#i know these takes aren't new or anything i'm just thinking out loud at this point

[tame-the-lion-writes]

tomboy reader x 141 - shopping

(Light warning for reader being self-conscious and insecure about her femininity.)

For the longest time, the boys of 141 don't see their tomboy teammate as a "girl." Not maliciously, of course, but it simply doesn't cross their mind.

It's not that you aren't pretty, but they're so conditioned to see you as "another one of the guys" that they don't spare a passing glance. You don't exactly dress up, either, and they haven't seen you in a skirt or dress. Nor do you have the most feminine interests--at least not that they know of--because their time with you is spent shooting at enemies, covered in blood, and kicking up dust. In short, the usual masculine tendency to see women as precious or dainty doesn't kick in. Because you're anything but.

Because you're a soldier.

In a way, you've grown to love it and hate it. The feminist side of you craves that respect and treatment as an equal. The other side of you, however, whatever the label may be, craves the idea of being wanted. You want to dress up nice and be small and cute. You want to wear heels and fluttery skirts and bows. You want to feel so sweet and sugary, that you could curl up in the palm of someone's hand--not afraid to be vulnerable and adoring and soft. Because you'd trust that person to still love and care for you, no matter how weak you allow yourself to be.

You never bring it up, though. At least not until Price asks if you have anything to wear to some fancy event, where you're stuck with a good old dress code.

"Yeaah... about that," you say with a sheepish smile. "Might have to get time off base to find something, sir. Don't think the pantsuit from my friend's wedding is gonna cut it."

"You don't got a dress? Not even one?"

"Was never the most comfortable in 'em, sir. Besides, I'm saving up for a house," you shrug. "I'm not out to buy some thousand dollar getup or jewelry." (And therein, beneath, lay the denial that if you didn't try to look feminine, you wouldn't look ridiculous doing so--imitating something you could never be.)

"Ooh, we should go shopping," Soap suggests with grin, leaning forward from his seat on the couch. "Think ol' Ghost here needs a bigger suit, anyway. Put on a few pounds--"

"Soap--"

"--of muscle! What--you think I was shaming ya?"

You roll your eyes, an anxious heat burning in your cheeks. "I can handle shopping myself, guys." And you didn't want them to be judging you for anything you put on.

"Oh, please, Gaz an' I are used to tagging along with our sisters," Soap continues, wrapping an arm around his fellow sergeant. Surprisingly, Gaz agrees with a nod.

"Not saying that you have to take us with you," Gaz starts, "but waiting outside a dressing room a couple hours is nothing."

"Long as we get food, of course," Soap adds.

"Well," Price notes, clearing his throat, "I'm in need of a new tie, too, so seems like it's settled. Ghost--and you?"

The masked man lets out a grunt, arms crossed on his recliner.

"... New suit."

Cue a little, "Ha! I knew it," from Soap. As well as Price filing for a one day vacation from the base.

** * **

You can practically feel the eyes trailing after you and the boys while you walk through the mall. Soap is loud enough as is, and combined with Gaz, both make for a pretty face. Then there's Ghost who just towers over everyone and looks like a cryptid with his mask, and Price who follows with the charm of an older gentleman. A posse of bachelors, that is.

You pick at the hem of your sleeve as you walk ahead--the default leader for today, seen as despite the boys' side quests, the main quest was you. Dressing you up in an elegant dress. Finding you matching heels and accessories. Making you look pretty and presentable.

So now you're here, standing in the dressing room of a fancy first-class boutique you could otherwise never afford--if it weren't for Price's insistence that, as your captain, it was his responsibility to make sure you looked "dapper." You smooth out the off-white creme of the skirt, staring in the mirror; you think you look pretty enough, and the pearl earrings add a certain charm to your otherwise plain features. (Though really, you're stressed that you'll seem more like a child playing dress-up--riddled with the self-consciousness of a girl trying imitate her mother, looking back at the gaudy mascara and smudged lipstick across her cheek.)

But there's no stalling. No more taking forever. The clock is ticking, and you either be judged for how you look, or judged for wasting time, or breaking down in refusal. (You know they'd never judge you--they're good men, you know--but still. You'd pick at your sleeve again if it was there--)

"Ready," you call from behind the curtain, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the light.

And all your fears melt away when they stop their banter to look at you, and their eyes widen--then soften--at the sight.

[delusion-mostly]

Regina George x Reader

Part 1/32 (yeah I know, right?)

Warnings: angst if you squint, name calling, suggestive wording

I wrote this a while ago, if you think I need to add anything else for this one, lmk!

