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watchmegetobsessed · 3 days ago

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UNMATCHED II.

A/N: soooo you guys were just as horny for a part 2 to this story as i was so here we are, giving in to the temptation. disclaimer, i know their behavior is giving red flag energy but lets just put that aside for the sake of the story now lol

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNING: sexual content, age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry has been trying his best to forget what happened with Y/N, he is set on never making the same mistake, but it seems like fate has different plans for him.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

That skirt. That goddamned skirt. That’s gonna be the death of Harry.

And also the fact that she went back to that asshole.

Sitting in the busy school cafeteria Harry has zoned out of the conversation at the table a long time ago, precisely when he saw Y/N stroll in wearing that short skirt with that dickhead she should have ditched already or better, she shouldn’t have even dated him in the first place. But now they are moving in the line with their group of friends and he has his hand on her waist and it keeps inching lower, just a few more inches and his hand could be slipping under her skir–

“Harry? Hello?”

Stella catches his attention and he is forced to move his focus back to his colleagues at the table.

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” He clears his throat and keeps his eyes on his half-eaten sandwich in front of him.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t been your usual self lately.”

“Just… tired. I’m behind with my research and have a bunch of papers to grade before winter break.”

“The joys of being a teacher,” Stella chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better with time.”

“Really?”

“No,” she smirks at him. “But you’ll care less.”

She soon returns to the conversation at the table and Harry finds himself looking for Y/N again. There’s no trace of her in the line, but he is quick to spot her at a table across the dining hall, sitting beside Dickhead who has an arm around her neck, keeping her close as he wants everyone to know that they are together.

And it irks Harry way more than it probably should.

It’s been a little over a week since Stella’s Christmas party and also that very heated and very wrong kiss he shared with Y/N. That weekend was like hell, he kept beating himself over and over about it, cursing himself out for being so stupid and reckless. He still has no idea what came over him that let him make out with a student, but he knew one thing for sure: it couldn’t happen again.

So when Y/N walked into the classroom before his first lecture early on monday he didn’t even let her speak before he got to the point.

“It shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry for it, but I can’t undo it now. I suggest let’s pretend nothing happened, it’s for the absolute best. No one can know about it and it will never happen again.”

She seemed taken aback by his outburst, but after a bit of hesitation she nodded.

“Okay. Nothing happened. It must have been the wine.”

“Yes,” he agreed right away. “We both drank more than we should have and made a mistake.”

She flinched at his last word, but didn’t protest, only nodded, holding her textbooks tighter to her chest. She looked so sad, even disappointed that Harry almost wanted to take back what he just said, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Are you… okay?” he dared to ask, but when she looked at him again, her eyes told nothing.

“I’m fine. I’ll see you in class, professor.”

And she was out of the classroom before he could say another word. In class she sat in the back and not even once did she look at him. He knows, because he kept looking at her.

He’s been trying his best to get her out of his head, but with not much luck. Not when all he can think about is how soft her lips felt against his, how insanely good she tasted mixed with the coldness of the night, how amazingly she fit into his palm, the curve of her neck, back, waist and hips… and how badly he wants to experience it again even though it’s the worst possible idea.

Harry thinks he is going insane. Genuinely.

He’s been burying himself into work, but his focus has been all over the place, so it’s been more like a waste of time. He is one of the last ones in the building today as well. Most professors left a long time ago, but the lights in Harry’s tiny office are still on as he is hunched over a stack of papers. When he has to read over the same line for the twentieth time he drops his pen with a tired groan and leans back in his chair. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes roughly, until he is practically seeing stars.

“Fuck,” he huffs, staring at the papers that are still waiting to be graded. Checking the time on his phone he is surprised to see that it’s already past seven.

He stands from his chair and steps to the window. The campus looks quiet at this time, only a few students are walking towards the dorm that’s next to the literature department’s building. It’s a wednesday night, the semester ends next week so some lucky students who have no more exams left in the year have already left for the holidays. Harry will be going home right before Christmas, he plans to use those few days of the break to work on his research in peace.

From his window he sees part of the parking lot next to the dorm, it’s quite dark there, he almost doesn’t notice the figures sitting in the car closest to him, but a few heartbeats later realization hits him.

It’s Y/N and the dickhead.

They are pretty far, but Harry can tell that they are in a heated fight, judging from how Y/N is gesticulating. Obviously he can’t hear them, but if he had to guess he would say she is shouting, from what he can see.

For a moment he tells him to just ignore the scene, it’s none of anyone else’s business, let alone his. But when he sees the asshole slap his hands against the wheel several times, making Y/N jump, Harry is moving before he could second guess his actions.

He practically sprints down that stairs, already trying to figure out how he’ll interject without appearing like a creep, but he forgets all his plans when he is marching towards the parking lot and sees the scene unfold from up close.

At some point they must have gotten out of the car, because Harry catches the dickhead getting back into the driving seat, Y/N is crying and tries to stop him from shutting the door, but he swings it with such force that she stumbles forward, holding onto the handle. When Harry sees her almost fall to the asphalt he starts running, just as the car comes to life and he drives away so fast, he almost runs over Y/N’s feet.

“Fuck you, Charlie! Fuck you!” She screams after the car, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushes over to her, grabs her by her shoulders and turns her away from the direction of the car. “Hey, what happened?”

She is gasping for air from the crying as she wraps her arms around her, those beautiful eyes that are usually filled with curiosity are now full of confusion and hurt.

“Y/N, look at me,” he begs and she hiccups a few times before she finally looks him in the eyes.

“H-Harry?”

He ignores how good it feels to hear her call him by his first name again and tries to focus on the situation.

“Yeah. Let’s get inside, okay? It’s freezing cold.”

She nods and lets him steer her towards the building and up to his office. By the time she sits in the old armchair in the corner of his office she has stopped sobbing, but her expression looks just as miserable as before.

“I’ll make you a tea. Do you like tea?” he asks, stepping over to the tiny side table where he keeps his kettle and tiny tea collection with two mugs. She nods and he is quick to turn on the kettle. He grabs a chamomile filter and drops it into one of the mugs and while the water boils he hands her a box of tissues that she accepts with a quietly murmured thank you.

When the tea is done he hands her the mug and sits in his chair, unsure what to say. He definitely did not plan to have her in his office anytime soon and definitely not like this.

“Go on, lecture me about being with him,” she says at last, staring into the mug in her hands.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“But you’d be right.” She looks up at him, eyes still red from the crying.

“Why did you go back to him?” he softly asks, not wanting to make her feel even worse.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, looking away again. “He could be convincing, I guess.”

“Hope you won’t believe him after this.”

“No,” she chuckles bitterly before taking a sip from the tea, leaning back in the armchair. “Not even the sex will convince me to go back to him.”

Harry’s muscles jump at her words. Not because he is such a prude, but because instantly he is thinking about sex… and her… and his body reacts involuntarily. Clearing his throat he crosses his legs and looks anywhere but at her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she chuckles softly, but she doesn’t seem sorry at all.

“No, I… um…” Harry has no idea what to say. This feels like such an impossible situation, he is definitely walking on eggshells here and the fact that he is semi-hard does not help his case.

While he is looking for the right words she places her mug to his desk and crosses her legs, a curious look playing in her eyes as she is looking at him. She appears calm and confident suddenly, like she wasn’t sobbing ten minutes ago.

“I lied,” she then speaks up.

“About what?”

“I know why I went back to him.”

“Oh. Okay, why did you?”

She holds his gaze for one… two… three seconds before her lips part, then she hesitates for one more moment before answering.

“Because I couldn’t go to you.”

A shiver runs down his spine at her words, his body is betraying him already, but he hangs onto the last bit of his rationality.

“Y/N, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth?”

“We agreed that we are not talking about it again.”

“I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about how badly I’ve been wanting you, but knowing I can’t have you I went back to Charlie even though I knew I shouldn’t have.”

“Y/N…” His mouth is dry and he feels ridiculously hot even though the heating hasn’t been working too well lately in his office. He is clawing at the arms of his chair, trying to keep the remains of his cool, though it feels like he is hanging on a thread.

“I won’t do anything about it, don’t worry. And I won’t bring it up again.” She sounds different this time, the confidence has turned into what feels like disappointment and it lurches something in Harry’s gut.

Standing she smoothes her clothes before looking at Harry, a tiny sliver of expectancy glistening in her eyes.

“Thanks for the tea. I better get going.”

She is already moving towards the door when Harry jumps to his feet, entirely lost about what to think, do or say. He strides after her and just when she is about to reach for the knob, he grabs her other hand, stopping her mid action.

But he has no idea why he just did that. His rationality is screaming at him, but with each passing moment he spends holding her hand, the noise gets farther and farther away until it’s lost somewhere in the back of his mind.

Slowly, she turns her head, eyes taking in the sight of their touching hands before her gaze meets his. He instantly stumbles back, letting go of her like she was on fire, but she doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, she turns around and just stands there, with a calm, but determined look on her face.

“Careful professor,” she then speaks up. “I might take your actions as a hint.”

“A hint…” he breathes out, almost mesmerized with her, he is convinced she’s put a spell on him, because he can’t move or think straight, he just keeps staring at her.

“Yes, a hint,” she nods shortly. “That you want me just as much as I want you.”

He swallows down a moan that almost slips through his lips at her words. His whole body is burning for her, palms sweating and itching to touch her and he can almost taste her on his tongue again, desperate to pick up from where they left off not long ago.

The tiniest smirk tugs on the corners of her mouth when she sees just how much he is struggling and she takes it as her queue to push her luck just a bit further. She takes a step closer to him, but still leaves some space between them, wanting him to close those last inches.

“You know you can have me.” She cocks her head to the side, blinking up at him innocently. “Right here, on your desk or in that armchair. I want to be your good girl and take whatever you give me.”

“Stop it,” he manages to breathe out, but all his strength is gone, it sounds more like a plea rather than an order.

“What if I don’t?” she sassily questions. “Will you punish me?”

Harry whimpers. They both know he is close to breaking and she is not stepping down now and she’s determined to push him over the edge. Slowly she reaches up, drags a finger across her lips before moving then down, tugging at her shirt at her chest, revealing more of the exposed skin there, then she starts playing with the top button, all while keeping her eyes focused on him. He sucks on his breath, his gaze keeps switching between her eyes and what her fingers are doing.

Then it pops open, revealing the delicious swell of her breasts and a bit of the lacy bra as well and he knows he is gone.

“Close the curtain,” he simply orders and a sudden rush of excitement washes over her as she quickly moves across the room, drawing the curtains on the window and turning around she is expecting him to be in the same spot, but to her surprise he is right there and before she could say a word, his lips crash down on hers with such force she would have fallen back if he didn’t already have an arm around her waist.

His other hand is quick to find its way to her throat first, then to her jaw, angling her head perfectly so he can devour her.

He spins them around and she gasps when her ass meets the edge of his desk, still kissing her he pushes forward, blindly tossing everything on the desk aside to make room, something clatters as it falls to the ground but neither of them cares to even look. His hands are on the back of her legs and he helps her up until she is sitting on top of the desk.

She eagerly opens her thighs and circles her legs around his hips, pulling him closer and when she feels just how hard he already is, pushing against her clothed center, she can’t help but moan at the sensation.

“It’s a one time thing,” he pants when her fingers start to work on his shirt and his hands find the button of her jeans.

“Sure,” she breathes out smiling.

“Just to get it out of our system.”

“Of course,” she nods eagerly, and a moment later she is tugging his shirt off his shoulders.

Buttons come undone, clothes are thrown across the room and soon enough all of his focus is on her naked chest, his hands exploring the tender, heated skin before his head dips down and his mouth meets her hardened nipples.

