’d made sure to “misplace” a couple of your others he didn’t really care for. 

“Fuck, I love you” he mumbles against your skin, the words are too muffled for you to really make out. You don’t say anything and he doesn’t want you to, the moment he tells you how much he loves you is going to be a special one, not while you’re tipsy and dancing at one of his friend's parties.

As the night gets later, a very drunken game of never have I ever breaks out. You’re sat in Eddie’s lap, leaning against him lazily, a little sleepy, he’s not even sure you’re paying attention to the game really. His fingers ghost over your skin as he occasionally kisses your neck, watching the way your cheeks flush when he drinks at a particularly nasty question. 

“Y/N, you haven’t drunk like anything” Buck’s tone is teasing and you perk up a little, waking up. Mostly everyone’s cups are empty and yours still sits at more than half full. 

“I don’t think she was paying attention” Eddie chuckles, rubbing your thigh and you turn back to look at him. 

“I was too!” 

“You haven’t drunk anything!” 

“I know that!” You blush lightly and he sits up, his eyes lighting up as he stares at you 

“Y-you mean to tell me-“ 

“Eddie it’s your turn,” One of Buck's friends says and they all look at him but he can’t stop staring at you. 

“Never have I ever had sex” 

Your eyes widen as he slowly sips from his cup, they all laugh at him and make fun of him for doing such an easy one and the game continues. 

But you don’t drink. 

Eddie slides you off his lap, he doesn’t have a choice, he can’t have you sitting there anymore, he’d end up plowing you right there in front of everyone. 

You’re a virgin? How did he not know that? How didn’t he know that?? He knew absolutely everything about you, how could he have missed that? He thought back through every moment he’d been watching you, every time you’d pleasured yourself. And he’s starting to realize…You’d never once put anything inside you. He thought it was just a fucking preference not that you weren’t used to it. 

His sweet angel really was an angel. A gorgeously pure thing, completely untouched by any man. Oh god, he could work with this he knew he could, he could just feel himself sinking inside you for the first time, watching you sniffle and bite your lip at the pain. But you were a brave girl, he knew that he knew you could take him… 

And he’d be the only man you ever needed, the only man you ever wanted! He’d be sure of that, he’d blow your mind while blowing your back out-.

“Eddie? Is everything okay?” You give him a little shake and that’s when he realizes he’s been staring blankly into his cup 

“H-huh?” He starts, looking at you. You look so… sad. Nervous? He doesn’t know, you just don’t look happy anymore. 

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” He coos, cupping your face, you pull away quickly though, and get up, walking away from him. He sets his cup down on the coffee table and hurries after you, watching you run up the stairs and into the bathroom. He takes the stairs two at a time, dodging people and drinks and some other third thing, and gets to the top of the stairs. He climbs over the caution tape and knocks on the door. 

“Y/N? Honey? Let me in” 

“No!” 

He can hear the little wobble in your voice and his heart immediately drops 

“Baby come on” his fist hits the door a little more intensely now, so you can hear him over the music 

bam! bam! Bam!

“Open the door, please” He lays his head against the door, his voice wavering. 

“Y/N open- open the door” he chokes on his words and the door flies open, your eyes are wide and tear-filled 

“Are you crying??” You ask, wiping your eyes and he looks at you, his face sad and pathetic 

“Are you okay??” What happened baby?” He moves you out of the way gently, shutting the door behind him and resting against it 

“Are you serious?” You scoff and he grabs your wrist, turning you toward him 

“I’m very serious” his eyes darken and you melt under his stare, it sends shivers up your spine and you wrap your arms around yourself, putting your head down. 

“You didn’t say anything… a-after you found out I was a virgin. You didn’t say anything. Y-you even took me out of your lap and-“

Suddenly your back is against the wall, Eddie’s arm above you as he leans against it. 

“You think for one second… that, that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard?” 

He hooks his finger under your chin, making you look at him. The air between the two of you crackles with electricity as he stares into your eyes. He sees you gulp nervously, and that just turns him on even more. 

“I like it when you’re scared” 

He smirks and leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming your curves possessively as he presses you against the wall. You gasp into his kiss, your hands shaking as they slide up his soft silk shirt and clasp behind his neck.

He deepens the kiss, nipping at your lip and slipping his tongue into your mouth when you gasp. He grins as he explores your mouth, his hands slide down to grip your ass and pull you against him. 

You whimper into his mouth as he lets his possessive side bleed into it just the tiniest bit. You feel his erection against your thigh and your eyes widen, he pulls away, both of you gasping for breath before he’s back on you, attacking your neck, nipping along your skin, and leaving little bite marks. 

You whine and push at his chest weakly “E-Eddie we should get back to the party”

He grabs your wrists, pinning them against the wall now, and keeps biting at your neck. He can’t get enough of you, you moan as he grinds his cock against you, you can feel the way it teases your heated core. 

“Do you know… how sexy it is, that no man has ever touched you?” 

He kisses the shell of your ear, panting softly, you can still feel his cock grinding against you. He puts your hands together and holds them in one of his while the other reaches down and starts to lift the hem of your dress. 

“No man… has had the absolute privilege, of knowing what your sweet little pussy feels like” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you stare at him, your doe eyes wide, your body completely overwhelmed. 

“What it tastes like…” 

You feel his fingers touch the front of your panties, his eyes close slowly as he feels how soaked they are. He kisses your neck gently, soothing all the little bites. 

“Soon” he growls, pushing them to the side. His fingers tease your folds, you can feel his cock twitch again as he touches you. He moans lowly in your ear.

“You wax huh?” He mutters and you gulp, shrugging nervously 

“I-it’s California. It’s always swimsuit weather” 

He couldn’t argue with you there 

“D-do you not like it?” You ask, and you’re wondering why it matters to you if he does… but some little part of you, some teeny tiny little part wants him to like it

“What do you think?” He looks at you, gently stroking your folds, purposely not putting pressure on the exact spot he knows you like it (just to the left of your clit, with enough pressure on it that it’s not overstimulating but damn does it feel good) 

“T-that you do?” You’re a little hesitant, but he smiles, pulling his fingers from you and putting them in his mouth, sucking them clean 

“Thats right babygirl” 

Eddie is quiet on the way back to his place. This is going better than he ever thought it would honestly, he’s got his hand on your thigh, stroking slowly as he watches the road. He’s driven home from Buck’s a billion times, he could do it with his eyes closed and as his mind wanders he’s glad about that. 

How could it not wander? You’re in his front seat, eyelids drooping, and your head keeps falling forward, god you’re so cute when you’re sleepy. He purposely turned on the heated seat for you and put on the stereo to the smooth jazz station. 

He looks over at you again, the red lights illuminating your sleeping face as you finally drift off, snuggled into his arm. He smiles down at you, you’re just so cute, so precious, so pure. 

His hand slides further up your thigh, under your dress, had he known you hadn’t been touched he would have made you wear something a little looser but it’s whatever. His fingers stroke the front of your panties and you shift a bit.

“Hm?” Your eyes barely even open “Eddie?” You mumble and he slows down 

“It’s okay babygirl go back to sleep” He coos softly “I’ll wake you up when we get home okay?” 

You nod slowly, snuggling into his shoulder more “Kay” you mumble, already falling back asleep. He stalls for a second, waiting for your breathing to slow down again, and grins when it does

“Such a good girl for me”

His fingers go back to work, feeling that little wet patch on the front of your panties, he can just imagine kissing them softly, licking It up while you stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

Oh the things he can’t wait to do to you 

You squirm a little and he uses that movement to push your panties to the side and slip his fingers between your folds, to the left of your clit, with just enough pressure…

You moan breathlessly, grinding against his fingers and he lets his head fall back against the headrest. He’s so blissed out right now, you’re such a needy little thing, even when you’re unconscious and he can’t wait to find out what you’re like when he’s inside you. 

“Come on baby girl,” He says quietly, his fingers working your clit, he watches your face, your features twisting in pleasure… he decides to chance it, he has to. He sinks his middle finger into you, your body jolts and he freezes for a second, he’s ready to pull his hand away even if he’s not altogether sure that he minds getting caught. 

“O-oh Eddie…” you moan sleepily, still out cold 

Oh god, oh my god.

You’re having a sex dream about him. 

His cock is already rock hard in his pants, and somehow it manages to get even harder. He can feel the precum leaking all over his boxers and all he wants to do is shove his cock deep inside you and fuck you over and over until you can’t walk. 

All he can think about is holding you down on his cock as you writhe and cry while he fills you with cum. Fuck you’d look so so pretty with it dripping down your legs as you made breakfast.

Eddie’s not sure when it happened, but suddenly he’s pulled over with his hand shoved down his pants and he’s getting you both off at the same time, he’s rubbing your clit faster, trying not to wake you and jerking himself off as fast as he can. 

His jaw clenches as he cums, thick, hot, ropes coat the steering wheel while he growls your name lowly, trying so hard not to shout. He looks over at you, feeling your body is shaking and he realizes you’re cumming with him. You pant softly, rolling your hips quickly against his fingers as you use them to get off. You slowly stop moving and curl up tighter, making happy, little whimpering noises. He pulls his hand away, licking it clean as it’s coated in your juices.

He knows you won’t remember this, but god he will and that’s all that matters. One day, when you’re his, he’ll tell you all about it, every last detail and he can’t wait for it. 

Eddie finally pulls into the driveway and shuts the car off. He leans back in his seat, taking a deep breath before looking over at you. 

What’s the plan now? 

He gets out and picks you up out of the truck before going to the door. He’d always imagined your first night together, he’d eat you out until you were crying in desperation and then he’d give you what you wanted all night long. He had serious stamina, he’d been working on it just for you… you got off so much that he figured you were just needy… but god was he wrong. 

He’d have to plan something nicer, nicer than just some candles and sexy music, no he needed to wine and dine you first, get you relaxed and in the mood… he could do that, he could do that so easily. 

He just had to convince you to do it. 

He sets you down on the bed, kissing your forehead before taking off your shoes. He runs his hands down your calf, massaging them gently after being in heels for hours. 

He carefully rolls you onto your side and unzips your dress, he chuckles a little, thinking about earlier when he watched you spinning in circles trying to zip it yourself, had he known it was so hard to get on he’d have come earlier to help zip it.

He’s the one that put you in it after all. 

He moves your arms, getting them out of the thin spaghetti straps, and stops for a second, taking a deep breath. He’s gotta be strong, he can’t rip your panties off. He’d never be able to explain why they were in shreds on his floor. 

He shimmies your dress down, revealing your body to him slowly. He’d seen it before, he’d watched you get dressed how many times? But this? This was different. He could actually touch you. 

He decides to indulge just a little, he sets your dress down in the chair next to his bed and comes back over, letting his fingers ghost over your skin. You’re so smooth and soft, he’d seen you in the shower earlier he knew you put work into this. 

His fingers dance over your panties, and he grins, because he remembers what he felt.  He takes his time pulling them to the side, like opening a perfectly wrapped package. Your pretty lips glisten, slick with what he’d made you do earlier.

“Jesus Christ” He whispers, licking his lips slowly. He bends down, inhaling your sweet scent as much as he can. He’s practically delirious as he nuzzles his nose against your clit for a second, moaning lowly at your arousal. He stays there for a few minutes, between your legs, until he finally manages to pull himself away from that lingering scent in the air and on his nose. 

He drags his feet to the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water before coming back. The cold air of the room hasn’t really done much to cool down your heated core and it also hasn’t done much to curb his desires. 

He sits on the edge of the bed and wipes you up carefully, he’s trying his best to do this objectively now, clean you up and put a t-shirt on you that’s all he’s gotta do. He bites his lip, watching the way you squirm a little as he caresses you between your legs. He wonders if you could do it again… 

No. No, he needs to be good right now. He finishes wiping you up and pats it dry with another towel before tossing them into the laundry basket, he’ll deal with that later. He grabs a t-shirt from his drawer, white of course because he would be damned if he didn’t put you in something he could clearly see your nipples through and tucked you into bed. 

After making sure you’re all settled in, with your phone on the charger, he goes into the bathroom. He opens the lowest cabinet and starts pulling out your skincare routine, setting it out neatly and getting the extra toothbrush he’d bought you. He had to go to two Walmarts and a Target to find the lavender one you loved, he was half tempted to just go to your house and take yours, but you’d definitely know it was yours when you came to his house eventually. 

He puts a washcloth out for you and flicks off the bathroom light. You’re still lying in his bed, curled up in a little ball in his t-shirt. How was he supposed to be patient when you looked that adorable? He crosses his room, grabs his iPad, and gets into bed with you. He sits at the edge of it and grabs your purse, pulling it closer. He opens his logs, filing everything he’d need. He goes through your wallet, gets your card numbers, and takes a photo of your ID, he finds a receipt for the library, he saw those books on your table earlier, he’d have to remind you to take them back. He gets everything he can out of the contents of your tiny bag and sets it all back in place before tossing it to your pile of clothes on the chair. 

Satisfied with his work he lays down, pulling your body into him and snuggling with you. You smell so good, you feel so good. He’s not sure he can let you go in the morning, he’s going to try honestly, but just thinking about not going to bed with you the next night stresses him out.

“You’re home now baby” He whispers in your ear, kissing it softly “You’re home” 

[libraryofloveletters]

chapter seven: what's the worst that can happen?

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: babysitting/playdate uncle mickey for the girls, a sweet mention of michael <3, seb is sooo love sick, < mick thinks it's hilarious, fun date stuff, some kissing because seb is loving on his lady, mick teasing the two of you, a few cheeky comments, illusions to 18+ stuff at the end ;)

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: finally giving y'all wanted to see; the y/n and seb date! there's a fun lil surprise at the end for you freaky fuckers ;) enjoy it :)

sugar and spice; all things nice masterlist

---

"Which one?" Sebastian asks, the one hanger in each hand.

Mick looks up from his phone, finding Sebastian in front of him extremely serious about which shirt he should be wearing on his date with y/n. "Oh Seb," the younger German laughs, "you're nervous!"

"I am not!" He groans, rolling his eyes at Mick's teasing - he was sooo nervous. "Just help me pick a shirt, Mick."

"You're like a teenager with a crush," he smiles, making Sebastian groan once again but he nods towards the baby blue button up. "That one."

"You're a pain in the ass, Mick." Sebastian tells him as he hangs the white shirt back in the closet.

Mick shrugs, making himself comfortable on Seb's bed. "Just doing what dad would do." He says, both of them sharing a smile at the thought of Michael; he would have definitely teased Sebastian about his nervousness, but he would have been the first person to support whatever this was between him and y/n.

The thought is pulled away when they hear the little footsteps coming towards the room, Milly pushing the door open as she flings herself into her uncle's arms. Mick catches the girl, hugging her before he pulls her up onto the bed with him.

Sebastian smiles at the sight of them; Mick's holding the girl, Amelia sitting on his lap as she tells him all about the stuff she has planned for her, Olivia and Mick to do.

