#But still there was gold in their hands for something decent and they just dropped every ball imagineable

[kaythefloppa]

What issues did you have with Lion Guard’s Final season?

I disclosed them in a separate post but to recap those points; it basically goes against everything the show has established itself upon in the first and second season, retconning word-building, characters, development, morals, lessons, and other elements of the show's DNA, all for the sake of its central story, rather than progressing with the overall story. It feels more like a softcore revamp than a final season (hence why I've often compared it to Bunk'd in terms of quality, or lackthereof) Which is why for me personally, a lot of Season 1-2 episodes that I enjoy (pilot included) are retroactively spoiled because of Season 3's writing (i.e. Janja's poorly paced redemption arc, or Bunga's character assassination, or the final episode proving the villains of one of the earlier episodes in the right). It's frankly a mess. Whether this was done out of last minute rewrites, or as an attempt to be fanservice, or if this weird writing was the plan since day 1, I'll never know, but it doesn't earn much kindness from me.

If I were to bring anything new to the table, I'd say that another ounce of beef I have with Season 3 is with its release. Someone at Disney Jr. apparently thought that it was a smart idea to release every episode of the final season online within a full month, before any of the episodes (sans Battle for the Pride Lands) released on television. The show's advertising directed viewers (both in and out of the show's target demographic) to DisneyNow or watchtlg.netify to see the new episodes. Because of this, I (and I assume many others) watched the new episodes online and called it a day with the show. Barely anyone saw the final episodes when they aired, and because of that, the already stunted viewership of the show had taken a final devastating crash-drive. The show did poorly with reruns and eventually was pulled out of its timeslot almost two months later.

So yeah, Season 3 is just bad in almost every regard. lmao.

[pumpkinbxtch]

Hi!! I loved your aftercare hcs! Could I do a request where the reader is babysitting Estelle for the night since Paul and Sally have gone on a date and Percy comes home and finds reader and Estelle asleep cuddled up together?

girl's night

• the reader babysits Estelle and Percy finds them asleep.

— percy jackson x mortal!reader

warnings: none

a/n: hello! What a nice request, I hope I did it justice. 😭 Also, thank you!

It all started with a:

— Yes, Mrs. Jackson. I'll be there, don't worry.

Because it was your chance to gain Sally Jackson's trust. People who know her know that this opportunity is like gold, something not even a god would dare mess up or decline. But beyond that (since she was practically your mother-in-law), you cared about something else: Estelle.

Your boyfriend’s little sister. She was tiny, still unsteady on her feet, but already full of energy, and you loved the idea of bonding with her from such a young age. So, that's how you ended up agreeing to babysit her for a night while Sally and Paul went out on a date, which you thought was admirable and exemplary, that romance never dies even after starting a family.

You wondered for a moment if life with Percy would be like that too. Despite his life as a demigod and the differences between how you two were raised, you could see his dream of living peacefully, surrounded by his loved ones. You wanted to believe that when he talked about those hopes, you were included, and of course, you were.

You wished he could be with you, but not even Percy knew you were going to babysit Estelle. You saw him too worried about godly issues and his college graduation, even though he was on break. But you knew that life never stopped and you didn’t mind as long as he let you help, even if it was just by listening.

— Darling! — Sally Jackson exclaimed as she opened the apartment door, and you stood there, mouth agape. She looked stunning in a red dress, reminiscent of that movie "Me Before You." Paul peeked through the door while adjusting one of his funny ties.

— Mrs. Jackson — She chuckled, preferring you to call her Sally, but you couldn’t drop the formalities.

They showed you what there was to eat, talked a bit about Estelle’s schedule, but after that, they just looked at you with a confident smile.

— You'll do great, dear — Paul said, kissing Sally's forehead. You couldn’t understand how they could entrust you with their most precious thing without giving strict rules.

— Her bedtime? — The question seemed funny because they just shook their heads.

— Estelle doesn't struggle much with sleep; it’ll be obvious when she’s tired.

And when they left the apartment, you looked behind you. There she was, waving her tiny hand while giggling.

— It's just us, Estelle — You said, sitting next to her as she kept watching something on TV, something more important than your obvious nervousness.

You wondered if she would just watch the screen the whole time, if you only had to give her snacks when she got hungry and make sure she slept at a decent hour. You were pondering this when you felt a tug on your hand. You looked at her, and she was shaking some coloring pages and a worn-out crayon. Where had she gotten that? When?

She said something you wanted to interpret as, "Let's color, and you'll like it, or I'll tell everyone you're no the one for my brother." Well, maybe not, but it felt like that.

You picked her up and took her to the wooden table where the family usually had dinner, making her comfortable with some pillows to adjust her height. But even then, Estelle stood up and started coloring.

You had your own page and couldn’t remember the last time you colored, so your hand moved a bit clumsily, and being so focused, you didn’t see her hand make you go out of the lines. You looked at her, and she grinned widely, but you knew she didn’t do it on purpose; she was just calling you to see her progress, a scribbled bear with at least five different colors. You smiled genuinely and gave her a thumbs-up, which she took as the best critique of her art.

The night went like that, and you never thought such a small child could teach you so much.

When you made cookies, seeing her face reminded you of the joy in just making them, not so much eating them or how they turned out.

When you watched her favorite cartoons, you remembered what it was like to watch something without guilt or the worry that you should be doing something better or more productive.

When she decided she wanted to dance, you remembered that music could be missing, but never the attitude and good moves.

Estelle ended up holding your hand as you regularly straightened the cushions and rug, making sure nothing was too messy. When you smiled, she did too, and she didn’t let go of you all night.

Finishing up washing the dishes, you looked down to see Estelle next to your feet, sitting on the floor playing with some toys while waiting for you. You stopped to watch her for a moment, seeing so much of Sally in her, but also unmistakable traits of Paul, and in her attitude, you saw Percy. Maybe because he was her big brother after all. Estelle brought her little feet together and touched her toes, lost in whatever a child her age might be thinking when you saw her rub her eyes. That was your signal.

— Estelle — You called softly, and she looked at you with sleepy, shiny eyes. You extended your arms, and she got up to do the same, and you picked her up, rocking her, but she seemed to realize what you were trying to do.

— No — She said clearly. You were startled as she hid her face in your neck, clinging to you. You weren’t an expert, but you knew what it meant, so you sat down with her on the couch, placing her properly on your lap.

— It’s okay — You lied, feeling bad about it even though you knew you had to. You put on a new movie to make her think she’d stay awake, but your trick was to make her fall asleep, though you didn’t plan on falling asleep yourself. You hugged her and got comfortable, the best cuddle ever because she kept holding onto you as you slowly closed your eyes.

You never heard the key in the lock, the quiet footsteps on the floor, nor the warm greeting from your boyfriend, who wasn’t expecting to find you cuddled up with Estelle on the couch, sleeping soundly.

— Babe? — He asked softly, checking to see if you were really asleep. He set the keys down and took off his hoodie, dirtied from some... incidents.

His blue eyes scanned the apartment for his mom or Paul but found no sign of them, leading him to realize why you were there. He walked over to you two with quiet steps until he was face to face with an image no one could take from him. Two of his favorite people, seemingly fond of each other, filled his heart with love, and he kissed both your foreheads. Unfortunately, you woke up, and he couldn’t help but pout.

— Sorry — You mumbled, blurry-eyed and disoriented from your nap, realizing it was Percy. He was smiling, kneeling at your level.

— Percy — You murmured, rubbing your eyes and feeling another weight on your chest, going rigid as you remembered. Your boyfriend noticed your fear of waking her. He extended his arms and picked up Estelle so you could get up normally.

— Having fun without me? — He asked with his sister on his chest, rocking to keep her in the land of Hypnos. You stretched, smiling sleepily.

— There was no way to tell you — He nodded, seeing your phone on the carpet, feeling a bit bad for not being able to carry a phone to stay in touch. He often spent days away, and no one knew where he was, not even you.

— I’ll put Estelle to bed — He whispered, and you nodded, struggling to keep your eyes open in his direction, making him chuckle. Before leaving, he leaned in with his sister in his arms to kiss you.

— Be right back.

You nodded and stood to check the living room. You only had to straighten the cushions and put the chairs back in place before Percy hugged you from behind. At his touch, you hummed, feeling a wave of sleepiness brought on by the calm of having him there, finally safe.

— Hey — He greeted, still whispering, and you rested your head on his shoulder, giving him enough space to plant a warm kiss on your neck. With no immediate response from you, he held you tighter and kissed your cheek, wanting to support you so you didn’t have to put in so much effort.

— I’m okay — You said, realizing what he was trying to do, but he quickly lifted you bridal style, making his way back to the couch.

— Shh, I’ll take care of you. — He soothed while sitting with you, and you wrapped your arms around him, sharing your sleepiness. You rested your head on his chest, and he pulled the blanket from the corner to cover you both.

You sighed calmly, almost falling asleep when you sniffed your boyfriend's shirt once, twice, three times. Groggy, you kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear

— You smell like monster, Percy Jackson — He smiled, and you mirrored it.

— Things got tough — He said slowly, resting his cheek on your head, almost stumbling over words.

— Hmm — You hummed starting to fall asleep, and you both did it.

[randombush3]

(extremely talented, creative) stalker

alexia putellas x reader

based on this and a poem from when i was little. i chose alexia because she fit the character more and i rushed this immensely because i was being pestered for attention by multiple creatures. oh and i went for something decently light-hearted bc these hozier fics have been affecting my soul and ruining my spotify daylists.

happy monday people x

p.s. not proof-read because it's lunchtime and i'm hungry (edit: i just did my proof-read now and i've realised that it was in fact not lunchtime??? it was past lunchtime and i was just zoned out!)

Alexia doesn’t care much for art. Sure, she admires the effort, the time such talent sits behind a canvas and marks something that was once blank until others begin to value it. She agrees with the masses about the beauty of quaint watercolour paintings of the coast, and she lets Mapi rave about charcoal and graphite and oils as if she understands what is so special about the varying media. 

She knows she is only here today because the art is about sports. The gallery seems almost reluctant to allow the athletes in, worried they have brought with them their football boots and cones to dribble around, but it would be bad practice to prohibit the muses from the collection. She isn’t an idiot, though, and she knows that no amount of forced reading about the artist and other sophisticated matters will slip her seamlessly into the crowd. 

There are lots of people; people she has never heard of, but make it clear they are far superior to her by the way in which their eyes politely drop to the tattoos inked onto her calloused hands. Their skin is soft, accustomed to the stems of crystal champagne flutes, and the drawings that hold so much personal meaning to the footballer are scrutinised to the point of silent… offence.  

So much for appreciators of art, she thinks to herself, counting down the minutes until it is acceptable for her to leave. 

With a huff and a vow to never – no matter how much she earns – forget where she has come from, Alexia staggers, uncomfortable in these particular heels, towards the painting she deems easiest to understand. 

It is the largest in the room: deep, crimson reds on top of familiar greens, streaks of gold falling out of a ponytail. 

Call Alexia egotistical, but anyone would be drawn to a painting of themselves. 

The artist has done a good job, she guesses, not entirely sure if there is a deeper meaning behind the grass stains on her socks or the crumpled shading of her Spain jersey. It is a little creepy that someone she does not know has captured her likeness so expertly, so practised. 

“The nose isn’t quite right,” a voice says beside her. 

Alexia turns in surprise, amused enough by the stranger’s observation to examine her painted face, eyes not drawn from how majestic her image is beginning to seem. She sees no obvious issue, and so she replies, “I think it’s fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

She is still staring at herself, now impressed by the grandeur of the painting; its size, its quality. “Well, I am unsure how someone painted me so accurately when I was never called in for a… I don’t know, a consultation? And it seems a little weird to me that my hair is loose, because I tend to slick it back so it doesn’t fall out of my ponytail, and, you know, I always have something written on my boots, but otherwise, it’s fine. I doubt anyone here has ever watched a football match, so none of this will matter to them.” 

“It doesn’t bother you that someone might pay millions for a painting that you have deemed not-quite-right?” 

The voice is somewhat too interested, and suddenly Alexia swivels around to face its owner properly, worried she has spoken her mind to a journalist. 

“Those millions go to a charity that will improve women’s sports every–” 

You are definitely not a journalist, although once, when art really wasn’t paying, you had off-handedly typed out a few articles for one of the bigger galleries. 

Alexia knows you are not a journalist because you are dressed to be in front of the cameras, not behind them. 

Your hands hang by your sides, but in a rather unnatural manner as though you are itching to do something else, and she is briefly overcome by the horror that you seem elegant enough to be a potential buyer. Has she put you off? 

“Oh,” you interrupt, “don’t be so profound. Sometimes you footballers sound like change-making machines.” 

“There is change to be made,” she responds indignantly. 

“Hence the exhibition,” you allow with a little smirk, nodding towards the rest of the room. Although the biggest of the collection, you had asked for your painting to be displayed in the corner; a filter, in a sense, to ensure no one throws money at the largest thing in the room just because they can. “It creeps you out to be painted?” 

The question is curious, but Alexia no longer feels like she has been caged in an interrogation room. 

She thinks about her answer for a moment, torn between returning to gaze at the expanse of the scene in front of her or staring at you, wondering if you count as one of the works of art on display. 

“I have never met the artist,” she explains neutrally. You laugh, and it sounds infused with champagne and nervousness. “What? It’s like having a stalker. An extremely talented, creative stalker, but someone who studies me in secret nonetheless.” 

“No, I understand. She must have researched you until the ends of the Earth.” 

“The artist is a woman?” She isn’t sure she is surprised, but she asks you anyway, wanting to anchor you to the spot. 

“Alexia, this is an exhibition for women’s sports.” Your point is valid, but you have said her name and she is far more intrigued by the way that had sounded to praise you for your intelligence. You let out an airy breath and click your tongue. “I’d even say, given by the way she has painted you from the back, that the artist fancies you.”

“It’s the squats,” she easily replies with a giggle. “Who is the artist?” 

You take a step towards her, the sharp points of your heels clacking against the concrete floor. She follows your index finger to the white plaque beside the canvas, reading the name written in small, black letters. 

“I haven’t heard of her.” 

Alexia sounds so thoughtful that you have to hide your smile behind your palm, coughing to provide an excuse for the action. 

“Because you’ve heard of quite a few artists, haven’t you?” 

“I know the main four.” 

“The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?” 

“No.” 

Again, you laugh, and it is melodious and rich and Alexia wants to hear it for the rest of her life. Which is not normal, she tells herself, because you are some loaded stranger and she is only here for another hour before she can escape back to the pitch and her teammates who like her tattoos and admire her and respect her hard work without seeing her as some tacky social-climber who scrounged an invite to an area of society where she is institutionally unwanted. 

“Picasso,” she then offers, rather petulantly, looking at you with a childish frown. In her head, she estimates the distance between your bodies, noticing how you have not returned to your original position. 

“Ah, well done. He’s quite niche.” She doesn’t appreciate the teasing, and so she steps sideways to… put a stop to it somehow. Obviously, the plan had never truly been formulated, and it comes across as a half-lunge to push you away, but then you are swinging your arms as though the conversation is boring you and she desperately wishes you’d stay put. 

“What do you think about the painting?” she fires into the shortened space between you, the question wrapping around you like a rope that ties you to the spot. 

“It’s boring.” She scoffs, because after all, it is a painting of her. “The poor artist must have been tortured by the task, having to force her eyes to stay open while watching football matches.” 

And if Alexia were not so distracted by the way your swinging hand has begun to brush against her own, she would probably catch you out there and then. 

(But your touch is electric and she is otherwise engaged.) 

“Like, come on, can’t the sports photographers just get their pictures blown up? No one needs such an outrageously huge portrait of Alexia Putellas in their home, or stadium, or whatever. I reckon the artist is now regretting the angle she painted from, anyway, in case some pervert with more money than sense bids for it and hangs it up in his bedroom.” 

“Bedroom?”

The tips of Alexia’s ears go red, a stark contrast to the expensive silver hoops she sports, and you stop your fidgeting, hand resting on top of hers – perhaps unintentionally – as her misunderstanding wedges an awkward pause into the middle of your rant. 

“Sorry,” you apologise, “that was probably not the best thing to say, considering it’s a painting of you.” 