Word count: 1,265

"What the hell are you doing on my ice, George? The hockey team already released the team list, we can't accept anyone else. Either way, we don't like drama."

"Actually, I'm not on the ice," Regina gives you a dirty look, pointing at the fact that she is right outside the ice, not on it, "and ew, this does not sound appealing. You look like a fridge wearing a knockoff dollar-store sports jersey. This also looks a bit rough." she makes a gesture at your outfit, and size.

Well, she was right. The school had a small budget for the women's team, and you tower over her. Your shoulder pads add to the size, you really are built like a fridge at the moment.

"Then what are you here for? To call me another slur?" You take your helmet off and lean your head down on your stick, smirking, "here for a good time?"

Regina fake gags, "Absolutely no. Gross. Quit speaking," she gives another dirty look, "I saw the poster that you needed a manager for the team. I can't play any sports and everything is so fucking lame. I can at least see fights here." She shrugs

"And why do you of all people want to be involved in anything  that doesn't involve pretty pink glitter and being a massive bitch?" Putting emphasis in the 'B' in bitch, you poke Regina with your stick.

"If I didn't have to I wouldn't," she shoves the stick off of her shoulder, "but my therapist is making me. I can't let last year consume me, and I have to be helpful or whatever."

You look at the clock and put your helmet back on then glide across the ground, your skates leaving gashes in the ice. Regina stands by the opening into the rink, dumbfounded that someone had just walked away from her. The clock makes a loud buzzing noise and pucks fly into the net and scatter the ice around it.

"Well, George, you gotta work up the food chain here," you get a smug look on your face, "Practice is over! We don't have to get the pucks tonight. Our lovely new manager Miss Regina George will get it for us. Won't you?" you skate up to the blonde, whose eyes sit wide.

The team leaves to the locker room before leaving the building as Regina nods. She could not believe that someone had actually spoken to her like that. You ask her shoe size, go to the locker room, and come out with a pair of skates. They are blue and gold, and old. Like, really old looking. The blade is sharp but the leather is worn and creased. You intentionally grabbed the oldest pair that would fit her. Queen Bee George wouldn't own the ice like she did the rest of the school. You drop the skates in front of Regina.

"You expect me to know how the hell to put these on?"

"Are you ACTUALLY kidding me right now George?" You don't get an answer, so you sit down in front of Regina, "wow you aren't. I will do this one time, and one time only." You hold up a one on your hand and Regina nods.

You lace the skates while Regina complains about how tight they are, then you describe why they had to be so tight, she finds some way to complain about your reasoning too. You lead her on to the ice, she isn't an awful skater, although she falls once. You teach her how to collect the pucks by scooting the net around the ice, then take her to the locker room.

"I really need to get out of these clothes, but as the captain it's my job to tell you what your jobs are. So I hope you don't mind," You start taking off your jersey, "so basically you will make sure the locker room and ice stays clean. You'll scrape the ice, make sure it's clean and pretty, get our stuff on the bus for away games, basic shit." you peel the outer layers of your gear off.

"So I don't have to drive the zimbabwe or whatever?" Regina asks, relief washing over her as she looks at you.

"No you will not be driving a whole ass country, honey," You look dumbfounded, "The custodial staff or our coach are the only ones who operate the ZAMBONI. And quit looking. I can't tell if you're jealous or you want me." You smirk over at Regina as she quickly rotates her head away from your direction.

You finish changing, she glances over at you one more time while your back muscles flex, pulling a shirt over your head. You throw on a pair of faded jeans and a red flannel. You pull your phone out and hand it to Regina on the contacts page.

"This by no means is asking you to ever speak to me outside of anything hockey related, or even hockey related, actually. Never text me," you smile and take the phone back from Regina, "this is just so I can add you to the team group chat."

Regina is left speechless, she has never ever been disrespected like that.

"You literally just met me, what the fuck is your problem? I will not let my year be ruined by your rude ass." Regina scoffs.

"My problem, Regina, is that my name was in that little book of yours. Right next to the words 'body count higher than points scored' and 'hockey lez'," you sit and stare at Regina, "I do not want to talk to you outside of this sport, and I will talk to you as little as I can here. I appreciate that you are getting better and working on your behavior after last years events, but this does not change the fact that words are mean. It didn't hurt, but I don't make company with assholes."

You walk out to your car, a 2015 Subaru Forester. You don't notice Regina's highly recognizable Jeep in the parking lot, and see her walk out of the building. She keeps walking past the parking lot, sprinkles of rain splattering the ground around her. You are an asshole, but not that big of one. You speed out of the lot and pull up next to Regina, who is walking down the side walk with her hot pink hood over her head, and roll your window down.