Had you told him when he met Michael all those years ago, as a young RedBull driver, that his daughter and Michael's son would be like siblings, he would have never believed you.

The doorbell rings and the girl jumps off of the bed, pulling Mick behind her. The man follows her without much of a choice.

"That's Liv! C'mon uncle Mick!" She shouts, running out the room with Mick right behind her. The two of them make it downstairs, Angie pawing at the front door while barking. Mick opens the door, the little girl runs in and hugs his legs.

"Hi Mickey!" She smiles at him and he smiles, reaching down to pinch her chunky cheek.

"Hi sweetheart, come in." He steps aside, scooting Angie back a bit so they had space to come in.

Angie was licking Liv's hand, Milly making the introduction between her best friend and her fur friend. The two girls run off towards the living room after Milly waves hello to you and Mick shuts the door behind you.

He smiles when he sees you, "wow.. you look beautiful."

"Thank you, Mick." You smiled. Angie was running up to you, standing on her back legs as she put her paws on your thighs, barking for some attention.

"Angie! Down!" Mick wags a finger at her and she does drop back down but she barks at him, giving him a look that you can only assume was for ruining her fun. You laugh, kneeling down to pat her side. "Hi pretty girl, dad's no fun huh?" You made a face at her, the dog nuzzling into your arm as you scratched her belly.

"You're spoiling her," Mick laughs when you stand up, Angie running off when Milly calls for her.

"She's adorable. Is Seb ready?"

There are footsteps from your left, you both look towards the stairs where Seb was coming down. "I am."

Mick can't help but laugh; "you know you're supposed to be picking y/n up. This should be the other way around."

You smiled at the boy's comment and Sebastian rolled his eyes, coming down to kiss your cheek. "We're not a very traditional couple, Mick."

Seb takes a moment to admire you; a red top that fit you perfectly and was just low cut enough to leave him wanting more, jeans that were made for you and only you; he resisted the urge to grab your ass in front of Mick - don't want to traumatize the man that's babysitting your children.

"You look.. wow." He smiles, making you chuckle. "You look pretty wow yourself."

"God, this is like watching my parents flirt," Mick gags, walking into the living room.

Seb takes that as his chance; his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him, hand slipping down to rest on your ass when he kisses you.

"Behave," you mumble, wiping the lipgloss off of his lips. He rolls his eyes playfully, "says you."

The girls were playing with Angie on the floor, Mick stretched out on the couch with the TV playing; very big brother, little sisters coded of them.

"We're heading out now." Sebastian announces and the girls come over, hugging you both goodbye. You give them both a kiss on the cheek, making them promise not to give Mick a hard time while Seb was off to the side talking to previously mentioned man.

"So do I get one of those too?" Mick asks when Seb finally lets him go.

Your brows furrow but Mick glances at the girls but turning his face to the side and leaning towards you. Laughing, you kiss his cheek and leave a red kiss shaped mark on his cheek as you had done with the girls.

Sebastian holds your hand, leading you out of the house before you get a chance to change your mind.

You shout on the way out of the door. "Have fun, you guys! Call if you need us!"

The two of you ended up taking Seb's car - he didn't let you drive, claiming that you driving over was all the driving you'd be doing for the night. Sebastian had planned the date, you had no idea where the two of you were going, or if you were even dressed for the right occasion.

So when he pulled up to the parking lot and the neon sign read mini golf, you looked over at him a bit confused. "Are you serious?" You can't help the laugh.

Sebastian shrugs, "Mick suggested it."

"No wonder," you chuckled, getting out of the car. Seb's cheeks are red, his hand resting on your lower back as you two walk towards the front door. "We can leave.. I can think of something-"

"Relax," you reach for his arm, giving it a squeeze. "It's an odd choice but, I'm sure we'll have fun."

"Okay," he nods, exhaling as he opens the door for you. "I haven't been on a date in a long time.. so I'm a little out of practice." The man admits his thoughts and feelings to you and yet there you were making a joke; "Right, I forget you're 800 years old."

Sebastian rolls his eyes. His hand that previously rested on your back reaches over to pinch your hip teasingly, making you smile. You often tease bit about him acting older than he actually is; a lot of the things that you tell him or show him, he doesn't even have a clue about.

Despite the two of you only having a five year age gap, Seb was an old soul in comparison to you.

Not that you minded, you appreciated the stability that he brought into your life as well as Olivia's.

"But don't worry, me either." You tell him, referring to his dating comment. "At least not a good one, anyways."

"So you're certain this one will be good?" he raises a brow, making you laugh yet again as you two walked in.

You nod, smiling at the man. "I think so."

The two of you decide to play a few rounds, making it around the course. It wasn't until you made it to the last hole that the two of you decided that you wouldn't be playing another round.

"Go on," he tells you, letting you hit the ball into the hole. It misses the hole by an inch and you watch as Seb purposefully misses his shot as well.

You line your club up with the ball. "You didn't have to do that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He smiles, clapping for you when you get the ball into the final hole, you take a small bow and hand him your club.

His hand rests on your lower back yet again, leading you towards the exit. "Shall we get out of here?" He asks and you nod. "Where to?"

Sebastian, a gentlemen as always, opens the door for you to get into the car. "I know a place," he tells you before shutting the door and getting in.

It was about an hour drive away. The two of you chatting away as Sebastian drives down a lonely road that leads to what seems like the middle of nowhere. You look over at the man, a bit confused before turning to look out of the window yet again.

There's a big blue sign coming up to your left that reads; drive in movies.

You smile, turning back to Seb as he drives through the gate. "What are we watching?"

"I believe they have the cabin in the woods running tonight." He tells you, pulling into a spot towards the back. It was fairly empty so you could still see the big projector screen.

"You know," you start as you two get out of the car, meeting by the side to walk towards the snack booth. "I hate scary movies."

Seb's arm links with yours, pulling you into your side. "I'll protect you," he says, a goofy grin on his face as he raises his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, laughing as you two pick out some snacks.

The two of you return to the car, settling into your seats as the movie begins. It's gotten about 30 minutes into the movie before the first scary thing happens, causing you to jump in your seat and spill popcorn everywhere.

Sebastian looks away, his hand over his mouth as he snickers and you can't help but laugh, your hand reaching out to smack his shoulder. "It's not funny!"

"It kinda is," he chuckled, leaning over to give you a kiss.

The popcorn is long forgotten, Sebastian's hand resting on your jaw as he kisses you. Your own hand wraps around his wrist, pulling him closer. Leaning over the centre console, Seb's hands begin to wander, his lips traveling from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck.

Your cheeks flush red when you realize you're still in public, anyone can look over and see you. "Seb," you whispered, the man mumbles against your neck, moving further down.

A hand holds his chin, forcing him to stop and look up at you. "What?"

"Not here," you smiled at him, giving him one more kiss before wiping the lipgloss off of his face.

It made you smile; at your grown age, he still made you blush and giggle like a teenage girl.

It was nearly 10:30 when the movie ended and Sebastian asked you if you'd like to get dinner. You nod, "but will Mick be okay with the girls?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine. We can call if you'd like?"

"Please," you smiled and Sebastian pulled his phone out and called Mick, the two of you watching and waiting to see if they'd pick up.

"Hey," Mick smiles when he answers, sitting on the couch. "Hey," the two of you say at the same time, making you laugh.

"Girls!" Mick calls out to them, knowing that's who you wanted to talk to. Milly and Liv come running in, Angie running behind them as they climb onto the couch with Mick.

The two of them shout hello, overlapping each other as they tell you how much fun they're having with Mick. Liv holds his hand up, "mom look!"

Mick had blue and purple nail polish all over his nails. The man bites back a smile, Milly giggles. "He let us do whatever colour we wanted!"

"That's nice, girls. We're gonna be out a bit longer, will you guys be okay with Mick?"

"Yeah!" They say together, making you smile. Seb tells them to listen to Mick and that when he says it's bedtime, they've got to go to bed. They agree and run off to play again, leaving Mick with the phone.

"Soooo.." he smiles when he gets the phone back, "how's it going?"

"Good," you tell him, "we'll be out a bit later though, you're sure you'll be okay with the girls?"

"Absolutely, I'll put them to bed. You two take as long as you need." He says and you smile when you thank him. You hand the phone back over to Seb and the younger German laughs when he sees his friend.

"Why have you got sparkles on your face, Sebastian?" He asks, a smirk on his face.

Seb rolls his eyes, "shut up, Mick."

Mick can hear your snicker from behind Seb, making him laugh. "Gross you guys. Okay bye, have fun.. but not too much fun!" He says in a fit of laughter when Seb hangs up on him.

"Where to now?" You looked over at him and Seb shrugged. "Dinner?" He suggests and you nod, "but what's open? Most places close at 10."

"I think I saw a diner, unless you want McDonalds or something?"

You hum, taking a moment to think. "Either is fine with me," you smiled.

The man nods, pulling out of the lot. You two end up in the parking lot of the diner only to realize they were closed. It wasn't until you were almost back home that Sebastian pulls into a McDonald's, the only place that was open at this time of the night. You aren't sure since when restaurants close at 10pm on a Friday, but you went along with it anyways.

A brown paper bag sat on the middle console as the two of you ate chicken nuggets, at midnight, in some sketchy McDonald's parking lot.

"You didn't actually say that," you look over at him, taking a bite of your nugget. Seb nods, "I did; I was racing, I was faster, I passed him, I won." The man shrugs, a wicked grin on his face.

You roll your eyes, "you were so cocky."

"If only we had met sooner," he says, leaning back in his seat, head turning to look at you. "I would have charmed the panties off of you."

You snorted, smacking his arm. "You can still do that now, Seb."

He smiles, his head reaching over for yours. Seb's fingers interlock with yours. "Shall we go home?" He asks.

"Will Mick be okay with the girls for a bit longer? I was thinking.. we could, you know.. go back to mine."

"Yeah?" Seb raises an eyebrow, "what for?"

You shrug, smiling at him. Seb gets the hint; "I'm sure he'll be fine. Shall we?" You nod, smiling. "You're the driver, so please."

It's a short drive back to yours and Sebastian follows you inside, his hand holding yours as you walk in. He stopped in the entryway, you were up the first two steps.

"What?" You look at him and he shakes his head, smiling as he follows behind you. You make it up the staircase, stopping again outside of your bedroom and Seb looks at you.

You weren't sure if you were making the right choice; you wouldn't be able to go back if you did this.

"Are you sure?" You asked him quietly and Seb nods, his hand cupping your jaw before he leans in. HIs lips ghost over yours, "I've never been more sure in my life."

Sebastian closes the gap between the two of you, your hand fumbling behind you to open the door. The two of you are tangled together, hands all over each other, lips moving from one spot to the other as you stumbled to the bed.

He lets you get on before joining you, moving to settle between your legs before kissing you again. One by one, the clothes end up on the floor in the pile.

"You're sure?" Sebastian looks down at you, your leg on his hip.

You nod, pulling him down for another kiss. "I've never been more sure."

--

if you weren't tagged in this, it's because the limit was met. I'll add the rest in a reblog!

taglist:  @lighttsoutlewis @hc-dutch @laura-naruto-fan1998 @dubistweltmeistersv5 @kakorrhaphiphobia @myescapefromthislife @f1medlife  @charles-dimple @hockeyshmockey  @ellethewitchbitch  @handsupforamiracle @ads-skywalker-leclerc @anicega @ship-slut @bigdicric @mysticalnightenthusiast @ellalovesvettel @lettersfromvenus @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @coldheartedmar @koufaxx @alexander-hamilhoe @charlewisss @mistrose23 @mehrmonga @eclairmcqueen  @consisedictionaryofmistakes  @nyenye @callsign-scully @molliemoo3 @like-fire-love-blog @agentstarkid @rose-tinted-juls @lynnismypseudonym @gagaga167  @dreamycloudsworld  @motorsp0rt  

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 7

Hello! I am really chugging along with this story I have 5 chapters done (including this one). It was supposed to be 4 with 4 on the Harrington Pattern but somehow, I got an extra chapter here and only 3 on The HP. Still not sure how I did that.

Here we have Chrissy because sometimes you just need another omega friend who gets it.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Steve came home and flopped face first on to the sofa. He wanted to call Robin, but he knew she was hanging out with Vickie tonight. So he had been given a replacement handler for night as management wanted eyes on him because there was always some kind of drama at these things.

It wasn’t a date date, but now they were on the same page, there was major cuddling to be had.

He rolled over and threw his arm over his eyes.

After a moment or two of serious moping he opened the clutch to get his cell phone out. But stopped when he noticed the sparkle of the diamond. He pulled it out instead and held it up to the light. In his minds eye he could see Eddie smiling at him as he handed the lost diamond back to him.

Steve sighed heavily. He had met a lot of alphas in his line of work, but none of them had the effect on him that this one did. Yearning didn’t even begin to cover the depth of emotion ripping through him in that moment.

He rolled off the sofa and wandered into the kitchen, his heels clicking on the hard surface. He really should have taken off his shoes at least. He sighed heavily and grabbed his phone from where it was charging on the counter.

He swapped it for his burner client phone. He unlocked his personal phone to see a sweet picture of Vickie and Robin cuddling together on Vickie’s bed.

He smiled at the absolutely giddy expression on his best friend’s face. It also hit him with a longing he didn’t want to name. He could. He just didn’t feel like sobbing in his kitchen on a Saturday night.

Steve removed his shoes, kicking them off to the side so he wouldn’t trip on them in the morning and then wandered to his bedroom, eyes on his phone.

He unclasped the dress and like he told Eddie it would, it slid to the floor in a graceful heap. All he was wearing now was the gold thong he had worn under the dress. He shimmered out those as well.

He then carefully removed the remaining diamonds in his hair and put them in his jewelry box. He paused with the last one. The one he had been hold onto this whole time. Eddie’s diamond.

He went digging through his vanity until he found a small felt bag that had once contained a small bottle of perfume. He put the diamond into the bag and hung the bag on his vanity mirror.

He went to his closet and rifled through it before finding the pajamas he was looking for.

It was a pair of soft, light grey, satin pants and button down shirt. He never undid the buttons though. He pulled on the pants without underwear. He didn’t have the energy to go hunting down a pair just then. Then he pulled the top on.

He flopped on his bed and wiggled happily at the silky slide of the pajamas on his bare ass. He was still scrolling through his contacts, trying to find the right person he could talk to about this. And then he hit on the perfect person.

He hit dial and waited until it rung through. “Chrissy!” he greeted warmly.

“Steve!” she cooed. “How was the gala? Tommy has been raving for months that you got to go and he didn’t.”

Steve chuckled. Tommy wanted to go because his favorite band was Corroded Coffin.

“Senator Lombard was a wet blanket,” he pouted. “Another alpha was just being nice to me and he got super territorial.”

“Bleh!” she hissed in sympathy. “Who was your handler tonight? I heard you gave Robin the night off.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, she finally asked Vickie out and I didn’t want her to wind herself up and talk herself out of it. Again.”