“Oh fuck,” she moans, head falling back as she has an arm around his shoulders, the other one planted behind her on the desk. All while his hands are tugging down her jeans, finally giving him the chance to touch her inner thighs, exploring the warmth and softness he’s been fantasizing about for so long.

He gently bites on one of her nipples, making her back arch, burying his face between her breasts before he leans back to get rid of her jeans. She has a moment to admire his naked torso, all the tattoos he’s been hiding under his clothes, his pants are hanging around his knees and his erection is throbbing through the fabric of his underwear. She can’t help but smile at the sight, it’s surely one she’ll remember forever.

When her jeans are discarded on the floor he plants his hands on her thighs and pushes them wide open, revealing her drenched panties. He brings his thumb over the wet fabric, lazily drags it over her clit, making her tremble under his touch. Then keeping eye contact with her he pulls his chair under him, sits down and rolls closer so his face is perfectly lined up with her. With his eyes still locked on hers, he leans forward, moves her panties to the side and places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to her throbbing clit, making her moan so loud, he digs his fingers into her thighs pulling back.

“You need to be quiet,” he warns her and she just eagerly nods, watching him take her underwear off completely and go back to where he was a moment ago.

Harry drinks up her taste, he licks, kisses and sucks on the right spots, making her see stars as her orgasm is building up. When she feels two of his fingers slip into her she grabs a handful of his hair, tugging on it.

But right when she is about to tip over the edge he pulls back, leaving her in a heaving mess. Reaching into one of his drawers he grabs a condom and standing up he watches her lying on his desk, chest rapidly rising and falling while he rolls the condom on.

To his surprise, she gets up and jumps off the desk, taking the initiative by pushing him down back into the chair and straddling his lap. His hands are quick to move to her ass as his cock wedges between her drenched folds. He hisses when she starts rolling her hips, making them both even more feral for what’s about to come.

She leans forward and kisses him, her hand reaching down between them until it finds his cock. She gives him a few lazy strokes to which he hums lowly into her mouth. Then she stops her kisses, lips still brushing against his, eyes meeting again as she lifts herself up just enough to angle him underneath her and then slowly she eases down, letting him enter her inch by inch until she is filled entirely. She gasps at the feeling of her walls stretching around him and they both stop for a few moments, just savoring how perfectly they fit together.

She plants both her hands to the base of his neck, kisses him again and starts moving her hips.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he groans, locking his arms around her, fingers digging into her naked back and side as she starts to slowly pick up her pace, bouncing on him.

When he starts thrusting upwards, meeting her movements, her head rolls back from how deep she feels him inside her, his tip reaching the perfect spot.

“Yes, right there!” she gasps as he buries his head in her neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin while keeping his rhythm. “I’m so close,” she breathes out, her hands raking through his messy hair.

Wanting even more friction she adjusts herself and then starts moving faster and rougher, aching for the release. She looks down, her eyes meet his gaze and she just knows he is as close as she is.

“Harry,” she moans and hearing his name fall from her lips is what pushes him over the edge.

Grunting, his thrusts get rougher and fall out of their fast pace, he pushes into her over and over again as he fills the condom and watching him fall apart helps her let go as well. He feels her walls tighten around him while he is still riding out the afterwaves of his own orgasm, her mouth hangs open, nails digging into his shoulders so harshly they surely leave marks.

Then they both slowly come off their high and she leans forward, capturing his lips in a much softer kiss than the ones they’ve shared just minutes ago. He gladly returns, their lips melt together and his fingers gently roam her naked back while he is still inside her.

They’re quiet when she moves off him and grabs a few tissues to clean herself up while he discards the condom. The clothes are picked up from the floor one by one and a sense of unsureness settles between them as they both get dressed.

She was the only thing on his mind just five minutes ago, but now that the sex haze is gone, his thoughts start racing. What did he do? What will happen now? This shouldn’t have happened but still, he wants to do it again and again and again.

As if she knew he was panicking inside, she steps to him, takes his face in her hands and pulls him into a long, passionate kiss that instantly makes him forget about everything else.

“Don’t overthink it,” she whispers against his lips. “We’re adults.”

“I’m your teacher,” he hums.

“The semester is almost over. Grade my last paper and we’re done,” she simply says with very little care about his current status. But he is not that sold on it just yet, hesitation and worry is all over his face. “Did you not want it?”

“You know how much I wanted it,” he admits defeatedly.

“Great. I wanted it too. And I want it again. So I’ll come by tomorrow again. You’ll bend me over that desk after I had your cock in my mouth, then tell me what grade I’m getting for the semester and we do it again after that.”

He is already feeling himself getting hard again. Deep down he knows he should say no, but he has no will left to fight with himself anymore. So all he does is nod and then kiss her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, professor.” She grabs her coat from the floor and then walks out of his office like nothing happened.

Harry falls into his chair and assesses the mess on and around his desk, staring at the spot where she was sitting not long ago. He knows he is making his biggest mistake ever, but sinning has never felt this good.

And right now he is willing to take this risk.

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cutielando · 3 days ago

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brazil, my heart | m.v.

synopsis: in which Max finally makes a statement during the Brazilian GP

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

Your lip was stuck between your teeth as the whole garage waited anxiously for the start of the race.

The weather had kept everyone on their toes ever since the Sprint race had finished, and it seemed to be set on continuing to do so during the race.

Frankly, it wasn't something that you were very much keen on.

You were very tired, having woken up at 5 am to join Max at the track for the early Qualifying session from 7:30, you didn't want to take a nap after Max was done with Qualifying so you could talk to him, but now you were slowly starting to regret it.

Your nerves were stretched thin as you anxiously watched the 5 lights turn on one by one, your heart jumping in your ribcage once they went out and everyone lunged forward.

"Max up to P11" GP's voice suddenly rang through your headset, making you finally let out a sigh you hadn't realized you had been holding.

Max had long ago come to an agreement with his race engineers to do his best to keep you in the loop with regular updates because he knew you sometimes got too nervous or scared to actually watch the race.

The weather really didn't help your nerves, either.

You were always afraid for Max in dry conditions, but seeing him race in this rain and with the low grip level on the track, let's just say you were gonna have a lot more gray hairs by the time the race is over, which feels like a lifetime away.

Wet racing was often known to be one of Max's best conditions for racing, but it also meant more dangerous conditions.

Seeing the spray that the cars would leave behind, just having to imagine having to drive at such high speeds with water in your face, barely able to see anything, desperately trying to keep the car on track. There was no room for any mistake, no matter how little.

You trusted Max and his abilities, but that didn't mean you weren't still gonna be worried out of your ass for him.

"Red flag. Max is coming into the garage" GP's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, your stance immediately perking up at the sound of the news.

You waited until the cars had come into the pitlane to take off your set of headphones and make your way outside of the garage, anxiously waiting to see your boyfriend emerge from his car.

The moment you had laid eyes on him coming towards you, you hurriedly started walking over to him, not caring about any of the engineers or frankly anyone else from his team.

You only cared about making sure he was okay.

Just to ease your mind and worries.

"Hey babe-" Max barely got a word in before you jumped straight into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

He grunted, but returned the tight hug, careful not to squash your head with his helmet.

You buried your head into his shoulder as best as you could, your heart racing as you finally felt him under your fingertips, okay and all in one piece.

“I’m never joining you at the track for another wet race ever again. I’ve had 4 panic attacks until now” you said, half joking and half telling the truth.

Max laughed, his arms tightening around your waist.

He knew how much you worried about him every time he would get into the car, and he also knew how much you hated the wet races. And he couldn’t blame you, but he was the best in those conditions, so you had nothing to worry about on his end.

“Is it that bad?” he asked, looking at his engineer over your shoulder who gave him a short and worried nod.

“It’s worse. I don’t know how you guys can see the track in front of your eyes from all that spray” you said, slowly letting go of him and stepping back from his arms.

Max pulled up his visor and smiled at you, the crinkles by his eyes telling you everything you needed to know.

“Hey, I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me, I’m driving the race of my life out there and everything is okay. I love you and I’ll come back to you in one piece” he said, holding our face in his gloved hands.

You bit your lip and studied him for a little while before nodding, giving him one last hug before he was pulled away by his engineers to go over data.

Running a hand through your already disheveled hair, you slowly made your way back into the garage, occupying your seat and putting your headphones back on.

Half more of this torture to go.

♡♡♡♡♡

The tears were falling down your cheeks before you could even think about stopping them, before the race was even close to being over.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could imagine what was going on behind Max's helmet, what feelings were going through his mind as he was leading the race towards victory.

Those last few laps seemed like they were taking forever, but then he finally crossed the finish line and took the checkered flag in first position.

You didn't think it was possible, but a new wave of tears started falling down your eyes, sobs racking through your body.

"P1, He's done it, Y/N" GP's voice rung through your ears, but you didn't care for any of it.

The only thing you cared about was seeing Max.

You got up from your chair and put the headphones on a table in front of you, your legs carrying you fast towards where his car was parked.

"Max!" you yelled just as he took off his helmet, his smile radiating as he started walking towards you.

You didn't waste a second before you flung your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as Max squeezed you close.

"I did it" he whispered into your ear, the smile evident in his voice.

You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you clung onto his body.

"I'm so proud of you" you murmured, pressing little kisses on his neck and his cheek.

Nothing could ever beat this feeling, being right there in your arms after winning a much-awaited Grand Prix.

Nothing could be better than that for him.

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jasvtsc · 3 days ago

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losing your powers simply meant one thing—you couldn’t disappear whenever or wherever you wanted to. in fact, you pretty much couldn’t do anything.

and with your preservation skills or rather the lack of them? yeah, you were screwed.

as much as dean loved your innocence and good-hearted nature, sometimes he wished you could be a little more reserved and bitchy. not so open to anyone. and by anyone, he meant anyone.

so when he found out that you’ve been hitchhiking with strangers? he was fuming after experiencing first signs of an early stroke. you couldn’t spot a dangerous situation if it was pointed at with neon signs and blasting horns—you thought that since your favourite human was nice to you and his younger brother was also a good man, everyone else would probably be the same.

that’s when dean noted that you needed some exposure to other human beings, like a resocialized puppy.

because when he called you (teaching you how to use the phone was like teaching a baby how to walk, but you got there in the end, your phone only having dean’s number) you were once again hitchhiking.

“what? birdie, no, what the hell are you doing in nebraska?” he sighed, running his hand through his tired face. you were going to be the death of him.

“research,” you said as if it was something obvious. “sam said you needed to check something out here, and since you didn’t have time, i did it,” he knew you were grinning right now, and it just tugged at his heart.

“birdie—” he didn’t have it in himself to scold you. or at least not right now. instead, he sighed and got up, getting his keys to Baby. “tell me where you are exactly. i’ll pick you up,” he said, although he frowned when he heard some weird commotion on the other side of the phone.

“you don’t have to. i’ll be back in the bunker in a few hours,” you said with excitement, and when something revved up, dean’s face went pale.

“birdie, what are you doing? what was that?” he asked, panic already evident in his voice and in his tightly he was gripping the phone.

“oh, i’m on a bike! it’s bigger and louder than normal ones, but it’s so cool! and the kind mister has such a cool beard! it’s so fun!” you practically squirmed in excitement, sitting behind some biker since his gang decided to drop you off.

dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. at least you weren’t in a car where they would lock you up. at least on a motorcycle, you could just jump off (he knew you were capable of doing that).

“tell me you’re wearing a helmet,” he let out an exasperated sigh, closing his eyes as he expected your answer.