"Why are you walking? It's raining and you have a nice Jeep. This is ridiculous George." You shout.

"I still don't trust myself driving alone after the accident in case my back locks up, I like the rain, I'm fine." Regina keeps her head forward.

"Are you sure? As captain it is my obligation to make sure everyone get's home safe."

"Oh my God, you have already said you hate me, would you MOVE ON you fucking lesbo." Regina yells.

"Great choice of words when you are trying to better yourself Regina." You clench your jaw, roll your window up, and speed off.

This was going to be one great year, you can just feel it.

[pondhue]

thinking about morty's stats and remembering back to when rick talked about "morty waves"

no wonder they "cancel out" because they're both so intelligent it's like trying to link two magnets together. they repel each other. like fucking duh we knew this already, but it's nice to see it confirmed to us in s7ep7

morty isn't dumb, he's just a different kind of intelligent that's on the same unique level as rick. what makes it doubly unique is that rick (or rick's in general) are unable to truly understand it so they brush it off/downplay it

i like to think that both morty and rick are coded to be autistic, and their special interests shown reveal that. rick's special interest is science and engineering, morty's is art. i'd like to think it's art since he loves video games and is naturally very creative. like yeah he's a 14/15 year old boy so obviously he loves video games but i mean it in the sense of how he appreciates them as an art form/story telling thing and not just something to play to pass the time

i love rewatching "rest and ricklaxation" because this is shown so clearly as rick is "creating a new element" and morty is practicing pottery

they're literally two sides of the same coin

[gutghost]

Imagine you get cheated on...BUT- the cheater turns kinda...yandere?

It felt like an awful nightmare. Bile rising in your throat as you looked at your lover - the person who you loved through their highest and their lowest, the person who you invested blood sweat and tears into, the person you promised yourself to - undoubtedly pressing their lips to another person's. It took a hot minute before you tried to step back, only for you to bump into the doorway, causing a loud thump. The two looked at you, one with horror, the other with confusion. It took you no time to turn around and make a run for it. A hiccup making its way out of your throat as you felt a sob start to shake through your body.

It's been afew months, well. More then few months since that incident, and safe to say you have been doing...fine. not great, but fine. You've decided to collect your things while your lover was away from the house, your friends and family helping you out as you found a new place to live. It was bare bones, considering you didn't take the shared couch, or tv, dressers, not even bed. But it was yours, and you've been getting by. You'd like to think you've gotten stronger.

That was until odd things started happening around your apartment. Things were being moved, shit you know you wouldn't misplace. Your clothes were going missing, much to your dismay. You barely had any, so to lose even one shirt was frustrating. Then roses started appearing in vases in your home. Seeing as actual items were showing up you decided to call the police, and when it seemed that the window to your bedroom was broken, seemingly from an outside force, they told you to invest in better security as they kept a look out.

Which is why you were going to the store so late at night, I mean, what could go wrong?

bad decision, you later decided as you looked at the scene infront of you. Your throat tight, bile rising, just like that night, the night you lost your true love. In front of you was your lover - now ex - looming disheveled, gasping for air as their voice broke, a small, unnerving, almost crazed look, crossing their features.

"My love, my everything, oh please-"

"Dont."

Your lip trembles as you step back, your look of surprise quickly turning into that of anger. They had no right to call out to you with such fondness, not after what they put you through. The pain and suffering, all due to the person who swore to love you.

A look of hurt crossed their face at the sight of you backing away from them, as if you kicked a puppy. The idea sickened you. Quick to try and close the space once more as they struggled to walk straight they would stumble forward. Their voice trembling as they fell to their knees, a whimper coming from them as they scrambled to grab at your sweatpants.

"Please - my love I beg of you, I know what i did was sin, I know - I've never been more sick in the mind then i was that night, oh I was so stupid, thinking I could ever so much as THINK of another woman! Even more so after wards, how could I think I could ever live without you??? You! Oh precious you, the sun only shines when you are near. Those next few weeks were torture my dear, I've never wanted anything more then to RIP MY SKIN OFF WHEN I REALIZED MY MISDEEDS."

Their insane rambling continued as you tried to shove them off, tears starting to stream down their gaunt cheeks. Had they been eating? You wondered as you tried to get them off you.