“Oooh,” Chrissy said. “I get that. She just doesn’t believe what a catch she is.”

“The dilemma of the century,” Steve agreed. “To answer your question, it was Troy who was handling me tonight.”

Chrissy blew a raspberry. “Troy isn’t the bottom of the barrel, but he’s definitely the scum on bottom of the barrel.”

Steve shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “He did his job, Lombard was put on my pre-check list and he got me home in one piece.”

“So why are you really calling me, cher?” she asked after a moment of silence. “Alpha prostrating is stupid but nothing you haven’t handled before so what’s on your mind?”

He flopped on his stomach and ran a hand through his hair. “You remember I told that the senator was pissed because an alpha was nice to me?”

“Sure,” Chrissy said. She paused for a moment. “Oh! Were they cute? Is that what’s got your panties in a twist? Super cute alpha was sweet to you and now your ovaries are ready to explode?”

“Tommy’s going to kill me,” Steve moaned.

There was silence on the line for a beat too long and Steve pulled his phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect.

“Wait, Eddie Munson was your hot, nice alpha who made your client so jealous and possessive you put him on your pre-check list?” This was said a question, but to Steve it sounded more like a statement. One he couldn’t refute.

Not that he wanted to. Eddie was hot.

“Yeah,” Steve said around biting his thumb. “I had diamonds in my hair and one of them must have fallen because suddenly he was handing one back to me.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy cooed. “This sounds like an ice cream and wine girl talk. I’ll be over in ten, sweetie!”

Steve let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, babe. See you soon.”

He rolled over on his back and clutched the phone to his chest. He couldn’t wait to tell Chrissy all about Eddie. He kicked his feet in the air as he giggled.

****

Steve paced back and forth in his front room as he waited for Chrissy to come over. It wasn’t as though she lived far away. She lived like two floors below him.

She was younger than he was by about two years. Like Tommy and Carol everything was happy town with her boyfriend Jason until she presented and was found out to be infertile.

Jason and his parents fought hard to have her put in the Church to be a celibate nun. But thankfully for Chrissy her dad had more sense. Not her mom though. Her mom had gone so far as to drive her to the local nunnery and drop her off.

But after a talk with the Mother Superior and a call to her dad, they made the arrangement that Chrissy would finish up her schooling at the nunnery and then when she turned eighteen she could choose to stay or take one of the other two options.

When Chrissy chose Starcourt, the money was split between the nunnery and her dad.

Money that he then put aside in case she just wanted to walk away from escort business and live her life. The money would be used for whatever she wanted and that included school.

As far as her mother was concerned, Chrissy was still at the nunnery and was just refusing to see her.

Steve thought it was delicious revenge.

The knock came part way through his revery. He leapt over the sofa and ripped open the door.

“Well someone is comfy,” she cooed. As if she wasn’t dressed similarly. She too was wearing fuzzy pjs. But hers were bright pink and had a horn on the hood of the top.

Steve tugged the hood down over her eyes and teased, “And aren’t you the cutest thing?”

Chrissy blushed and pushed on him playfully with her shoulder, her hands were full of ice cream and a bottle of wine.

Steve grabbed the wine. “Cupcake prosecco? Looks yum!”

Chrissy grinned and held up her other prize. “Cookie dough!”

Steve kissed her cheek and led her inside. “You’re the best, sweetie. You didn’t have any plans for tonight?”

She shook her head. “Nope, no clients either.”

Steve reared his head back. “Uh oh, that doesn’t sound promising. Is your handler, Amy not scheduling you right?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I think it’s because I’m nearing the end of my contract and because I have money waiting for me, management is thinking I’m going to bail so they’re trying to stave of the inevitable.”

“Boo,” Steve hissed. “They shouldn’t be allowed to that. Plus, I thought you were staying?”

Chrissy blushed. “I am!” she insisted when he raised an eyebrow at her hesitation.

“Uh huh,” he teased further. “Sure sounds like it from here. You got someone who you want to snuggle up close with when you retire?”

Chrissy ducked her head. “Not anymore.”

Steve was almost to the sofa when that brought him up short. He frowned at her a moment before his face cleared with understanding.

“Don’t say it...” she warned.

He pouted. “But I thought that’s what this was about; us both complaining about our lack of love lives and eating and drinking our feelings?”

Chrissy sighed. “I hate it when you use puppy dog eyes. It’s too fucking effective.”

Steve grinned. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks, baby...” he sung at her.

She giggled and raced him around the sofa to nab her favorite spot on the far left side.

“You cheated!” he squealed. He set the bottle on the coffee table and padded into the kitchen for a bottle opener and two wine glasses.

He popped the cork and poured their glasses. “Spoons!” he said as he was most of the way sat down.

He put the wine glasses on the table and dashed back to the kitchen Chrissy’s giggles fast on his heels. He grabbed the spoons and raced back.

“Tada!” he cheered.

Chrissy set the tub of ice cream between them and dug in.

“So Eddie Munson, huh?” she said around her spoon.

Steve took a large sip of his wine before he he told her about his night. “Like I knew he was hot before now. With Tommy and Dustin both being fans it was hard to not see the guy everywhere.”

“But he’s hotter in person?” Chrissy prompted.

Steve blushed and swirled his drink thoughtfully. “I guess. But he’s so sweet and funny and yeah it doesn’t hurt that his legs look like they could go on for miles in those tight leather pants. That his chest feels out the even tighter see through mesh top he was wearing...”

He buried his head in his hands. “I was lucky wearing scent suppressants is required for each job otherwise the whole fucking gala would have been able to smell my reaction to him.”

“Ooh...” Chrissy said. “I bet you got a little wet for him, too, didn’t you?”

Steve brought his knees up to his chest and scooted away from her.

“Oh my god!” she giggled. “You totally did. This strong, hot alpha made the Steve Harrington wet.”

“I take it back,” he huffed. “You can go away now.”

Chrissy slapped his knee. “I will not! It’s a little...” she pursed her lips trying to find the right word. “Spicy.”

Steve covered his face again. “Oh god.”

“Stevie!” she said gently pulling his hands away. “It’s not a bad thing. I know it’s hard when most of our job is about sex, but babydoll...the fact that you can still have that reaction to a hot alpha means you’re not dead inside, okay?”

Steve sighed. “But I made my client mad at me,” he whimpered.

Chrissy set down her wine glass and moved the ice cream to the table. She scooted as close to him as she could. “No you didn’t.”

He turned his head away from her, but she grabbed his cheeks and gently brought them around.

“You did nothing wrong,” she insisted. “I mean it. Eddie was the host and the two of you were only being friendly. Yeah, you got hot and bothered under the collar for this alpha, but it was up to the alpha you were with to decide how to behave and he chose to be territorial and rude. You aren’t his property. You aren’t anyone’s property, babe.”

Steve nodded. He let out a low breath. “The way Eddie smelled, Chrissy. I had never smelled any alpha like it before. It was warm and spicy in the Christmas way and not the spicy as in a burning mouthfeel way.”

She opened her mouth to reply when he suddenly shifted gears. “So tell me how long you’ve had a crush on my best friend.”

Chrissy went bright red. Scarlet even. “Like forever. Which is decidedly unhelpful. Like I know it’s impossible while she’s still your handler, because Starcourt would never let a handler date a former escort. But she’s so funny and sweet and smart...”

“That you just want to eat her all up?” Steve teased.

She swatted him playfully. “You’re just saying that to get back at me for the wet comment.”

He raised his eyebrows suggestively. She hit him again and he yelped in protest.

Steve picked up his glass and drained the rest of the liquid. He poured himself another glass and held out the bottle for Chrissy, but she shook her head.

“One glass is enough for me,” she muttered.

After a moment of swirling his wine Steve said, “Stay. After your contract is paid in full, Chrissy. Just stay. You love it, even if Robin Buckley was an option, you know you would be happier here than anywhere else. You shine as an escort, sweetie.”

Chrissy picked up her glass and downed the rest of her wine. “Fuck it. Yeah, I’m going to stay. I do love this job. It’s amazing.” She looked at the bottle a moment. “And what the hell, pour me another!”

Steve cheered and emptied the bottle into her glass. She laughed as it almost splashed over the top.

“To being Starcourt escorts for life!” he said as he raised his glass.

She clinked her glass against his. “Here, here!”

They gulped down their drinks and dug into the ice cream again, laughing and talking.

Steve smiled. Maybe tonight wasn’t the disaster he thought it was. He was so glad to have a friend like Chrissy.

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva

[beneathstarryskies]

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend Grimmjow just can't let you go.

Word Count: 2,380

Warnings: toxic behavior, implied social media stalking, mentions of alcohol, fem!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), manipulation

I think it's pretty tame overall but please heed the warnings

Your reasons for breaking up with Grimmjow were valid, although you’d never get him to see that. He was possessive. He was rude to your friends. Although he was never aggressive towards you, it was tiresome to pull him away from every single man who even looked in your direction when you were out together. You loved him dearly, but the relationship had become exhausting. It was tiresome to always have to be the mature one. 

Grimmjow didn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. You were his everything. The only ray of light in his world; the person that kept him grounded more than he’d ever been before. 

“Good morning, doll,” he texted you every single morning. Sometimes you answered because you felt a tug of guilt in your chest, or because you secretly missed him just as badly. But then you set your phone aside and tried to go on about the day. 

He didn’t have to know you still slept in his shirts or sometimes sprayed the cologne he left over on your pillow so that you could pretend he was still sleeping beside you. 

A month after you’ve dumped him, you manage to go a full week without succumbing to the urge to text him back. Grimmjow was going nuts. He still texted you every morning, sometimes with sprinklings of “thinking about you, dollface” throughout the day. As he grew more desperate, he even sent you a dick pic, “don’t you miss me?” the accompanying text had said.

At the end of the week, your friends managed to talk you into going out. They had you convinced all you needed was a little rebound dick to get over your dry spell, and you’d be back in the saddle. 

What they didn’t know was that Grimmjow was all over your social media accounts. The second that group selfie went up, he recognized the club you were at. It’s one of your favorites. 

~

You were already a little drunk when your eyes fell on Grimmjow. He was sitting at the bar wearing a black button-up that was wide open, showing off his muscular chest, and a pair of ripped jeans. He looked as casual and calm as you remembered him, but with that air of confidence that seemed to attract everyone towards him. You felt a surge of jealousy when you noticed another girl sitting beside him, smiling brightly as she attempted to chat him up. 

“What are you looking at?” one of your friends asks, swaying drunkenly as she leans against your shoulder. 

“He’s here,” you say. “Grimmjow.” 

Her eyes follow yours towards the bar, and she raises her eyebrows. You sigh as you watch the girl beside him lean closer, but you can’t sink to his level. You don’t want to be the one getting jealous and making an ass out of yourself. 

You down your drink and then try to look confident as you make your way to the bar for another. Even though you’re viscerally aware of his presence just a few seats down from where you’re leaning over the bar ordering drinks, you try to appear as carefree and unaware of him as you can. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him standing up. Then his hand is on your hip, squeezing it like you’re still his. He leans in and you can feel his breath hot against your ear. 

“Thought you were hiding from me, dollface. Why didn’t you come say hello?” he says. You shudder immediately, not wanting to give in but craving more of his touch. You squirm out of his grasp. 

“I’m not in the habit of saying hello to exes. Especially ones that have a new girl hanging off of them” you roll your eyes. 

“Ouch,” he holds his chest as he feigns hurt but then he’s slipping right back into that maddeningly confident smirk. “Don’t be jealous, dollface. I just met her, but we both know who I came here lookin’ for.” 

“I-I’m not jealous!” 

“Oh? Maybe I should take her home then,” he leans in closer and waves at the girl even though she’s looking pretty pissed. “She is cute, right?” 

Your ass is saved by the bartender passing your drink to you. Grimmjow’s hand wraps around the glass before yours does. He steps back, holding your drink hostage. 

“You never change, doll. Always the same drink,” he chuckles as he takes a sip. 

“Don’t be an asshole, Grimmjow! I came to have fun with my friends,” you whine. 

“Fine, fine. Let’s have fun, then,” he downs your drink in one gulp and sets the empty glass on the bar. His large hand wraps around your wrist and he drags you to the dancefloor. 

“Grimmjow! I can’t!” 

His arms wrap around your waist, guiding you to sway against him. 

“You used to love dancing with me,” he chuckles and kisses your neck. “Used to beg me to hold you against me and dance with you like this” 

He purrs against your ear as he rubs his crotch against your ass. You whine when you feel his half-hard cock against you, and for a brief moment you remember how good it used to feel when he bent you over and…

“Grimmjow, my friends,” you whine half-heartedly. 

“Baby, they’re too drunk to even realize you’re missing. You need me to take care of you.” 

Your head falls back against his shoulder as he guides you to sway to the music. You can’t help pressing your ass back against him, and he growls in response. 

“Hey, I think you need to go home,” he whispers against your ear. “Want me to take you there, baby?” 

“I’m not ready,” you pout. 

“Mm, I think you are,” he insists. 

He pulls away and you miss his warmth against you so quickly. You almost want to throw yourself in his arms, but instead, you let him take your hand and guide you outside to his car. 

“Grimmjow, we shouldn’t…”

“Why not, baby? You still want me, I still want you.” 

He knows deep down you’re still in love. He just needed to remind you. He needed you to remember how good things would be between you. It doesn’t have to end just because you have some silly notion in your head that you’re better off apart. He’ll prove it to you. 

“Grimmjow, we broke up,” you whine, trying to remind yourself as much as him.

He pins you against the car and kisses you passionately. It takes you a brief moment to lean in and kiss him back. You just can’t stop yourself. Your hands tangle in his hair as your tongues rub together in a fiery fight for dominance that Grimmjow easily wins. 

“Fuck,” you whisper as the two of you pull away from the kiss. You shudder softly and have to restrain yourself from kissing him again. 

“I should go back inside, my friends are probably looking for me.” 

“Come on, baby. You know they’re not. They saw us dancing. They know who you’re leaving with.” 

You try to resist, but he’s opening the car door for you and ushering you inside. Before you have a chance to gather your thoughts, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car while he’s cranking the engine. As he starts down the road, one hand is on the wheel while the other squeezes and kneads your bare thighs. 

“I missed this. I missed you, really fucking bad,” he confesses while keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the road. You can tell by the tight set of his jaw, barely visible by the streetlights ahead, that it wasn’t easy for him to admit his feelings. 

“I miss you too,” you admit. 

“We don’t have to stay broken up, you know? It’s just stupid to torture ourselves this way.” 

“I know.” 

You felt stupid admitting it out loud. Over the past few weeks he’s been a constant presence either on your mind or on your phone vying for your attention. You tried so hard to stay strong and resilient. Now in the darkness of his car with his hand on your thigh and a couple drinks running through your system it’s all too easy to give in to his intense presence. 

“Have you been with anyone else?” you ask quietly, not wanting the answer but needing to know. 