“i did. but it was squeezing my head too much, and i couldn’t think, so i took it off. also it was ruining my hair.”

lord have mercy.

drabble inspired by this ask <3

#🫧 — kas writes #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x angel!reader #dean winchester x angel!reader drabble #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural drabble

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covenofagatha · 2 days ago

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Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 2)

Word count: 3500+

Warnings: making out, slight mentions of masturbation, sex toys

You’re on your new laptop the next day when Agatha walks into the bakery. Your face lights up and she smiles at you the second she’s through the door. Like every time you see her, she manages to take your breath away.

“Hey!” You exclaim, motioning your hands around the laptop. “Thank you so much again. You did not have to do this.”

“I know I didn’t. But I wanted to, hon,” she says. Agatha’s now stopped in front of the counter, looking at you expectantly.

“Do you want the usual?”

She smirks playfully. “Do you remember everyone’s order?”

“Only the ones that tip about 500% and buy me laptops,” you joke, but there’s some truth to it. You’ve had customers that have come in every day for a week and you don’t even realize it’s the same person. She seems satisfied with your quip and nods.

“I’d love the ‘usual,’ thank you.”

This time, though, when she holds out the typical $50, you pull out the change from the register and insist she take it. She raises an eyebrow.

“Please, Agatha, you just bought me a computer,” you say, the beg coming out a little whiny. She teasingly rolls her eyes and takes the money from you. “Thank you. Your coffee will be right up.”

“Actually, can you make it two?”

Your heart skips a beat. Who is joining her? A friend? Her partner?

And then you inwardly scold yourself for caring.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Another espresso?”

She shrugs slyly and skates a finger over the countertop. “I don’t know. What kind of coffee do you want?”

You stare at her blankly, trying to make sense of her question. She must see your puzzled expression because she tosses her head back with a laugh.

“I’m asking you to have coffee with me, doll,” she explains and the lightbulb clicks in your mind.

“Oh–oh my god! I’m sorry.” Of course you’re making a fool out of yourself in front of the most beautiful woman on the planet.

“You don’t have to.” This is the first time you’ve ever seen a flicker of doubt on her face.

“No, no, I want to. Go sit down and I’ll bring the coffee over when I’m ready.”

She sits down at the normal booth and you busy yourself making an espresso and a pumpkin spice latte. This time, you allow yourself to glance at Agatha and you feel something in your stomach when you notice that she’s already looking at you, a fond smile on her lips. There’s a tug in your gut and you smile back. You’re not sure why the older woman is drawn to you this much, but you are not complaining.

There’s something about her too. Something that pulls you in and doesn’t want to let you go.

You successfully make the coffee this time without any broken laptops and you bring them over to the table, sitting across from her before she has to ask. She looks pleased and blows on her coffee before taking a sip.

“What’s your drink of choice?” She asks, nodding at your cup.

“Oh, just a pumpkin spice latte,” you say dismissively. “I’m a big pumpkin fan.” She nods like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever heard. “And, thank you again. For the laptop. You really didn’t have to do that. Is there anything I can do to repay you?” You don’t mean for it to sound as dirty as it does and she smirks like she hears it too.

“There is one thing you can do.” You urge her earnestly with your eyes. “Go ice skating with me tonight?” It’s getting colder in Westview and the winter festivities are being broken out, including the Winter Wonderland in the square. Complete with an ice skating rink, hot chocolate stands, a snow pit, a hill for the kids to sled down, and even more, it was a town favorite.

You frown but your heart skips a beat at the thought of her wanting to hang with you. As a date? “How is that repaying you?”

She flicks her hand. “The money isn’t a big deal. I just want to get to know you better. Unless you’re busy.”

“No, I have literally nothing to do later,” you say, shaking your head. She looks relieved. “Can I at least pay for the tickets?”

“Honey,” she scoffs playfully. “I asked, so I’m paying. If you want to pay, you’ll just have to ask me to do something another time.”

“This sounds an awful lot like a date,” you say before you can stop yourself. The corners of her mouth quirk up and she raises an eyebrow.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah,” you answer almost immediately, your voice hoarse at the thought. A date. With a rich, hot, older woman. She smiles genuinely. “What time? Oh, I hope all my winter clothes aren’t at home.” You haven’t been back in awhile to your parents’ house and you only brought the necessities to make it until you go back. You’re not sure how many cute options you’ll have.

“I’ll pick you up around five-thirty? And do you have warm clothes?” She gives you a once-over. You’re in jeans and your uniform top. In the back, you have the heavy coat you wear when you have to go outside, and back at your dorm, you have sweatpants. Not exactly up to par with this gorgeous woman.

You smile and nod and try to not appear too nervous. What to wear is always a point of stress for you. She must sense this because she reaches over to pat your hand reassuringly and then pulls out her wallet from her pocket.

Before you can protest, she slaps a credit card down on the table. Your jaw drops and you look back and forth between it and Agatha.

“Go to the mall and get whatever you want,” she tells you, and there is not even a trace of a joke in her tone.

“How do you know I won’t just buy a car or something crazy?”

She laughs. “I trust you. And I don’t think you would. You seem like a good girl.” She puts a lot of emphasis on those words and it makes you feel hot. You’re sure your cheeks have turned red. “Text me your address before tonight, yeah?”

You nod because you don’t trust yourself to talk at this point. What kind of woman just casually hands over her credit card to someone she barely knows?

“Um, thank you,” is all you can muster the strength to say. She gives you one last smile before getting up from the table.

“I’ll see you tonight, doll.”

The moment you’re done with your shift, you head to the mall. You’re not exactly sure what will suffice for the date, but you hope you’ll know it when you see it.

You eventually find some black pants that make your ass look great and a cute purple sweater with a blue vest. It’s a little pricey though. You know Agatha said to get whatever you wanted, but you still feel a little guilty, especially after she’s thrown so much other money at you.

So you text her. Hey Agatha! At the mall right now. Just want to check if there was a limit to how much I could spend? I found some stuff but it’s almost $200. If that’s too much, no worries at all! You send her your address as well before you can forget.

She immediately replies. Get the stuff and anything else you want. I can’t wait to see what you’ve picked out ;) see you later.

The winky face causes heat to pump through your veins and you bite your lip. You clear your throat and head to the check-out, heart beating fast when you press Agatha’s credit card to the reader. It goes through and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You still can’t believe she just handed it over so willingly.

Is she your sugar mommy now?

The question weighs on your mind until she texts you that she’s outside your building later that afternoon. You give yourself a once-over and run downstairs to her car. The new clothes are comfy and warm and she looks at you approvingly when you slide into the passenger seat.

“Good choice,” she says.

“Thank you again,” you reply, a little breathless from the cold and your speed. You take out her card from your wallet and hand it to her. “I can’t believe you just gave your card to some random stranger like that.”

She laughs along with you. “I know you wouldn’t do anything. You seem too desperate to please.” Your face heats and you’re not really sure what to say. She isn’t wrong. There’s something about Agatha that makes you want to do whatever she says. “How was the rest of work?”

“Oh, good.” You wave a hand dismissively. “It was a pretty slow day today. Did you have work?”

She launches into telling you about her newest court case and you find yourself absolutely fascinated to the point of not even realizing that you’ve arrived. Everything Agatha says has you absolutely enthralled and by the faint smirk on her face, she knows it too.

She leads you over to the ticket stand, her hand on your lower back, and confidently buys two.

“Thank you,” you say again, a little flustered by how she hasn’t let you pay for anything. You’ll be damned if you leave without buying her a drink or something.

“Of course, doll. Do you want to skate first?” You nod eagerly, causing her to chuckle, and you both go to pick out skates. She has to help you lace them up after you fumble with them for a while since your hands have become so cold.

“Full disclosure, I’m not very good at skating,” you warn her when she’s holding onto your arm at the gate.

“I can help you, sweetheart,” she says and your heart feels so full.

She gets onto the ice first and lets go of the railing so she can grab your hands and assist you in stepping onto the rink. Your eyes widen when you almost fall after moving your foot forward and it shoots back, but Agatha catches you in her strong arms.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim as she stands you back up, never letting go of her tight grip on you.

“It takes a bit to figure out. How many times have you ice skated?”

“None,” you say, tongue poking through your lips as you look down at your feet and focus on sliding them forward. She glides backwards with you effortlessly. When you finally look up at her, she’s staring at you with something written on her face you can’t quite read. “What?”

“You could’ve told me that you hadn’t, I would’ve taken you to dinner or something else,” she says.

“No, no, it’s totally fine. I would’ve done whatever you wanted to do,” you reply half-mindedly. You’re more focused on skating around the corner. Once you do so successfully, her hands move from your wrists to only one hand holding your hip.

But her touch makes you jump, fire igniting in your stomach, and you slip and fall on the ice.

You groan in pain and Agatha stifles a laugh before squatting down to check on you. The cold has seeped into your wet pants and the humiliation burns your cheeks.

“You okay, doll?”

You nod your head defeatedly. “Yeah, just a little wet.” The moment you say it, you can see her eyes darken just the slightest. Your breath catches when you realize the innuendo and there’s a tense silence with the two of you just staring at each other while others skate around you.

“Well, let’s get you up. Want to keep trying?” Agatha asks finally. She gets back on her feet as gracefully as ever.

“As long as you don’t let me fall again,” you joke and take her outstretched hands.

“I didn’t let you fall, you did that all on your own,” she says playfully.

She carefully lifts you up and you grab onto her biceps when you’re fully standing so you don’t crash back down. Her hands grab your waist again to hold you steady and when you look at her face, she’s staring at your lips.

“Agatha,” you say, but you’re not sure what else to add because now you’re staring at her lips too. She leans in an imperceptible amount and your mouth parts involuntarily, ready for a kiss.

“Look out!” Someone shouts and the next thing you know, a three foot tall blur runs straight into you, knocking you, Agatha, and the random person down.

“Sorry!” The kid exclaims and jumps up to skate away, leaving you and Agatha wincing on the ice.

“Why don’t we go find something else to do?” She asks and you’ve never been more happy to agree.

Agatha helps you up once again and this time, interlocks her fingers with yours and slowly skates with you to the exit.

Once you’ve gotten your shoes back on, Agatha buys the two of you cups of hot chocolate and a pretzel to split and leads you over to a bench so you can sit.

“Thank you for this,” you say, shoving a piece of the pretzel into your mouth.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

The pet name does things to you that you can’t say and you find yourself wishing that the almost-kiss on the ice actually happened. You feel so connected and attracted to Agatha, even though you’re not sure why.

“Why do you keep tipping me so much and buying me all these nice things?” You’re finally brave enough to voice the question that’s been on your mind since the first day she came into the bakery.

She smiles and reaches over to squeeze your hand. “You deserve it. And I like spoiling you. You get this cute little look in your eye.” You blush instantly and she laughs. “Like that.”

“Well, can I take you out sometime soon? Maybe for dinner or a movie or something?”

“I’d like that. I’m free Tuesday or Thursday night this week.”

“I’ll see you Tuesday then,” you say, happy that she’s finally going to let you treat her to something. “Unless I see you at the bakery first. It seems to have become an integral part of your morning.” You’re teasing but part of you wants her to elaborate on what she’s doing.

“What can I say? The cinnamon crumb cake and the espresso are to die for,” she says with a wink. You laugh despite yourself.

Comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you sip on your drinks and eat the pretzel.

“Is there anything else you want to do?” She asks.

“Can we go on the ferris wheel?”

“Of course, dear.” She stands up and offers you her hand and you obviously take it.

The line for the ride isn’t long at all so you basically walk right into a passenger car. Agatha sits next to you instead of across from you so she can wrap an arm around your shoulders. The wheel starts turning and something on the ceiling catches your eye.

“Is that mistletoe?” You ask, pointing up at it and then looking at Agatha, who is also peering up at it, corners of her mouth quirking up.

“Looks like it,” she answers thoughtfully and then glances at you playfully. “Shall we?”

You don’t even answer, just clasp her cheek with your hand and pull her in.