Alexia runs through what you have said, hoping her subconscious has caught it while her mind was preoccupied with what your sexual orientation might be. “Why have you come here if you are so against the principle of it?” 

“I was required to,” you explain, through half-gritted teeth and a jaw that tenses with leftover annoyance from a conversation you had with the coordinator. 

Seizing the opportunity to get a humorous punch back, Alexia quickly fumbles out a, “someone’s important.” 

She’d celebrate her victory over you, the way you blush in embarrassment, if you hadn’t started anxiously playing with her fingers. Suddenly, the air that bridges the gap between you is set alight and Alexia stares at where you are connected. 

You hastily pull away. “Sorry,” you say for a second time. “I have to sell this, and I’m nervous.”��

“Sell wh– The painting?” 

“No, Alexia, I’ve been sent by Real Madrid to hold you hostage so I have to sell this act.” Briefly, fear washes over the footballer’s face, tanned skin paling at the idea that you have a weapon concealed in the satin folds of your dress. Then, your hand makes a decisive movement and your fingers are intertwining with hers before she can run to safety. “I thought it was best to lure you in by flirting with you.” 

“You’ve been… flirting with me?” 

“God, imagine if I actually were here to kidnap you.” You hold up your joined hands so that she can see for herself. “Is your weakness women who bully you?” 

She blushes again, unsure how to handle what you have insinuated. 

Alexia grasps onto what little dignity remains and straightens herself, shoulders rolling back as she emulates the confidence she has been painted with. “Only pretty women,” she drawls. 

She is about to use whichever line appears in her mind first, completely unashamed by it because she has guessed you would tease her no matter what leaves her mouth, but some evil, cruel person clinks a small fork against their glass, clearing their throat, and your hands quickly return to your body, your attention drawn away from the conversation. 

“Thank you all for coming,” announces the event coordinator, clearly gearing up for a speech. “There will be time for more chatting later, but I cannot resist showing off our most talented artist any longer.” 

You roll your eyes. The expression is directed at Alexia, who chuckles privately, sunshine blooming in her chest that you have spared a silent comment just for her. 

“Y/n, darling, where are you?” 

An authoritative gaze searches through the crowd and lands on you.

The dots connect, Alexia begins to feel like an idiot, and you are sashaying away before she can ask you to stay.

[uluvjay]

Unexpected- W. Smith

Will Smith x Hughes! Sister

In which your brothers were not expecting to find a boy in your bed when they came to visit

Warnings?; cursing, anxiety, judgmental brothers, fluff, sorry for any errors!

“Dude just use your key.” Quinn grumbled to Jack as he continued to knock on your apartment door.

“I don’t want to invade her privacy.” Jack huffed.

“She came into our apartment to surprise us that one time.” Luke shrugged reminding his brother of the time they came home to find you on their couch.

“What if she’s like-i don’t know..not decent?” Jack cringed.

“Oh my god-move, I’ll just use mine.” Quinn huffed as he pushed his younger brother out of the way.

The boys had been texting you nonstop attempting to get an answer from you especially after their consistent knocking hadn’t worked and Quinn was tired of waiting.

Jack and Luke played the bruins in two days and having a short gap in his schedule Quinn decided to join his brothers on a surprise visit to their baby sister before he had to return to a hectic season.

Pushing open the sleek door of your apartment they were met with your natural vanilla scent, by the door was your messy shoe rack, umbrellas, coats, your keys on a hook, and hockey sticks-wait, why the hell would you have that many hockey sticks?

“Why does she hav-ow what the?” Luke began but was cut off as his foot came into contact with a hefty hockey bag and he went stumbling forward.

“Umm..why the hell is there usa hockey bag in her entryway?” Jack questioned, looking between his brothers with a raised eyebrow.

“The fuck are you asking us for?” Quinn spoke quietly.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because you dumbass her keys are here, which means she’s probably sleeping still.” Quinn replied.

The boys looked around your apartment a bit more, keeping quiet as they walked through the living room area and kitchen.

Jack and Quinn knew the layout well as this was their graduation gift towards you, they felt unsafe with you living on campus and despite your protests when you opened the box revealing keys, you had been living here since the fall.

“Uh guys..there’s a gold medal on her living room table.” Luke choked.

“What?” Jack asked as he rushed in from the kitchen.

Meeting his brothers in the living room his eyes met the good medal that was in fact sitting pretty in the middle of your coffee table.

“Usa bag, sticks, and a gold medal? Shes dating one of the Bc guys that just won at world juniors. She has to be.” Luke laughed looking up at his older brothers.

Jack was the first to take off down the hall and towards your cracked bedroom door, both defensemen following closely behind him.

Quietly pushing your door open they found you asleep on your back, a Boston college hockey shirt on, thank god Jack thought.

And on your chest was a head of blonde curls, one of your hands resting on the boys shoulder peacefully while one of his arms was thrown around your waist.

Retreating to your living room the three men huddled together.

“He looks familiar.” Jack spoke up.

“His name is will something, he just got drafted.” Luke confirmed remembering his face from the draft.

“It’s Will smith. He went fourth overall to the sharks.” Quinn spoke showing his brothers the boy’s Instagram page.

“What do we do now?” Luke questioned, not sure where they should go from here.

“We wait.” Jack smirked and moved to make himself comfortable on your large sectional.

-

A little over an hour later they heard soft voices coming from your room, quite good mornings and the sound of lips connecting.

“Breakfast?” They heard you question and will confirm with a soft yeah.

Making your way out of your bedroom and down the hall you felt your heart drop into your stomach and a scream escape at the sight of three large figures sat on your couch.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” You shrieked once you realized it was your brothers.

“Came to see you, why? Is there something your hiding from us?” Jack smirked as his eyes dropped from you to gold medal on your table and back to you.

You followed his eyesight and worry filled you as you remembered that your boyfriend, who was fresh out of Sweden had all of his things here, the boyfriend your brothers also have no idea about.

“Shit. J-just give me a second.” You groaned as you turned around and pushed a curious Will back into your room before shutting the door.

“Everything okay?” He questioned as the noticeable worry etched on your face.

“My brothers are here.” You spoke quietly.

“Your brothers? As in all three?” Will asked.

“Yep.” You spoke popping the ‘p’ before continuing.

“Came to surprise me, turns out they were a bit more surprised when they found all of your usa stuff.” You laughed.

“Wh-what uh, what are we going to do?” He coughed.

It’s not that Will was necessarily scared of your brothers, he’d already met your parents and talked to your dad regularly about hockey. But brothers are different, especially your brothers. You four have a bond he’s never seen before and the protectiveness they have over you is strong.

“You’re going to have to come out and meet them.” You shrugged.

“Right now?”

“No tomorrow at four. Yes right now will! They’re literally sitting in my living room waiting.” You spoke.

“Okay.” He breathed.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s do this” he nodded confidently.

“I love you and you know I wont let them kill your right?” You laughed as you took his cheeks into your hands.

“I know, I love you too.” He smiled and you placed a light kiss on his lips before turning around and leading him into your living room.

To say the sight In front of him wasn’t intimidating wouldn’t be a lie, despite being around the same height as all three men their broody stance snd interrogating stares had will feeling a bit nervous.

The three nhl stars were dressed in all black, hoodies, joggers, and beanies as they stood around the living room table looking Will up and down.

“Boys this is my boyfriend Will, Will these are my brothers, Jack, Quinn, and Lukey.” You smiled.

Despite the circumstances you were happy to have your brothers here and it felt good to be back in their presence.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Will smiled as he reached a hand out.

All three looked at his hand but Quinn was the first to move in and shake it, locking wills hand in a tight grip.

The other two followed after Quinn, their grips just as if not tighter around Wills hand. You could see the gears turning in Luke’s head and that soon questions would be flying out left and right, and before you started to answer them you needed food.

“Why don’t we talk over breakfast? There’s an amazing place down the street.” You suggested and thankfully everyone agreed to a nice meal.

-

Forty-five minutes later you were all gathered at a table at the small restaurant down the road, coffees in your brothers hands while you and Will both chose a nice glass of Oj.

“So” Quinn coughed, “how’d you two meet?”

“Izzy is dating his friend Ryan, they introduced us and we hit it off pretty well so we exchanged numbers and went on a few dates. The rest was history after that.” You smiled.

Izzy was your best friend from back home, the boys knew her so well she was practically another sister to them and she was a big contributor to your decision to come to Boston college instead of Umich.

“Hmm, where’d you take her for the first date?” Luke spoke up.

“Mini golf, got my ass kicked though. Didn’t realize someone could be so good at it.” Will laughed at the memory.

“Y/n is an amazing golfer, she does it quite a bit over the summers.” Jack nodded.

“Best in the family i’d say.” You smirked.

“Okay don’t get ahead of yourself now.” Luke scoffed.

“So you’re a sharks prospect right?” Jack asked.

“Uh yeah, they drafted me this past spring.” Will smiled.

The questions kept up until the food came, but they began to get more relaxed and generic after a while. The boys began to asked will more about school and how it was a world juniors and soon they were all sharing laughs.

“You know, that wasn’t really the way I wanted to find out my baby sister had a boyfriend but you’re a cool kid Will.” Quinn smiled.

“Thank you, she’s amazing. Out my league really.” Will blushed as you elbowed him in his side.

“That’s true, but as long as you treat her right and make her happy then we like you.” Jack spoke softly.

“But don’t think we won’t flatten your ass out on the ice if you ever hurt her.” Luke smirked.

Will nodded with a winded expression and and awkward silence crowded the table before the ringing of Quinn’s phone broke through.

“Oh, it’s mom.” He smirked right at Will and it took everything in you to hold down your laugh.

“Hey mom!” He greeted her warmly.

“Hi sweetie, just checking if you got into your sisters.” She spoke.

“Oh yeah we got in, found quite the surprise to.” Jack laughed.

“Oh really? What happened.”

Quinn turned the screen around to show your mother Will and while they were all expecting her to freak out their expressions dropped the second they heard her voice.

“Will! How are you doing honey?” She asked excitedly.

“I’m good Mrs. Hughes, how about you.” Your boyfriend smiled.

“Oh I told you to knock that Mrs. Hughes off! I’m good though honey thank you for asking.” She smiled.

“Let me find Jim really fast, he’ll want to say hi.” Your mother spoke up.

You released a giggle at the shock and confusion that was written on your brother’s faces. Their eyebrows were all pulled together as they shared a look of confusion.

“Will! How are you buddy.” Your father greeted.

“I’m good Jim, how about you?”

“I’m good son, my boys haven’t given you and my girl any trouble have they?”Your father questioned.

“No, it’s been okay.” Will laughed.

The conversation kept up for a moment but your mother ultimately decided to hang up when Jack kept whining about her not telling them you had a boyfriend.

“I can’t believe they knew!” He groaned.

“I told them first, wanted to make sure they liked him.” You shrugged.

“This is unbelievable.” He pouted and that’s how the rest of your day continued until your mom apologized and offered to bake him his favorite homemade goods the next time she visited.

-



[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

There's a slight chill in the air today. One of those days where the heat of the sun is beating down, but every now and then, a breeze kicks up causing goosebumps to raise on my arms as it flutters through leaves that are starting to turn to various shades of gold but have not yet fallen. Still holding on along with the last remnants of summer.

As promised, I’m walking with Asher to the bakery for a decent cup of coffee. He invited Lex to come along, which I’m glad about. I always enjoy hanging out with her. She keeps things light and easy.

She’s ahead of us now, alternating between skipping forward and hopping backward so she can gesture to us as she tells her story. She reminds me of a child in a bouncy house recounting a grand adventure. Exaggerated, out of breath, and constantly trying not to laugh as she stumbles about. It’s infectious.

Just being in her presence, I feel lighter, like the weight of the world has taken a break from my shoulders, allowing me to relax and breathe a little easier.

It’s easy to see that her and Ash have been friends for years. They act more like siblings with their constant inside jokes and play-fighting. I’ve already given up on trying to follow their conversation about people I’ve never met and places I’ve never been, but enjoy the sounds of their banter all the same.

“Hey, Atlas!” Lex jumps over and smacks my arm with the back of her hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. She’s affectionate in an almost violent way: slapping, poking, wrestling. Her hugs are the kind that leave you gasping for air. Affection is not something I’m used to, nor does it come easily to me, so Lex’s heavy jostling is somehow more palatable than softer, more intimate forms of contact, even if I still rarely reciprocate.

“Have you caught up on Somnium yet?” She asks me this every week, but at least today I won’t have to disappoint her again.

“Yeah, Dawn and I caught up the other night.”

She squeals and claps her hands together, excited to finally be able to talk without spoiling, “So, what do you think of your precious coffee shop boy now?”

I roll my eyes at her, “Jesus, Lex, I said he was cute once, and now you’re always up my ass about it.”

Asher perks up and asks with a grin, “Ah, so that’s your type huh? Pale boys with black hair?”

I look over, surprised by his sudden interest, and noting the way he pointed out literally the only thing he has in common with the character. The truth is, Wyatt isn’t really my type. But Asher, with his relaxed confidence and playful smile, very much is, so I decide to play along, shrugging casually, “I mean, it’d be better if he dyed his hair a bright color like blue, or green, or something, but close enough.”

He laughs and then squints up at me, “See, now, I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or flirting with me.”

“Pourquoi pas le deux, hm?” He is cute, isn’t he? Especially the way he’s looking at me now, chewing on his bottom lip, his gray eyes searching mine as he tries to determine how serious I am. As we look at each other, the air suddenly feels electric between us, and I have to avert my gaze before my face gives me away. I’m relieved to see we’re approaching the bakery, and I jump ahead to open the door before he can respond.

As I hold it open, Lex walks through giving me a sideways glance and an amused smile. Asher follows close behind, saying, “Thank you,” and flashing me a quick wink that catches me off guard. My stomach flips as I fall in line behind them, dropping my head to hide my face as I smile to myself.

Prev // Next

🧡Somnium

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-five of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim makes sure to not take any longer than a week to plan an actual first date for Kon because he doesn’t want Kon to think he’s lost interest in him and also wants him out of that damn lab yesterday, so spending a lot of time with him while aggressively buying him material things and whatever else he wants to slowly ease things into apartment-buying territory–or cul-de-sac-buying; Tim still hasn’t ruled out the cul-de-sac–seems like the pragmatic approach. 

His operating concept of "slow" is Bart-level at best right now, admittedly. 

Probably that’s actually Bart's fault, Tim decides. Probably definitely, actually. Hanging out with a speedster is rubbing off on him. 

Hopefully it’s also rubbing off on Kon. 

. . . Tim should’ve phrased that differently. Very, very differently. 

Kon shows up five minutes early for their date–no cats up any trees this time, Tim guesses–and Tim nearly self-immolates at the sight of him. He’s wearing dark slacks and a matching vest with shiny black shoes over a sky blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar at best half-buttoned, and also layered black leather and silver chain bracelets and a couple of rings. He even changed out the omnipresent gold hoop in his ear for a dangling silver earring. 

Tim technically recognizes all of the clothes and accessories that Kon is wearing right now, because he bought them all for him himself. He even saw Kon try them all on, if not specifically together. There are absolutely no surprises in his outfit whatsoever. Tim suggested that earring to him, even.

The delicate lines of soft brown eyeliner that are bringing out his eyes and the dark blue nail polish with the barely-there shimmer to it are both definitely a surprise, though. 

Tim doesn’t look good enough for this date, he realizes in resigned dread. Tim has never in his life looked good enough for this date. Full gala-mode Tim Drake would not look good enough for this date, in fact. He wore nice slacks and decent shoes and a turtleneck with a peacoat, and he looks like an absolute schlub next to Kon. 

“Hey there, babe,” Kon says, flashing him a smirk with just the slightest flicker of nervous insecurity in it. Tim cannot actually respond to him with incoherent babbling, but it is very difficult not to. 

“Hi,” he manages, using absolutely every drop of his Undercover 101 training to sound like a normal person. “You look prett–nice! You look nice.” 

Tim might need to take Undercover 102, he’s realizing. 

“You too,” Kon says as his expression just barely softens and the flicker of insecurity, thankfully, fades out of his eyes. Which is clearly a filthy lie but not one Tim is going to call him on right now. Then he bites his lip and grins around it, just a little. “‘Nice’, or . . . ?” 