“I mean…Fuck, why do you have to ask me that?” 

“Tell the truth,” you plead. 

He looks ashamed. The car pulls to a stop in front of your building, and there he is again staring out the windshield into the dark night. 

“Yeah. Just a hookup…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I thought fucking someone else would bring me out of it, you know? Take me back to who I was before I met you, but it didn’t.” 

“I haven’t been with anyone else.” 

“Am I an asshole for feeling relieved?” he chuckles bitterly, already knowing the answer. 

“Sorta,” you laugh too and lean across the console to kiss his cheek. 

“Gonna invite me in?” 

“Will you still be there in the morning?” 

“Yeah, and the next one after that if you’ll let me.” 

You know you shouldn’t let him. You should tell him no. You should push his hand off your thigh and yell at him for being a jerk. Instead you nod slowly and wait for him to open the door for you. 

Inside your apartment, Grimmjow leads you by the hand to your bedroom. He doesn’t wait for your half-hearted arguments before his lips are crashing against yours. He lets out a soft purr when you kiss him, and he lifts you up to lay you down on the bed without having to break the kiss. His lips drag down your chin to your neck where he nibbles and sucks marks onto your flesh so you’ll remember for days where he’s been. Greedy hands tug at your dress and knead at your flesh in a discombobulated flurry as though he can’t decide whether he wants to touch you or rip your dress to shreds. 

“You smell so fucking good,” he growls in the brief instant he can stand not having his mouth on you. Even as he bunches your dress up at your hips, he’s still pressing kisses everywhere he can reach, not caring if his mouth hits your skin or fabric. 

“Grimmjow,” you whine. 

“Mm, I love how you say my name.” 

When he finally settles between your thighs, he can’t even take the time to properly remove your panties. He leans in and drags his tongue against the damp lace. Just the taste of you sends a shiver of delight down his spine. His tongue manages to find your clit and he teases it until you’re tugging on his hair, pleading for more. He hooks his thumb into the crotch of your panties and pushes them aside before leaning in to continue his assault. Feeling his breath on your pussy and the softness of his tongue flicking against your clit makes you whine with need. 

He dips his fingers into your entrance to test how wet you are before getting up on his knees. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it onto the ground before reaching down to unbuckle his pants. He pushes them down just past his ass. 

“You look so pretty like this, baby girl,” he purrs as he takes in the sight of you laying underneath him. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re panting softly. He grabs your legs and lets them rest over his shoulders. Then, he grabs your hips to pull you closer to him. Your bottom half drags against his thighs until he has you settled just right. 

“I want you so bad,” you moan. 

“I want you too, baby.” 

His eyes focus between your thighs. He drags his cock between your folds to tease your cunt before finally lining himself up to your entrance. You let out a wanton moan as he slides into you slowly, savoring every inch of your velvet walls surrounding his cock. You watch as his eyes roll back in his head, and his jaw goes slack as he bottoms out into you. 

“Oh fuck, you feel good,” he pants. 

He’s almost forgotten how much he loves fucking you. You’re so needy and clingy for him. Even in this positon with your legs on his shoulders, you reach out to grab his hand. You make everything feel so close and intimate in ways he’d never experienced with anyone else. So often Grimmjow has fucked without feeling but from the very first time you were together he felt loved and seen. It was a feeling he craved during your time apart and a feeling he won’t let go of easily. 

“I love you,” you swallow hard. 

“I love you too,” he grunts as he thrusts. 

He caresses your tits and stomach slowly because he just can’t stand not touching you as much as possible. He moans as he picks up his pace, pounding away as you moan with pleasure underneath him. 

“Fuck,” you moan softly. 

His thumb traces down your stomach before pressing against your clit. Then, he begins rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves just as he knows you like it, making your eyes roll back with pleasure. With just a few more thrusts, your walls are tightening around his cock. You arch your back as waves of pure, white-hot bliss roll over you. 

When your vision clears, you realize he’s let your legs fall to his sides. His eyes are glazed over with lust as he lowers his body over yours, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His pace quickens as he chases his high, then at the last possible moment, he considers pulling out. As you cling to him, he decides against it. He groans and purrs against your ear as he fills you to the brim with his seed, marking you as his once more. 

His purring fills the room as he nuzzles against your neck. You rub his back in easy circles. Your eyes flutter closed and you let out a small sigh. Deep down you know there’s no getting rid of him now, and you’re not sure if you want to. 

[emeritusemeritus]

hello !! i adore your work, so i was thinking about asking for a rq about the weasley twins x reader (if you don't like fred x reader x george it's totally fine, if that's the case then fred x reader is just as perfect) where they were dating back at hogwarts or at least have a situationship until she twins leave because of umbridge

and mind you, they did invite the reader to come with them, but she refuses because reader needed to end her last school year (due to her ambitions) and didn't want to leave her younger brother alone at hogwarts with umbridge there

so can you write a scenario where, two years later (NO WAR at all 💔) the twins receive a letter from her with tickets for a quidditch game? from a team they like nonetheless. they go to the game and find out that the reader, who was a hufflepuff chaser back at school, now managed to become a professional chaser and invited them to watch her first game?

pretty please! im sorry if this became a huge text lmao once again i adore your work and i hope you have a lovely day 🌷

Chase Me

My dear sweet Anon, I cannot apologise enough for how long this has taken me to complete for you. Life has been crazy and it’s in no way a reflection of your ask because this was super fun to write. I hope I did your idea justice!! 🖤

Warnings: slight past angst, longing, heartbreak. Happy endings. Reader is a hufflepuff- set after Canon. NO WAR. No mention of mouldy voldy or death. Mentions of Umbridge and her nastiness. Not beta read nor spellchecked.

Word count: 2.8k

"Oi Fred! Mail's here!" George shouts up the winding, wooden stairs as he unlatches the window where an owl was not so patiently waiting to drop off the thick letter held tightly in it's beak. George takes the letter from the gorgeous grey owl and pats it once on the head, frowning slightly when it simply flies away without so much as a chirp.

His frown deepens when he looks at the front of the brown envelope, seeing a multitude of stamps he didn't recognise and very neat handwriting that listed both his and Fred's names with delicate precision.

"Bit early for mail isn't it?" Fred says as he walks down the stairs to the main shop, still buttoning up his shirt with the arms rolled up, his untied bow-tie hanging around his neck.

"It wasn't Easy," George mutters, still examining the letter in his hands, trying to decipher the stamps. 'Easy' was their shop owl, an inside joke of sorts as it turned out once he was purchased that he was just as erratic as Errol once was, leading them through both call out 'easy!' Whenever the bird neared any glass panes or ledges, most notably because he never slowed down upon descent. Plus Fred said that Easy Weasley would be a great name for a pet and George had to agree, though he feared it was setting up a lifelong curse upon any animal that they might acquire, knowing Fred would want to keep the theme going. Easy, Peasy, wheezy, Breezy... it probably wouldn't end there.

"What's that?" Fred asks, noticing the brown envelope in his twin's hands, just finishing up his top button.

"Don't know," George says, still examining it.

"That's because you have to open them to read them mate," Fred jokes, but doesn't get the reaction he hoped for, seeing George too transfixed to shoot him the mock-glare he'd anticipated.

"Does this writing look familiar to you?" George hands Fred the envelope but doesn't take his eyes off it.

"A bit," Fred says with a slight squint as he looks at the neat writing on the front, quite liking the way his name was written in the fancy script. Fred bites the bullet and opens the envelope, his eyes drifting quizzically at the unique stamps on the front.

He pulls out the letter first as it fills the top of the envelope, still feeling other things in the bottom that he could get to later. The piece of paper is folded and heavy, so opaque that he can't see any writing through it.

At the top of the letter, even before he can begin to try and pull it open, is a little piece of card paper clipped onto the letter, stating 'To be read by Messers F and G Weasley of 93 Diagon Alley only.'

They cast a quick glance at each other in trepidation at the unusual literature and Fred begins to take off the card attached to the letter.

To his surprise, underneath exactly where the card had been temporarily fixed were the words 'I solemnly swear...'

Fred doesn't hesitate and pulls out his wand, tapping the paper gently and uttering the words he'd not spoken in so long, but remembered with great fondness and complete recollection.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The paper immediately begins to unseal itself, the paper opening up like a friendly howler and handwritten words begin to fill the lines that have started appearing on the page.

The second Fred sees the opening line, he knows exactly who it's from, as does George.

'To my favourite jokesters'

"Well bloody hell," Fred says, slightly bewildered by the turn of events as he leans back, resting his hips against the counter whilst he gathers himself. In complete honesty, he's fighting back a ball of emotion at the back of his throat as he takes in the words on the page from the one that got away. She'd been everything to him since that first meeting on the train, the little Hufflepuff who gave him a run for his money both on and off the quidditch pitch. He's been convinced she was the one, his endgame, the love of his life- until his twin had piped up about his own feelings for her.

They made it work eventually, found a rhythm that suited them all, through trial and error and everything in between. They found love, the three of them with her being the rose between two thorns, the center of their world.

No one hated Dolores Umbridge more than Fred Weasley, not even Harry, the entire nation of wizards, witches or any of the wronged mythical creatures. The toad faced witch had ruined everything inserting herself into their school and their lives, spoiling the happiest time in his whole life and putting a rather forceful stop on all the plans he'd made. They'd talked about it since their fifth year, when the plans really started to take off. They'd finish school together, find the money to start the shop and they'd all move in together in the little flat above the shop. Eventually he and George would make enough money for a real house, just like she deserved and she'd be free to do anything she wanted to do, anything all all with the constant support of her two loves.

But that didn't happen, not even slightly. Umbridge had made it impossible for them to stay, she'd forced them to leave and though they did it in a spectacular way that would no doubt be the talk of hogwarts for many years following and a person high in Fred's own personal life- it was also one of the saddest times.

His love had stayed at the school, to finish her studies and to protect her little brother Michael who had unfortunately seemed to be under Umbridge's radar, meaning that he was far from safe. She couldn't leave and they couldn't stay. It was heartbreaking to leave her there, to face the few months alone without her. Everything seemed strange between he and George, always knowing that there was something vital missing. But then the weeks bled into months and that eventually turned into over a year as she got a job right after school, taking her away from them this time. They focused on the shop and on their products, keeping themselves busy where they could so that they wouldn't feel that constant void of her presence but late at night it was hard to deny.

George had taken it the worst and being the older brother, Fred had naturally tried to help him the best he could. He'd purposefully give George jobs to do that would require concentration, to set out problems that didn't have an answer, just so he'd forget about her for a while, but it didn't always work. There was a sadness about George that was never there before, always the happier, gentler and more sensitive of the two, these days he was quite often known as the quieter one too. He's happy, of course he is, he's living his dream and they are successful- he still laughs, jokes and pranks just as much as before but there's always just a little piece of him that is gone.

"It's really from her?" George says quietly, his eyes scanning back and forth over the document repeatedly, as if he can't take it in enough. The tone of his voice pulls at Fred's heartstrings, the sadness seeping out once again.

"Looks like it mate," Fred says, trying to remain calm and neutral though his pulse is a stark juxtaposition to his outward demeanour.

"Two tickets for the Sandacre Sirens, how the bloody hell did she get hold of these?" George asks, seeming to come to life once the realisation sinks in of what exactly is in front of him. He lifts the tickets up to his face fit closer inspection, holding them a little too tightly to be casual and inspects the tickets, noticing that they were really good seats- really really good seats. His favourite team too, though admittedly he'd been lax in his support of quidditch lately due to being so busy with the shop, another part of his old self he'd lost.

George had never fretted so much over what to wear. He grew up in a poor family with little resources and even less care of fashion or quality of being presentable. He was the tallest of all the Weasley's, even a little bit over Fred though it was never mentioned, meaning that for as long as he could remember his clothes had never truly fit him, most of them being hand-me-downs from Charlie or Bill (he'd outgrown Percy by his 12th birthday). Now they had money, he and Fred had nice suits for the shop and a selection of better fitting clothes for the rest of the time but he didn't have a single thing that would be good enough for seeing her again. Maybe Fred would know what to wear...

The crowd was booming, nearly every seat in the stadium filled, with loud chanting and joyous singing echoing around the stadium from both teams. The atmosphere was electric and chaotic- just like the twins liked it. She'd been very vague in her instructions of where to meet or how to find each other and so the twins mutually decided to take their seats, hoping to find her there in the neighbouring seat beside theirs. Only, there was no seat beside theirs, or at least it was just the occupier of the seat was certainly not y/n. Their names were written on little magical signs that could not be removed even with magic, scrawled in her own neat handwriting that flew away like a little bird once the twins prepared to take their reserved seats.

More confused than ever, they shared a confused look, near identical in confusion with eyebrows pulled into semi-frowns.

"Messers Weasley? Your refreshments," an usher said from beside them, enchanting a tray to hover in front of their spaces, filled to the brim with all sorts of delicious treats and beverages-  personalised to each twin. Fred couldn't help but kick his lips when his eyes fixed upon the fizzy bottle of dandelion and burdock and George's mouth watered upon seeing the butterbeer tarts stacked up on the tray, knowing they were just for him.

George squints, looking at the note on the tray in her distinctive writing, urging them to check under their seats. He cracks up laughing when he feels exactly what was there, seeing Fred do the same. Under George's seat was a thick knitted scarf with stripes of orange and purple, the colours of the sandacre sirens, as well as a big puffy keyring and a little commercial sized face pint kit. Under Fred's seat, is a matching scarf and face paint kit plus a ridiculously big hat in the same colours.

They know instantly- it’s the exact same thing they wore to the Quidditch World Cup back in 1994, when y/n was with them.

"Excuse me, have you seen y/n?" Fred asks the attendant, trying to call him back as he prepares to walk away. To his confusion, the usher simply stares back at him with equal confusion before letting out a humourless chuckle as he walks away, leaving both of the twins perplexed.

“To your seats, the match will begin in five minutes,” the announcement sounds out loudly, urging all ticket holders to claim their seats. The twins look around in nervous anticipation, excited for the game but more confused than ever when the seats around them fill up, completely ending their hope that she would appear beside them. Why had she invited them?

The other team flew onto the pitch with a roar from one half of the crowd, each player flying through the magically held banner in perfect synchronisation as they played up to the crowd.

“Oi, look!” George says to Fred with a. Less than gentle nudge as he extends his finger, pointing to one of the large screens directly across from them which had a large message printed onto the screen.

“A warm welcome to our new Siren chaser, Y/n L/n!”

Beside it was a photo of her, slightly older than they remembered but still as breathtakingly gorgeous as she stood with a proud smile, clutching her broom and dressed in her chaser finest.

Just then, a huge explosion of fireworks occurred on the pitch and their attention was dragged away from her photo, seeing that all the players had appeared through the residual cloud of smoke. Their eyes searched frantically, almost perfectly in sync as they tried to find the once familiar form of their love.