It’s a slow kiss at first, just a press of your mouth against hers, but then she opens her lips and slides her tongue into your mouth. You moan into her mouth and try to pull her even closer to you so you can feel more of her. She sucks on your tongue and your teeth make a clicking noise when they clash against each other.

When you have to pull back for air, she kisses down your jaw and then gently bites on your neck. You gasp and your hips jump against nothing.

“Agatha,” you breathe and you can feel her smirking as she nibbles on your earlobe. A fire stokes to life in your stomach and your body feels like a lifewire. One of her hands dips under your vest so she can cup your breast through your sweater. You whimper and she chuckles lowly. “Please.”

“Is this okay?” She asks and you nod so hard your head hurts. She smirks and her hand slides down and under your sweater.

The coldness of her fingers against your warm stomach makes you gasp but you like it and you pull her back in for a kiss. Her hand keeps moving up under your shirt and she’s about to reach your bra—

—and the Ferris wheel stops. You let out a sigh of disappointment and Agatha laughs.

The door to your car opens and the two of you step out. You wonder if your face is as red as it seems and you hope that no one accidentally saw you two making out.

“So what now?” She asks once you’re back in the middle of the fair. But there’s only one thing on your mind right now.

You don’t care that you’re surrounded by people right now; you stand up on your tiptoes and give her a searing kiss which she returns immediately. Your hands wrap around her neck and hers find their place on your waist. You end the kiss by tugging on her bottom lip and when you pull back, her blue eyes are dark and hooded.

“Can we do more of that?” You breathe and she chuckles. You’ve never wanted anyone so badly in your life and you think if you don’t have her hands on you in the next ten minutes you might die.

“Anything you want,” she whispers and presses one last chaste kiss to your lips. “Does this mean you want to leave?”

“Please,” you beg and she smirks at how visibly desperate you are. You’ve become so wet and needy since she put her hand on your waist on the ice. You practically drag her back to the car and when she pulls back in front of your dorm, you look at her with begging eyes. “Come in?”

The moment you say it, you realize how ridiculous it sounds. Bringing a hot, rich, older woman up to your living space that’s probably the size of her closet so she can fuck you in your twin sized bed? Plus it was your first date and you’ve known her for less than a week.

She’s clearly thinking the same thing because she smiles softly and says, “Maybe on Tuesday, doll.”

And yet, you whine. “Why can’t we just go back to your place right now? Please, I’m so-” You cut yourself off before you can tell her just how much you really need her.

Her smile turns into a knowing smirk. “Why don’t you go upstairs and take care of that yourself then?” You gape and a flush climbs up your neck and to your face, but she leans in and keeps going. “Use your hand, or a toy, to think about me. Just to tide you over for a bit.”

“I don’t have a toy,” is all you can think to say with your brain short-circuiting. That shouldn’t have been the part to focus on, but Agatha pulls back with wide eyes.

“You don’t?”

And then the image of Agatha using a toy on herself inserts itself in your brain and you have to cross a leg over the other to get some sense of relief. “No,” you squeak out.

The glint in her eyes is positively evil. “Have a good night, doll.” She gives you one last kiss and then unlocks the car door. You give her a playful glare and then go upstairs.

After you’ve showered and put on pajamas, you slide your hand down your sweatpants and touch yourself.

It takes all of three minutes before you cum all over your hand, just replaying the kiss with Agatha in your mind.

You fall asleep quickly after that and in the morning, you’re surprised to see a notification saying that you have a package in the delivery room. You throw on a sweatshirt and head down and it’s a medium sized brown box with your name and an A. Harkness as the mailer.

Frowning, you take it back to your room and cut it open. Moving the flaps aside, you peer in the box and gasp.

There’s at least four sex toys. A vibrator, a dildo, a different type of toy, and then a small box. You pick up the box and immediately drop it.

It’s a remote controlled, long-distance vibrator.

Your breathing has quickened and you feel your underwear growing wet yet again because of Agatha.

And then you see a piece of paper. Hands shaking, you pull it out and open it.

Hope you enjoy ;) Maybe you can wear the vibrator on Tuesday. See you soon.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha smut #agatha all along

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fastandcarlos · 21 hours ago

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No More Makeup : ̗̀➛ George Russell

summary: as he watches you doing your makeup once again, george decides it's time for you to see how much you don't need it

You dropped down onto the stool in front of your dresser, straightening your hands through your hair. You reached across and opened the drawer where your makeup was kept, rummaging through the mess and pulling out the items that you needed.

“What are you up to?” George asked as he walked through into the bedroom, standing behind you and placing his hands gently down on your shoulders. “I’ve never seen so much makeup in your life.”

“It’s all needed,” you responded, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I need plenty of it to try and at least look human.”

George’s eyes widened as you spoke, shaking his head in response. “You must be kidding, you look incredible as you are now, without all of this. This must take an age to do this every day.”

“It doesn’t take too long, I’ve got quite the routine,” you smiled.

“I just don’t get it,” he hummed.

You picked up your eyelash curler, holding it tightly in your hand, turning to face your mirror and curling your left lashes. “What don’t you get about it, George?”

His eyes studied you closely as you then moved to curl your other set of lashes, fascinated as to how such a simple thing could make such a difference. “I don’t get why you feel the need to wear all of this. I look at you and think you’re stunning, but you don’t seem to agree.”

You placed the curler down, picking out your favourite eyeshadow palette, opening the lid up. “George, I love you, but I’m definitely not stunning without any makeup on. I’ve got plenty of marks and blemishes that need covering up, I swear sometimes I still have the face of a teenager.”

George frowned, placing his fingertips underneath your chin and tipping your head back again, stopping you from carrying on with your routine. “You’re beautiful because of who you are, they say it’s what’s on the inside that counts rather than what’s on the outside anyway.”

“I know, George,” you whispered, “I guess wearing makeup is just like a safety blanket, it makes me feel a lot more confident in myself.”

“Then I’m going to help you feel confident without it,” George grinned, reaching around either side of you to take out the drawer of makeup. A squeal came from you as you spun around on the stool, your hands reached out to try and grab George but he slipped out of your hold.

You tried to pick up what fell out of the drawer, knowing you could try and do something with what was left. As you did, George ran out of the room with the drawer, returning a few moments later with a confident smile etched upon his face and his hands free.

Your head shook as George closed the distance between the two of you, kissing against the top of your head. “Did you really have to do that? Where did you even put it?”

“That’s for me to know, and you not to find out,” he sung, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stood up. His eyes looked down at you in awe, studying you closely, admiring how you looked without any makeup on. George knew you were mad, but if hiding your makeup was what he needed to do to show you how beautiful you were, then he would absolutely do it.

Your eyes narrowed in George’s direction as he spun you around, dancing around the room with you in his hold. As mad as you wanted to be, you knew that George’s intentions were sweet, even if he had an annoying way of trying to prove his point.

“I’ll get you back for this,” you warned, hitting against his chest. “I need to start getting ready, with my makeup.”

“You already are ready for the day, you look incredible as you are, without needing any of that rubbish,” George smiled, pecking the tip of your nose with a soft kiss. “I don’t want you to feel like you keep having to cover up when you’re so naturally beautiful.”

“You’re a smooth talker this morning,” you teased, turning yourself around to try and walk out of the room. “I will find where you’ve put my makeup you know; you’re rubbish at this game.”

George’s head shook proudly back across at you, pulling you against his chest to stop you from getting any further away. “I’m not playing any games; I’m trying to make you see how beautiful you are.”

Your body relaxed, shoulders dropping as you let go of a sigh. “If I promise not to wear makeup today, will you give it back?” You asked George, smiling sweetly up at him to try and convince him to give you back what you wanted.”

“You promise?” He asked, eyes suspiciously looking across at you.

“George, I do listen to what you have to say.”

“So, you see how beautiful you are?” He quizzed, moving his hands from your waist to brush through your hair. Your head slowly nodded, although you were still far from convinced. Although if anyone was going to convince you, it was definitely going to be George.

“You really mean it when you say these things, don’t you?” You smiled, allowing George to carry you across, perching down on the edge of your bed with you.

George nodded straight away, resting the side of his head against your own. “As far as I’m concerned, you are by far the most beautiful person on the planet. I hate the way you always feel to cover up, I want you to embrace you like I do and admire how beautiful you are with nothing else.”

Your hand pressed against George’s cheek, smiling appreciatively across at him. “I’ll remind you of this next time I come with you to a shoot for Mercedes and you ask them to powder your nose a little more.”

“I do not!” George called out, staring across at you in disbelief. “And anyway, that’s only because they have the worst lighting ever at all of those shoots.”

Your head shook as George tried to defend himself, although you’d seen one too many times how keen he was for a little extra help when it came to looking his best on all of his shoots. He loved the attention he got from the makeup artists as they made sure to remove all of the shine from his face.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss against his lips. “I may not always believe you, but I love having you by my side as my biggest cheerleader, always finding a way to make me feel better about myself.”

George leaned forwards, searching for another kiss from you. “That’s because you’re perfect to me.”

“You really know all the right things to say, don’t you?”

“That’s why you love me,” George giggled, “although everything that I’m saying is true, I’d love to know how I ever got so lucky to find you?”

“Stop,” you chuckled, throwing your head back. “I’m going to need my makeup soon to cover my blushed cheeks.”

George’s head shook, “don’t cover it up, I want to see just how happy I make you.”

“You make me the happiest person in the world.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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littlespoonevan · 3 days ago

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your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

#buddie #buddie fic #911 #my fics #3 fics in one week who is she?!?!?!

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xoxochb · 2 days ago

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omg aphrodite!reader having her first kiss with percy <3 it would be so cute rahhh

— ribbons in your hair ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff!!! pairing: lovesick! percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite

“do you like ‘em?”

you smile brightly and turn around with a jump, revealing to percy your two braided strands tied at the ends with tiny pink ribbons. what kind of question was that, though? like them? of course he liked them! he liked anything that had anything even slightly to do with you.

“they’re great! I love them.”

you squeal and run over to sit atop your bed next to percy. absentmindedly, he takes this opportunity to take each of your braids between his palms delicately thumbs running over the curves of your hair, and ending over the ribbon tying it all together. he silently hopes you can’t see the utter adoration in his eyes or perhaps the faint blush coating his cheeks or the way he feels completely limp simply sitting beside you.

“(name)…” he murmurs, releasing your hair and letting his hands now fall on his lap.

“yes?”

shit. the soft tone of your voice makes him feel weak. thank the gods he’s sitting down.

“uhm…” he searches for the right words. no. he shouldn’t do this now, not when one of your siblings could walk in at any moment (and he new drew wasn’t entirely the nicest person either. that girl’s scary as shit). “nothing.”

you murmur an ‘oh’ and your smile falls into a frown.

“sorry, I just- well… it was nothing important, I didn’t think you’d care much.”

“I care about everything you have to say. even if it’s stupid. or one of your stupid dad jokes.” your lips turn upwards a tad at the mere remembrance of his idiotic humor.

“you hate dad jokes.”

“well, yours are okay.”

percy’s heart flutters like butterfly wings. please aphrodite don’t make me look stupid, he thinks to himself. though by now he’s probably already made a fool of himself. he’s hopeless. slowly, with a shaky hand, he reaches out to gently take one of your hands into his. he looks up to meet your eyes to look for any sign of discomfort with the action. he finds nothing.

“(name), have you ever…” he swallows harshly. “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

your brows furrow and you murmur, “no.”

oh. he was sure you had to have kissed someone before. you were… well, you! a favored daughter of aphrodite, kind, absolutely stunning, and admittedly a little horrifying sometimes. he loved you all the same regardless.

“I’ve never kissed anyone either.” it’s silent for a moment before he works up the courage to ask the next question. “would you maybe want to… well actually- can I tell you something?”