Smolderingly gorgeous, Tim does not say, because that would sound incredibly stupid and try-hard. 

“Pretty,” he says instead, which is . . . well, a slight improvement. Maybe. Not really. “Uh–pretty nice, I mean! Uh. Hi. Again. I–got you something?”

“You did?” Kon asks, leaning in a little with a flash of surprised curiosity crossing his face. Tim has no idea why he would be surprised, at this point. Like, literally none whatsoever. 

Clearly he needs to buy him more stuff. 

“Yeah,” he says, then holds up the fancy little gift bag in his hand. “Flowers seemed inconvenient since I wasn’t picking you up, so . . .” 

Kon turns red. 

“‘Flowers’?” he echoes awkwardly, then looks incredibly embarrassed to have said anything. 

Note to self, Tim thinks: as soon as he’s picking Kon up from his own place instead of meeting him on random street corners, there’ll have to be flowers. Always flowers. So many flowers. He’ll look up some native Hawaiian ones, maybe. 

“I didn’t wanna make you carry a wilting bouquet to dinner,” he says apologetically, holding out the bag to him. “So, uh, hopefully this’ll suffice for now."

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Ash Walker: Part 1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Now that we’re all here it’s time I tell you what the job is.”

Hemlock kicked the holographic table and it buzzed into life, the projection lighting up the room in a soft blue glow. Six pairs of eyes turned to look at the projection as Hemlock pointed to the slowly turning image of a world.

“This is Thescara III-“ he began before being immediately cut off.

“Frak this shit.” One of the onlookers declared. “I’m not sitting one foot on that cursed world. You drop me off on the nearest barren moon.”

“What’s wrong with Thescara III?” another onlooker asked.

Septh looked at Hemlock and scoffed. “No wonder you wanted a new crew of fresh pups, for no seasoned salvager would join up with you.”

“You going to answer my question old man, or are you just keep ignoring me?”

Septh looked at the Fling then back at Hemlock with a hard stare. Hemlock paused and took a look around the room at his new crew. There was the Theosian called Tug standing in the back. He wore his ceremonial metal armor that was crafted to his flesh upon birth and was the muscle of the group.

The Guppin Fling was sitting in front of Tug with all four of his legs crossed. They were the youngest of the group and were it not for his hacking skills he’d not be here at all. Hemlock saw a lot of himself in the Guppin but was worried his enthusiasm would make him careless.

Opposite them were the triplets Nok, Uma, and Rue. None of them were particularly good with any skillset, but Hemlock needed the extra hands for lugging things and they came cheap. In truth he still didn't know which was which so he’d just shout a name and tell them to do something.

Last was Septh; the only one he’d used for multiple jobs. He was an old hand at the salvage game and was understandably not happy about being kept in the dark until the last moment.

“Thescara III was originally a human world until their war with the Jen. Rather than engage the humans on the surface where they knew the humans had the advantage they dropped a couple thousand low yield nuclear bombs across the entire surface reducing it to perpetual nuclear winter.”

“Cowards.”

Hemlock turned to see Tug adjusting himself against the wall and send a small tremor through the decking before spitting a gob of something black on to the floor and continued talking.

“True warriors face their foes face to face; not through the lens of a computer monitor.”

“If you knew what humans can do with a sharpened stick you might think twice.”

The triplets snickered at this but went silent when Tug shot them a sidelong glance.

“None of this matters, save for the fact there is over seven million credits locked away in the capital branch bank of Universal Credit that is just sitting there waiting to be nabbed.”

The mention of loot drew everyone’s attention. That many credits were enough to buy decent chunk of a moon, or live a life of luxury on a paradise world for seven lifetimes.

 “It’s just been sitting there; this entire time?” one of the triplets asked. “How do we know the credits are still there?”

Gods they even sound the same, Hemlock thought.

“’The planet has been an ecological nightmare ever since the bombs went off. You can only stay on the surface for a short period of time before the radiation levels kill you. Couple that with the vault’s combination randomly rotating itself every hour it’s made it impossible to crack it before the radiation bakes you.”

“If that’s true then what chance do we have?” Septh interrupted.

In response Hemlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold disc.

“Because we aren’t going to need to crack the vault with this little ticket here.” Hemlock smiled. “As this little dingy is a corporate level security key, which can open any UC vault automatically.”

The triplets and Fling whistled in amazement, and with good reason. Those types of security keys were only given to executive level personnel and the loss of one would trigger an immediate reaction force to retrieve it.

“Do I want to know how you got that?” Septh asked.

Hemlock shrugged. “I’m borrowing it from a certain partner who will remain nameless for now.”

He pointed back to the hologram and grinned. “Now, time to plan our payday.” ---------------------------

Parting through the dense cloud coverage, Hemlock kept a constant eye on the retro rockets to match the ever changing wind patterns. He had flown through hurricanes and gale force winds that could cleave metal like paper, yet Thescara III was proving to be an entirely different beast.

Not only was the planet covered in a near perpetual cloud cover that dispensed ash but the sheer amount of nuclear bombs that had been dropped had also changed the planet’s equilibrium. Wind direction changed in intensity and direction by the minute, air pockets were abound like it was a minefield, and that wasn’t even getting into the random lightning strikes that could short out the entire ship if one struck home.

“I told you this planet was-“ Septh began before another air pocket the ship and the ship dropped suddenly.

Hemlock grinned at his good fortune and once more adjusted a series of dials. It took a few moments to pass through the last bit of turbulence and finally get below the cloud cover.

“Welcome to Thescara III everyone.” Hemlock said as the planet’s surface finally came into view.

As far as his eyes could see the entire planet was covered in layer upon layer of grey ash. Spires of city skyscrapers loomed up out of the ground like the skeleton fingers of gods, their shadows casting long across the ruins of a dead city.

After a few moments of circling Hemlock found the ideal landing site and brought the ship down. From the city records he was able to obtain the opening was once a large park at the heart of the capital city and only a few city blocks away from their target.

With a loud thud the support legs touched down on the surface and the engines began slowly powering down. Hemlock was already unbuckling harness and making for the cargo hold. Septh was in lock step behind him as the pair entered the hold to find the rest of the crew already suiting up.

Tug still had his armor on but had donned an atmospheric helmet. Hemlock could see the faint green glow of targeting feeds displaying on the inside of the helmet as the warrior performed basic systems checks. The triplets were gathering around hauler making final checks. They wore standard atmospheric suits with different colors for distinction as they circled the hauler. It was an anti-grav model with several large cases stacked on the back which the crew would fill with credits.

Hemlock was crazy enough to take this risk but not stupid enough to think he or his crew could haul seven million credits back without transport so the triplets were to be glued to the thing the entire time.

Fling was the last of the group off to the side that Hemlock found. He was struggling to attach the gloves of his suit when he approached and helped him.

“So if we have a key to the vault,” Fling began as he nodded thanks to Hemlock for the glove assist, “why exactly do you need me?”

“If the key fails you’re the contingency.” Hemlock said plainly. “I always hedge my bets, and I always have a plan B.”

Fling smirked. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted for being plan A.”

Hemlock didn’t reply as he finished checking the rest of Fling’s suit and stepping back as Septh approached. He casually flung a spare helmet to Hemlock who caught it midair and donned it with ease.

“Listen up everyone,” he began as he spoke over the shared com network, “we have three hours to get in and out before the next radiation wave sweeps through here.”

Slapping the release button on the side of the hull sirens began blaring and the boarding ramp slowly cracked open and lowered down to the surface. A fresh blizzard of ash slowly began sweeping into the hold as the crew hopped onboard the hauler.

“Keep in coms range, keep an eye on your radiation meters, and for frak’s sake do not go wandering off.” Hemlock broke off checking on his crew to look down the boarding ramp as it fully opened. “This is not a world you want to be alone on.”

With his instructions delivered he slapped the top of the hauler’s cab and the triplets drove the vehicle forward. No sooner had the hauler reached the bottom of the ramp did Hemlock realize something was wrong.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Hemlock turned to see Fling looking off to the left of the boarding ramp and followed his gaze. His eyes went wide as he saw the outline of a Nebula B class freighter parked right next to his ship.

From the cockpit he had assumed it was another mound of ash, but now looking up at it from the ground he could see the underside of the ship clear as day. It’s boarding ramp was likewise lowered but now was coated in several layers of ash.

“Competition?” Tug asked as he hefted his power rifle. Septh shook his head in response as his eyes went over the freighter.

“This thing’s been here a while now.” He answered. Tug looked at him then back at the silent freighter. “How can you tell?” he asked.

“Nebula B’s are notorious for their engines never fully shutting down and always making a low rumbling sound.” Septh said as he put a hand to his ear. “For it to be silent it must have burned through its fuel reserves, and those can last about two-three years.”

“That’s not the half of it.”

Hemlock turned to see Tug nodding in the opposite direction to see a row of other spaceships lining alongside theirs like a giant parking lot.

“What the hell is this…” One of the triplets said from the hauler cabin. “Where are all their crews? Why’d they leave their ships out like this?”

“It’s-“ Septh began but Hemlock cut him off.

“Shut it.” Hemlock barked. He pointed down the road lined with ash covered vehicles. “We’ve got three hours and we don’t have time to waste!”

The crew looked amongst themselves before the hauler lurched forward again.

[tonysslut]

just your boss

pls do not copy or repost my work

this is kinda long but i'm so obsessed with it and i hope you guys love it just as much!!

tony stark masterlist

you internally rolled your eyes as you watched as everyone started to leave for the night. it was a friday night and most of the work had been given to you, like usual—countless documents to go over, meetings to set up, and a plethora of emails to be sent.

the vast majority your coworkers despised you, especially your female coworkers. they were all under the impression that you were having an affair with your boss. the he looked at you, brought you coffee every morning, and even gave you your own office was proof enough for them.

if it weren't for you overhearing them talking about you, you would've never realized why they treated you the way they did.

"she's such a whore. sleeping with tony just to keep her job." she said with disgust in her tone and a not so subtle eye roll.

you weren't totally oblivious. you were aware he treated you a little differently than everyone else, but you just assumed it was because you were new, but that treatment continued as the months went by.

and you definitely weren't blind, he was attractive—very attractive. he towered over you, his dark brown hair flecked with gray here and there. he had one ring on his pinky, the gold band always shined bright as he walked through the office.

with most of the office empty, you knew you'd be able to get a decent amount of work done, giving yourself a nice head start for the following workweek.

tony observed you from his office, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you read your screen. he smiled as you bopped your head to the music that played through your headphones.

he admired how hard you always worked, even when the rest of his employees attempted to make your job more difficult.

you were so lost in your work that you didn't notice tony leaving his office, standing in front of your cubicle. you let out a startled gasp as you looked up.

"sorry, didn't mean to scare you." he let out a breathy laugh, you laughed with him, feeling slightly embarrassed at your reaction.

"it's okay. i didn't notice you were there. can i do anything for you?" you ask, taking your headphones off to look up at him.

"what are you still doing here? you should've left a few hours ago." he stated, walking around to look at your screen. you felt his colonge seep into your system as he leaned in close to you, cocking your neck to see his profile from the side.

he sensed your gaze and turned to meet yours, smiling.

you turned red when his eyes met yours. internally cursing at yourself for staring like an idiot.

"um, i'm just getting ahead. i don't have anything planned tonight so i figured i'd stay a bit later and get some work out of the way. i can leave if you're on your way out." you offered, not wanting him to stay longer so he could close once you left.

you noticed tony's eyes drop to your lips for split second. he shook his head. "no, i don't mind." he stood up straight turning around to walk back to his office but he suddenly stopped. "actually, could you come into my office for a second? i could use you're help with something."

you nodded your head, followed him.

you loved the view he had in his office, big windows from the floor to the ceiling that showed off the beautiful city. the room was pretty dark apart from a small lamp that sat on his desk, illuminating enough to see what he needed to see.

he reached under his desk and pulled out a thick binder, flipping through it till he found what he needed.

"i like to keep track of sales here." he point at the spreadsheet. "but, it's not very organized. i used to know what was what but i lost track and want to sort it out. any suggestions?" he says resting his hands on the desk to be eye level with you.

once again you find yourself staring again but pull yourself together quicker this time.

"well, you can go by dates." you look down at the binder, noticing he has dates by each number. "if you don't mind, i can go through and but the dates in order on a new spreadsheet and have it ready by monday." you say with a smile, tucking your hair behind your ear when you look back up and find him already looking at you.

"thank you for the offer, but i can do it myself." he smiles at you. the lighting in his office enhances your feature and he can't bring himself to take his eyes off you. "you work harder than everyone else, no reason for me to pile on anything more."

you smile at his comment, realizing he does notice your attempt at being a good employee.

your smile made tonys heart skip a beat, he wasn't sure why but he started to lean into you, and you didn't stop him. his soft lips pressed against yours, leading you into a gentle kiss. you let it happen, tasting the mint gum he had previously had.

he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. even with him bending down, you still had to crane your neck upwards to reach his lips. the kiss was quickly become more and more passionate. neither one of you could get enough.

tony pulled away at the lack of air, pressing his forehead against yours. "tell me to stop." he whispered, catching his breath.

part of you wanted to tell him to stop, you shouldn't be crossing the line on professionalism like this. but the other half wanted this, so you kept quite, locking your eyes with his.

your eyes told him all he needed to know, he rushed back in, kissing you harder, placing his big hands on the back of your legs, lifting you up and setting you on the edge of his desk.

his hands roamed your body, reaching the end of your shirt to pull it off you. he start to kiss down your neck when you pull of his jacket, quickly undoing the buttons on shirt.

the way he feels against you has you feeling dizzy. his touch feels so good. he reaches your bra and unclasps it, you move your arms so it falls right off.

"god, you're beautiful." he says as he pulls back away from you, slipping his shirt off.

you also take the chance to admire him, he was just pure muscle, sculpted by god himself.

he reaches around you and unzips your skirt, you lift your hips so he can pull them off, taking your panties off as well. he pulls you closer to the edge of the desk and kneels in front of you. your body feels like it's on a fire at this point.

he leans in and licks your cunt. your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. his warm tongue laps up your arousal, humming against you at your taste. he wastes no time, sucking your clit into his mouth and massage his fingers around your hole.

you lean back on your hands and watch as he eats you out, his eyes locking with yours when he pushes two fingers inside you. his thick fingers stretch you out in the most delicious way possible.

he thrusts them in and out before he curls them upwards. between his tongue and fingers, you can't hold yourself up anymore, dropping yourself onto your back. your hand finds it's way into his hair, slightly tugging at his roots. a moan vibrates against you at the action, causing you to arch your back.

you were embarrassed at how fast your orgasm was approaching but tony just encouraged you, moving faster, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

your release hit you like a truck. vision blurring, stomach tightening, legs shaking around his head, hands tugging harshly at his hair. he didn't slow down his movements, wanting to prolong it for as long as possible. he only pulled away when you started to push him away at how sensitive you had gotten.

he rested his head against your thigh and watched as you catched your breath, he could still feel the subtle shake of your legs. pressing kisses against your leg, he made his way up your body to your lips. you moaned at the taste of yourself, sitting up so you could undo his pants.

you pushed them down and let him kick them off. grabbing his cock, you stroke him as you two continue to kiss. you could feel how big he was, throbbing in your hand. pulling away, you slightly lean back and line him up with your entrance.

he looks down at you, almost as if asking for permission. you nod your head and he slowly pushes into you. the moan that leaves your lips is involuntarily, he stretches you out in ways you never felt before.

you hear him curse under his breath when he's fully nestled inside you. he just rests inside you, letting you get accustomed before he pulls out. he movements are slow, letting you feel each and every inch.

"you feel so good." he groans, placing his hands on your hips.

his deep voice just turns you on more; the slow movements are like torture, you needed more.

"please. please move faster." you almost beg, gripping his bicep for extra support.

he puts his arms under your legs to push them upwards, almost pinning them against you. he thrusts faster, deeper. leaning down, he kisses you, letting you wrap your hands around his neck to pull him closer. the kiss is mainly the two of you moaning into each others mouths.

he suddenly feels bold and picks you up off the desk and walks towards the glass, pressing you against it so he can thrust up into you. the cool glass against your warm skin feels amazing and the risk of potentially being seen, excites you.

he reaches deeper inside you in this position, hitting your g-spot with each stroke. you throw you head back, pleasure courses through every part of your body.

tony leans forward and places kissing on your exposed throat, making his way towards your sweet spot, sucking on the skin.