There she was. She looked majestic, proud and ever so slightly nervous as she beamed at the crowd, graciously accepting their cheers and feeding off their energy. Her eyes searched the crowd secretively but Fred noticed, seeing her gaze flick between the stands.

Their eyes suddenly met, very briefly, and Fred watched in wonder as she momentarily lost her balance upon the broom just for a second as she gazed upon the two brothers who were here just for her. Her smile widened still as she smiled at the two men she had loved so very much and in gaining some form of composure, she fired off a quick, flirtatious wink towards them before zooming off to her starting position followed by the starting whistle. It was then, Fred reached down and with the pride of a dear old friend and lover, placed the comically large hat upon his head and cracked open one of the face paints, drawing a little flag onto George’s cheek, though he hardly noticed, and then got his twin to do the same- he’d learnt how uncomfortable a full face of face paint was from last time and was not making the same mistake.

“Write her name,” Fred urged George, unable to keep the smile off his face.

After that, Fred could feel George’s tension all throughout the match, even without looking at him. If he sat any further forward upon the edge of his seat, he’d surely end up a pile of limbs on the floor, his entire focus solely on her. Fred smirked, seeing her eyes flicker over to them whenever they could, though everyone else would assume she was searching for the quaffle, or an opening to take the shot- but Fred knew better.

She played wondrously, an undoubted success in her first game with the Siren’s- cementing her newfound reputation of excellence in the quidditch community. Ten points here, ten points there and they were quickly adding up, creating a smooth win over the other team. She was quick, swift and agile, her flying skills incomparable as she made it look effortless- like a form of graceful dance. It was enchanting to watch her, entrancing almost.

Fred almost leapt out of his seat when an advancing bludger almost caught the tail of her broom and whether it was his inner beater or his inner boyfriend, he instinctively almost reached out to bat it away, just as he had done so many times before. She avoided it, just, and had firm words with the beater flying above her who had done very little to protect her as she nearly did a haversacking foul, just to avoid the rogue bludger.

Finally, when neither Fred nor George could wait for the game to be over just so they could see you, the final buzzer rang, the lights in the stadium turning orange and purple to denote the overwhelming win to the Sirens. The roar of the crowd was near deafening as more fireworks erupted around the players who were cheering, crying and hugging midair. George and Fred were instantly on their feet, trying to cheer louder than anyone else in the stadium just so she’d hear, their long arms rising up and proudly holding their scarves above their head. It had been a magical night for Quidditch, and even more so for the Siren’s new chaser. The little hufflepuff chaser turned professional right before their eyes.

It was then, watching her turn directly to the two twins mid-celebration and seeing her smile brighten even further that Fred knew he wouldn’t let this night end with them parting once again. He turned to George, seeing him just as enraptured as he himself felt, and knew he didn’t need to ask if Georgie felt the same way.

Never again would they let her get away.

[thewidowsghost]

The Sky (Annabeth Chase x Jackson!Reader)

After hearing Annabeth gripe about her father for the last two years, (Y/n) had expected him to have devil horns and fangs. She had not expected him to be wearing an old-fashioned aviator’s cap and goggles. He looks so strange, with his eyes bugging out through the glasses, that she, her brother Percy, Thalia, and Zoe take a step back on the back porch. 

“Hello,” he says in a friendly voice, “Are you delivering my airplanes?”

Thalia, Zoe, Percy, and (Y/n) look at each other warily. 

“Um, no, sir,” Percy says. 

“Drat,” he says. “I need three more Sopwith Camels.”

“Right,” (Y/n) says, though she has no idea what he’s talking about. “We’re, uh, friends,” - not exactly - “of Annabeth’s.”

“Annabeth?” he straightens, as if (Y/n) had just given him an electric shock. “Is she all right? Has something happened?”

None of the demigods answer, but their faces must’ve told him that something was very wrong. He takes off his cap and goggles. He has the same sandy-colored hair as Annabeth, and intense brown eyes. He’s handsome, for an older guy, but it looks as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his shirt is buttoned wrong, so one side of his collar sticks up higher than the other side. 

“You’d better come in,” Dr. Chase says grimly. 

The Chase’s house smells like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and jazz music is coming from the kitchen. It seems like a messy, happy kind of home – the kind of place that someone had lived in forever.

“Dad!” a little boy screams. “He’s taking apart my robots!”

“Bobby,” Dr. Chase calls absently, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“I’m Bobby,” the little boy protests. “He’s Matthew!”

“Mathew,” Dr. Chase calls, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“Okay, Dad!”

Dr. Chase turns to us. “We’ll go upstairs to my study. This way.”

“Honey?” a woman calls. Annabeth’s stepmother appears in the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Who are our guests?” she asks. 

“Oh,” Dr. Chase says. “This is . . .” He stares blankly at the demigods.

“Frederick,” she chides. “You forgot to ask them their names?”

The demigods introduce themselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seems nice to (Y/n). She asks if the demigods were hungry, and they admit that they were, and she lets them know she’d bring up some cookies, sandwiches, and sodas. 

“Dear,” Dr. Chase says. “They came about Annabeth?”

(Y/n) half expects Mrs. Chase to turn into a raving lunatic at the mention of her stepdaughter, but she just purses her lips and looks concerned. “All right. Go on up to the study, and I’ll bring you some food.” Her gaze rests knowingly on (Y/n), and she smiles at the daughter of Poseidon. “Nice meeting you, (Y/n). I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Upstairs, they walk into Dr. Chase’s study, and a gasp of amazement escapes from (Y/n)’s lips. 

The room is wall-to-wall books, but what really catches (Y/n)’s attention are the war models. There is a huge table with miniature tanks and soldiers fighting along a blue painted river, with hills and fake trees and stuff. Old-fashioned biplanes hang on strings from the ceiling, tilted at crazy angles like they were in the middle of a dogfight.

Dr. Chase smiles. "Yes. The Third Battle of Ypres. I'm writing a paper, you see, on the use of Sopwith Camels to strafe enemy lines. I believe they played a much greater role than they've been given credit for."

He plucks a biplane from its string and sweeps it across the battlefield, making airplane engine noises as he knocks down little German soldiers. 

(Y/n) smiles slightly, looking up at her girlfriend’s father. 

Zoe comes over and studies the battlefield. “The German lines were farther from the river.”

Dr. Chase stares at her. “How do you know that?”

"I was there," she says matter-of-factly. "Artemis wanted to show us how horrible war was, the way mortal men fight each other. And how foolish, too. The battle was a complete waste."

Dr. Chase opens his mouth in shock. “You –”

“She’s a Hunter, sir,” Thalia says. “But that’s not wy we’re here. We need –”

"You saw the Sopwith Camels?" Dr. Chase says. "How many were there? What formations did they fly?"

“Sir,” (Y/n) breaks in this time. “Annabeth, sh-she’s in danger.”

That gets his attention. He sets the biplane down.

“Of course,” he says. “Tell me everything.”

It isn’t easy, but they try. Meanwhile, the afternoon light is fading outside. 

The demigods were running out of time.

When they'd finished, Dr. Chase collapses in his leather recliner. He laces his hands. "My poor brave Annabeth. We must hurry."

"Sir, we need transportation to Mount Tamalpais," Zoe says. "And we need it immediately."

"I'll drive you. Hmm. it would be faster to fly in my Camel, but it only seats two."

"Whoa, you have an actual biplane?" Percy asks.

"Down at Crissy Field," Dr. Chase says proudly. "That's the reason I had to move here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—"

Sir," (Y/n) says. "Just a car would be great. And it might be better if we went without you. It's too dangerous."

Dr. Chase frowns uncomfortably. “Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I . . . I can’t just –”

"Snacks," Mrs. Chase announces. She pushes through the door with a tray full of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Cokes and cookies fresh out of the oven, the chocolate chips still gooey. Thalia and Percy inhale a few cookies while Zoe says, "I can drive, sir. I'm not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car."

Mrs. Chase knits her eyebrows. "What's this about?"

“Annabeth is in danger,” Dr. Chase says. “On Mount Tam. I would drive them . . . but apparently it’s no place for mortals.”

It sounds to (Y/n) like it was really hard for him to get that last part out.

(Y/n) waits for Mrs. Chase to say no, but to her surprise, Mrs. Chase just nods. “Then they’d better get going.”

“Right!” Dr. Chase jumps and starts patting his pockets. “My keys . . .”

His wife sighs. "Frederick, honestly. You'd lose your head if it weren't wrapped inside your aviator hat. The keys are hanging on the peg by the front door."

“Right!” Dr. Chase says. 

Zoe and (Y/n) each grab a sandwich. “Thank you both,” Zoe says. “We should go. Now!”

The four hustle out the door and down the stairs, the Chases right behind them. 

“(Y/n)” Mrs. Chase calls as they’re leaving, “tell Annabeth . . . tell her she still has a home here, will you? Remind her of that.”

(Y/n) takes one last look at the messy living room - Annabeth’s half brothers spilling LEGOs and arguing, and the smell of cookies filling the air. Not a bad place, she thinks. 

“I’ll tell her,” (Y/n) replies, smiling slightly at her girlfriend’s stepmother. 

They run out to the yellow Volkswagen convertible parked in the driveway. The sun is going down, and (Y/n) figures they have less than an hour to save Annabeth.

. . . 

At the top of the mountain are ruins, blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses. Broken columns. Statues of bronze that look as though they’d been half melted. 

“The ruins of Mount Othrys,” Thalia whispers in awe. 

“Yes,” Zoe says. “It was not here before. This is bad.”

“What’s Mount Othrys?” Percy asks, feeling like a fool as usual.

“The mountain fortress of the Titans,” Zoe explains. “In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was –” she winces and holds her side. 

“You’re hurt,” (Y/n) says, ignoring her own possibly cracked ribs. “Let me see.”

“No!” Zoe protests. “It is nothing. I was saying... in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces.”

“But . . . how is it here?”

Thalia looks around cautiously as they pick their way through the rubble, past blocks of marble and broken archways. "It moves in the same way that Olympus moves. It always exists on the edges of civilization. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good."

“Why?”

"This is Atlas's mountain," Zoe says. "Where he hold s—" She freezes. Her voice is ragged with despair. "Where he used to hold up the sky."

They had reached the summit of the mountain. A few yards ahead of them, gray clouds swirl in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touches the mountaintop, but instead rests on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze dreams. This is what (Y/n) had seen in her dream - though it hadn't been a cavern roof that Artemis was forced to hold. 

It was the weight of the world.

"My lady!" Zoe rushes forward. 

But Artemis says, "Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now." Her voice is strained, and she is drenched in sweat. (Y/n) had never seen a goddess in pain before, but the weight of the sky is clearly too much for Artemis.

Zoe is crying. She runs forward, despite Artemis’s protests, and tugs at the chains. 

A booming voice speaks behind them: “Ah, how touching.”

They turn. 

The General is staging there in his brown suit. At his side are Luke - and half a dozen dracaenae bearing the weight of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. 

Annabeth stands at Luke’s side - her hands cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, and Luke is holding the point of his sword to her throat. 

(Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s gaze, her sword, Tsunami, still in pen form in her hand, a thousand questions running through her head. There is one message Annabeth is sending her, however: RUN!

(Y/n)’s face hardens. “Luke,” (Y/n) snarls. “Let her go.”

Luke’s smile is pale and weak. “That is the General’s decision, (Y/n). But it’s good to see you again.”

(Y/n) spats at him. 

The general chuckles. “So much for old friends. And you, Zoe. it’s been a long time. How’s my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you.”

“Do not respond,” Artemis groans. “Do not challenge him.”

“Wait a second,” Percy says. “You’re Atlas?”

The General glances at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Percy says, and (Y/n) grunts her agreement. “We won’t let you.”

The General sneers. “You have no right to interfere, little heroes. This is a family matter.”

Percy frowns. “A family matter?”

“Yes,” Zoe says bleakly. “Atlas is my father.”

The terrible thing is: (Y/n) can see the resemblance. Atlas has the same regal expression as Zoe, the same cold proud look in his eyes that Zoe sometimes got when she was mad, though on him, it looks a thousand times more evil. The Titan was all the things (Y/n) had originally disliked about Zoe, with none of the good she’d come to appreciate in her friend. 

"Let Artemis go," Zoe demands.

Atlas walks closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

Zoe opens her mouth to speak, but Artemis says, "No! Do not offer, Zoe! I forbid you."

Atlas smirks. He kneels next to Artemis and tries to touch her face, but the goddess bites at him, almost taking off his fingers.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckles. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

(Y/n) looks at Annabeth. She is desperately trying to tell (Y/n) something. She motions her head towards Luke. But all (Y/n) can do is stare at her. (Y/n) hadn't noticed before, but something about her had changed. Her beautiful blond hair was now streaked with gray - but that didn’t make Annabeth look less beautiful in (Y/n)’s eyes. 

"From holding the sky," Thalia mutters, as if she'd (Y/n)’s mind. "The weight should've killed her."

"I don't understand," Percy says. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas laughs. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." Atlas smiles. "Unless someone else takes it from you." He approaches the group, studying Thalia, (Y/n), and Percy. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," (Y/n) spits. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

"So you're another coward," (Y/n) snickers.

Atlas's eyes glow with hatred. With difficulty, he turns his attention to Thalia. "As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you."

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. He looked terribly weak, and he spoke every word as if it were painful. If (Y/n) didn't hate his guts so much, she almost would've felt sorry for him. "Thalia, you still can join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waves his hand, and next to us a pool of water appears: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for the Ophiotaurus. Percy can imagine Bessie in that pool. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more he was sure he could hear Bessie mooing.

Don't think about him! Suddenly Grover's voice is inside my mind—the empathy link. Percy could feel his emotions. He is on the verge of panic. I'm losing Bessie. Block the thoughts!

Percy tries to make his mind go blank. He tries to think about basketball players, skateboards, and the different kinds of candy in my mom's shop. Anything but Bessie.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persists. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke . . ." Her voice is full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods?

Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Thalia shakes her head. "Free Annabeth. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promises, "it can be like old times. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree . . ."His voice falters. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

(Y/n) doesn’t know what he means, but the fear in his voice sounds real enough. She could believe that Luke was in danger.

His life depends on Thalia's joining his cause. And (Y/n) is afraid Thalia might believe it, too.

"Do not, Thalia," Zoe warns. "We must fight them."

Luke waves his hand again, and a fire appears. A bronze brazier, just like the one at

camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," (Y/n) mutters. "No."

Behind Luke, the golden sarcophagus begins to glow. As it did, (Y/n) sees images in the mist

all around us: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful

palace rising around them, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promises, in a voice so strained it is hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

He points toward the ocean, and (Y/n)’s heart falls. Marching up the side of the mountain, from the beach where the Princess Andromeda was docked, is a great army. Dracaenae and

Laestrygonians, monsters and half-bloods, hellhounds, harpies, and other things (Y/n) can’t even name. The whole ship must've been emptied, because there are hundreds, many more than (Y/n) had seen on board last summer. And they are marching toward the mountain. In a few minutes, they would be there.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke says "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitates. She gazes at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wants in the world is to believe him. Then she levels her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleads. "Please. Don't make me . . . Don't make him destroy you."