“of course.”

“this might be weird and I’ll understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore or if you’ll hate me… but I just… I really like you. more than friends. and I get this is weird but I really like you, it hurts, like in my chest it physically hurts me and it’s hard going everyday not telling you that I love you when I do and its almost unbearable at this point, I mean you occupy all my thoughts everything’s always about you, and don’t get cocky over that because I know you will and you’ll never let me get over telling you that but really what I’m trying to say is that—”

his ramble is abruptly ended when he feels a sudden warmth over his lips. for a moment he can’t understand what’s happening, but when his senses are regained he realizes it’s your lips that are locked with his, and his brain turns to soup, any coherent thought he once had diminished. and he lets himself sink into it despite the nervous storm of butterflies in his tummy.

when you eventually pull away he nearly whines at the loss of contact. though he remembers your hands are still entwined and calms. his gaze sticks on that.

“you talk too much,” you whisper. “and you’re right.”

“about what?” percy looks up to your eyes. though the mischievous glint in them makes him wish he hadn’t asked for clarification.

“I am so never going to let you forget that everything is about me.”

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #riordanverse x reader #riordan universe #riordanverse

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days ago

Text

Meet the Family 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I love writing toxic people.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“Mr. Hansen--” You begin, choking on your error, “Lloyd, my flight--”

“Christ, I told you, cancel it. I’ll add the difference to your next check,” he grits under his breath.

You plant your feet, shifting despite your effort as he keeps his grip on your hand. He turns back with a grunt.

“What’re you doing?” He asks.

“No, what are you doing?” You throw back. “What the hell is going on?”

“First, watch that sweet mouth of yours. Second, we’ve been through this, Pixie pie. You just need to play along,” he keeps his voice low and peeks over his shoulder. “Loosen up a bit.” He loosens his hold on you and runs his hand up your sleeve. “Hm, I guess I shoulda told you to dress up a bit.”

“What?” You look down at your black cotton tea-length dress. You chose it for comfort but it’s not entirely frumpy. The ribbed stockings might not add much to the attire however.

“Just...” He grabs your shoulders and nudges them back, “push the chest out a bit.”

“Ugh,” you clasp onto his wrists, “stop. Okay. I’ll stay for dinner but I can’t miss my flight--”

“You have to,” he argues.

“You realise this is wildly inappropriate,” you say.

“Do you really expect anything different?” He tweaks a brow. “You’re staying. I’m not doing this alone. I put it off for a decade already--”

“Jesus--”

“No blasphemy either,” he lets go of you and presses his finger to your lips. You growl and shove his hand away.

“I want a bonus, a big bonus--”

He hushes you and waves his hands. He leans back and once more looks over his shoulders. “Later. We’ll deal with numbers in private. Right now, you need to come meet your in-laws.”

You squint at him. It’s an act, you remind yourself, but something about his commitment to it makes you uneasy. You know better than to believe a word that comes out of his mouth but there’s a degree of earnestness in him that’s unsettling.

“Baby, please, don’t look at me like that,” he steps closer, “I need you to look at me like I’m the second coming, okay? We’re madly in love, you and I.” Your eyes widen and he sighs, “okay, you’re not scared of me.”

You neutralise your expression and blow out a long breath. You shake away the tension and shrug. It’s as good as you can do.

“Here,” he grabs your wrist and turns, guiding your arm through his, “just smile pretty for me.”

He hooks your elbow with his and urges you onward. You steel yourself for the room of strangers as their voices drift through the archway.

You enter the front room and quickly scan the space; there’s a large-mouthed hearth, lit and draped in evergreen and berries; a long cream sectional, a matching duo of armchairs, and a chaise in the same shade; a low glass coffee table with a golden perch and a console table in a similar style along the wall crowded with bottles and crystal; an area rug in a smooth white with patterns in dulcet beige and rich butterscotch; and the low din is cast by tea lights daintily set around the space in glass holders and candelabra.

More pressing than the decor are the bodies that fill the room. You recognise Ransom as he speaks with an older woman with short white hair and thick-framed glasses. She wears a red pantsuit with a gold blouse. Very festive.

You glance over at Lloyd and take him in fully. You hadn’t paid much attention for the whirlwind all around. He wears a pair of evergreen slacks and a sweater with a reindeer's face on the front. He wouldn’t even let you put tinsel on your desk but now he’s dressed like a kid in a holiday parade.

“Looks like someone didn’t get the memo,” a tall blonde woman approaches with a glass of pale wine in hand. You try not to look with concern at her rounded middle; it sticks out starkly as her long limbs are thin and lithe. “A very grim Christmas indeed.”

“Lillian,” Lloyd faces the woman about his own height. She has his eyes and his lips. You assume their relation before he declares it. “My sister, Pixie,” he gestures to her carelessly.

“Older sister,” she preens and rests her hand on her swollen stomach. Your eyes flick away from the crystal in her hand.

“By about thirty-one seconds,” Lloyd scoffs.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s non-alcoholic,” she swirls the wine in her glass, “she’s so tiny and quiet.”

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “it’s nice to meet you.”

She laughs, “oh, so polite. Entirely not his type.”

You try not to react. You agree. You know the women that Lloyd really likes. You’ve screened their calls until they just give up on getting a second date.

“Believe it or not, Lil, you’re not everyone’s type,” Lloyd retorts. “I think your ex-husband would agree. The second one too.” Lloyd lifts his chin and looks around, “is the third here or are we on number four?”

“Lovely,” she spits. “Love you too, brother.”

He shakes his head and draws you away from her. She raises her brows and her glass and sips. You let him take you away. You already despise most of these people. The room radiates with derision. Your family might have some grudges but there’s a general air of good will.

“I need a drink,” he mutters.

You gladly follow him to the table. He pours himself a tumbler from the boxy decanter. He sighs as he picks it up but stops himself from drinking.

“Well, help yourself,” he says.

You hesitate but not for long. You need something if you’re going to get through this. You pour yourself some chardonnay and sidle away from the table. You check your watch as you raise your glass.

“Don’t fucking worry about your flight,” he hisses under his breath. “If I’m not getting out of this, you aren’t either.”

“But why?” You ask behind the glass.

“Not right now,” he warns and nods at another figure as they approach. “Uncle Benson.”

“Junior,” the man returns. You drink your wine and don’t comment on the epithet. “Where’s the old man?”

“Where he always is,” Lloyd replies.

“Mm, and this is...” the older man looks at you pointedly, dipping his chin to do so.

“Pixie. My fiancee,” Lloyd answers dully, almost deflating.

“Benson,” the man offers his hand, “but a pretty girl like you can call me Benny.”

“Benny,” Lloyd repeats to himself in confusion.

You shake Benson’s hand, “um, thanks, nice to meet you.”

“Mm, very nice to meet you,” he lifts your hand and smushes his lips to your knuckles. He clings to you, petting your hand. “You’re gorgeous, what’re you doing with this lump?”

“Uncle,” Lloyd drones.

“Adorable,” Benson inches closer, “my inheritance is bigger than his, among other things.”

“Alright,” Lloyd snatches your hand away from him, “go have some water, Benson,” he growls, “think you’ve been into the brandy.”

“I’d like to get into something else,” Benson snickers.

You almost laugh, despite your disgust. You’ve heard that line before. Lloyd puts himself between you and the older man. “I think that’s why Carolyn filed the papers, huh.”

“Oh, you little twat,” Benson snarls. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to disappoint her on your own.”

Lloyd tuts and shakes his head as the man lumbers off. He turns around and drains his glass. It’s strange, seeing him in his natural habitat; he’s not so ‘alpha’ here.

“Let’s get the rounds over with.” He grumbles.

Your wine lasts you through the introductions. Two more uncles; Carter and Linus, along with their wives, Andrea and Angela. Then the full-blooded aunts; four of them, Raquel, Shanna, Beatrice, and Lana. All of them tall, blonde, and bold in their own way. Then a batch of cousins you can’t keep sorted; Ransom and his mother Linda, among them, with no explanation as to the rest of their tribe.

Lloyd pours himself more whiskey. You abstain from a refill and stand near the wall, observing the wilderness of entitled trust-funders. It explains so much yet inspires so many more questions. You never expected Lloyd to be the dark horse.

“Lonely?” The timbre startles you along with the twisting pinch on your ass.

You yipe and snag the attention of several sets of eyes around the room, not least of all Benson, drooling over another snifter of dark alcohol. You swat Ransom’s hand away and face him amid the row of laughter. Despite the airs they put on, your audience is more amused than appalled.

“Where’s your prince, huh?” Ransom asks. “All that whiskey and...” He holds up his index then lets it go limp, “don’t think it’ll be a very peppy after party, sweetheart.”

You sniff and cross your arms. These people are at least consistent, grossly so. It makes you wonder why Lloyd was so insistent that you watch your mouth, especially when you’ve never stooped to his level before.

“Is it much of a party if there’s only one attendee?” You counter.

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, “what?”

“Nothing,” you shake our head. You don’t need to explain the joke. Besides, this is all fake. Don’t let it get to you.

“So, how long did he wait to put that ugly thing on your finger?” Ransom asks.

You shrug, “long enough.”

“Did he do the whole schtick? Get down on one knee? Put the ring in your wine glass?” He prods.

“I’ll let him tell the story,” you say.

“Hm, never knew a woman so unexcited about a wedding,” he snorts.

“Maybe I’m just unexcited by my company,” you back away as his hand jiggles at his side. You eye his fingers, wary of another pinch.

“Fine, marriage is boring anyways. What’s his favourite position? I always figured he lets the ladies do all the work,” he snickers.

You stare at him. Not quite as offended as annoyed. You could ask him which hand he uses but you are not letting Lloyd drag you that low. Why are you even letting him put your through this?

“Hugh,” Lloyd appears and slides his arm over your shoulders.

“Little L,” Ransom retorts dryly.

“Shut up,” Lloyd sneers as you resist the urge to shrug him off of you.

“Where were you then? Leaving your woman all on her lonesome,” Ransom rubs his fingers together subtly and you scowl at him.

“Broke the seal,” Lloyd deflects. “What do you care? You wanna hold it next time?

“Hands are too big,” Ransom cackles.

“Speaking of,” you pipe up. “The bathroom, where would that be?”

Lloyd clucks and looks down at you, “down the hall, opposite the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” you carefully slip away from him, “I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” Lloyd catches your arm and pulls you back. “Not without this.”

He leans in before you can react. He bends to press his lips to yours and you can’t repress a surprised squeak. He purrs and the vibration makes your skin crawl. What on earth?!

You part and ignore the stares you can feel all around. Not just from Ransom but the rest of the room. What is he doing? That’s so embarrassing.

You force a smile, “uh, be back.”

You spin and scurry away. That room, those people, are suffocating, and Lloyd, not least of all. You hide in the bathroom, locking the door, and you take the moment of stillness to think. Big mistake as it all starts to set in.

You drove all the way here under false pretenses. It’s believable that Lloyd would forget to bring the gifts. That tracks but this? The whole pretending to be engaged? What is his game? Is he really trying to impress anyone or is he torturing you? Why?

You can’t figure any of it out. You gave up trying to understand your boss ages ago, you suppose you should do the same with these people and just get through this. For all your trouble, the food better be fucking delicious.

You let yourself out of the bathroom and flatten against the door as you nearly collide with another person. Lillian nearly stomps right over you as she holds her stomach and rushes down the hallway. She lets out a sigh.

“Oh, are you done in there? I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills.

“Um, yeah, all done,” you sidle away from the door.

“Could I trouble you for some help?” She asks. “This thing,” she pats her stomach, “I can get down but I can’t get up.”

“Hm?” You furrow your brow in confusion, “help?”