"i'm so close. tony, please."

your whining spurs him on. he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you up and uses his free hand to rub your clit. the added stimulation has your toes curling. his movements speed up, deep moans vibrate through his chest.

he knows your close, he can feel your cunt squeeze his cock, making it harder for him move.

"cum, baby. go ahead." he whispers, choking out a moan when his own release hits him.

this one is 10x more intense then the first one. your entire body goes stiff, you can't control the moans that leave your mouth as it washes over you.

tony rests his head against your shoulder as he fills you up. he's never had an orgasm this stronger before. he gently places you places you on the floor, legs wobbling when your feet meet the ground.

"stay here, let me grab some tissues." he says before rushing over to his desk.

you lean against the glass, still catch your breath from the orgasm you just had. he leans down to clean the mess between your legs, doing his best to get you as clean as possible.

you smile at him when he stands straight, appreciating that he took the time to clean you up. he picks up your clothes and helps you get dressed after just throwing on his pants and shirt.

"let me go get you some water." he says, leaving the office.

suddenly it's like your mind clears and you realize what just happened, a wave of guilt washes over you and you find yourself panicking.

the break room was on the other side of the floor so you step out of the office and quickly grab your things from your cubicle, rushing into the elevator so you could leave.

you made a huge mistake sleeping with your boss.

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

[eddies-puppet]

My Girl

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: After a particularly bad fight with your dad, you run to your best friend for help and a place to stay.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, hints at abuse.

Notes: This is the angsty and fluffy bit, but I got carried away, so you can find the smutty part two here 😂🔥

—————————————————————

Your feet sank in the sopping wet grass, the heavy rain pounding loudly against the trailer. There were no lights on inside, no signs of life as you climbed the steps to the porch, knocking hard on the door. A dog barked loudly across the trailer park, but still there was no movement inside, so you knocked again.

“Alright! Jesus, I’m coming,” came a shout from inside as the light flicked on. “This better be good,” Eddie snapped as he pulled the door open, his face dropping as he saw you, clothes drenched, water droplets dripping from the ends of your hair. “Christ, Y/N, what the hell happened to your face?” You’d hoped that the throbbing in your head and the pain across your cheekbone would be the worst you’d need to deal with now you were away from the house, but your best friend’s reaction told you that this whole night was not going to be so easy to ignore, and that the bruises to your ego weren’t the only new ones that night.

“Can I come in?” You sniffled. He nodded, pushing the door further open so you could pass. Once you were inside, he closed the door behind you, locking it before turning to you. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know where else to go,” you said meekly, your voice breaking as a sob caught in your throat. Eddie reached out, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight against his bare chest, the soft scent of his apple shampoo invading your senses and calming you almost instantly. Eddie had been your best friend since middle school, and had always been your go-to when things got rough, waiting with open arms, a warm hug and a smile. You’d had a crush on him for as long as you could remember but you were under no illusions that you were NOT his type, having spent every lunch break recently watching him fawn over Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” Eddie reassured you, his large hands running soothingly down your back. “Shit, you’re soaked, let me get you some dry clothes,” he muttered, pulling out of your arms and disappearing to his bedroom, leaving you alone. You perched on the stool that sat next to the kitchen counter, wiping crumbs from the surface with your sleeve before shrugging your jacket off and laying it out across the counter. You looked around the room. Every time you came here, you seemed to notice something that you’d never noticed before, be it a new drivers cap hanging from the wall or a new stain on the couch. Neither Eddie or Wayne were exactly clean or house-proud, but they both had hearts of gold, which made up for the filth they often seemed to live in. “I’ve left some clothes on my bed for you” he told you softly as he reappeared behind you “Go change, I’ll get us a drink”. You nodded silently and made your way to his room, your wet shoes squelching with each step. Closing the door behind you, you kicked your shoes off and changed into the Metallica shirt and grey sweatpants that Eddie had left for you. Your legs were shaking, the adrenaline from the long run to the trailer park having worn off, and as you sat down on the edge of Eddie’s bed, your teeth had started chattering, the cold outside seeming to have worked deep into your bones. There was a soft knock on the door. “Are you decent?” Eddie called.

“Yeah, you’re safe Eds,” you assured him and the door slowly opened. “I made cocoa,” he smiled as he made his way towards you, handing you one cup before settling himself next to you on the bed, pulling his long legs up beneath him. “You wanna tell me what happened? Why you look like you picked a fight with the whole wrestling team?” You sighed, turning to look at him.

“Someone saw me skipping school yesterday and told my dad,” you muttered, tears springing to your eyes once again as Eddie sighed.

“Shit sweetheart, I’m sorry. I should never have convinced you to ditch with me,” he mumbled sadly.?

“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” you reassured him, laying your hand gently on his knee, his skin warm beneath your touch. “It was my choice.” He sighed again, reaching out and wiping a tear from your cheek.

“You wanna stay here tonight?” He asked kindly.

“Would you mind?”

“Would I mind sleeping next to a beautiful woman?” He chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah, actually that sounds like it would suck. No, of course I don’t mind dumbass, or I wouldn’t have offered,” he laughed. “So, something totally more important than all of your woes. Did you see Carver stack it in the middle of the cafeteria at lunch? Juice literally came out of my nose,” he said dramatically. “Turns out being part of the ‘cool crew’ doesn’t stop you being a clumsy asshole,” he added, laughing as he raised his cocoa to his lips, taking a large mouthful. You smiled, shaking your head at him.

How did he manage to cheer you up so quickly, almost instantly making you forget your problems? His exuberance, his beaming smile, felt like a rush of fresh air to your lungs after being so close to drowning in the sea of anxiety that seemed constantly ready to overwhelm you. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence (a rarity when Eddie is around) as you both drank your cocoa, the coldness you’d felt finally dissipating. “You finished with that love?” Eddie asked softly, his voice snapping you from your thoughts as he gestured to the mug in your hands. You nodded, handing it to him and he placed it beside his own on his bedside cabinet before he jumped up, flinging back the bed covers. “Come on, it’s way past my bedtime,” he chuckled as you shuffled up the bed, climbing beneath the covers. Eddie flicked the light switch and jumped quickly in to bed beside you. “You take the pillow, I’ll be ok. I’d use Wayne’s but I know for a FACT that he dribbles in his sleep,” he muttered, making you giggle quietly.

“Eds, it’s fine, we can share the pillow,” you smiled, rolling on to your side and moving your head backwards to make room for Eddie to lay beside you. He shuffled into the centre of the bed, stretching his arm out and pulling you against him, your head resting against his warm shoulder, your hand laying against his tight stomach. You melted into his arms, an instant feeling of calm washing over you. There was a tiny voice in the back of your head telling you that this should feel weird, sharing a bed with Eddie, the object of your desires for so long. But it didn’t. You guessed it was because he’s your best friend, but there was no mistaking the tiny butterflies fluttering in your chest.

“Just so you know,” Eddie started. “You can stay here anytime. I know how it feels to be constantly worrying what mood your dad will be in when you get home. I don’t want you having to go through that,” he told you quietly, his voice emotional. You smiled sadly, your eyes filling with fresh tears at the thought of everything Eddie had gone through when he was a child. Wayne had been his guardian angel and saved him from the dysfunctional home his parents had created, but those scars still marked him, no matter how hard he tried to hide them from the world.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “What would I do without you?”

“Well luckily for you, I’m going nowhere. You’re stuck with me.” You could hear the smile in his voice as you snuggled down into him, closing your eyes, praying that sleep would take you quickly. “Y/N?” Eddie said quietly, turning his head towards you as you lifted your head so you could see his face. For a few moments, he was silent, his eyes slowly wandering your face.

“What’s up?” He took a deep breath as he rolled on to his side, now facing you, his free hand moving to your face, his thumb glancing along your lower lip. You weren’t sure which one of you closed the gap, but before you knew what was happening, his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, your lips barely touching, and you’d question whether it was really happening if it wasn’t for your heart pounding so hard in your chest, tethering you to reality. It was like your body had forgotten how to breath, the feeling of his soft lips against yours seemingly wiping every thought from your mind. You pushed softly against his chest, reluctantly breaking the kiss. “Eddie, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, shaking your head slowly.

“You don’t want to?” He asked softly, his voice faltering for a moment.

“Of course I want to,” you breathed. “I just, I feel like maybe it means different things to us both.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eddie, you don’t want me,” you said sadly. His brows knit together, frowning at your words. “Come on, I’ve spent the last few weeks watching you drool all over Chrissy. I literally could not be less like her if I tried,” you said sadly.

“Really?” He laughed. “You think I want Chrissy Cunningham?! Y/N, she’s been buying from me, and she’s having a shitty time at home. I’m just trying to live up to my reputation as the friendly neighbourhood drug dealer and cheer the poor little rich girl up.” You could feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, his warm breath against your lips as his thumb softly stroked your cheek.

“So you, um, you like me?” You whispered hesitantly.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he smiled, his beautiful brown eyes twinkling in the dark, his face leaning into your touch as you tucked his hair behind his ear. “Do you know how hard it’s been watching you date losers all these years? Watching Steve fucking Harrington drool all over you? They’re not worthy of licking the bottom of your shoe princess.” Princess was a nickname he’d never given you before, but my god, it made the butterflies in your stomach erupt. You watched him as he took a deep breath, his doe eyes wandering your face. “Y/N, I swear to Ozzy, I feel like I might die if I don’t kiss you again,” he said dramatically, making you laugh.

“Well we definitely wouldn’t want that,” you smiled softly, your fingers tangling gently into his messy hair and pulling his face to yours. He kissed you deeply, his plump lips soft against your own, his tongue swiping across your lower lip, gently begging for entrance. As you met his tongue with your own, you could still taste the cigarette smoke on his breath, feel the light callouses on his fingertips from the years of guitar playing.

“My girl,” he whispered against your lips as he paused to catch his breath.

“Yours huh?” You giggled.

“Yep,” he nodded. “Always,” he promised, kissing you again, more intensely this time as his hands travelled down your body, grabbing one of your thighs and pulling it up, hooking it over his hip. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you were sure he’d be able to hear it if it weren’t for your laboured breathing. You couldn’t quite believe this was finally happening, expecting to wake from a dream at any second. Eddie’s hands were on your ass now, grabbing hard and pulling your body tight against him, rolling his hips against you, drawing a gasp from deep within you.

“Eds,” you moaned, chasing his lips as he broke your kiss. “Please don’t stop,” you pleaded. He smirked at you in the darkness.

“Oh sweetheart, I wasn’t planning on stopping,” he chuckled, his voice darker than before. “We’ve got a lot of missed time to make up for.”

[rainbowcaleb]

FICLET FRIDAY : Shenanigans

Prompt: (discord emojis haha) soup Essek, boop paw, Beau, Veth. | Characters: guess who | CW: none | Words: 737

Beau is barely through the threshold of the doorway when a sharp yank on her arm sends her sideways. Someone else might have tripped and spilled onto the floor, but Beau’s core strength and reactions are not like other people. 

She did hiss out a swear. 

“Shhhh!” 

Beau glares at her attacker. “What the fuck?”

Veth glares back. “I’m doing an experiment here! Don’t stumble in with your hulking loud steps and mess it up.”

“I don’t have—“

Veth tugs her arm again and Beau shuts up. She flips off Veth but keeps her mouth closed as she looks around the room. She sees a mound of blanket on the couch, it’s shape gently rising and lowering.

“Is that Essek? Is he sleeping?!” Beau whispers.

“Yup.” Veth grins; it feels like a warning. “He must be super tuckered out from all the back and forth teleporting to Aeor with those new chucklefucks.” 

“Yeah, and I need to talk to him about that trip. Soul business.” Beau goes to walk over but she feels something sharp jab her thigh. She glances down and sees metal. “Did you just jab a grappling hook onto my pants?”

Veth smiles wider. “Look again. And don’t ruin this for me.”

Beau narrows her eyes into the distance, cataloging what she sees. Blanket, with Essek underneath, visible from the white hair and pointy ear peeking out. Cat one, the black and white she doesn’t remember its name. Cat two, the brown one that tried to steal her toast once. Cat three, no, that one is a plushie. When did Essek get plushies? A book, maybe he was doing some light reading before— a second book. A third book. There is a stack of books precariously perched and moving with each breath. An empty wine bottle on top of the books– she hoped it is empty. 

“Veth…” Beau meets her with an understanding and mischievous smile. “Are you playing a game?” 

“It’s not a game if I’m by myself.” Veth releases the grappling hook from the folds of Beau’s pants. “How much gold do you have on you right now?”

“A decent amount. I’m not going to wager it all though, I have errands after this and I promised Yasha soup ingredients.”

Veth scoffed. “Wow, Beauregard stepping away from a bet, you really have gone all soft in your old age.”

“Okay, hold on. First, fuck you, but secondly I never said I wouldn’t take the bet.” 

Veth’s eyes glint. “Fifty gold to whoever stacks the most.”

“No, too easy. One hundred gold to whoever stacks the most and doesn’t wake him up. He can’t move at all.” Beau taps her chin. Then rushes back in. “The cats can’t wake up either.” 

“Deal.” Veth sticks out her hand and Beau gladly takes it. 

Immediately, Beau starts looking around the room for things to add. Books can stack with each other but the sliding risk is too high. She needs something softer, but weighty enough to stay in place. She can see Veth circling the room as well, footsteps rogue-soft, and Beau redoubles her efforts. She cannot go home empty handed but for a few clearance veggies for Yasha. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caleb walks in quietly; he doesn’t know if Essek is still napping or not, but when he left to pick up a few dinner ingredients, Essek had settled himself under the couch blanket and fell asleep almost immediately. He hears shuffling before he sees. It is only due to his years of witnessing and participating in shenanigans that he did not drop his grocery bag.

Essek is still napping. But tucked in with him are quite a few more creatures, objects, and other paraphernalia of unknown origin. He thinks he sees Essek’s favorite soup bowl as well as a single one of Caleb’s rain boots.  

“It’s too late to join if you want in.” Caleb turns quickly and is only half surprised to see Beau climbing halfway up the bookshelf and carrying a bookend down with her. 

“Yeah, we’re not splitting any money with you.” Veth appears from behind the couch, a look of concentration in her face and a wriggling russet cat in her hands. 

“What are you two—“ Caleb squints. “That is not my cat.” 

Veth looks at the creature in her hands. It looks back at her with fluffy eyebrows and a scowl. “Huh. Caleb, you should really leave your windows closed.”

[arliedraws]

Good Godfather Sirius Black Fest 2024

Day 6 Prompt: "Dating Advice"

Summary: Sirius gets home from a terrible date and reflects on it with ten-year-old Harry who has recently moved in with him. When Sirius makes an offhand comment about parenthood, it prompts both of them to reconsider their own self-talk. (Tonks is in it for about five minutes,fyi)

Pure godfather&godson bonding/family fluff. Sequel(ish) to “The Neighbor.”

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

AO3

----

“You’re back!”

The green-haired teenager sprang from the sofa, blinking sleep furiously from her eyes. Pins on her leather jacket clinked together as she skidded into the kitchen. With an oof, she slid too far in ripped black nylons, and Sirius caught her elbow before she rammed into the cabinet.

“Well?” she said, unfazed by her own clumsiness.

Sirius pulled a face at her.

“I told you not to date women,” she said, grinning.

“Last week you told me not to date men.”

“Yeah, I stand by that too.”

Sirius fished in his pocket for the bag of coins. The bag was considerably lighter than it’d been a few hours earlier before he’d exchanged wizarding gold for quid—a few hours of his life and cash he’d never get back. He withdrew a few Galleons and dropped them into her outstretched hand.

“Don’t you want me to find love?” he said.

Tonks looked sharply at him. “Love?” she said as if the word were new. The taste of it seemed to disgust her.“You’re looking for love?”

“I—” Sirius paused. “Er—aren’t I?”

“Are you?”

Sirius stared at her.