There is no time. If that army gets to the top of the hill, we would be overwhelmed. (Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s eyes again. Annabeth nods.

(Y/n) looks at Percy, Thalia, and Zoe, and she decides it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to die fighting with friends like this.

"Now," (Y/n) says, and together, they charge.

Thalia goes straight for Luke. The power of her shield is so great that his dragon- women bodyguards flee in a panic, dropping the golden coffin and leaving him alone. But despite his sickly appearance, Luke is still quick with his sword. He snarls like a wild animal and counterattacks. When his sword, Backbiter, met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils of power.

As for (Y/n), she does the stupidest thing in her life - which is saying a lot. She attacks the Titan Lord Atlas.

He laughs as (Y/n) approaches, her sword Tsunami springing to life in her hands. A massive javelin appears in Atlas’s hands and his silk suit melts into full Greek battle armor. “Go on, then!”

“(Y/n)!” Zoe calls. “Beware!”

(Y/n) knows what Zoe is warning her about. Chiron had told her a long time ago: Immortals are constrained by ancient rules. But a hero can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as she has the nerve. Once (Y/n) attacked, however, Atlas would be free to attack back directly with all his might. 

(Y/n) swings her sword, but Atlas knocks her aside with the shaft of his javelin. (Y/n) flies through the air, and slams into a black wall. It isn’t Mist anymore. The palace is rising, brick by brick. It’s becoming real.

“Fool!” Atlas screams gleefully, swatting aside one of Zoe’s arrows. “Did you think, simply because you could challenge that petty war god, that you could stand up to me?” 

The mention of Ares sets a jolt through (Y/n), and, ignoring her throbbing ribs, she shakes off her daze and charges again. 

The javelin’s point slashes towards (Y/n) like a scythe. She raises Tsunami, planning to cut off the Titan’s weapon at the shaft, but her arm feels like lead. Suddenly, the sword weighs a ton. 

And then (Y/n) remembers Ares's warning, spoken on the beach in Los Angeles so long ago:

When you need it most, your sword will fail you.

Not now! (Y/n) pleads. But it is no good. She tries to dodge, but the javelin catches her in the chest and sends (Y/n) flying like a rag doll. (Y/n) slams into the ground, her head spinning. (Y/n) looks up and finds herself at the feet of Artemis, still straining under the weight of the sky.

“Run, girl,” she tells (Y/n). “You must run!”

Atlas is taking his time coming towards (Y/n). My sword is gone. It had skittered away over the edge of the cliff. It might reappear in her pocket—maybe in a few seconds—but it doesn’t matter. (Y/n) would be dead by then. Luke and Thalia are fighting like demons, lightning crackling around them. Percy is fighting the dracaenae, and Annabeth is on the ground, desperately struggling to free her hands.

“Die, little hero!” Atlas says. He raises his javelin to impale (Y/n). 

“No!” Zoe yells, and volley of silver arrows sprout from the armpit chink in Atlas’s armor. 

“ARGH!” he bellows and turns back towards his daughter. 

(Y/n) reaches down and feels Tsunami back in her pocket. She couldn’t fight Atlas, even with a sword. And then a chill goes down her back. She remembers the words of the prophecy: The Titan’s curse must one withstand. (Y/n) couldn’t hope to beat Atlas, but there is someone who might stand a chance. 

“The sky,” (Y/n) tells the goddess. “Give it to me.”

"No, girl," Artemis says. Her forehead is beaded with metallic sweat, like quicksilver. "You don't know what you're asking. It will crush you!"

"Annabeth took it!"

"She barely survived. She had the spirit of a true huntress. You will not last so long."

"I'll die anyway," (Y/n) replies. "Give me the weight of the sky!"

(Y/n) doesn’t wait for her answer. She takes out Tsunami and slashes through her chains. Then she steps next to her and braces herself on one knee—holding up her hands—and touches the cold, heavy clouds. For a moment, Artemis and (Y/n) bare the weight together. It was the heaviest thing she'd ever felt, as if (Y/n) was being crushed under a thousand trucks. She wanted to black out from the pain, but (Y/n) breathes deeply. I can do this.

Then Artemis slips out from under the burden, and (Y/n) holds it alone. 

Every muscle in (Y/n)’s body turns to fire. Her bones feel like they’re melting. She wants to scream, but she doesn’t have the strength to open her mouth. She begins to sink, lower and lower to the ground, the sky’s weight crushing her.

(Y/n) concentrates on breathing. (Y/n) thinks about Bianca, who’d given her life so they could get to this moment. If she could do that, then (Y/n) could hold the sky.

(Y/n)’s vision turns fuzzy. Everything is tinged with red. She catches glimpses of the battle, but she isn’t sure if she is seeing anything clearly. There is Atlas in full battle armor, jabbing with his javelin, laughing insanely as he fights. And Artemis, a blur of silver. She has two wicked hunting knives, each as long as her arm, and she slashes wildly at the Titan, dodging and leaping with unbelievable grace. She seems to change form as she maneuvers. She is a tiger, a gazelle, a bear, a falcon. Or perhaps that was just (Y/n)’s fevered brain. Zoe shoots arrows at her father, aiming for the chinks in his armor. He roars in pain each time one finds its mark, but they affect him like bee stings. He just gets madder and keeps fighting.

Thalia and Luke go spear on sword, lighting still flashing around them. Thalia presses Luke back with the aura of her shield. Even he is not immune to it. He retreats, wincing and growing in frustration. 

"Yield!" Thalia yells. "You never could beat me, Luke."

He bares his teeth. "Well see, my old friend."

Sweat pours down (Y/n)’s face. Her hands are slippery. Her shoulders would've screamed with agony if they could. (Y/n) feels like the vertebrae in her spine are being welded together by a blowtorch.

In her daze, (Y/n) can’t place Percy’s or Annabeth’s positions. She watches, however, as Artemis advances. The goddess was fast, but the Titan’s strength is impossible. His javelin slammed into the earth where Artemis had been a split second before, and a fissure opens in the rocks. He leaps over it and keeps pursuing her. The goddess was leading him back towards (Y/n). 

Get ready, the goddess speaks in her mind. 

(Y/n) is loosing the abulity to think through the pain in her ribs. Her responce is somthing like agggghh-owwwww.

“You fight well for a girl,” Atlas laughs. “But you are no match for me.”

He feints with teh tip of his javelin and Artemis dodges. (Y/n) sees the trick coming. Atlas’s javelin sweeps around and knocks Artemis’s legs off the ground. She falls, and Atlas brings up his javelin tip for the kill. 

"No!" Zoe screams. She leaps between her father and Artemis and shoots an arrow straight into the Titan's forehead, where it lodges like a unicorn's horn. Atlas bellows in rage. He sweeps aside his daughter with the back of his hand, sending her flying into the black rocks.

(Y/n) wasnts to shout her name, or run to her friend’s aid, but she can’t speak or move. She couldn’t even see where Zoe had landed. Then Atlas turns on Artemis with a look of triumph in his face. Artemis seems to be wounded. And she doesn’t get up. 

"The first blood in a new war," Atlas gloats. And he stabs downward.

As fast as thought, Artemis grabs his javelin shaft. It hits the earth right next to her and she pulls backward, using the javelin like a lever, kicking the Titan Lord and sending him flying over her, (Y/n) sees him coming down on top of her and she realizes what would happen. (Y/n) loosened her hold on the sky, and as Atlas slams into her, she doesn’t try to hold on. (Y/n) lets herself be pushed out of the way and she rolls.

The weight of the sky drops onto Atlas’s back, almost smashing him flat until he manages to get to his kness, strugging to get out from under the crushing weight of the sky. But it is too late. 

"Noooooo!" He bellows so hard it shakes the mountain. "Not again!"

Atlas is trapped under his old burden. (Y/n) tried to stand and fell back again, dazed from pain. Her body feels like it was burning up.

Thalia backs Luke to the edge of a cliff, but still they fought on, next to the golden coffin. Thalia has tears in her eyes. Luke has a bloody slash across his chest and his pale face glistened with sweat.

He lunges at Thalia and she slams him with her shield. Luke's sword spins out of his

hands and clatters to the rocks. Thalia puts her spear point to his throat.

For a moment, there is silence. 

“Well?” Luke asks. He tries to hide it, but (Y/n) can hear the fear in his voice. 

Thalia trembles with fury.

Behind her, Annabeth comes scrambling, finally free from her bonds. Her face is bruised and streaked with dirt. "Don't kill him!"

"He's a traitor," Thalia says. "A traitor!"

In her daze, (Y/n) realizes that Artemis is no longer with her, and Percy had taken the goddess’s place at her side. The goddess had run off toward theblack rocks where Zoe had fallen.

"We'll bring Luke back," Annabeth pleads. "To Olympus. He . . . he'll be useful."

"Is that what you want, Thalia?" Luke sneers. "To go back to Olympus in triumph? To please your dad?"

Thalia hesitats, and Luke makes a desperate grab for her spear.

"No!" Annabeth shouts. But without thinking, Thalia kicks Luke away. He looses his balance, terror on his face, and then he falls.

"Luke!" Annabeth screams.

Percy helps (Y/n) as they rush to the cliff’s edge. Below them, the army from the Princess Andromeda had stopped in amazement. They are staring at Luke’s broken from from teh rocks. Despite how much (Y/n) hated him, she couldn’t stand to see it. She wants to belive the son of Hermes is still alive, but that is impossible. The fall is at least fifty feet, and he isn’t moving.

One of the giants looks up and growls, "Kill them!"

Thalia is stiff with grief, tears streaming down her cheeks. (Y/n) pulls her back as a wave of javelins sail over their heads. They run for the rocks, ignoring the curses and threats of Atlas as they pass.

"Artemis!" Percy yells.

The goddess looks up, her face almost as grief-stricken as Thalia's. Zoe lies in the goddess's arms. She is breathing. Her eyes are open. But still . . .

"The wound is poisoned," Artemis says.

"Atlas poisoned her?" Percy asks.

"No," the goddess says. "Not Atlas."

Artemis shows them the wound in Zoe’s side. (Y/n) had almost forgotten her scrape with Ladon the dragon. The bite is so much worse than Zoe had let on. (Y/n) can barely look at the wound. Zoe had charged into battle against her father with a horrible cut already sapping her strengh. 

(Y/n) feels a hand lacing through her’s. She glances over to find Annabeth standing beside her. 

“The stars,” Zoe murmurs. “I cannot see them.”

“Nectar and ambrosia,” Percy says. “Come one. We have to get her some.”

No one moves. Grief hangs in the air. Even Artemis is too shocked to stir. The demigods may have met their doom right there, but then (Y/n) hears a strang buzzing noise. 

Just as the army of monsters come over the hill, a Sopwith Camel swoops down out of the sky. 

“Get away from my daugther!” Dr. Chase calls down, and his machine guns burst to life, peppering the groud with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering.

“Dad?” yells Annabeth in disbelief.

“Run!” he calls back, his voice growing fainter as the biplane swoops by. 

This shakes Artemis out of her grief. She stares up at teh antique plane, which is now coming back for another strafe. 

"A brave man," Artemis says with grudging approval. "Come, We must get Zoe away from here." She raises her hunting horn to her lips, and its clear sound echoes down the valleys of Marin. Zoe's eyes are fluttering.

"Hang in there!" Percy tells her. "It'll be all right!"

The Sopwith Camel swoops down again. A few giants threw javelins, and one flew straight between the wings of the plane, but the machine guns blazed. I realized with amazement that somehow Dr. Chase must've gotten hold of celestial bronze to fashion his bullets. The first row of snake women wailed as the machine gun's volley blew them into sulfurous yellow powder.

"That's . . . my dad!" Annabeth says in amazement.

They don’t have time to admire his flying. The giants and snake women are already recovering from their surprise. Dr. Chase would be in trouble soon.

Just then, the moonlight brights, and a silver chariot appears from the sky, drawn by the most beautiful deer (Y/n) had ever seen. It lands right next to them.

"Get in," Artemis says.

Annabeth helps (Y/n) get Thalia on board, and Percy helps Artemis with Zoe. They wrap

Zoe in a blanket as Artemis pulls the reins and the chariot sped away from the mountain,

straight into the air.

"Like Santa Claus's sleigh," (Y/n) murmurs, still dazed with pain.

Artemis takes time to look back at her. "Indeed, young half-blood. And where do you think that legend came from?"

Seeing them safely away, Dr. Chase turns his biplane and follows like an honor guard. It must have been one of the strangest sights ever, even for the Bay Area: a silver flying chariot pulled by deer, escorted by a Sopwith Camel.

Behind them, the army of Kronos roars in anger as they gather on the summit of Mount Tamalpais, but the loudest sound is the voice of Atlas, bellowing curses against the gods as he struggles under the weight of the sky.

. . . 

Annabeth and (Y/n) fly along side by side on the back of the pegasai. 

“Your dad seems cool,” (Y/n) tells Annabeth. 

It was too dark to see her girlfriend’s expression. She looks back, though California is far behind them now. 

“I guess so,” Annabeth replies. “We’ve been arguing for so many years.”

“Mhmm,” (Y/n) hums. “You mentioned that.”

“You think I was lying about that?” It sounds like a challenge to (Y/n), but a pretty half-hearted one, like she is asking it of herself.

"I didn't say you were lying. It's just . . . he seems okay. Your stepmom, too. Maybe they've, uh, gotten cooler since you saw them last."

She hesitates. "They're still in San Francisco, Percy. I can't live so far from camp."

(Y/n) doesn’t want to ask her next question. She is scared to know the answer. But I asks it anyway. "So what are you going to do now?"

They fly over a town, an island of lights in the middle of the dark. It whisks by so fast they might've been in an airplane.

"I don't know," she admits. "But thank you for rescuing me."

"Hey, you’re my girlfriend. I would go through Tartarus to rescue you."

"You didn't believe I was dead?"

"Never."

She hesitates. "Neither is Luke, you know. I mean . . . he isn't dead."

(Y/n) stares at her. She doesn’t know if Annabeth is cracking under the stress or what. "Annabeth, that fall was pretty bad. There's no way —"

"He isn't dead," she insistas. "I know it. The same way you knew about me."

Word Count: 5630 Words

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Six

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I can't believe it's already the halfway point for A Baker's Dozen, Pedro boy number six is waiting in the wings. But before I let him in I just want to say a massive thank you for all the love all you lovely people gave Ezra. It was a bit sadder than others but there always a chance of him re-appearing...

I'm dropping chapter today seeing as tomorrow is New Year's Eve, from next week I'll be back on my regular Sunday evening posting.

Also, don't miss all the #pickledpena fics that'll be posting on January 1st! And follow @pickled-pena to see them all in their pickled Peña glory.

Happy 2024 all you lovely people!