“We’re both girls,” she giggles. “And we’ll be sisters soon enough, won’t we?”

“Um.”

“You know, a pregnancy at my age, I really can’t strain myself,” she explains.

“Oh, er, I guess--”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she nudges you back into the bathroom. You have no choice as she heard you through.

You stare at the wall as she slams the door and hustles over to the toilet. She pulls up her white dress and turns to sit, her silhouette a blur in your peripheral. You flick your eyes to the ceiling and bounce on your heels.

Her stream flows out and fills the tense silence. She sighs.

“Thank the lord,” she groans. “I swear, the little twerp is right on my bladder right now.”

“Mm,” you nod and glance at the door.

“I knew we should’ve gone with a surrogate,” she sniffs. “A piece of advice, when he puts one in you, make him suffer.”

“Puts one...” you blink. “Um, I don’t...”

“I mean, he’ll have to start trying as soon as the wedding night,” she laughs. “He’s getting up there. His swimmers won’t be as fast, will they? And the way he drinks, they’ll be too groggy to know which way is which.”

“Um, we’ll worry about the wedding first--”

“Enjoy it. Once you’re tied down, it’s not very much fun,” she says as she tears of tissue. “Alright then, darling, I need you.”

You do your best not to see all of her. She reaches for you and you get close. You pull her up to her feet and she squeezes past you to the sink. You look at the toilet and shut the lid, flushing it with a push of the button. She washes her hands with a hum.

“You’ll be so adorable when you’re big. Like an overstuffed teddy bear,” she chimes. “He’ll love that. He always did hate feeling small.” She twists off the faucet and dries her hands. “You must make him feel like the man he wishes he was.”

You just look at her. You have no true reason to defend Lloyd, but because she’s so smug it irks you. You look her in the face, even if you feel ridiculous having to look up.

“Well, he can piss on his own, so I think he’s just fine,” you step around her and swing open the door. The silence that follows you is the only satisfying thing about that night.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #meet the family #the gray man

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silverfairywings · 1 day ago

Text

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT III

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: sorry for such a long break!! pls let me know what u think and again if you’d like to be added to the tag list send me a message or ask as I rarely check my notifs and go back to them. also sorry abt the cliffhanger uhmmmm also unedited ok bye

“You look like crap.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Mor scrunching up her face as she peers at you from her seat across your own at the dining table. It takes a second for her words to register and you throw a belated scowl her way.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, sitting up to continue swirling your spoon around your bowl of barely eaten oatmeal. Your appetite seems to have vanished over the past week, but you try and force a spoonful down your throat, nearly gagging.

Mor narrows her eyes at you and her lips press into a thin line of concern. “No, you seriously look like crap. You’re not eating lately and you were literally asleep at the table when I got here.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say, defensively. “I was resting my eyes.”

“You sound like Cassian after a three hour afternoon nap.”

“I’m just having a little trouble sleeping.” You set your spoon down and push the offending bowl away from you before slumping in your seat. You brush off her skeptical look with a wave of your hand. “I’m always like this after absorbing Fae magic.”

And over the last few days you’ve been absorbing a lot. All in an attempt to find out as much as you could about the Fae rebel group that had been attacking the borders of multiple Courts, in order to weaken them and make a point against you.

Well, you and your sisters. Not all of Prythian was accepting of Feyre for how she was Made, and even less so of you and Nesta and Elain. Instead, they viewed you as unnatural mutations and the whispers had only become worse after the War. It seemed that the lack of conflict looming over Prythian was unacceptable in their eyes.

With the help of your powers and Azriel’s shadows, you were closer than ever to finding them. Truthfully, the idea that there were Fae out there who hated you didn’t bother you so much in the sense of feeling like outcasts, but you couldn’t lie. They were starting to be a giant pain in your ass.

“You’re never like this,” Mor scoffs, gesturing to the bags under your eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks. As her voice raises, the pounding of your head gets more intense and you attempt to hold back a grimace. “Why is it affecting you so much this time?”

“It’s the type of magic I’m absorbing,” you practically whine, abandoning all pretences of being okay and allowing your shoulders to drop. “It’s so angry and harsh and impure, Mor! It’s literally making me sick because I have nowhere else to redirect it.”

At that moment Rhysand and Feyre walk in to join you at the table.

Rhysand, having overheard you, chimes in as he reaches for a plate of fruit. “Good news, our little Siphon,” he nudges you lightly, the nickname making you scrunch your nose up in mock annoyance. “We have enough information now to move forward using Az and Cass and resources from other Courts. The only thing we need you to do now is rest.”

Rhysand’s upbeat tone brings a weak smile to your face. You know that he’s being flippant to make you feel better, like he always does when you’re stressed or unwell and you’re nothing but appreciative as he whistles under his breath, nonchalantly piling some fruit onto a plate for you.

“You should have been resting days ago,” Feyre eyes you from beside Rhys with furrowed brows, taking in your tired form. “We told you yesterday would be too much.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Give me a couple hours and I’ll be fine for the meeting in Summer.”

Mor snorts and looks up at you, amused. When you raise an eyebrow, her smile drops into an incredulous expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I need to be there to discuss what I siphoned from that knife we found at the border of Dawn,” you say, holding up a hand and rushing out the rest of your words when Feyre opens her mouth to speak. “And Rhys promised me I would be there since it’ll be all the High Lords, Court informants and even soldiers. I couldn’t possibly not go.”

Feyre sighs, sensing that you’re not going to back down. She nods slowly, pointing at your plate. “Finish all of your breakfast and your lunch later on and then you can go.”

You let out a breath, feeling nauseous when Rhys slides your plate closer to you and simply shrugs when you glare at him. Traitor, you speak to him in your mind. He suddenly becomes very interested in a strawberry.

“Watch me,” you say confidently, waving your fork at Feyre who rolls her eyes at you and goes back to her own breakfast.

Summer court is your least favourite court at the best of times, though you’d never admit that to sweet and kind Tarquin, who’s arguably one of your favourite High Lords.

The beautiful, shimmering lagoons aren’t of interest to you as large bodies of water have always unsettled you. The warm breeze that everyone welcomes always reminds you of the times you had to suffer through sweltering heat when foraging for food with Feyre in your adolescence. You’ve always preferred a colder climate and appreciated a more muted daylight.

Considering your current health, the ripples in the water make you dizzy and the light salty breeze nearly brings your breakfast and lunch up.

You’re thankful for the sheer, thin material of the sage coloured dress that Nuala and Cerridwen chose for you because you suddenly feel a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Are we done sightseeing?” you ask weakly, desperate to be inside already.

Elain turns to you and winces. “You don’t look too good….”

“Aw, thank you, Elain.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she tuts, coming over to fan your face with her hands. You swat them away, sputtering and try to catch Rhysand’s attention to move things along. He reluctantly agrees and gestures everyone to move along, too used to your aversion to Summer.

As you all enter the palace made of gleaming marble, you hang further back to avoid the watchful eyes of Feyre who seems to be waiting to send you right back home to rest.

The palace is beautiful and you push down your nausea to look around and take in the tall arched windows. The jewelled embellishments adorning the frames trail higher and higher and you crane your neck to see them.

This turns out to be a mistake when your vision starts to blur and another wave of nausea causes your steps to falter, the world tilting sharply.

A firm hand grips your elbow in an all too familiar fashion, steadying you before you’re sent flying to the ground. Another hand settles around your waist where the cutout of your dress exposes your now damp skin, glittering with sweat.

You look up and find Eris’ amber eyes locked onto your own.

“Foolish,” he mutters, his voice sharp with irritation, yet his hands remain steady in their position, holding you up. It’s the first word he’s uttered to you since your encounter a couple of weeks ago in the Spring Court where he’d left on frosty terms. You had seen him twice since then, but it was in the middle of meetings and siphoning sessions and he had barely spared you a single glance.

Your lips part but your senses are too overwhelmed to think of a response before he carries on, lightly shaking his head at you. “You overexert yourself all week and then travel here? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, pulling away from him, but his grip only tightens. You can’t help glancing around and noticing that the growing crowd of all the Court officials has separated you from the Inner Circle. You huff out a breath as you register his words. You knew Rhysand had to communicate with the other High Lords with updates, but you didn’t know that included your physical state. “Gods, High Lords are such gossips…”

“You’re not fine,” he says, scowling like you’ve dreadfully inconvenienced him by nearly collapsing. His gaze flickers over the pallor of your skin and the way you’ve started to shiver slightly. “You drained yourself dry this week. And for what? To impress Rhysand? To prove something to him?”

“Let go of me, Eris,” you attempt to snap at him, but even you can hear the lack of strength in your voice. His eyes soften slightly when you say his name without your usual bite. “I can’t have this same conversation with you when I’m like this.”

“You think I want to be the one always catching you from falling on your face? Trust me when I say I have things I would rather be doing,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

You grit your teeth at the reminder and heat flares in your cheeks, whether it’s from embarrassment, anger or the climate of Summer, you don’t know.

Before you can retort, Eris sighs and straightens you up, still not fully letting you go. Releasing the hand around your waist, he loops your arm in his own and makes you lean on him for support. To your utter surprise, he doesn’t say anything as he starts walking towards the meeting room where everyone else files in. Despite your frustration, you’re grateful for his strength.

The moment of blissful silence doesn’t last too long, however. As he begins to lead you to where your family is stood and clearly looking around frantically for you, Eris leans in to whisper in your ear. “You need to sit down at the table,” he orders quietly, High Lord behaviour on full display.

You’re about to argue that no one else is going to be sat and he immediately catches this, cutting you off. “Don’t be stubborn for once in your life,” he murmurs, breath warm against your ear, making you shiver more than you already were. “Please?”

You quickly turn your head to meet his, shocked at the pleading in his voice. You didn’t realise how close this would bring your own face to his and words leave you. Thankfully, you’ve reached your family as you hear Cassian’s loud voice and it snaps you out of your little bubble.

“Finally!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “We were about to send a search and rescue team, thinking you’d finally collapsed.”

“Why didn’t you?” Eris asks, coldly.

Cassian merely rolls his eyes at Eris’ attitude and gestures at Azriel.

Feyre comes forward to take your other arm in hers and explains. “Azriel’s shadows informed us that you were with her, Eris.” She smiles warmly and sincerely at him and Rhysand nods at him in recognition of his actions. “Thank you for looking after my sister.”

Eris shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet. I foresee many falls in her near future that I’m sure I won’t be present for.”

Feyre’s mouth twitches, but she quickly smoothes her face into an expressionless one when you frown at her and she busies herself with disentangling you from Eris.

He takes a step back, dark and fiery hair catching the sunlight through the tall windows and glances at you once more, not breaking eye contact, yet his words are directed towards Feyre. “Just make sure she sits down. The Night Court doesn’t need a martyr,” he says drily, before walking away.

Your mouth goes dry at the double meaning in his words, but you can’t shake off the shock at seeing genuine concern in his eyes. You must have looked practically near death, but you appreciated it all the same and you don’t even realise your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away until Feyre sits you down next to Nesta.

Your older sister raises an eyebrow at you, always so intuitive and you swat weakly at her to look away from you. Cassian’s eyes flit back and forth between you two, confused.

Before he can say anything, the meeting commences and you feel a shift in the energy of the room, full to the brim of Court officials, emissaries, a few warriors and of course, the High Lords around the table.

Your turn to speak comes fairly quickly since the most information regarding the Rebels is from you and Azriel. As per Rhysand’s instructions, you don’t go into any details regarding your siphoning powers, instead just sharing the information you gained due to them. You try to ignore the way people are staring at your weak form, but you continue to speak with all the strength you can muster. Evidently, you’re doing a convincing job as people start to nod, satisfied and scribble things down.