Was it love he wanted? Or was it lovemaking? He thought about the woman who had stolen several precious hours of his life—she was a complete imbecile but she wore tight jeans and a very low-cut top. Maybe it was just a rough go of it against a brick wall behind a pub that he wanted.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” she said, snorting. “Why would I do that? Have you?”

“In a way,” said Sirius. Then he frowned at her. “You do believe in love, don’t you?”

“Oh,” Tonks said. She nodded. “Yeah, ’course I do. I love my parents and friends, but I’ve never been in love. That sort of romantic stuff seems a bit…I dunno. Expensive.”

Sirius laughed despite himself and tossed the whole coin purse at her. Tonks, surprised, caught it.

“Harry’s alive, right?” said Sirius.

“Yeah,” said Tonks. She looked nervously at the coin purse as if she thought it might be a trick. “Sleeping, I expect. What’s this for?”

“Bit of a bonus. Did he eat?”

“Yeah. I’m a poor cook, though. Nearly burnt down the kitchen.”

“Ah, so that’s why it smells like charred corpse.”

“Of course you’d say that. You sound like Mad-Eye Moody.”

Sirius shoved aside memories of burned bodies as he inspected the huge black mark on the wall near the stove. Part of the drywall had crumbled onto the floor. Tonks blushed and pulled out her wand.

“Reparo!” she said. “Sorry. Forgot to do that before you got back.”

“What did you two eat, then? Charcoal?”

“Harry made us sandwiches.”

“You can’t make a sandwich?”

Tonks had moved towards the door and starting lacing up a chunky black boot, hooking each lace carefully before tying it off. “Didn’t want to risk it. Besides, Harry’s pretty good at the food thing, and I thought, well, if he wants to eat something halfway decent, let him do it. Anyway,” she said, pulling on the other boot, “we talked about going to the Puddlemere United match next weekend if you’ll let us. I’ve got an extra ticket for him if you’re all right with that.”

Sirius opened his mouth to say that he didn’t know if it was a good idea. Thinking better of it, he turned away and pretended to look at the calendar on the wall, knowing that he ought to say yes. What could happen at a Quidditch match in the middle of the day? Unfortunately, he could come up with myriad tragedies in his imagination, all of them ending with Harry’s funeral. But Tonks is an Auror trainee—she’s not stupid! Still, it churned his stomach to think about letting Tonks bring him to somewhere so crowded and so public…

“We’ll see,” he said finally.

“Well,” he heard her say, “send an owl by Thursday. I’m off.”

Sirius said farewell, and she left. Faintly, there was the pop! of Apparition from just outside the door. Pointing his wand over his shoulder, he hit the lock with a charm and it slid into place. The wards he and Dumbledore built around the house rendered a physical lock unnecessary, but locking a door never hurt.

The round clock that the former owner of the house had left behind was ticking slower than Sirius thought it should, but perhaps it was because he had simply grown used to hours that felt too long. The evening that he finally gave up on might have really lasted several days instead of three hours.

For the dozenth time, he wondered what possessed him to say yes to her. Sirius and Harry had been waiting in line at the cinema when the woman and her friend tapped him on the shoulder. Distracted by the way a long lock of her hair rested on her breast, Sirius accidentally said yes to her invitation to dinner much to his and Harry’s horror. For days, he agonized over the idea, but it was Harry who suggested he keep his word. After all, Harry had said, it might be rude to stand her up.

She was a Muggle woman whose name kept slipping out of his mind throughout their date. She was very dull. Loud, but very dull. All she wanted to talk about was how impressed she was that he was parenting his godson all on his own and how brave it was for him to take on such a burden. It might not have been so annoying if she had let him talk about Harry and explain that it wasn’t very hard to look after such a good kid, but she had no interest in that bit. In fact, she rolled her eyes and told him he ought to see how unique it was that a man could be so sensitive and so thoughtful.

Sirius went up staircase after several minutes of self-pity alone in the kitchen. The light was on in Harry’s room when he reached the top stair, so he knocked gently and poked his head in.

Harry was asleep. His glasses hung from his nose, a book about broomsticks was open on his lap, and he was propped up against several pillows, his head lolling over his chest. He was snoring. Sirius grinned and tiptoed inside. Gently, he reached for the precariously hanging spectacles when Harry’s eyes flew open.

“Sorry!” Harry blurted.

Sirius swallowed that familiar lump of fury at the Dursleys. Harry hated when Sirius told him he didn’t have to apologize, though Harry would never say so outright, so Sirius held back from saying that Harry had nothing to be sorry about.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Sirius whispered. “Just taking off your glasses.”

Harry shoved them back over his nose. “When did you get back? Is Tonks still here?”

“Just now, and no, she left. Heard about the fire.”

“I didn’t know you could start a fire like that with just water.”

“It’s hard, but Tonks is a wonder,” said Sirius. “You can sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

“How was your…date?”

The slur of sleep was quickly leaving Harry’s voice, and Sirius sighed inwardly. How good a parent could he be if he woke up his kid at midnight? But he couldn’t resist indulging Harry’s smirk.

Sirius flopped on his back onto the bed, groaning.

“Last week, you said you never wanted to go on another date. Why’d you tell her yes, then?”

“Cheeky boy,” said Sirius, popping his head up to glare at him. “You’re the one who said it would be rude not to show up.”

“Yeah,” admitted Harry. “But you shouldn’t’ve said yes in the first place. Why did you?”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head, letting it bounce against the mattress. “Oh, Harry. Because I’m a bloody idiot. And she took me by surprise.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, you saw her. She had this sort of shape—” Sirius mimed with his hands “—and it seemed like a good idea for a second.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “Everything…nothing… Hard to explain. Look, Harry, never go for someone just because they look like this—” again, he mimed his date’s ample figure “—or because they’ve got an appendage like this—” he spread his hands wide. “It might seem like you’ve won the jackpot, but it’ll cost you a dozen galleons, several hours of your life you’ll never get back, and a wicked headache.”

“I don’t think I’m very interested in all that,” said Harry. “Er—dating.”

“Good. Save your gold. We’ll be bachelors together, old chum.” Sirius patted Harry’s leg. He lurched forward until he had propped himself on his elbows, eyeing the bedroom that was half-lit by the solitary lamp on the bedside table. “Think we should get a few decorations in here, Harry. Bit sparse, don’t you think?”

“So wait, what happened?” said Harry. “Was it like last time?

“The one with that bloke from the department store? No, it was different. Worse.”

Sirius didn’t need to look at Harry to know the boy had probably reddened at the memory. Though Sirius hadn’t regaled anything inappropriate regarding his evening with the young man named Matthew, he knew Harry was still unused to the idea that two men could date each other. Admittedly, it was rather new to Sirius too. Before Azkaban, he had never considered the possibility he could meet another man at a restaurant, share wine and talk about romantic things… And frankly, it still wasn’t easy. There were plenty of questioning, disgusted looks shot at them that Sirius pretended not to notice. What did worry Sirius, however, was that the Muggles were battling a strange disease spread through sexual encounters, and it was slaughtering entire communities. In the end, Sirius’s date confessed that he was too nervous to take things further and wished Sirius good luck in the future. It had been difficult to explain to Harry.

Harry’s understanding of men like Sirius came from his aunt and uncle’s declarations that anyone who engaged in such depraved activities ought to be beaten by police and locked away for sexual deviancy. Patiently, Sirius had guided Harry through his conflicted thoughts.

“Your aunt and uncle also hate magic,” he had said. “But do you think magic is bad? Punishable?”

“Oh,” said Harry after a moment. “Right.”

So when Sirius blurted yes to the woman at the cinema, Harry was confused again. After the woman and her friend had gone, Sirius quickly explained that to him, it didn’t really matter to him a person’s gender.

“Then what was wrong with her?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes before he set aside the book.

Sirius shrugged. “Didn’t do it for me. I wanted to talk about things she wasn’t particularly interested in.”

“Like what?”

“Er—well, reckon she got a bit tired of me talking about you.”

“What? You talked about me? Why would you do that?”

“It’s just what parents do,” said Sirius, dismissively. Then he heard it. His soul might have detached from his body, then, as his own words echoed back between his ears. He realized what had come out of his mouth, what it must have sounded like. His stomach clenched with guilt, and he looked very quickly at Harry. “Er—I—”

Harry tried to hide it but Sirius could see the sudden swell of emotion gleaming in those big, green eyes before they fixed upon the floor. Sirius sat upright, grimacing.

“I didn’t mean—Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Harry frowned. “You didn’t?”

“I’m not your dad. I know that. I swear, I’m not trying to take his place. It just slipped out.”

“Oh,” said Harry.

Sirius’s heart thudded. Was that…disappointment he heard in his voice? Harry had curled his hands into fists over the coverlet, knuckles white as if he were trying his hardest to keep his face impassive.

“Harry?” said Sirius after a long silence. “Harry, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Harry…” Sirius started slowly, peering into the boy’s face. “Did you like that I called myself your parent?”

“No, I’m being stupid,” said Harry in disgust. Ashamed, he pulled the book back into his lap and pretended to read, though his eyes were staring at one spot on the page.

Sirius reached for Harry’s chin and tilted it up with a finger. Harry resisted looking at him, but after a tense moment, he dragged his gaze to Sirius miserably.

“You’re not my dad,” said Harry, more to himself than Sirius.

“I’m not trying to be, and I could never take James’ place.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, it’s fine. I’m not asking you to be him.”

“But can I tell you something?” said Sirius, lightly.

“Sirius, it’s fine—”

“—I liked calling myself your parent.”

Harry shook his head. “No, you’re just saying that.”

“I don’t just say anything, Harry. What I said slipped out because it’s what I feel. The first thing I set out to do when I was released from Azkaban was to find you. When Dumbledore told me I couldn’t take you away from your aunt and uncle, I moved in next door because I couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing you. Even if you couldn’t know who I was for your own protection, I chose to live in that awful neighborhood to be close to you.”

“I’m sorry you had to—”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Sirius, trying to quell his annoyance. “Harry, don’t you understand? When you were born, my entire life changed. I helped your parents with everything—I put you to sleep, I carried you around while you screamed, I changed your rancid little nappies. I saw you take your first steps and say your first words. I know I’m not your father, but you’ve got to believe me when I say that I think of you as my kid. Can you accept that?”

To his relief, Harry nodded.

“Good,” said Sirius. He squeezed his face, squishing the crimson cheeks. “And if you call yourself stupid again, I’ll put a tickling hex on you until you admit you’re the most brilliant person in the world.”

“But I’m not—”

Sirius reached into his pocket. “Where’d my wand go?”

“Okay!” Harry blurted. “Okay, I won’t call myself stupid!”

“Then say it!” said Sirius, pretending to search in his jacket. “Say you’re the most brilliant person in the world.”

“All right—I’m brilliant!”

“That’s not what I told you to say, Potter. I’m sure I left my wand here somewhere— Ah! Here it is!”

Harry groaned. “Fine—fine. I’m the most brilliant person.”

“What’s the incantation? Rictus—”

“I’m the most brilliant person in the world!” Harry cried, scrambling from the aim of the wand. “I’m the most brilliant person in the world!”

Sirius grinned and caught him by the leg, yanking him back as Harry laughed and tried to get away.

“Say it again, you clever little genius,” demanded Sirius.

“Sirius!”

“Say it!”

“No!”

“Say it!” Sirius jabbed him in the side, and Harry curled up, howling with laughter, wriggling desperately to get out of his grasp.

“I’m the most brilliant person in the world!”

“Again!”

“No!” Harry said. This time, he managed to escape and fell off the other side of the bed. Sirius looked over the edge at the boy sprawled on the floor and made a swipe to grab him again, but Harry artfully flung himself out of the way.

Sirius groaned and turned onto his back again. “Dismal effort. But I suppose that’ll have to do for now. Maybe I’ll make you do lines tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Sirius glanced at the clock and shot up. “Oh, Merlin’s balls, is that the time?” It was absurdly late, and here he was, calling himself a parent and chasing Harry around the room when they both should’ve been asleep. “Harry, you’ve got to get to bed!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s late! You can’t be running around all night like a Niffler.”

“A what?”

Sirius leapt from the bed and in a swift movement, scooped Harry by the legs, hauled him over his shoulder, and then dumped him on the bed. Before Harry could scuttle away, Sirius drew the coverlet up to his chin and pretended to sing, poorly, a very quick lullaby as Harry chuckled.

“Are you asleep now?” said Sirius when he’d finished.

“Oh yeah,” said Harry, rolling his eyes.

“See?” said Sirius, tucking the covers under Harry’s legs. “I might be a bad parent, but I can force you to go to sleep, can’t I?”

The joke, however, fell flat. To his surprise, the smile slipped from Harry’s face, and for a moment, it looked like Harry wanted to say something. His brows crumpled, and his mouth opened but nothing emerged.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“That you’re a bad parent. You’re the—” But then Harry closed his mouth.

“It’s okay,” said Sirius, pressing a hand against Harry’s chest. He rubbed for a moment, nodding slowly, feeling a quickening pulse beneath his palm. “I understand.”

“No,” said Harry, firmly, as though frustrated with himself. “You’ve got to hear it—”

“It’s all right, Harry.”

Irritated, Harry threw up his hands and said, “No it’s not. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me! You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t make jokes like that. Don’t—don’t say things like you’re bad at the parent stuff.”

“Yeah, fine, all right.”

“Say it,” said Harry.

“Say what?”

“Say you’re good at parent stuff.”

“You can’t turn that back on me.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Potter?”

“Just say it, Sirius!”

“Fine!” said Sirius, sighing. “Fine—I’m—” it was actually bizarre to put into words, and he felt uneasy about it. He drew in a long, deep breath. “I’m good at parent stuff.” Feeling flushed in the face, he smiled humorlessly. “Satisfied?”

“No,” said Harry. “Maybe I’ll make you do lines tomorrow.”

“Oh, the horror.” Sirius pretended to faint backwards on the bed, still feeling the sour taste of Harry’s words in his mouth, wishing what Harry insisted about him was true. The bed shifted as Harry crawled out from his covers and flopped next to him.

“I think I’m done dating for a bit,” murmured Sirius, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. “At least until you’re at school.”

“Why?”

“Too risky. Next time Tonks’ll burn down the house.”

Harry’s eyes closed. “Sirius…” he started quietly. “Can I give you some dating advice?”

Sirius grinned. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Pick someone uglier next time.”

[aquaquadrant]

there is a ticking clock

Warnings: Mild language, shipping

Summary: Etho walks through the forest with a clock in his pocket.

A/N: Ik I’m late to the party but I’ve been on vacation, after I came home I binged Etho’s pov and then stayed up til 2 am writing. Y’all can blame @lunarcrown and this post for this one. Hope u enjoy, pls reblog if u do! - Aqua

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

~

there is a ticking clock

~

Etho walks through the forest with a clock in his pocket.

It’s a standard clock made of gold and powered by redstone, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He’s attached an iron chain to it, because he knows its intended recipient prefers to have a clock within view at all times instead of hidden away in an inventory. It’s easier not to lose track of time that way. Because if it’s out of sight, it’s out of mind.

Another clock is ticking against Etho’s wrist, beating with the same rhythm as his pulse. The numbers are green. The game’s just started and he has plenty of time. This is what he tells himself as he tugs his sleeve down to cover up the timer. He can still feel it, though. Always ticking.

‘You have twenty-four hours to live,’ Grian had said. ‘Good luck.’

Etho’s luck has held pretty well so far. He hasn’t died yet, he’s found a good team, and he’s even gathered some decent resources. Including enough resources to make a clock. Just four lumps of gold and one handful of redstone dust. Redstone is more precious to Etho than gold, maybe even more than diamonds at this moment, but he hadn’t given it a second thought as he put the clock together.

Like the other players, Etho has lived countless lives in countless worlds. But one thing that remains constant is that whatever world Bdubs is in, he needs a clock. It doesn’t matter if he’s in a world where he can’t sleep- which is a special kind of hell for Bdubs, Etho knows- he still needs to have one. 

It helps him, Etho thinks. Knowing when the night will come.

Etho knows what happened on Third Life; Scar gave Bdubs a clock, and Bdubs killed Impulse for him. Etho also knows what happened on Double Life; Bdubs and Impulse were soulmates, and Impulse gave Bdubs a clock as a token of their bond. Forgiveness and a promise all wrapped up in one gesture of kindness- and perhaps, something more.