Series Master List

He puts out the cigarette just before he steps through your door on a quiet afternoon. You’re busy placing some fresh coffee cake in the display case and he’s the only customer in the shop. Crouched down, almost out of sight, it gives you a few seconds to observe him as he looks around the shop. He’s handsome, dangerously handsome, and holds himself with a nonchalant air of confidence that makes you think he’s aware of how good he looks. No man would wear jeans that tight if he didn’t know his body could pull it off, his generous package clearly framed by the crotch of the dark wash denim. A black, short sleeved, shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, one too many buttons undone, yellow aviators nonchalantly hanging from the neckline. And as you drag your eyes away from the freckles of his chest and up to his face, you’re met by his dark eyes, an almost scowl marring his handsome features as he locks eyes with you. 

You stand up, placing the now empty tray on the counter and put your customer service smile on, squashing a nervous squeal in your belly. 

“Hi, welcome, how can I help you?” you say, wiping your hands on your apron as the man approaches. 

“I’m lookin’ for a bakery that does Mexican things, I need a Tres Leches cake,” he says, his eyes leaving yours and scanning the shelves of your display case as you shake your head. His Texas drawl is subtle but the low register of his rich voice emphasizes it and sends a little shiver down your spine.  

“I’m afraid I don’t have any for sale today, but I can make one for you, if you’d like to order?” you reply and you’re surprised when his face seems to fall and he sighs deeply, annoyance rolling off him like the warm scent of his aftershave. 

“Do you know any Mexican bakeries in town?” he asks, “I’m sure yours is good, but I really need the cake today.” He puts his hands on his hips and you’re momentarily distracted by the way his shirt stretches, the buttons hanging on for dear life as his wide shoulders spread even more. 

“Sorry,” you reply, “there’s not exactly a big Mexican community in this town, so no bakeries that do Tres Leches regularly. Maybe you can find another cake that will suit the occasion?” 

The man drops his head, briefly looking at the toes of his dress shoes before he meets your eyes again, his brow furrowed.

“It’s got to be a Tres Leches, sorry.” 

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you,” you say, shrugging and expecting him to turn around and leave. But instead he remains in front of the counter, looking at you as you start straightening the cups on the counter, just to have something to do, the man’s intense gaze is unnerving.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, sharp enough for you to startle, and his eyebrows shoot up, “Sorry, that wasn’t at you. And thanks anyway.” 

He turns and yanks open the front door, exiting out onto the street where he stops, looking left and right before glancing back at you through the window. He locks eyes with you for a beat, and then he stalks off, long legs in tight jeans disappearing down the street. 

He stays on your mind for the rest of the afternoon, not because of the need for a specific cake, but because of the way he’d reacted to being denied it, disappointment that seemed to hit something more than just missing out on what, you supposed, was a special request from someone close to him. Women, especially brides-to-be, could be very emotional and stressed about the specifics of their cakes, but you’d never heard a man curse when he couldn’t get the cake he wanted. You wonder if you should maybe make a Tres Leches cake, just in case he comes back, but decide against it. There are plenty of bakeries in town capable of making them instead of you, he’s probably not even coming back to your bakery anyway. 

By the next day you’ve forgotten about him, the day running past fast as your shop assistant handles the steady flow of customers that Saturday’s always bring. You’re busy in the kitchen baking the last batches for Sunday and planning the week ahead, getting your orders in. As a spur of the moment decision, you add a couple of cans of evaporated milk and condensed milk, the Tres Leches man popping up in your mind as you scroll through the whole seller's website. . 

On late Sunday afternoon you start cleaning the shop and the kitchen, the foot traffic always dies down the last hour before closing on Sundays and you send your shop assistant home.You use the last hour to reset everything for Tuesday, Monday being your day off. 

The sound of the bell on the front door rings as you’re on your hands and knees in the kitchen, wiping out the back of a counter under your workbench.  “I’ll be out in a second,” you call out to the customer. 

“No rush,” a dark voice comes back to you, the Texan lilt familiar. You stand up so fast you almost bang your head on the bottom of the shelf, stumbling to your feet and smoothing down your apron and your hair. There’s a small mirror on the wall just by the door into the shop, so you give yourself a quick glance, hastily wiping the sweat off your forehead and rubbing away a dusting of flour on your cheek. 

“Hi,” you say as you step into the shop, “how can I help you? I’m afraid I still don’t have any Tres Leches cake.” 

The handsome man is still wearing jeans so tight they look painted on, but this time they’re a light wash denim and his short sleeved shirt is white, the yellow aviators hanging even lower in the deep V of his chest. 

“I wanted to apologize for that,” he says, stepping up to the counter, “And I’d like to order one, if that’s alright?” 

“Sure, that’s fine, I’m closed tomorrow but I could have it for you by Tuesday afternoon if that works?” 

“Whatever suits you,” he replies, some of his earlier confidence coming back as he not too subtly lets his eyes give you a once over. “I’m sure it’s worth waiting for.” 

“Didn’t seem like it on Friday,” you say, biting your tongue as the words slip out. The man gives you an unreadable look, you’re not sure if he's insulted or not. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, “that was uncalled for, I’m sure you had stuff going on that made the cake an essential part of your Friday. 

“No, I apologize, I was rude,” he replies, shaking his head, “I was just having a bad day, I…” he trails off, rubbing a large hand over his clean shaven cheeks under his neat mustache, dropping his eyes to the floor before he looks up at you, his eyes suddenly doleful and tired, “I’ve just been a bit homesick lately, and Tres Leches was my mom’s favorite cake, and mine too, she used to make it for my birthday. She passed a few years ago and I just wanted to be reminded of her.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’d be very happy to make you one, but it probably won’t be as good as your mom’s.” 

“I look forward to trying it though,” he gives you a crooked smile, “All your stuff here looks delicious.” He waves his hand over the display case but he’s looking at you and your apron suddenly feels very warm around your body. 

“S-so Tuesday afternoon works for you?” you ask, clearing your throat and the man nods with a smile, like he knows the effects his looks, and his tight jeans, are having on you.

“What name should I put on the order form?” you ask as you grab a pen to fill it in.

“Javier Peña,” the man replies, stepping forward and leaning on his forearms on the counter, watching you note down his name, “I think you should write down my number too,” he says, looking up at you, “just in case you need to call me, for whatever reason.” 

The image of a baby cow looking up at you through thick lashes flits across your mind as he smiles, his eyes are deep brown and suddenly very innocent looking despite the very suggestive tone of his voice. 

“Oh you’re good,” you chuckle, letting him take the pen and jot down his number, “Do you really want the cake, or are you just flirting?” 

“Can’t I do both, cariño?” he grins, pushing off from the counter and winking at you as he comes to his full height, making you look up at him again. 

“Sure, but you’re only getting the cake,” you smile back at him and now it’s his turn to chuckle, a dimple on his cheek as he regards you with a playful look. 

“I’ll be happy with just the cake, but I’ll keep hoping,” he replies, still grinning as he pats down his jeans, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, “What do I owe you?” 

“Pay on delivery,” you say and he arches one of his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. 

“So that’s how I get you to use my number, will you chase me down if I don’t turn up on Tuesday?” 

“Something tells me you’re used to women chasing you down,” you say, trying to keep your heartbeat under control as he cocks his head, another arched eyebrow, “so I should probably just play it cool and count on your turning up for the cake.” 

“When do you close up on Tuesday?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up, as he puts away his wallet. 

“Seven, but the cake will be done before then,” you reply and he nods. 

“I’ll be here before seven,” he says, “you can count on it, cariño.” He winks at you again and you curse the butterflies that immediately take flight in your belly. 

He gives you a wave as he takes a nonchalant step back towards the door before turning, his tight jeans giving you a perfect view of his tiny butt, you’ve really never seen any guy wear jeans that tight and you can’t help but let your eyes linger. 

‘Really…’ you think to yourself, ‘how does he even walk down the stairs in those jeans?’ 

A Tres Leches gets better the longer it can sit in the fridge and absorb all the liquid that’s poured over it, so you get started as soon as Javier leaves. By the time you’ve cleaned up the kitchen and done your usual Sunday night prep, the sponge cake is cooling on the counter. 

Ordinarily you wouldn’t come in on your day off but the Tres Leches needs three types of milk poured over it, so at lunchtime on Monday you stick your key in the lock and turn off the alarm to the shop. 

“Hey, I thought you weren’t open today?” a deep voice says behind your back just as you punch in the code. 

“Oh shit!” you shriek and spin around, your hand on your heart, as Javier’s hands come out to steady you. 

“So jumpy, cariño,” he chuckles, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You’re sneaky, jeez,” you gasp, hitting the off button on the alarm that’s still beeping, “please, give a girl a warning before you jump out like that.” 

He follows you into the shop, apologizing again as you flick the lights on. 

“I’m sorry, I was just on my way to grab some lunch and I saw you open up the shop, I wanted to say hi and thank you for making the cake,” he smiles and you feel his hand come out and gently brush over the small of your back as you walk past him into the kitchen. The warmth of his hand makes you stutter, trying to keep your cool at his proximity. 

“T-that’s fine, but the cake isn’t done yet,” you say, “and the shop isn’t open, I’m just here to pour the milk mixture on it.” 

“You should’ve told me to pick it up on Wednesday instead, I don’t want to make you work on your day off,” Javier says, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen as you open the fridge and take out the cake. 

“It’s fine, this is quick, I’ll be done in ten minutes, then I’m leaving again,” you say as he watches you with those dark eyes, they follow you around the kitchen as you take out a pan and the three types of milk needed. 

“You have plans for the afternoon?” he asks, crossing his arms and the blue shirt stretches tight across his shoulders. You can’t help but glance at the way it hugs his biceps and he notices, his body settling into the pose a little bit more, thick fingers drumming against the taught fabric over his arm as he smiles at you. 

“Yeah, I have a date at the fair,” you say, pouring the milk into the pan and turning on the heat, from the corner of your eye you see him shift and straighten up a little. 

“A date huh…” he says, “Your boyfriend?” 

“No, just a blind date, a friend set us up,” you reply, stirring the condensed milk into the regular milk. 

“Ok, I hope you have a nice time then,” Javier says, his brow furrowed, standing up and thumping his fist lightly on the doorframe, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’ll come by for the cake tomorrow, have a nice afternoon.” He abruptly turns and you hear his footsteps retreat through the shop before you have a chance to say goodbye, leaving you surprised at his sudden departure. After finishing the cake and cleaning up the kitchen again, you leave the shop and lock up. Javier’s sudden departure still seems strange to you, you don’t know him at all, but he’d suddenly seemed offended by your date, even jealous. He’s a flirt, and you couldn’t help flirting back a little, but you really don’t think he’d be jealous of your blind date. Would he be?   

The next day you’re not sure if he’ll come for his cake after all, but you are hoping he will. The blind date had been a miserable affair and you bowed out after suffering through a painful hour of stilted small talk about small business taxes. Javier’s crooked grin and tight jeans had been on your mind throughout the afternoon as your date droned on.. 

Towards the end of the day you take the cake out and cover it in whipped cream and decorate it with fresh strawberries. And thankfully, a few minutes before seven the doorbell jangles and you look up to see Javier walk through the door, giving your heart a little jolt of excitement. But although he’s not exactly scowling, the yellow aviators cover his eyes and the corners of his mouth are downturned under the edges of his neat mustache. It’s a stark contrast to the bright pink shirt he’s wearing today, the color clashing with the apparent mood he’s in. 

“Hi Javier,” you say, giving him what you hope is your flirtiest look, wanting to coax him back to the flirtiness he’d displayed on previous visits, “I guess I won’t need your number after all,” you say, giving him a sweet smile as you watch his lips quirk up in response. 

“Maybe you should hang on to it, in case that new boyfriend doesn’t work out,” he smirks, coming up to the counter and leaning on the display case, long legs in tight jeans casually crossed as he gives you an appreciative glance up and down. You’d removed your apron a little bit earlier, changed into a nicer top, fixed your hair, only stopping yourself as you considered adding lipstick. 

“No, that was a bad date,” you scrunch up your nose at him, “I had to make up an excuse after an hour.” 

“Too bad,” he says but his crooked grin leaves you in no doubt about the fact that he’s very much not sorry about the failed date, “You should’ve let me take you out instead, I would’ve made sure you didn’t need any excuse to leave.” He gives you a quick wink, taking off his aviators, and you feel your cheeks heat up as he smirks and swipes a thumb over his bottom lip. 

“About that cake, querida?” 

The casual pet name ramps up the heat in your cheeks another notch and you’re grateful for the chance to turn around and head for the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure, let me get it,” you throw over your shoulder and yank the fridge door open, carefully sliding the cake box out. 

“Here, I boxed it for you, but have a look, make sure it’s what you wanted,” you say, putting the box in front of him as you get back to the counter 

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” he replies, but he still slips the paper lip from its hold and flips up the lid. He looks down at it for a beat and the casual confidence slips from his face, replaced by something you can’t place, almost as if he suddenly disappears from the shop, finding himself in another setting, looking at another cake. 

“Is…is it as you expected?” you ask timidly when he doesn’t move, his eyes still on the cake, and he blinks and looks up at you, his eyes soft and warm.

“It’s perfect, just perfect, thank you,” he replies, his tone suddenly sincere and raw in a way you didn’t expect, it’s just a cake. But he looks down at the cake again and there’s a play of emotions across his face, as if the thoughts in his head are dancing across his features in the space of a few heart beats. You let him have his moment and carefully start tidying up the counter around the till and turn to start cleaning the espresso machine when he clears his throat. 

“This is…uhmm…” he trails off and you look back at him, he’s still got his eyes on the cake but as he rubs a large hand over his jaw he looks up at you, “Do you wanna have a coffee with me? And some cake?” 

“You wanna cut the cake now?” you ask surprised, you thought it was for a special occasion but he nods. 

“Yeah, as a thank you for going out of your way to make it, coming in on your day off and everything,” he gives you a nod towards the coffee machine and grabs a couple of plates from the counter, “Although I should really be serving you but that coffee machine looks pretty advanced.” 

“I’d love to have coffee and cake with you, Javier. But are you sure you want to cut it now? I thought it was for something special?” 

“It was, or it is,” he says, coming round the counter with the cake and putting it next to you. “My mom used to make it for me and on Friday it was ten years ago since she passed….” 

He pauses and adjusts the cake with one hand, the other hooked into the pocket of his jeans, fingers drumming against his leg as you wait for him to continue. 

“I was feelin’ kinda homesick, wanted something to remind me of her,” he clears his throat, looking up at you again as you put down the cloth you’ve been wiping the machine with. His mood on Friday makes sense now, but you never would’ve you have guessed the reason behind it, and you push down the urge to put your hand on his arm. But he seems to shake out of his reverie and he gives you a crooked smile. 

“So how about that coffee, cariño?” 

“Sure,” you smile back at him and you see his eyes soften again, “How do you take it?” 