When Azriel’s turn arrives, you zone out a little, already having heard everything a few times over. Your ears only perk up when everyone is discussing plans of action against the Rebels and a question is asked in your general direction.

“Who are we thinking is to be at the front lines of this hypothetical mission?” The question comes from one of the Spring Court advisors, Vaelith, an older Fae with silver hair gathered in one long braid down his back.

His gaze lingers on you for only a split second before moving onto Rhysand and you feel compelled to answer. “Myself and Azriel,” you blurt out, before you can think twice. “And others of course, but the two of us are the most familiar with-”

“We’re all aware of the Shadowsinger’s abilities,” Vaelith interrupts you, holding up a hand to stop you from talking. You hold back a scowl. “What makes you suitable to lead such a mission aside from your… familiarity with a selection of items left behind by these Rebels?”

“I’m more than able to-” you cut yourself off and swallow, gaining yourself a second to think of a way to defend yourself without giving away your powers, as per your High Lord’s request.

Careful, Y/N

Rhysand’s voice sounds clear as day in your head and you try not to wince at the volume considering the silence of the rest of the room. The other High Lords knew of your powers, but Rhysand had requested they keep it to themselves, even from their own Court officials. Whether or not Rhysand had used his Daemati abilities to ensure this, you didn’t want to know.

“I’m more than able to assist in a plan of action,” you continue firmly, voice hardening. “I’m not sure if you remember a certain War we just had, but you may wish to remind yourself who was at the front lines of that.”

A few laughs break the tense silence and some people start muttering, slowly raising the volume of the room. You almost don’t hear Vaelith’s next words. “You haven’t really answered my question.”

“Let’s use our senses, Vaelith,” a voice rings out from further down the table and you’re startled to realise that Eris is speaking up. The room finally quietens down and you sit up impossibly straight, surprised that Eris is about to defend you.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

He only spares you a fleeting glance, but even from your seat you could see it’s full of amusement and mocking. The thing that surprises you is that the mocking is directed at you. “Look at her. Are you really questioning the abilities of a female who barely has the strength to sit up in her seat, let alone fight?”

Your stomach drops, a ball of humiliation unfurling in your chest as he continues to speak.

“I’d like to believe Rhysand has more sense than to send someone on the frontlines who would just be doing the rebels a favour,” Eris drawls, raising an eyebrow at Rhys, still avoiding your gaze.

Rhysand nods. “I can assure you I’ll only be sending my strongest soldiers, Vaelith,” he smirks, faintly, as though the implication he’d do anything to suggest otherwise is laughable. “Now may we discuss matters of actual importance? Tarquin, what have your soldiers been preparing?”

The tension dissolves almost immediately, but you’re still shellshocked, shaking with anger rather than weakness now. It’s as though you’ve been pumped with a burst of adrenaline and it doesn’t seem to be dampening.

After the conversation has shifted to a completely different subject, you shift from your seat as discretly as possible and mutter to Nesta that you need some air before standing up.

You look at the High Lord of Autumn before you walk away, but it only infuriates you more. Eris doesn’t look anywhere near you, but his jaw is clenched all the same, as though he can feel you glaring at him.

Mor catches your arm as you’re walking out and hisses in your ear. “You’re still not well,” she turns her body fully towards you. “Wait for me to come with you.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head and clenching your fists to keep them from trembling as you speak through gritted teeth. “I feel suddenly energised. I’ll only be outside.”

Mor gives you a once over and is clearly satisfied with the fact that you’re unlikely to collapse again as she nods and releases your arm, allowing you to rush through the crowd of people and push through the guards.

You walk briskly away from the doors of the meeting room and further down the empty hallway until you’re satisfied that no one will hear your heavy breathing.

You lean against a pillar, exhaling in and out to control your anger and keep the tears at bay. Gods, you feel so stupid. Of course, Eris is incapable of being a decent male to anyone, let alone to you. Damn him and his cruel smirk and damn Rhysand too for allowing it to happen.

Brushing away the tears that have managed to fall, you curse yourself for not just pushing him away and allowing yourself to collapse on the hard marble flooring. It was giving you whiplash the way he could be so full of concern one second and practically call you useless in front of a room full of officials the next.

The longer you stand against the marble pillar, the weaker you begin to feel and that burst of adrenaline you previously felt is no longer present. The anger that fuelled you mere seconds ago is now winding you and a rising sense of panic begins to consume you.

You decide to turn around to walk back so you’re closer to the doors of the meeting room in case you embarrassingly do collapse.

However, the second you take a step, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye is all the warning you get before strong arms clamp around you from behind and a cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, preventing you from breathing. You can’t even scream as the scent of something strong and chemical floods your senses, making your vision blur.

You thrash around in an attempt to use the little strength you have left to escape, but the arms only grip you harder and the world begins to spin. The last thing you feel is the cool marble floor as your knees give out and no one bothers to catch you as you hit the ground, darkness swallowing you whole.

tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant @deepestmentalityperson @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl @goldenmagnolias @whydohumansss @fandomtrash465 @mrsbarnes32557038 @aaprilshowers @scarsandallaz @-im-fantastic- @cat-or-kitten @annamariereads16 @adelina-127 @onlymexsarah @puddlesplasher17 @eyes-capone @hermaeuswhora

#eris vanserra imagines #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris x you #eris x reader #eris fanfic #eris acotar #eris x oc

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cutielando · 23 hours ago

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v.s. angel | l.n.

synopsis: in which Lando is there to support you for your first Victoria's Secret runway show

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

To say that you were nervous was the understatement of the year.

The ride towards the venue seemed like it was taking forever, the buildings breezing past you at a rapid pace.

Lando was sat beside you in the limo, analyzing you from head to toe.

He knew how much this night meant to you, how hard you had been working ever since he met you to be able to finally walk the runway as an Angel. And now finally, all that hard work was being paid off.

His eyes gravitated towards your bouncing knee and your fidgety fingers, his heart clenching.

“Hey” he said, his hand coming to rest on your knee, which momentarily made you stop your movements.

You turned your head to look at him and let out a big sigh, relaxing a little into the backseat at the feeling of his touch.

“Hey” you replied, smiling slightly.

You weren’t used to being in this position. Being the nervous one, being the one in the center of attention. It was usually the other way around whenever you would join Lando at events. But now that it was your turn to shine, you were close to freaking out on him.

“You don’t have to be nervous. You’re gonna kill it out there” he said, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knee and lower thigh.

You sighed again, your eyes boring into Lando’s.

“What if I mess it up? I know I’ve been saying I’m ready to do this, but what if I’m really not? My career could be over in a heartbeat if even the slightest thing goes wrong” you explained, staring into Lando’s eyes.

They always brought you comfort, no matter the situation that you would find yourself in. Just one look into Lando’s eyes and the whole world around you would calm down and all of your problems suddenly seemed a lot smaller than you had made them out to be.

That’s just the effect that your boyfriend has on you.

“That’s a lot of “ifs” for one sentence, don’t you think?” he asked, his voice teasing you a little bit. “Baby, you know as well as I do how hard you’ve been working to finally make it here. These people chose you for a reason, out of so many other models they chose you. They saw something special in you, don’t put yourself down now. You’re going to step on that runway and knock everyone on their asses” he said, his face as serious as you’d ever seen it.

He was right, at the end of the day. But he knew it was the nerves talking, so he had no problems in making sure that you knew just how special you were.

“Thank you. I love you so fucking much” you tearfully said, leaning in and pressing your lips against his, hard, in a passionate kiss.

Lando reciprocated it, sneaking one of his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him, his other hand still resting on your thigh.

“I love you more. Show them what you’re made of. I’ll be proud of you no matter what”

You smiled, for the first time that night, and nodded frantically.

You were gonna rock the shit out of that show.

♡♡♡♡♡

Safe to say that your brave facade had only lasted an hour, right up until the moment you were supposed to step on the runway.

You were back to freaking the fuck out, your palms were sweating, your legs were shaking, your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest, and Lando was nowhere to be seen.

He had left you in the changing room before he made his way into the audience, which right now seemed like the worst idea he had ever had to you.

“Y/N, get ready. You’re up in 2 minutes” the stage managed announced, making your breathing even more ragged than it already way.

You slowly made your way to the entrance of the runway, careful not to slip and fall on your wobbly legs. You sneakily got a look of the audience and the other models. the amount of people adding to your already growing stress.

But you couldn’t even focus on them anymore. Your eyes were frantically searching for his, the only thing that you could find solace in at that moment.

You were slowly starting to give up hope of seeing him from that angle before you got on stage, but then your eyes landed straight on him.

He was already looking at you, his eyes worried but excited at the same time. He subtly gave you a thumbs up and mouthed “You’ve got this, I love you” before giving you one of his signature smiles.

You smiled, blew him a kiss and stepped back, closing your eyes as you gathered your thoughts.

You had been waiting for this moment ever since you were a little girl, you had worked your ass off for this opportunity, and you were about to show everyone exactly what you were made of.

Letting out a big breath, you shrugged off the thin robe you had tied around your waist, walked up the steps to the runway and stepped into the spotlight, a bright smile gracing your face as you confidently made your way down the runway.

The audience was in awe as they followed you with their eyes, but the only eyes that you cared about were Lando's.

He was clapping the loudest out of anyone, beyond proud of you and what this meant for your career.

"Go baby!" you heard him yell, and it took everything in you not to stop and blow him a kiss or just jump off from the stage straight into his arms.

Instead, you smiled even wider, stopping at the end of the runway to pose with your wings before turning around and walking back, catching Lando's eye for a second and winking at him.

The audience was clapping the loudest they had all night as you slowly retreated off the stage, almost doubling over your feet as you were finally out of the spotlight and into the safe comfort of the dressing room.

"Are you okay?" another Angel asked you, one of the girls you had got to know pretty well over the last few weeks.

"I can't believe I just did that" you said, both of you silent for a moment before you burst into laughter, clutching your bare stomach.

"You were great out there, especially considering the support system you had" she teased before pointing behind you.

You chuckled and turned around, seeing Lando making his way into the dressing room and towards the two of you.

No words were needed as you completely melted into his arms, the familiar warmth of his hold enveloping you like a safety blanket. His arms had slowly become your favorite place to be, the place where nothing and nobody could get to you, where you could let yourself feel and where you could be safe from everything out there.

"You were incredible out there. I couldn't take my eyes off of you" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he held you close to his body.

You chuckled, squeezing him a little tighter.

"Thank you for being here for me. I can't even explain how much having you here meant to me" you said, your eyes welling up with tears as you buried your face into his chest, hiding away from the world to a place where it was just the two of you.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, I'm so proud of you" he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

The love that you felt in those moments was overwhelming, but at the same time was everything you could ever wish for.

"I love you so much" you pulled away just enough so you could see his face, your gaze instantly falling to his lips.

"I love you too" he said before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours.

The whole world seemed to fade away, the runway and show long forgotten and pushed at the back of your mind.

You had everything that mattered right there with you.

Your love and biggest support.

Your Lando.

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salemlunaa · 2 days ago

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stop putting your happiness off for the void ༄

you’re waiting for the void to give yourself your desires when you could have it now!!

My account is mainly about inducing the void, so no this is not an anti void post discouraging using it. And no i’m not going to go on some rant about how the void is toxic because a simple state of consciousness can never be toxic unless you make it.

HOWEVER,

a lot of you put your desires off until you shift or reach the void, you hate your body and your face your life, your family, your school life your social life. But you refuse to live in the end, and why? because you’re “going to the void anyway” (🙄anyway….)

But it makes no sense, because with loa and manifestation, the whole prompt is that whatever you desire has already happened. And your desire is to induce pure consciousness, so using loa logic, you have already induced pure consciousness, so your desires are already here. Give them to yourself, a lot of you complain in my asks and dms about how much you hate your life and how much you need the void, but you’ve already been, you have your desires, give them to yourself now.