They were married, back then. Etho doesn’t know what that means, now that they’re in a new world.

(The clock’s always ticking.)

Etho’s already found Bdubs in this world, but they’ve ended up on different teams. Bdubs with Scar and Cleo, Etho with Tango, Skizz, and Impulse- ironically. That doesn’t bother Etho. He’s never had a problem with Impulse. The guy is too earnest, too kind. Even when he and Bdubs were soulmates, he’d welcomed Etho’s allegiance with open arms- and perhaps, something more.

If Etho had been brave enough to ask. If Joel hadn’t been so committed. If things hadn’t gone so badly so quickly. That’s always how it goes, isn’t it? They think they have more time before it all goes to hell, and they’re always wrong.

But this time will be different. This time, Etho knows exactly how much time he has left.

(The ticking clock won’t let him forget.)

It wasn’t that hard to track down Bdubs. Etho follows his voice like a compass, weaving through the dense oak trees, ducking under branches, hopping over small craters in the dirt. He slips a hand into his pocket as he goes, just to make sure the clock is still there. He wraps the chain around his fingers. The metal’s cool against his skin.

He doesn’t call out to Bdubs, not yet. He only catches brief glances of the other player, a flash of red and white against the green forest. Bdubs is talking to himself, oblivious that he’s being followed. Or maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s just humoring Etho until he can get the drop on him, turn the tables on him. It’s a game of cat-and-mouse they play often, a thrilling dance. Etho’s always loved the chase, and Bdubs knows it.

Bdubs disappears around the side of a peninsula with a modest hill on it. The hill where Etho is currently setting up for a mob farm. Etho holds his breath as he follows, inching across the sandbank. His ears are pricked and his eyes are up, muscles tense, waiting for a possible sneak attack- but he hears Bdubs continue on the other side.

Etho steps around the corner.

Bdubs is walking towards the small island that is the top of Etho’s underground base- his and Impulse’s and Tango’s and Skizz’s. Impulse and Tango are currently working on it, flattening out the terrain to make room for the future structure.

Etho pauses, only a few blocks from the narrow sandback that leads to the island.

He’d wanted to do this in private. Like a secret pact, just between them. Impulse and Tango are on his team, the TIES. They’re allies; he shouldn’t be keeping secrets from them. But deep down, Etho knows who he’d choose if it came down to either of them or Bdubs.

If it came down to anyone or Bdubs.

They haven’t noticed him yet. Etho takes a step back, watching the trio. Bdubs has made it across and is chatting to Impulse from behind an abruptly placed door. Tango is still clearing land away. None of them notice as Etho turns around and sprints down the coast, his footsteps light on the sand. He leaps over the river and darts back into the forest, back into the trees.

No voices call after him. He stops to catch his breath.

Later. He’ll do it later- he’s got plenty of time.

(The clock on his wrist is ticking.)

He ends up going to Bdubs’ base at the top of the mountain, because- well. They have cows. Etho’s own team has tried multiple times to acquire two cows, to no avail. If Etho takes two now, he’ll have solved his team’s problem and given Bdubs a reason to come after him. He just knows it’ll tick Bdubs off. So he’ll take two cows now while no one is home and then Bdubs will come for him later and Etho can give him the clock then.

Except Cleo’s home, actually. And she makes it quite clear that the only way Etho is taking any cows is by force. Etho doesn’t want to get into a fight with Cleo; not this soon, not over this. So he concedes defeat and returns home.

He’ll figure out another way to get Bdubs alone, to give him the clock. He’s still got time.

(Always ticking.)

When Etho reaches the end of the forest that overlooks his base, he pauses. He can hear faint voices, and peeks out from behind a tree, not yet willing to reveal himself.

Bdubs is still on the island, talking with Impulse while Tango lingers beside them. Etho can’t make out what they’re saying from this distance. He tries to listen anyways, and catches only snippets. He watches intently, noting who has a weapon equipped, just in case anything should go wrong-

Something familiar is in Impulse’s hand. Something gold.

Etho’s heart jolts. His pulse thrums in his ears, beating in sync with the ticking of the clock. He can barely hear the loud exclamation Bdubs lets out, breaking into a wide grin as his face lights up with joy.

Impulse has given Bdubs a clock.

Etho’s heart drops into his boots. His grip tightens around the clock in his pocket. 

The three of them are still talking, out of earshot. Impulse’s face is happily flushed as he rubs the back of his neck. Bdubs is nodding enthusiastically, clutching the clock to his chest. Tango is watching with folded arms and an amused expression. Even without words, Etho knows what it means.

Suddenly, they’re turning towards Etho. He jolts in surprise, body tensing up as he’s split between running or freezing. He isn’t sure if they’re actually looking at him- Bdubs seems to be pointing more towards the mountain.

But he isn't going to risk it; spying from the treeline is a bad look. He emerges from the forest at a jog, casually making his way down the hillside, into the water, and is thankful that he’s wearing a mask that conceals most of his expression. They notice but don’t acknowledge him as he climbs onto the bank of the island.

“Yeah,” Bdubs is saying to Tango, “just right up the hill. Me, Cleo- 

“That you?” Tango asks, glancing up at the mountain.

“-Scar. And- yeah.” Bdubs blinks, nods his head. “Uh, and, we’re gonna-”

“B- Bdubs?” Etho calls softly, stepping forward to tap him on the shoulder.

His other hand is in his pocket, holding the clock, fingers twisted in chain. It ticks against his skin, like the clock etched against his wrist. His next sentence is already on his tongue, a sheepish yet amused, ‘Guess Impulse beat me to it, huh?’ as he pulls the clock out. It’ll get some laughs, but hopefully it’ll also get his point across to Bdubs. Hopefully he can still save this.

It takes Bdubs a second to process that Etho’s talking to him. “Yeah, we’re gonna create a-” He breaks off mid-sentence, head whipping over his shoulder to gawk at Etho. “Uh- may I finish?” he asks incredulously.

The words die on Etho’s tongue. Bdubs’ tone is- well. It’s Bdubs. All loud and brash and full of unrestrained emotion, never holding anything back. But something about it is different. Something about it is wrong. There was a very real shock there, almost a panic. Like he doesn’t want Etho to be here right now-

“For goodness sake,” Bdubs continues grumbling, face red, “come in an’ interrupt me, n‘less it’s an emergency, a creeper behind me…”

He’s still holding the clock in his hand. 

Etho just stands there, blinking. Impulse and Tango are snickering behind their hands, mistaking the situation as humorous. Not realizing there was anything behind Bdubs’ tone behind a teasing annoyance. Maybe Bdubs doesn’t even realize it.

(The clock is still ticking.)

Seemingly satisfied, Bdubs turns back to Impulse and Tango. He finds his train of thought, starting again. “Uh… I just-”

“Bdubs.” Etho finds his voice, stepping forward again. “I just- I just wanted to say-”

Bdubs fully whirls around this time. “Would you please?!” he shouts.

It should be funny. That’s how he means it, Etho knows. That’s what they do; they banter, they jibe. That’s just the dynamic they have. Etho picks at Bdubs, and Bdubs reacts. He pretends things annoy him more than they do. It’s funny. 

Unbeknownst to Bdubs, he’s given Etho the perfect setup. All Etho has to do is pull the clock out of his pocket, hold it out, and deliver his line. But the joke will stem from Etho’s lateness, the hilarity and redundancy of him giving Bdubs a clock right after Impulse already has.

And a joke like that hits a little too close for comfort.

Etho backs off, managing a chuckle. “Sorry, sorry…”

Bdubs smoothly picks back up his conversation. “We’re makin’ an amphitheater,” he tells Tango and Impulse, “and we’re just gonna sit and watch and wait when people die, and come back. It’s fun.”

“I like it, I like it.”

“Oh, great!”

“It’s nice…”

A small pause as the conversation lulls. Finally, Bdubs turns to face Etho. He puts his hands on his hips, one eyebrow quirked expectantly. “Yes, Etho?” he asks, like an exasperated school teacher. “Goodness.”

Etho’s heart pounds. The clock ticks.

(It’s always ticking.)

Etho shoves the clock deeper into his pocket and withdraws his hand. He shrugs as he turns away.

“Nothin’,” he breathes finally. He grins, letting the curve of his mouth shape a humor into his words that he doesn’t feel, and is once again thankful he’s wearing a mask. “Nothin’.”

Scowling, Bdubs throws his hands in the air. “What?” he demands, stalking a few steps after Etho as Etho retreats further; a shallow imitation of their usual dance. “All that for nothin’?”

A comical response, as expected. Impulse and Tango are laughing, oblivious. Etho makes himself laugh, too. He can’t feel the clock in his pocket ticking anymore, but he can feel the one on his wrist, beating with his heart.

(Tick, tick, tick.)

He’s out of time.

Etho doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation after that. He wanders into the shallows around the island, collecting kelp. It’s not cows, but it’s something. And after just a couple more minutes, Bdubs starts ambling back towards the shore, not even addressing Etho in his farewell. 

Etho wonders if he’s the reason Bdubs chose to leave now. He wonders if Bdubs would’ve stayed and talked more with Impulse, had Etho not arrived when he did. He wonders what would’ve happened if he hadn’t left, if he’d approached Bdubs at the start and given him the clock before Impulse.

He thought he’d had more time. That’s always how it goes, isn’t it?

(Yet the ticking hasn’t stopped.)

The next day, Etho walks through the forest with a clock in his pocket.

~

[marilynthornhilllover]

Gwen x fem reader

Name : " manners" part 2

Warning: smut, mommy kink, fingering, kissing,eating out, indecent language!! Some words are in French!!

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You were running very late for your french afternoon classes and you hadn't even finished dressing yet. You quickly pulled on some tight cut blue jeans with a white spaghetti strap top with some pink crocs.

You put your hair up in a decent messy bun and grabbed some gold hoop earrings and sliver chains. You popped some earpods in with your favorite music and grabbed your phone and the assignment you had to bring to class today.

You were the most gayest and baddest bitch in school. You were a total bad ass, and all the boys were crazy about you. One time this boy even thought you were Maddie from euphoria, obviously you laughed in his face. Something that made you more badass was your long French tip red nails.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

You were half an hour late to class but you didn't care. Never really did. You never really saw the importance in getting to school early anyway. Blasting your music loud you walked into the class with your head held down looking at your phone, texting away.

Suddenly you heard a woman call out your name. You were almost at your seat when you turned around to see who it was. Taking out your earpods you looked the women up and down.

It seemed to be some new hot French teacher. You thought to yourself. The other one was just old and miserable,and lazy. she didn't even know French. Maybe that's why they got rid of her. You never learned anything from her, but with this new one maybe you will.

This one was tall. Very tall. At least 2-3 inches taller than you. And with thoses heels she was probably more. Her hair was jet black and shoulder length, bangs covering her forehead. Her makeup with well done, and her neck had a black collar around it. She was wearing this ridiculous but sexy black dress. But it tucked her every curve so well.

Short description of her would be an absolute goddess. Your eyes met her gaze after you were finished looking at her stunning figure. " exit the class please " she spoke holding a set of paper on her hands as she was talking to another student before you.

"Why ?" you asked with an attitude. The older woman was greatly surprised with your behaver but you didn't care. "Just do as I say darling" she spoke again, this time more demanding. You didn't quite have an explanation for it but suddenly you felt this hot feeling in your core. Looking at everyone's sheepish face towards you , you rolled your eyes and went to stand on the outside.

She didn't take her eyes off of you the entire time you were out there. Yes she left you outside the entire class. All because you didn't have any "manners " towards her or your fellow class mates.

After class ended and everyone left you finally decided to have some manners. You softly knocked the door to get her attention. She looked up at you from under her glasses and you could swear her eyes were filled with lust. You gulped hard. Her staring was very intense. God she made your legs wobble. " yes?" She finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

"I still have my assignment to submit " you said waving your assignment at her. "I'd like yours to be a oral" she said looking down at her computer and began typing. Your jaw dropped. She couldn't be serious. You barley knew French because of your last teacher and now she wants you to read a story to her in French.

" excuse me?" You said looking at her with utter disbelief. She once again looked up at you with her eyes. This time they weren't filled with lust they were filled with desire and need. Like she was craving you. She made you feel things. " well it's either that or I teach you some manners " she spoke getting up from her chair to walk over to you.

You were confused as to what she meant by " teach you manners" but deep down you knew fully well what she meant. "Perhaps you didn't interpret me correctly, it's either you do your story as a oral or I fuck manners into you salope" she said taking slow steps towards you. You swear the air in the room got thicker. You felt a pool down between your legs.

You started rubbing your thighs together to get some sort of friction. This she noticed. Some how she was now standing inches away from your lips. Her perfume was invading your head. You were getting dizzy. She was making your mind go blank. Soon you would be her dumb "slut".

She pressed her body onto yours as she closed the door behind of you locking in as she do so. She leaned down a bit to whisper in your ear. Her hot breath tingling with you. "what will it be y/n? Hm? Tell me baby what do you want from mommy?"

She sent shivers down your spine and she felt it. If it wasnt for her strong hands holding your hips, your feet would have given out already. A low moan escaped your lips making her grip on you tighten. " i-i want mommy to fuck me" you choked out.

Gwen grined at your response and without hesitation her lips smashed against yours. It was a passionate. tongue fought your lips for entry and you gaved it to her. Her tongue fought with yours.

You couldn't help moaning into her mouth. It obly spurred her on to do more sinful things to you. Soon you both had to pull away for air. She picked you up and placed you on the her desk.

You looked at her with needy eyes and soon her lips were back on yours. You whined as you threw your head back and bucked your hips towards her for more. " please-" you whispered. "Louder , i wanna hear you beg" she said as she unbottend your jeans. " please mommy I'm begging you" you whined, lifting your hips for her to pull the jeans down.

" good girl. mon amour" her French accent does things to you. She got down on her knees keeping eye contact with you and she pulled your panties to the side. Her cold fingers weren't making it easy on you. She held your thighs open wide as she slowly kissed between them.

You shivered at the sensation causing your eyes to roll back and a small whimper to escape your mouth. Your eyes met her gaze as she pulled off your underwear completely, tossing them aside. You were so soaked. Her eyes met your needy and desperate ones as she smiled. "All this for me mon amour?" She asked but you could have only replied with a desperate nod and a blood drawing lip bite.

"Oh baby I turn you on that much?" She asked sending her fingers through your folds collecting your juices. A loud moan escaped you lips when she circled your clit. "Eyes on mine baby" she whispered as she dived into your cunt.

Her tongue flicked over your clit gently nipping at it causing your back to arch. Your hands quickly went to her hair, pulling her head closer to your needy cunt. She loved your reaction towards her actions, and wasn't planning on stopping.

"Oh god fuck-" you moaned. Her eyes never left yours. You swear she was staring into your soul. Her lashes and eyeliner made her more sexy to watch, oh and thoses blue eyes were to live for. Her tongue flick and rolled over your clit.

You'd sound ridiculous if You said she was spelling her name with her tongue but it was the truth. As she drew little circles around your swollen bud felt your orgasm getting near.

" oh baby your doing so good for mommy. Just like that" she moaned against your cunt. The vibrations making you whimper. " such a Bonne fille" she said plunging 2 fingers into you with ease. You cried out. It felt so good. Her tongue plus her curled fingers, and her praising you in French. It was all too much.

She worked her fingers fast and hard in you, making a gushing sound each thrust. Her tongue tormented your clit. You were a mess. Her mess. And you both were loving it. She felt you clinched around her fingers so she knew you were close.

You tightened your grip on her hair. At this point you were face fucking her using your hips. Soon you came over egde. Cumming all over her pretty face. She drank you up and cleaned you but she didn't stop. She kept fucking you with her fingers.

They were deep in you. Curled. Moving fast. Moving rough. You couldn't take it anymore. You reached down to push her hand away but she held it back" just one more darling be a good girl and cum for mommy again " she said and with that you cumed again.

"Bonne fille" she cooed cleaning you up. After you fixed your clothes and walked towards the door. "OH and y/n" she called out. You turned around to look at her. "BE late tomorrow and I'll personally rearrange your guts with my strap after class at my place" she said turning to pack up her things.