“Strong and black,” he replies, “Show me where you keep the knives and I’ll get us some cake, at least I can serve you that.” 

You show him and he gives a low hum when he slides the first slice onto a plate, “It smells just like I remember.” 

“Good, I hope the taste reminds you of her too,” you smile. It feels like he’s a different person now, still confident and flirty, and dangerously handsome, but you’re seeing a more human side, something underneath his winks and smirks as you watch him expertly wipe the knife and cut another clean edged slice and slide it onto the plate. 

“If you ever need a part time job, let me know, with those cake skills I’d let you serve my customers,” you remark, jumping up onto the counter next to where Javier’s standing. 

He snorts at your comment, picking up one of the plates and hands it to you, “Trust me, cariño, you don’t want me anywhere near your customers.” 

“No, true, those tight jeans might be a bit distracting for female guests,” you say, “I’d never get anything sold.” 

You bite your tongue, trying to stop your giggle, as you see his eyes widen, the spoon hoovering in the air over his cake slice as he tries to process your words.

“Really, cariño,” he says eventually, shaking his head as he pushes the spoon into the cake, “I didn’t think you minded them, considering the way you’ve been staring at my ass,” he gives you a wink as he puts the spoon in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, I know how distracting they are,” you laugh, “It’s a good thing you left yesterday, I would’ve messed up the cake if you’d kept hanging around my kitchen in those jeans.” 

Javier hums, distracted by the cake as he looks down on it, waving his spoon at it as he chews and swallows. 

“This is delicious, cariño, just as good as my moms, it tastes just like hers.” 

“Thanks, that’s the best compliment I could get,” you smile at him, taking a mouthful of the cake for yourself as Javier reaches for the cup of coffee you’ve placed next to him. 

“Mhm…” he grunts, “strong coffee and Tres Leches, best thing I’ve had in a long time, hermosa.” 

He smiles at you over the edge of the cup, his chocolate brown eyes making you feel flustered as he keeps eye contact when he’s put the cup down. 

“Relly, the best I’ve had in a very long time…” he says, “and the best company I’ve had in a long time too. Tell me, would I really distract you that much in the kitchen?” He takes another spoonful of cake and keeps his eyes on you, staring you down as he cocks his hip and leans on the counter, suddenly very close, making your nerves thrum just under your skin. You can smell the cake on his breath, the coffee from the cup on the counter and his faded aftershave, still lingering on the collar of his pink shirt. 

“You…I-I think you know what you do with those tight jeans, Javier,” you reply and his lips quirk up in response, the corner of his mustache twitching as his eyes move down to your lips and linger there. 

“Why don’t you tell me, cariño?” he smirks, “What do my tight jeans do?” 

You almost roll your eyes at him, the confidence is oozing off him but you can’t deny that he can back it up as he parts his soft looking lips and moves around your legs, stepping in between them, trapping you up on the counter. Your breath hitches as he looks up at you again, his eyes leaving your lips as the tip of his tongue comes out and lightly wets his own. 

Quietly inhaling, you decide attack is the best tactic, and reach out, putting your hand around the back of Javier’s head. 

“Are you going to talk about your jeans or kiss me, Javier?” you ask, and you just have time to see the glint in his eyes, before he leans forward. 

His hand comes up and grabs your jaw, cupping your cheek as his thumb moves across your lips, holding it for a beat before he’s on you. His lips are as soft as they look, molding to your mouth, gently probing to let him in. Your hand tangles into the thick hair at the back of his head, holding on as he pushes forward, widening your legs around his hips, pressed against the cupboard. With a low moan you part your lips to his tongue and he responds, a groan, as he wraps his free arm around your waist, his hand finding your hip and pulling you towards him. The jeans do nothing to hide his growing arousal as you slide right up against his crotch, his kisses are soft but the way he holds you tight, is heated. 

You hook your hand into his belt loop and tug him closer, feeling him roll his hips against you as the taste of the cake and his strong coffee overpowers your senses, his tongue sliding around yours. He’s exploring, his large hand sliding over your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your skin and finding spots that make you moan and tremble under his touch. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that a gentle nip on your lower lip makes you arch your back and press into him. He makes the most of it as his hand slides up to splay flat over your shoulder blades, holding you close as he continues to explore your mouth.. 

Heat is making your core ache, he’s hard against you, the texture of the denim rubbing against you with each lazy roll of his hips and you have to pant into his mouth, pulling back from him to catch your breath. 

Javier kisses the corner of your mouth as you tip your head back with a groan, drawing a deep breath, and then moves over your jaw, his teeth scraping over your skin, his tongue coming out to taste and lick as he trails kisses down to your neck. When he sinks his teeth into the flesh just under your ear you whimper and grip hard at his hair, hearing him groan against you. He places a wet kiss on the mark his teeth have left and straightens up, looking down at you with half closed eyes. 

“I fucking hated that blind date guy,” Javier growls, still standing close enough for you to feel every twitch of his hard length between your legs, “I should’ve told you to ditch him and asked you to come out with me instead.” 

“I would’ve ditched him, Javier,” you reply, letting your fingers trail over his five o’clock shadow and brush the edge of his mustache.

“So let me take you out tonight instead, finish what we started, cariño.” 

His hands are distracting, one rubbing firm circles over your back, down to your hips, kneading the soft flesh. The other one still on your neck, caressing your cheek, your hair, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. 

“I have to get up at three am, Javier,” you whisper, his lips finding yours again and you lose your train of thought. 

“Rain check,” he mumbles against your mouth, “What are you doing on Sunday night? You don’t work on Mondays.” 

“There’s this guy,” you reply, smiling as he pulls back a fraction to look down at you, one eyebrow raised, “He wears these really tight jeans and I think I should find out if he’s got the goods to back them up”.

“Oh he does,” Javier growls, tugging you closer and making you open your mouth to his eager tongue, pulling a breathless moan from you as he wraps his arms around you again.  

Part Seven

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Oh I love sandwiches

Barbie dolls: rosekiller x ftm!reader

Word:1.7k kinda

Summary: you're feeling dysphoric and don't want to leave the house so Evan and Barty toss out their plans to love on you

Warning: lots of dysphoria, hypothetical misunderstanding, mentioned that you have tits mostly as a joke but it's Abt chest dysphoria so yk, sex jokes, it's Barty and Evan what were you expecting, slight mentions of past bartylus and slight mention of you hypotheticaly banging James, you blow off regulus kinda but he's understanding it's not written that he is but just trust me, you guys cuddle, evan is shirtless for a second, thats pretty much it I think

A few weeks ago, Regulus invited you and your two boyfriends over for a housewarming dinner. He and James recently moved into a new house, and now that they were settled, they wanted all their friends to see the new dwelling. You weren’t even sure how all those people would fit at the dining table, but you believed in Regulus.

And a few weeks ago you were excited. You wanted to see the new house and imagine where they would put all of Regulus’ books. You needed to see their kitchen. As of right now, you didn’t want to be anywhere near another human at all.

You knew it was the dysphoria making you feel like your chest was big enough to convince everyone who glanced at you that you were a woman. You needed to go to this dinner to support your friends. But the longer you looked in the mirror the more you wanted to go out into the backyard, dig a hole, and live inside forever.

Should you have just told your boyfriends? Yes, most definitely. But you were nothing if not a horrific communicator. So instead, as any mature person would do, you hid in the back of your closet. Evan’s winter coats were hanging in front of your face. It was calming to smell Evan and sit in the dark silence. You ignored the thought of having to do laundry later as you wiped your nose on the sleeve of your jacket.

“Rosie, do you remember where you hid our lovely boyfriend?” You heard Barty’s muffled yell from the living room. You sniffled trying to stay quiet so they didn’t find your hiding spot.

“Oh yes, I put him in the silverware drawer next to the spoons,” Evan yelled back sarcastically. You stifled your snort at Evan’s comment. You heard the silverware drawer slam back into the counter.

“Not there.” You winced at Evan’s groan. You waited patiently as Evan and Barty settled into silence. A few minutes passed in silence before the closet door slid open. Barty sighed when he saw you, squatting down to get at eye level with you. Evan stood over him, staring down at you.

“Hello, darling. Why are we hiding in the closet? You came out years ago.” You ignored Barty’s bad joke, looking at the wall instead. Evan must’ve found it bad, too, because Barty let out a loud groan in pain. You glanced at him to see him rubbing the back of his head.

“I can’t go.” You muttered. You heard Barty scoff.

“Oh is that all?” You threw a discarded button across the closet floor. Evan patted Barty’s shoulder.

“Why not?” Evan asked, trying to push the closet door open more. You rested your head against the wall.

“I’m sick.” You whispered. Barty hummed.

“You don’t seem sick to me.” He said, earning another disapproving sound from Evan. You faked two coughs. Barty and Evan hummed.

“Aha,” Evan said. “See he is sick.” Barty nodded. You pressed your lips together, pretending you didn’t hear their strong sarcasm.

“Come on, baby. Why are you really hiding in the closet?” Evan asked.

“is it Evan’s ugly shirt?” Barty asked, pointing his thumb back at his other boyfriend. Evan scoffed and ran his hands down the front of his shirt. Evan moved back to look in the mirror.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Evan asked with a sad tone. Barty snorted while you sniffled. You picked at the peeling paint on the wall.

“‘s nice.” You muttered. You just wanted to fall asleep right where you were. Evan and Barty could go and say you came down with the flu.

“Okay, so it’s not your hideous button-down; what is it? could you possibly give us a hint?” Barty said. Evan joined you two at the closet again, only now you noticed him eyeing the shirts that were hung up. You sighed, tugging at the fabric of Evan’s winter coat. You yanked it down, letting the hanger clack around on the rack. You pulled it over your body like a blanket, pulling the coat up to your nose. You took in a deep breath. The smell of your laundry detergent and a hint of Evan’s cologne washed over you.

“I don’t like my body right now.” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of Evan’s coat. Evan hummed.

“Right, well did you have to manhandle my coat to tell us that?” Evan asked, glancing up at the wooden hanger still swinging. Barty sighed, looking back at Evan.

“Yes.” You whispered, but you doubt anyone heard it because Evan and Barty started quietly bickering.

“Rosie, have you heard of a little sensitivity and sympathy? You’re being a bit mean to our amazing boyfriend here who’s having a bit of a rough day.” Barty whispered back at Evan.

“I’m just being a little humorous. Is humor not allowed when people are upset?” Evan said, swinging his hand in the air. Barty pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Not at-look how upset you’re making him. He’s crying into your coat, missing the Evan you once were. The Evan with a little sympathy.” Barty said. He pointed at you. Evan glanced at you before looking at Barty, disappointed.

“I’m crying because I have tits you dickheads.” You muttered. Barty and Evan’s heads snapped towards you.

“Right, sorry, love,” Barty muttered. Evan tilted his head to the side.

“Would you like to try a different outfit? Or we could drive you over there in a blindfold?” Evan offered. You shook your head.

“I just want to stay home, you guys should go through.” Barty clicked his tongue. You looked away from the wall to look at him.

“You know, Fuck Regulus-“ Barty started.

“You already did that.” Evan pointed out.

“-We just won’t go. Who says we need to be there in person to support him? We’ll set up a new dinner, and tell Regulus something came up.” Barty said, standing up and dusting his hands off. Evan hummed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s not a horrific idea. What do you think?” Evan asked, looking down at you. You shrugged.

“I don’t want you to miss out on hanging out with all your friends.” You said, picking at a loose string on Evan’s winter coat. Evan cooed, making you pull the coat further up your face to hide your embarrassment. Barty’s hands found the bottom of the coat, lightly tugging the coat away from your face.

“We won’t, we see them all the time. We just won’t go to dinner with them, no biggie.” Barty knocked your cheek with his knuckle, making your lips tip up just slightly.

“Not to mention, I don’t like Regulus’ cooking so this is favorable.” Evan started reaching for his shirt buttons. He nimblly unbuttoned them all, untucking his shirt from his pants, and tossed it over his shoulder all in a couple of seconds. It appears undressing you and Barty was great practice for him.

“Okay?” Barty asked, drawing your attention away from Shirtless Evan. You stared into his eyes, trying to see if he was just lying in your favor. He gave you a small smile that eased your nerves.

“Okay.” You whispered into the woven fabric of Evan’s coat. Barty quickly stood, holding his hand out to you. You took it, letting him help you stand up.

“Rosie, would you mind calling Regulus?” Barty asked. Evan nodded before leaving the room to inform Regulus that they couldn’t make it. “What will make you feel better? Cuddles? Snacks? Money?” Barty asked, lightly massaging the inside of your arm. You hummed, thinking through your options. You tilted your head from side to side deciding which one you wanted more.

“cuddles?” Barty nodded. He pointed to the nearby bed and the door that led to the living room. You pointed at the bed. Bary nodded again, before turning around to face the bed. He jumped to the bed landing face first into the mattress. You snorted before joining him on the bed, granted with a little more grace and charm. He quickly pulled you into his arms, tightly wrapping you up. You hummed at his excessively tight squeezes.

You heard Evan gasp at the doorway. You pulled your chin over Barty’s shoulder to see him, smacking Barty’s legs with his “ugly” shirt.

“No shoes on the bed,” Evan said, punctioning it with another smack. You glanced down at Barty’s feet to see he was indeed wearing his dress shoes on the bed. Barty groaned before kicking them off. Evan sighed and pinched his nose bridge before deciding it wasn’t worth the fight. He joined you and Barty on the bed, announcing that he was taking his shoes off beforehand. Evan lay on the other side of you, effectively squishing you between the two of them. He rubbed his nose against your cheek, giving you a light nuzzle before pecking you. He trailed his kiss back to just in front of your ear.

“Sometimes your brain is just mean to you, it doesn’t mean you’re any less of a man. You’re lovely, and so handsome you don’t even understand. Just got a contrarian for a brain, that’s all.” You hummed, nuzzling your face back against his. Barty agreed, pinching your side. You jerked, giving him a reprimanding flick on the nose.

“You’re the manliest man I’ve ever known. You top James and he eats woodchips for breakfast.” Barty jested, nodding his head like he was speaking fact. Evan snotted next to your ear.

“I hope he’s not topping James without us watching,” Evan whispered, earning a scoff from you and a loud, boisterous laugh from Barty. You shook your head at them both, hating that they were making you smile with their bad jokes.

“You’re the dudest dude ever, I love sucking your dick,” Barty said, staring into your eyes like he was telling you the ending lines of a rom-com. You sighed before tipping your head up and smacking a kiss on his lips. Barty tugged you closer by the front of your shirt. You nipped at his bottom lip. Not that kind of night, and pulled back. You twisted in an awkward position to peck Evan, too. You settled back into your cuddling position. You pulled Evan’s hand closer to your chest, pressing it against your heart. Evan lightly kissed your shoulder. Barty threw one arm over your side, caressing Evan’s bicep. You three fell asleep like that, intertwined and reassuring with your friends somewhere on the other side of town, eating Regulus’ questionable food.