And it’s this mindset that provokes a toxic atmosphere, and it’s this mindset that stops you from inducing the void. And why? well because you denying the fact that you already live your dream life means one thing: you believe that the void is the one providing you your desires, you believe that you don’t have them “yet” and that you’ll get them when you induce pure consciousness, meaning you believe the void has the power and not you. Because if you did acknowledge the fact that you have the power and your desires aren’t riding on whether you induce pure consciousness, then you would’ve given your dream life to yourself already.

The void is powerless, it’s just a state of consciousness where YOUR subconscious takes full control and you are in your 4d and your 4d alone, meaning any intention YOU set comes to life. It’s you has the power, the void is a lifeless state of mind, it’s you who brings the power. So if you can acknowledge that, why are you waiting to induce the void for you to be happy with your desires. YOU CAN HAVE THEM NOW

“I hate my life but atleast when I induce pure consciousness, i’ll have all my desires” why can’t you have them now? are you gonna let the void dictate whether you have your desires or not?

Stop looking at the void as your ticket out of your shitty life, with a flip of a switch you can be out of your shitty life if you just decide that to be true. Why does it depend on whether you induce the void or not? You need to recognise that you can life in the end now, and when you realise that and stop putting the void on a pedestal, you’ll put yourself under less pressure to induce and you will actually succeed.

The reason a lot of you fail is because

you think the void grants your wishes → you refuse to live in the end and decide to suffer until you reach the void → you form a belief that your dream life is riding on the void → you put the void on this pedestal because it’s the “only way you’ll make it out” → you hype the void up to be this extravagant experience, meaning you don’t properly understand → you put more and more pressure on yourself to induce, making it a bigger deal than it has to be → you’ll never get to understand how simple and casual pure consciousness is → you “fail” to get in and start to doubt

This is a mindset a lot of you don’t know you’re in and it will cost you alot. So just live in the end, why does your school life have to be shitty until you induce the void, why can’t it be amazing like you always desired? Why do you have to hate your face until you induce the void, why can’t you have your desired face now?

You don’t have to struggle until you induce the void, you can be happy and live in the end now. The void/“I Am” state is as simple as breathing, you can do it, but putting all this pressure on yourself to induce due to lack will make things harder for you.

🌞🪼 stop waiting for the void to have your desires, you can be fulfilled now!!

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willowpains · 1 day ago

Note

GIRLY we need more of latina actress reader! with Drew, I was thinking of her spending time with him and the fam at some summer house or sum and especially after season 3 filming and he has his saggy hair (OML) and one of his sisters prolly Brooke catches reader playing with his hair, and drew and reading dancing around the kitchen cooking breakfast in the morning!!!! and of course add anything else you would like!!!

summer getaway

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

Your heart was really happy at the moment.

Drew’s family had kindly invited you to join them in their annual summer vacation at their summer house in North Carolina.

You would only be joining them for a week, because you were planning on visiting home in Mexico as well.

Jodi and Todd had been really nice asking you to join the family as they couldn’t imagine the trip without you.

And of course, Drew had not missed the opportunity of telling you how much you two would enjoy the little trip.

So you totally agreed.

And that’s how you two were currently enjoying the afternoon, watching the soon to be sunset on some chairs on the garden at the back of the house, while the rest of his family busied themselves inside.

Oh how you loved quiet moments like this.

You were sitting on Drew’s lap, he had one of his arms around your waist, while the other one rested on your leg.

You were hugging him, with both arms around his neck, while one of your hands played with his wispy hair at the nape of his neck, your nails scraping softly against his skin.

Drew sighed in content as he closed his eyes for a second.

“That feels good” he mumbled, leaning his head on your chest, giving you more space to work with.

You laughed softly at him.

“Yeah?” you asked softly, as you continued your movements, loving how he could absolutely melt under your touch at any moment. “I love your hair like this” you say, while running your fingers through his hair.

He had let his hair grown a little, going for a wispy kind of mullet.

And oh could he pull off any look.

You were kinda jealous.

“You love it huh?” he said teasingly as he moved back his head from your chest so he could look at you. “I’m gonna have to cut it off eventually doll” he said, as he removed his hand from your leg, so he was now holding your face.

You pouted at him.

“What if I convince you not to?” you asked playfully, leaning in to peck his lips, still playing with his hair.

He groaned into the kiss as you pulled back, smiling at him.

“You’re bad” he says, leaning in to kiss you again, before you both break apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You two look back and find Brooke, Drew’s sister, peeking her head out from inside the house.

“Dinner is ready love birds!” she says smiling at both of you, just before going back inside the house.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, while you hide your face in the crook of Drew’s neck.

He lets out a laugh while he softly soothes your back with one of his hands.

“Oh my god I feel like a teenager that just got caught” you say into his neck.

He softly chuckles at your comment while placing a kiss on the top of your head, finding it funny and adorable how flustered you got any time his family catched any type of PDA from you together.

“Let’s get some dinner doll” he says, standing up from the chair with you in his arms.

You let out a shriek in surprise, as you wrap both your arms around his neck to support yourself.

“Drew put me down!” you say, laughing and watching him laugh at your reaction.

He shakes his head in amusement as he walks with you in his arms towards the house.

“Just enjoy the ride love” he says placing a soft kiss on your temple, as he takes you inside the house for you to have dinner with his family.

After dinner, you and Drew offered to pick up table and clean up everything. His family had worked so hard to put everything up, so it was your turn to do something.

“I’ll do the dishes” you say, walking to the sink and starting to clean them up.

Contrary to popular opinion, you loved doing dishes.

There was something so calming and relaxing about getting your hands soapy, bubbly and extra clean that just did something to you.

“I’ll clean up the table” he said, walking off before pecking your lips, leaving you smiley.

You could hear the clatter of forks and plates, and then, he was walking into the kitchen once again.

“Alexa, play lover by Taylor Swift” Drew said out loud, making you turn your head and look at him with a smile, while he gave you a playful look.

Your heart warmed as he approached you and offered you his hand.

“May I?” he said, giving you a big smile.

You could feel the butterflies going crazy in your stomach, and it made you smile even harder.

Quickly, you turned around to rinse your hands while patting them dry, only to face him as he pulled you in.

His hands moved to your waist, and you tangled yours around his neck, looking up at him with an adoring look.

“You know how to charm a girl” you say, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

He chuckled softly as he looked down at you between his arms.

“I only care about charming you” he says, twirling you softly and catching you back, pulling you close to him. “That’s all I ever want”.

His words make your heart flutter, as you rest your head on his chest, enjoying the kitchen dancing session.

With Taylor’s songs behind you, you feel content and at peace, honestly, wherever Drew was, as long as he was with you, you were at peace.

“I love you baby” he says, swaying you both to the rhythm of the song, while he places a soft kiss at the top of your head, while his thumb slowly draws gentle circles on your waist.

You could stay like that forever.

At his words, you look up at him, moving one of your hands that played with the hair on his neck, to his cheek, grazing it softly.

“I love you more mi amor” you say, unable to hide the smile appeared on your face.

He leans down and captures your lips on a kiss that communicates everything you’re both feeling without needing words.

Unbeknownst to both of you, his family was watching, more like peaking, your little romantic moment.

And they had been getting glimpses of your love throughout the trip.

They loved to see their son in love.

In love with you.

Being loved how it should be.

Having you as part of the family.

They knew you were both lucky to have found each other.

The next morning, you were back in the kitchen.

You had offered to cook breakfast for the family, telling them how you wanted to show them a typical mexican breakfast that you knew they would all love.

Drew as always, had offered to help you, being the one who always tried all your recipes.

“Is it good?” you asked, after he tasted your green sauce for chilaquiles.

You liked cooking. You weren’t the best, but you definitely weren’t the worse.

It was enough to make your mom proud, and you could work with that.

Drew paused for a moment as he closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure.

“It’s delicious baby” he said, as he enjoyed the flavors dancing on his tongue.

You squinted your eyes at him, not truly believing his words.

“Be completely honest amor” you said, leaning your hips against the counter, looking at him attentively. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you tell me something’s missing” you admitted giving him a smile.

Drew paused for a moment, before going back and trying the sauce one more time.

He hesitated, his eyes closed, concentrating.

“Maybe a little bit of salt” he said, one eye open waiting for your reaction.

You smiled at him while playfully hitting him on the chest.

“You’re so dramatic” you said laughing, before turning to the stove and adding a bit more salt to finish everything up.

He laughed before placing his hands on your waist, and resting his chin on the crown of your head.

“And you’re amazing” he said, silently enjoying the domestic side of you two being on vacation, sharing with family or not.

You hummed at his words, resting your back on his broad chest.

“Help me serve the plates?” You said, turning around and pecking his lips softly.

Drew scrunched his nose in annoyance as you broke the kiss, looking at him with a smile.

“Let’s make them wait a little longer” he said, wrapping one of his arms around your waist pulling you in, the other one around the back of your neck capturing your lips in a kiss.

You smile between his arms.

Later that night, everyone was chilling and winding down from spending the day out on the beach.

You and Drew were laying down on the couch. You were watching a marvel movie playing on the tv, while he attempted to read a few pages of a book he hadn’t picked up once since arriving at the summer house.

He was trying really hard to stay focused on his book but he seemed to fail, because from what you could see from your position on top of him laying your head on his chest, around 10 minutes had passed and he hadn’t flipped his book page.

You giggled softly as he tore his eyes away from the tv to look down at you.

“What’s so funny?” He smiles sheepishly at you, holding his book with one hand.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest to be able to meet his eyes.

“You’re getting distracted” you say smiling at him. “Just give up already and enjoy the movie amor”.

He hesitates for a moment, looking between the tv, his book, and you.

He sighs, shaking his head and smiling.

“I’m weak” he says closing his book and leaving it next to him on the couch.

You giggle softly before going back to resting your head on his chest and watching the movie, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Everybody’s weak when Avengers Endgame is playing” you say, getting immediately lost in the film again.

Drew chuckles softly as one of his hands finds its way to your back, drawing circles, lulling you to sleep. While the other, tangled itself in your hair, scratching your scalp tenderly.

Your eyes began to flutter at his gentle touches.

The weight of being out on the beach all day, mixed with Drew’s fingers against your skin, were making it harder for you to stay awake.

Your eyes were fighting to stay open and continue watching the movie, because no matter how many times you watched it, you loved it every time.

But next thing you knew, you had fallen asleep over Drew.

He didn’t realize when exactly you had fallen asleep.

But when he looked down at you to watch your reaction over Black Widow’s death, he smiled at you being completely asleep and relaxed.

His heart fluttered at the adorable sight before him.

He had to capture it.

So he reached for his phone and stopped breathing for a second to get a perfect picture of you mid dream.

“What are you guys-“ Logan, Drew’s brother, came into the living room and paused mid sentence as Drew sent him a death glare signaling for him to shut up.

Logan lifted his arms in sign of peace, as he slowly walked into the room, silently sitting on the individual couch, immediately getting into the movie.

You were still deeply asleep.

An earthquake could hit and you probably wouldn’t notice.

So Drew threw his phone somewhere next to him, and went back to watching the movie and cradling you between his arms.

He could stay like that forever and he would be the happiest man on earth.

thank you so much for your request! I absolutely adored it and had so much fun writing it<3 sorry if it takes me a minute to post, sometimes I’m a bit of a slow writer

I actually loved the concept so much I’m planning on making a moodboard for this soooo stay tuned

I’m so happy to see people enjoying the latina actress reader universe as much as I do, thank you all so much!

as always, if any of y’all wanna read, ask or see something in particular from latina actress reader let me know<3

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