You smiled at your self. It's a deal then, you thought to yourself. As you stepped out of the door you walked down the hall then do the dorms and went to yours.

[sunshinevanfleet]

something in the air - s. kiszka

pairing: sam x reader

a/n: hi guys! it feels so weird to be writing on here after a very long, shall we say, hiatus... this is a decently long one (compared to others i've written) and it's also my first full-blown smut. so i'm kinda nervous about that, but i do have experience writing smut so i hope it's decent lol. anyways, i was just inspired and wanted to do some writing. i've opened up requests again if you have any. this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes! let me know what you think.

genre: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT).

word count: 3.4k

summary: the reader and sam attend a friend's wedding at the beach. things get a little out of hand.

warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit sex scenes, fingering, unprotected sex, etc.

There was something in the air tonight. A light ocean breeze caressed your skin delicately as you sat reveling in the candlelight. A few tables over, you watched one of your close friends from college, Anna, giving her wedding toast alongside her now-wife. The ceremony had been intimate and beautiful, but nothing in comparison to the breathtaking reception taking place around you. There were a few tables clustered throughout the grass, each decorated with elegant candles and gold-trimmed glassware. White roses were scattered around: as centerpieces, hanging from the canopy above, and even carefully placed on the ground around you.  She raised her glass of champagne in the air, the warm light shimmering against the chilled glass, and she made her toast. Beside you, Sam lifted his own drink in the air, and clinked it with yours. You took a long drink, watching with tears in your eyes as Anna kissed her wife and everyone cheered.

“I can’t believe I’m crying,” you muttered to your smiling boyfriend. Sam merely laughed, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes and stroking your head comfortingly.

“I can,” he said in return. “You cry at weddings on TV, Y/N.”

You laughed at this, your voice barely audible over the excited chattering all around you. Now that dinner was over, and all of the toasts made, it was well into time for dancing. You took another swig of your champagne, the expensive drink bubbling over your tongue and stinging slightly in your throat. You had never been a very good dancer– you figured it would probably help to loosen you up if you were a little tipsy.

Sam was already on his feet, his cream-colored linen top unbuttoned halfway down. You could see a thin sheen of sweat adorning his skin from the humidity in the air. He grasped you around your wrist, and pulled you to your feet without a second thought. You still had your champagne flute clutched in one hand as he dragged you over to the stone dance floor. Both of your shoes lay forgotten beneath the table. 

There was a slow, beachy instrumental playing in the background as the other guests joined all of you. The brides were entwined with one another several feet away, and you smiled as you caught Anna’s eye and mouthed, “Congratulations.”

“You know,” said Sam as he curled an arm around your waist. “I always thought the beach was a shitty place for a wedding until now.”

You laughed incredulously, hushing him with a finger to his lip. He grinned. 

“What changed?” you asked, voice almost a whisper. You swayed along to his lead, keeping your hand with the champagne balanced on his shoulder. The last thing you wanted to do was shatter the glass by dropping it. 

“Being here with you,” he said softly. The candlelight glowed around him; silhouetted against the darkness of the sky above the ocean behind him, he looked more like an angel than ever. You brought your free hand up, and placed it against his cheek.

“I love you,” you said, your face flushing. You were never big on PDA, but here, somehow it felt like you were the only two people in the world. Sam leaned his forehead against yours, and you felt your breaths mingle together.

“I love you, honey.”

As the song changed, Sam moved to grab your hands. 

“Hold on, let me put this back,” you said, taking a step to put the champagne back on the table.

“Nonsense,” he grabbed the glass from your hand, drained it in one gulp, then placed it on top of the nearby piano. Luckily it was unoccupied.

“Don’t let me leave that there,” you said. He grasped your hands as the song began to pick up tempo, and spun you around. Your dress billowed gracefully around your legs, barely sweeping over the tops of your feet. You hummed softly along, grateful for the cool night breeze. It surprised you that you had yet to sweat all of your makeup off; you thought it had been an incredibly hot day to choose to have a wedding on. Although the makeup survived, your hair could not say the same. The silken tresses you arrived with  had now sweated out to reveal unruly waves framing your face. 

The champagne was finally hitting you as Sam spun you once more. Your head swam blissfully. You thought vaguely that this was the happiest you had ever been. The night air grew cool against your burning skin, against the temperature rising between your body pressed against Sam’s. You were still sweating, although it was less noticeable as you were very distracted by the ethereal view of your boyfriend swaying in the low light. His eyes were closed, head nodding as he held you close to him. The hand on your waist traced tiny circles along the exposed skin of your back. 

To you, it seemed that you had only been dancing for a few minutes. But, when you finally peeled your eyes away from Sam, you noticed that there were very few guests remaining besides the two of you. You were the only couple still dancing. Anna and her wife entertained a few friends at their table, chatting animatedly. There were a few guys crowded around the bar, laughing lightly at something the bartender said. Behind you, a waiter swept the empty champagne glass off of the piano.

Sam finally caught your attention once again, tugging on your hand. 

“Let’s go down to the water,” he said, his voice whispering along with the breeze. 

“Hmmm?” You asked distractedly, meeting the warmth of his eyes. There was something deeper than mere affection clouding his gaze, something burning there. His eyes had darkened considerably. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” he said, a gentle grin playing on his lips. 

“Okay,” you said, “Let me grab a towel.” You let his hand go for a second, grabbing a conveniently placed towel from a shelf at the edge of the lawn.

“C’mere,” he pulled you along, slipping past the group at the bar to the rocky path that led down to the beach. It was cooler here, without the burning candles and fairy lights and what little was left of the crowd. He walked with confidence, like he had been down this dim path before, leading you down to the sand. You stumbled a time or two, but he always caught you with ease. You were like an extension of himself– he was constantly aware of you there beside him. 

The winding path led you down to something like a cove; it was shielded from the rest of the beach by several towering cliffs and some greenery. Behind you, you could vaguely see the glow cast from the wedding party, shimmering above the cliffs. You gaped at the sight around you; from the view at the reception, you would have no clue that this place even existed.

“How’d you know this was here?” you asked quietly. Your voice was still loud, as isolated as the two of you were. The only other sound around you was Sam’s slow breathing and the ocean waves lapping against the sandy shore. You placed the towel carefully in the sand, laying it out for when the two of you were done swimming. 

Sam grinned, “I may have gone exploring this morning, before you woke up.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious? I would’ve loved to see this place in the daylight!”

Sam hushed you quickly, pulling you into him. “Shhhh, baby,” his eyes glanced from your face up to the cliffs behind you. “Don’t want anyone else joining us down here.”

You made a face. “Why’s that?”

He grinned again. “Want you all to myself.” His voice was muffled as he pressed his lips into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses up to your jawline. He pressed his lips gently to the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you shivered as you tangled one hand into his hair. Your other hand gripped his shoulder desperately, your nails digging into his skin through his shirt. He breathed heavily, kissing up your jaw until your mouths were less than a centimeter away from each other’s. 

His lips brushed yours, just barely, and you nearly whimpered. Your skin burned against his, and one of his hands snaked up your side to the zipper on your dress. “Take it off,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“What if someone finds us?”

“Don’t care,” he said, his lips finally finding purchase against yours. Your skin erupted in goosebumps as his fingers began to drag the zipper slowly down. Using the hand not tangled in his hair, you began to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. Your fingers brushed against his stomach, and you felt the muscles clench beneath your fingers. 

“Seeing you in this dress has been killing me all night,” he muttered against your mouth. “Couldn’t wait to get you out of it.”

You groaned against him.

His fingers reached the end of the zipper, and he began to peel the dress apart, watching with hooded eyes as the fabric dropped into the sand. You wore nothing beneath the dress. You breathed deeply, a shiver crawling up your spine as the cool night air hit your bare skin. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” his hands found your bare skin, fingers dragging against your sides. He stood and admired you for a moment. Your hands twitched, resisting the urge to cover yourself; you felt exposed, standing there bare in the moonlight while he was almost entirely clothed. 

“Sammy, ‘s cold out here,” you said, a low whine in your voice. Truthfully, it was cold, but you also could barely stand to see that look in his eyes and not have him touching you. You were almost writhing just from his gaze. 

“Lay down,” he said, nodding towards the towel on the ground. You did as he said, lowering yourself gently to the ground. The towel was soft against your bare skin, and warmer than the night air. He stood above you for a second, then kneeled on the ground in front of you as he swept his shirt off of his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. 

Without saying anything, he bent over you, crashing your lips together once again. The kiss was more desperate this time, now that you were sprawled beneath him and the starry sky. The sound of the waves behind you helped lull you into relaxation. His torso melded against yours, his skin burning hot. You were beginning to warm back up very easily. One of his arms propped his body above yours, but the other snaked down your chest. His fingers trailed beneath the valley of your breasts, tracing over to drag over one of your hardened nipples. You gasped into his mouth. He smiled against you. 

You moaned into his mouth as he pinched the nipple, rolling it between the pads of his index finger and thumb. Your hips rolled up against him, trying to find any friction against his still-clothed bottom half. You felt the drag of his hardened bulge against your core for half a second, and let out a lewd moan. 

“I love hearing you,” he muttered, finally disconnecting his lips from your own. His mouth once again trailed down your neck, sucking a dark mark into the skin of your collarbone before he moved back up to face you. “Let me hear you, baby.” Then, the fingers attending to your nipple moved down your stomach.

Your hips bucked up again, but he leaned back and used his other hand to keep you from moving. His hand dragged over your hip bone, and down to your thigh. He gripped the skin here, kneading your thigh as he watched your expression hungrily.

“Please, Sammy,” you whined, still writhing beneath him. 

A look of smug satisfaction graced his features. “You’re so cute, honey, lying here so desperate for me. Begging me… and I haven’t even touched you yet…”

He licked his lips as his eyes dropped from your face, to your dripping core exposed to him. “So wet for me, hm?”

One finger dipped into your folds, slick and hot. He groaned at the feeling, coating the callused pad of his middle finger in your juices, before rubbing it delicately against your clit. He was torturing you, going so slowly that you were barely able to think about anything other than him giving you what you needed so desperately. And you needed him like never before.

Again, you tried bucking your hips, but he was pinning you down with ease. It was in these moments when you realized just how strong he was; how easy it was for him to overpower you and do whatever he wanted with you. The thought alone made you moan aloud. 

“I need it faster, please,” you said desperately. Your voice barely made it out of your mouth before Sam was speeding up, just a bit. You threw your head back, your entire body tensing as the feeling of him working your body with his expertise shot through you. Your hands shot up, gripping his wrist as he increased the speed even further. 

Without you asking, his other hand moved from its place above your belly button. He brought his middle and ring finger to his mouth, coating them in his saliva before he brought them down to your center. He teased your entrance excruciatingly slowly, as if this were the first time he was touching you at all.

Your face was on fire, and your nails began to dig into his skin. He was holding you right on the edge– his fingers on your clit speeding up and slowing down with each change in your facial expression. A moan tore from your throat as he continued edging you.

“Sammy–” you gasped, feeling the two of his fingers dip briefly into you, before he removed them.

“What’s that, honey? Did you say something?”

“Sam, please, I need it so bad…”

“You need what? Need me to stop?” His finger slowed again, and you nearly screamed as he moved to pull away from you.

“No– No, please, I need to cum. I’m so close, please,” you begged him, meeting his gaze. He grinned at you, his lips curling up into that sweet smile as if he weren’t torturing you with every single touch. 

“Hmmm, how close?” He leaned forward, still smiling at you. His dark eyes met yours, his forehead brushing against your own. You could taste his breath, the faint remains of champagne making you dizzy as you gasped against him. 

“So close, please, I need you so bad,” you whimpered, holding his wrist in a vice-grip. He still rubbed your clit, extremely slowly. Slowly enough to just keep you teetering against the edge. “Please,” you managed to squeak once more, and that seemed to be enough for him.

His fingers increased speed on your clit, and a second later he was curling two fingers inside of you as well. A string of high-pitched curses spewed from your lips, your back arching and your eyes screwed up. It was bliss, every muscle on your body tightening as you shook there beneath him. Your hips moved in time with the thrusts of his fingers, rocking against him.

Stars bloomed behind your eyelids, your forehead scrunched in concentration. 

“C’mon, honey, cum for me,” Sammy coaxed you sweetly. He placed a kiss against the corner of your mouth, watching intently as your face contorted in pleasure. You were nearly screaming at this point, too fucked-out to care if anyone nearby could hear you.

“Fuck,” you breathed hoarsely. “Sammy, I’m gonna–”

“Let it go,” he soothed, and your body began to shake forcibly as you finally teetered over the edge. Your legs clenched around his hands, and you rocked your hips against him almost violently. Your voice cracked as you sang out his name, over and over again, his hands never stopping their ministrations. As you finally came down once again, he kissed you very gently, as if you were some delicate flower lying under him.

Your vision was hazy when you finally came to, after. You watched him as he fiddled with the clasp on his pants. You wanted to lean up and help, but your limbs felt like jelly as you laid there. Instead, you watched him in all of his glory. Sweat dripped down the side of his face, and he breathed as heavily as you were.

Your eyelids drooped as you watched him. It was pure bliss, seeing his figure silhouetted against the moonlight shining on the waves behind him. Your toes curled in the sand, and you shifted slightly as he freed himself from his pants and briefs. His cock sprung up against his stomach, and you reached for him instinctively. You began to sit up, but he stopped you.

“No, honey, I need you. Now,” he said breathily. He leaned over you once again, and placed a kiss against your forehead, then on both of your eyelids, your nose, and finally your lips. Between you, one of his hands guided him to your entrance.

Your mouth dropped open in pure ecstasy as he pushed inside of you; the both of you moaned in sync. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he slowly began to move. Your legs quivered around his waist already. The feeling of him stretching you open was divine; you thought this was as close to paradise as you had ever been in your life. 

“It’s been too long,” he breathed against your skin. He placed open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder as he rocked against you.

“Way too long,” you agreed. You missed feeling this, having him buried to the hilt inside of you. You loved being close to him. Having him be the only one to know you this way. 

With every thrust, his cock dragged slowly against your g-spot. Your head was swimming again, as you jerked your hips up against him with every movement. He was slowly increasing the pace, grunting against your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect for my cock, honey,” he mused, pulling away from your neck. You leaned up, planting a kiss on his jawline. You could taste the sweat dripping over his face as you moved up to press your lips against his. His tongue found its way into your mouth, tangling with yours as his movements became jerky.

You were getting close, too, your stomach clenching underneath him. You gripped his back with one hand, and moved the other between your bodies, circling your clit once again. You pressed your chest against his, holding him as tightly as you could as the both of you chased your high once more.

His hips continued their relentless movement, now barrelling into you. You were moaning uncontrollably now, your head thrown back in ecstasy. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m close,” he moaned, his breath fanning against your face. 

You nodded, “I know, Sammy, me too,” you breathed. “I want– I want you to cum inside me.”

His movements stuttered for a moment, but he resumed them easily. “Oh, honey, you’re killing me,” he groaned throatily. You sighed as he reached down and replaced your hand with his own. You let out a vulgar mewl, toes curling and hands gripping Sammy’s shoulders so hard you thought he would bleed.

You were right on the edge, your walls clenching around him as he deepened his thrusts. You were practically crying, his fingers toying with your clit relentlessly. You felt him twitch inside of you, and you knew it was time. He came inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum. You sang his name again, your voice hoarse as you tightened around him, milking the rest of his orgasm out of him. It was over after another few thrusts, and he collapsed on top of you. You reached up, cradling his head as he leaned down into the crook of your neck. He placed a kiss on your collarbone, sighing. 

“So good,” you hummed, exhausted. 

“I needed that,” he whispered, kissing you again and again. “I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you, Sammy.”

He flipped off of you, and passed you his discarded shirt to wrap up in. You pulled it over your shoulders and buttoned it haphazardly. You were no longer cold, sitting there with the light breeze washing over your flushed skin. Sam pulled his pants back on, and wrapped his arm around you. You leaned into him and rested your head against his shoulder. A yawn fell from your lips as you sat there, admiring the view of the beach in front of you. You couldn’t be happier. 