"I'm...i'm better now though! I've never been thinking clearer, I came to a realization life isn't worth living without you! But by then- you...- you had already left, I tore through that house to try and find you but you had already been far gone. I asked your family, your friends - but all of them simply turned me away, your LOVER - isn't that what I am? I am, aren't i?? They should've...they-"

You couldn't listen to this anymore. A disgusted feeling filling your gut. What did you ever see in them?? You quickly shoved them away, a small gasp coming from them as you stepped away, your ex lover falling backwards onto the sidewalk. A look so firey resting on your face it could rival the heat from the depths of hell.

"You lost that right. You lost it the moment you took that person into your arms, the moment you brought them into our home, the moment you pressed your lips against theirs."

They seemed dumbfounded, sobs starting to wash over their body as they tried to sputter out apologies. But you had none of it.

"Did you get a kick out of it? Seeing me suffer? Seeing me jealous as you placed your hands on that person's? Your lips on them? When i left did you just go right back to kissing on them? Fucking them??"

You spat at them, your ex lover crying their heart out as they struggle to breathe. Whether it be from guilt or heartbreak, you weren't sure. They shook their head as they continued to cry, trying once again to reach out to you, to hold onto you for that comfort you once so readily gave them. But you stepped back, putting space between you once more. A scoff coming from you as you did so

"Baby please don't do this to me, please please please-"

Their voice wavered heavily. Some part of you, the part buried deep down in your heart, ached at the sight of them so broken down. They looked ill, both mentally and physically. But what done was done. You quickly turned on your heels as you made your way home. Your ex lovers cries filling the street as he urged you to come back, to not leave him. To not abandon him.

Maybe some sick part of you felt good that you left them a blubbering mess, after all. They rept what they sown, did they not?

Little did you know, oh how blissfully unaware you were. They were gonna get you back, one way or another. They will have you back in their arms, with all those roses they left in your apartment in pretty vases all over your newly bought home in the woods, far from everyone.

They will have you be their's again.

that corpse that once used to be their side piece left rotting under the concrete of their basement proves it.

[luveline]

Jade I’ve been WAITING and HOPING for you to ask about spider verse and/or Miguel requests. He is the epitome of grumpy love interest falls for sunshine reader, would you maybe write something where he’s like in the midst of being scary and intimidating and then when reader walks in he is trying to maintain that image in front of whoever else is there but she just like totally ignores it and basically exposes how soft he is?

Obviously feel free to take or leave whatever parts of that you like I just love grumpy x sunshine

SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE BELOW

thank you for your request! for you my love, grumpy (lovesick) miguel x sunshine spidergirl!reader, 1.5k

Miguel spends a lot of time arguing with Peter B. Parker, or as you've so fondly nicknamed him, Sweatpants-Man. Well, Miguel spends a lot of time yelling at him. It stopped for a while; Peter B. Parker took some time away from the Spider Society, but eventually he returned with a brand new spider. A baby girl. 

You linger at the door, startled to find him in company, but pleased when he isn't yelling as loudly as he could be. He looks desperately as though he wants to shout, and is holding back through sheer force of will, his eyes widened and his hair falling in unruly waves over his forehead, strands of it curled into his eyes. 

Miguel is a worrier. It isn't his fault. He's a great man with responsibilities beyond his control, and he may not always react how he should, but he tries his best. You don't agree with everything he does, but you like him. You adore him. For all of his goodness, his bravery, and the smile he gives you when you're alone. 

He's clearly troubled by something. 

"I don't really see the harm, I won't tell him a thing," Peter B. Parker says.

"Why do you refuse to listen to me? No. End of discussion." 

"I think we should reopen the discussion," Peter B. Parker says. 

He and Miguel are friends, you think. They would have been best buddies by now if Peter could abide by Miguel's rules. Then again, you ignore the rules often and indiscriminately, and Miguel likes you.

He's scraping his hair out of his eyes now, a fierce glare fixed on Peter's face, and you have the urge to go in there and try to persuade him to give Peter whatever it is he's asking for. You're almost certain you could do it. 

Not through your sheer mastery of the persuasive arts, though you have mastered them, but because Miguel O'Hara has a soft spot for you. He tries to hide it and you refuse to let him. You haven't tried to kiss him or anything (you secretly aren't that brave) but you run circles around him for fun, only letting him boss you around every now and then to keep things loose. You could be much meaner about the whole thing: what is so humiliating as falling for your lackadaisical subordinate? But you don't hold it against him, because he likely isn't finished falling yet, and because you really do like him. 

You pull your mask off of your face and then your gloves, shoving them into a concealed pocket on your thigh. 

"Miguel," you murmur, knowing he'll hear you no matter the volume, "what's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't glance your way. 

Peter B. Parker's shoulders sag in relief at your appearance. "Thank god you're here," he says. 