[phantomspiderr]

New Year

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader

Word Count: 2.5k+

Summary: Layla invites you to her New Year's Eve party where you get the chance to meet her ex-husband

Warnings/Tags: mentions of drinking and partying, kind of want drunk Layla around now, Marc maybe being just a little creepy, he really doesn't know how to act around people sometimes, fireworks are mentioned too, again no real mentions of readers appearance or gender(I tried to use they/them so it's a little more neutral), Steven gets a lil mention, a little swearing too. As always if I've missed anything please let me know!

a/n: Thank you, thank you all so so so much for making this year better. If you're a casual follower of my very infrequent posting or this is the first time you've come across my work, I thank you. Being able to express myself in this way has been freeing, and stressful but I'm glad I could bring any amount of joy to even one person. Thank you for every like and every reblog and every comment. I wish you all the best for this new year, may it come with happiness and joy and hopefully more really good fanfiction to read. Sending you all a little bit of love🤍

･☆: *.☽ .* :☆

Music blares throughout the flat as you weave around the people littered through the hallway. Parties definitely aren’t your favourite place to be but for your friend, you’d do anything she asked, plus it’s New Year's Eve so you thought why not. You may not have recognised a single person since you’d arrived but this is fun, this is what you’re supposed to do at your age right? Before you have any more time to fret a squeal sounds from behind you, your name quickly following, “you came!” When you turn Layla is quickly coming towards you with her arms wide open, a few people looking in your direction now because of the noise. You only manage to squeak out a hi before you���re encompassed by Layla, her arms tight around your shoulders, the force of her body against yours knocking the wind out of you. She pulls back only a little to cup your face in her hands, “I’m really glad you’re here.” You can tell by the tint of red on her cheeks she’s already a few drinks down which apparently makes her a bit more affectionate.

“Layla!” A small group of people enters the room immediately drawing the attention of the beautiful host to them, her hands dropping down to yours and she squeals again. Quickly turning back to you for just a moment, “I’ll come find you later! Have fun! Enjoy!” And just like that, she’s off running to greet more of her friends.

You wander around the decently sized flat for a while after that, finding a drink in the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen along the way, briefly chatting to a few people around, and then of course you find yourself a quiet corner. Looking amongst shelves filled with treasures and memories of Layla’s many adventures, she’d told you stories over casual lunches, even invited you on her next one. Still, even after being friends for very nearly a year, there’s still so much mystery that follows her everywhere she goes. You eventually come across a picture of someone you recognise, Layla’s father, the one person she was more than fond of talking about. She’d told you many, many tales about her father, about all the places he’d been, the things he’d discovered, and about how she wanted to be just like him. You admire the picture in its intricate gold frame, a small pendant hangs on a chain over the top of the frame, something you’re sure is a treasured possession. Your hand moves upward, fingers extending to the pendant just to get a better look at it-

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” your hand retreats to your chest so quickly you almost knock the drink out of your other hand. The person who spoke much too close for your liking, and then the chuckle that follows your gasp is short-lived as you turn to the source of the warning. You’re met with an incredibly good-looking man, his hair loosely slicked back and an amused smirk gracing his really handsome features. If he hadn’t just creepily snuck up on you you’d maybe be interested in talking to him and your expression clearly shows that when you turn back around in hopes he’ll just disappear. He doesn’t. “Sorry, it’s just that she’d be devastated if that went missing.”

“I wasn’t going to steal it.” You snap a little too harshly but then again you think he’s insinuating you’d steal from your friend. You’re increasingly becoming more frustrated the longer he stands over your shoulder, his presence is too much for you.

“I didn’t say you were. I’ve met a lot of thieves, you’re definitely not built for that.” You’re annoyed now, scowling at this complete stranger when you turn back around.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Just as the man opens his mouth to reply Layla appears again, her arm hooking around your waist to pull you closer and your face instantly changes, smiling at your ever-so-happy friend. Your own arm wrapping around her, glad for the interruption, she scrunches her nose as you exchange cute little hi’s.

“Are you having fun?” The people pleaser in you manages to get out an 'mhmm' and force a fake smile, not that Layla would notice right now. You’ve only seen her in this state maybe a handful of times, she’s less observant and much more carefree. Your eyes flicker back to the stranger still lurking across from you, Layla only now registering his presence, “ahh Marc! You met Marc!”

Marc? That’s Marc?!

Layla had told you all about Marc and even tried to set you up with her ex-husband. What kind of friend tries to set you up with their ex-husband? That is exactly what you’d said to her before changing the subject, every time she tried to bring it up. You’d somehow managed to miss every opportunity to meet most of Layla’s other friends, lots of them living in different countries and only coming to visit for short periods of time but you knew Marc had lived here and you’d personally avoided trying to meet him, not wanting to make things awkward. You knew Layla’s type for partners, they were all extremely good-looking and in your opinion way out of your league and you just didn't feel like having another unrequited crush.

“This is the husband?!” You finally manage to get out with confusion etching your features as you look between the pair.

“Ex! Ex-husband!” Marc is a little too quick to correct. You’re sure you hear a ‘smooth’ and when you look at Layla she’s grinning. Marc only gives her a grumpy look before quickly excusing himself from the conversation.

“Soooooooo,” Layla draws out as she turns to face you, her hands slipping into your free one, “what did you think?”

“Of Marc?” Your face scrunches, to which Layla just scoffs, “you didn’t tell me he was a creep.” She scoffs again, this time giggling a little.

Layla leans in as if to whisper, she even has the audacity to lift her hand to the side of her mouth but the alcohol in her system inhibits her from being able to lower her volume, “he’s just nervous to be around you. He gets weird like that around people he likes!”

“Excuse me?!” You go wide-eyed, did you hear her right? But of course, before she gets a chance to reply someone calls her name, and her head whips around, your conversation was completely forgotten to her now.

“Oh, come on they're playing beer pong!” Layla tugs at your hand, a disappointed pout appearing when you shake your head and begin to decline, “please, please, please.” She begs in the way she knows you can’t say no to and so you let her drag you toward the kitchen, still thinking about the short conversation you'd just had.

-

It’s almost midnight when you stumble out of the kitchen, many games of beer pong down and an even drunker Layla staying behind to do shots. Drunk Layla has exactly no inhibitions and is definitely more affectionate than normal Layla. Now you’re in need of some fresh air, all of the laughter and closeness in the kitchen is proving a bit much for you. Luckily you can see no one has made it out to the little makeshift balcony so you awkwardly climb through the window. Once outside you feel like you’re able to breathe again, you truly hadn’t realised how stuffy it had been inside. You manage to take in a deep breath before the cold hits you hard, and your body immediately reacts. Your arms wrap around your body, hands rubbing along the tops of your arms to create some warmth.

“It's cold out.” You jump again at unexpectedly hearing Marc’s voice, turning on your heels thinking he’s behind you only for no one to be there. “Up here,” you look up to the side when he talks again, there he is perched on top of an old chimney, giving you a shy wave.

“You know you have the whole creepy stalker thing down,” you speak half-heartedly but still he chuckles.

“Hey, you came to me this time.” He raises his eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders.

“You are the one sitting alone like some bird on the rooftop,” your arms fold over your chest now and Marc mumbles something you don’t quite hear before he effortlessly slides off of the chimney and casually walks down the slight incline of the roof like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“I’m not really one for parties,” you watch as he shrugs off his thin jacket, leaving him in just a t-shirt and you wonder how he isn’t freezing out here and why he's even taking his jacket off, to begin with. “Y’know it’s December, you really shouldn’t go out without a jacket,” he holds the material out to you which your confusion-clouded brain takes. Then he turns away to lean his elbows down on the balcony railing, looking out onto the lively streets of London. You feel yourself soften a little, maybe you were a bit quick to judge him and brand him a creep.

“Me too,” you pull the jacket on and join him next to the railing, watching people in nearby streets celebrating.

“So, how come you’re here?” Marc twists his head to the side so he can just look at you.

“Layla,” Marc hums in agreement, “said she’d disown me if I didn’t.” That makes Marc laugh which turns out to be a pleasant sound when you don’t think he’s trying to be some kind of perv.

“Sounds like something she’d do.”

“She didn’t actually say that, it was more like,” you think for a second, preparing yourself for your best Layla impression “‘please you always miss my parties, I want everyone to meet you!’” Your hands had somehow gripped onto his bicep in the process, exactly how you remembered the conversation with Layla going.

It all makes Marc laugh again, “that sounded nothing like her!”

“Eh, close enough,” you lean your elbows against the railing, mirroring Marc’s stance now. The balcony is so small that you have no choice but to stand a little too close to him. There’s a little pause, Marc’s laughter dying out but the sound of the party still flowing through the window. “So, how come you’re here?” You nudge your shoulder against his arm to draw his attention.

“Uh, something similar.” Suddenly he’s acting a little hostile, his body goes more rigid and his expression hardens a little. Then there’s an awkward silence and you just try to focus on some passersby on the street below. “She was a bit more like ‘please! I want you there and you need to leave the house. Plus I know you want to meet a certain person and I promise to make sure they’re there!’” You lock eyes together for a quiet moment before both bursting into laughter.

“That was terrible!” You choke out between laughs and before Marc has time to reply, loud calls draw your attention away. Everyone inside seems to have crowded around all facing the tv and all shouting along with the countdown appearing on the screen.

“Hey look out right over there, between that gap in the buildings.” Marc points out off to the side, stealing your attention back and you look hard for what he’s trying to point out. You can only see the hue of light coming from buildings and street lamps, nothing else.

“There’s nothing-“

“Just wait,” you look at him confused for a moment but his eyes are transfixed on the horizon and you can just hear him whispering along with the loud countdown coming from inside.

3…2…1…

The sky explodes into colour in front of your very eyes. Fireworks light up the night sky, far enough away that the bangs aren’t too loud but the view is still spectacular. You can hear cheers all around, from inside Layla’s flat to the pubs down the street. Marc’s face glows with the colours in the sky and he’s smiling while he watches the fireworks. He almost looks childlike like this, like he’s never experienced it before and he’s captivating.

“Happy New Year then.” Marc straightens suddenly, catching you completely off guard, almost like he’d just snapped back into his body and he just holds his hand out toward you. Slowly you raise your own hand into his, replying with a simple, “happy new year.” You both shake hands, probably the weirdest way someone has ever wished you a happy new year.

“Oh come on!” You both turn to see Layla on the other side of the window, the look on her face one of exasperation, and her eyes lock with Marc’s, “if you don’t kiss them now then I will!” Immediately you snap your head back around to look out at London, trying desperately to hide the flustered look you’re sure is showing on your face right now. Sober Layla definitely isn’t that forward.

Just for a second Marc’s accent changes as he starts spitting out apologises on your friend's behalf, "I-no-we don’t have to-" he pauses for a second as if he’s centering himself, takes a deep breath, and talks in his normal voice again. “I think I’m just going to go sober her up a bit.”

“Yeah good idea,” you try to suppress the laugh at Layla’s disagreement to be sober and the way she runs off to hide as Marc tries and fails to catch her arm before she can disappear. He lets out a big sigh before climbing back in the window, leaving you to your own devices for just a second before his head pops back out the window.

“Don’t- uh, don’t leave yet okay?” His face contorts a little like he doesn’t know what to do with it before he gives you an awkward smile.

“Okay,” you chuckle out, immediately pausing when he smacks his head off of the half-open window, "oh-oh my- are you-"

“‘m fine, it’s fine.” He holds onto the back of his head, eyes shut real tight for just a second and he just awkwardly turns away and back around, lifting his hand almost like to wave before dropping it again, "okay I’m just-" he turns and walks away. You move to stick your head through the window into the flat just to make sure he’s okay and you only just hear him mutter, “for fucks sake Steven.” Steven?

You retreat back out of the window and only then do you realise you’re still wearing his jacket. Quickly you peer back into the flat to try to catch him, “Marc-“ your eyes scan across the room, “and you’re gone.” You sigh before moving away from the window again, surely him asking you not to leave meant he wanted to see you again, or something like that, right?

You pull your focus away from your thoughts, instead looking back out at the night sky. It’s rare to see any stars in the London sky but littered around are little white dots accompanying a beautiful half-moon. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[kirans-wonderland]

Azul Birthday Special~

~~~~~

Oh Shrimpy channnnnnn~” Floyd said busting into your room in the early hours of the morning. You thanked the Great Seven that the cold weather had you sleeping in decent attire. The sudden noise jolted you as your head whipped around to see the eel that had entered your room. To your surprise, you saw Jade trailing not far behind Floyd. “Jade? You’re not a regular trespassing offender- FLOYD! Did you take off the door locks again!?” Floyd just smiled as he dropped the locking mechanisms onto your desk from behind his back. “Whaaat? Me? Never~” The eel said feigning innocence. It wasn’t even eight in the morning and you were already pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “To what do I owe the “honor” of this visit?” Jade walked further into your room with a calmer expression then that of his brother, holding something in his gloved hands. “Are you aware of the date?” Well that was an.. odd question. “Friday? February 24th?… Azul’s birthday?” You listed off, fishing for what answer he wanted. “Yes. You are correct. It is Azul’s birthday” Jade said before Floyd cut in abruptly from beside you slinging an arm around your shoulders. “And since you don’t have something for him we brought you something~” “Actually I do have someth-“ You tried to interject but Jade interrupted. “Floyd is correct, we brought a card for you to sign and give him.” You eyed the card that they had brought you turning it over in your hands. It was quite the elegant looking card. “Well that’s strangely nice of you…” You opened the card to read what had been written inside. It was a normal happy birthday message and underneath the name Azul Ashengrotto. The name was penned in gold ink. … a very familiar gold ink. You eyed the card and then the twins suspiciously. “Well, thank you… but I already have a card for him” You said trying to hand the card back to Jade. “Nonsense! This card is much better.” The calmer twin pushed the card back towards you. That confirmed your suspicions, but you decided it would be better to go along with them. “Alright. Thank you both. I shall include this in my gift to him.” You set the card down on your desk before trying to usher them out the door. “I’ll see you later. And Floyd… PLEASE stop taking my locks off!” Floyd laughed mischievously as the two eels walked down the hallway. 

You sat at your desk looking over the card to see if it was really what you thought. Lo and behold there was a loose corner. Picking at that corner revealed that the blank side of the card was a cover for writing underneath. This “birthday card” was a contract. The hidden writing revealed that the one who signed the card would be obligated to spend the whole day with the card’s recipient. Oh. Wonderful. With a relationship clause too. You chuckled at Azul’s underhanded methods to try and get you to spend time with him. All he had to do was ask. 

Later that morning you showed up to the Mostro Lounge and knocked on the door to his office. Azul opened the door with an already smug smile. “Ah welcome, come in come in” You had to stifle a laugh. When the door had closed you turned to him. “Happy Birthday Azul!” You presented him with his gift. “Why thank you darling you shouldn’t have~” He still smiled believing he had won. He opened the gift and pulled out the envelope. He couldn’t help a look of surprise adorning his face when he saw the card. This was not the same one he had instructed the tweels to give you that morning. After he opened the gift itself, he thanked you regardless but he couldn’t help but be a bit confused. “You’re welcome~” You paused letting him stir in thought for just a while longer. “Oh! And one more thing.” Pulling out the contract card you placed it on his desk. “I know you like contracts to be signed in your presence” You said smugly reaching for his pen. Azul’s face was priceless. He looked utterly lost and his faced had flushed. He was embarrassed that he had been caught in his trap. “How… you.. how did you… know?” You chuckled and signed the card with your name. “This. Your gold ink Azul. You only use this stuff for contacts so you can’t blame me for being suspicious. Azul jumped when you finished your signature. “But you didn’t read the-“ You cut him off. “I read the fine print Azul. I agree, even to your relationship clause” You smiled at his now red and stuttering face. “And even though not collateral was stated, how about this?” You placed a soft kiss to his cheek. Azul took a second to regain his composure, taking a breath before looking into your eyes. “No, I do not believe that is enough.” “No?” You quirked a brow, wondering what he was going to do. “No.” Azul stated again before he pulled you into an actual kiss. When he pulled away, his hands lingered on your hips. “I think that should suffice. For now. I may have to put you on a long term payment plan” Azul joked. “Azul, you need to learn how to straight up ask for things” You laughed at the silly business minded octopus. “Happy birthday~”