You hadn't realised Peter knew who you were. "I'm here," you repeat mildly. 

"Tell Miguel that the risk involved with visiting Earth-1610 is super, duper small." 

"Well, it is negligible," you murmur, though Peter's quest isn't your prerogative. 

Miguel groans loud and unapologetically. 

You stand near Miguel and look up at him. He's ridiculously tall. You’d have to crane your neck if you stood at his feet. You maintain some distance and look him over from a gentler incline, cataloguing the dark circles under his eyes for the hundredth time. They don't look too bad today, but you wish he'd get more rest. 

He has a very fierce face, but you know how it softens when he laughs. It's hard to find his glaring intimidating when you've witnessed the white flash of sharp teeth as he smiles, the way his eyes light up and his eyebrows relax from their stern set when you bring him something to eat on late nights. It's almost always smothered as soon as it happens, but it does happen. 

"The risk involved is not super small," he says, still not looking at you, "the risk involved is actually incredibly big, and it isn't worth it." 

Peter puts his arms out just as Mayday drops from the rafters above. You huff a laugh at his coordination and Mayday starts to laugh, her knitted beanie drooping into her eyes. 

"Hi, baby," you say softly, reaching out to hold her hand. She squeezes your fingers. 

"It's worth the risk. Absolutely, it's worth the risk, and I would argue that me visiting would actually strengthen the state of the multiverse–" 

"In what scenario–" 

"–and, like, make your job easier." Peter stops Mayday from climbing up your shoulder. 

"If there's one thing you've never done, Peter, it's make my job easier. I can't believe you're asking me again," Miguel says, taking a big breath, like he's going to pop. 

You step away from Peter to catch Miguel's attention. When his eyes lock onto yours, you smile as fondly as you're able, the kind of smile you know he likes. Your eyes widen just a touch and your eyebrows rise, the corners of your mouth not quite dimpling. It's a smile that says all the same stuff you love to say aloud. Hi, handsome. What's got you so stressed today? 

"Don't be like that, Miguel," Peter says. 

You tilt your head to one side. "You don't look very well," you say. 

"I'm fine." There's a thread of gentleness there, almost indistinguishable from his serious tone. "Or I would be, if Peter would listen to me for once." 

"I'm listening, man, I just think you should see sense." 

Miguel's face flickers like he wants to correct him, but he keeps getting caught on you. Nothing specific, just that his gaze lands on your face or your shoulder or your arm before he looks at Peter, and all the steam rushes out of him. He’s trying not to smile at you.

"I see sense," Miguel insists. It's like he wants to be angrier than he has, gritting his teeth weakly. "It's not feasible right now." 

You smile at that. Right now. You're not sure he's ever said something that could lead to a compromise. You are sure that he hadn't meant to. Peter is understandably thrilled, hiding his own smile as he puts Mayday back into her carrier. 

"Alright. Well, I've gotta take her home. But I'll see you both again soon," Peter threatens, wiggling his eyebrows. "Thank you," he adds, nodding at you. 

You laugh as he leaves. Miguel is nowhere near as pleased. 

"You did that on purpose," Miguel says. 

"I did what on purpose?" 

"Coming in here." 

"Yeah, of course. I come to see you all the time on purpose. Did you think I was drifting in here on the breeze? That would be difficult, considering." You gesture to the entrance of his office, which is far from easily accessible. 

Miguel looks at you, unimpressed, with his hands on his hips. You wonder what it would take to make him put his hands on yours. 

"Don't even think about it," he says. 

"About what, handsome?" 

"You think I don't know what that look means?" He sounds fond rather than angry. It's a win. 

"I bet you know, but I'm in the dark, so if you'd… illuminate it for me, that would be greatly appreciated." 

He checks that no one's about to enter his office. You feel your heart jerk in your chest, and if his super senses are anything like the other Spider People, he can hear it. 

"You really can't come in here when I'm trying to set people straight," he says. 

"Why?" you ask. You could pout at him, but you think that might be too much. 

"You know why." Somewhere between words he drifts closer, soundless, his face inching down toward yours with a surprising swiftness. "You know why," he repeats.

You lift your chin as much as you dare, which isn't much, but enough that your giggly confirmation fans over his lips, "Yes, I do." 

He nudges you away, and it isn't without affection. His warm, big hand lingers on your shoulder, even as he says, "Go, go do something." 

"Miguel, I came to see you." 

"I know, and I have a meeting with Jess in a minute, so you can't be here. It'll undermine my authority." 

"What will?" you ask, smiling, because you already know. His fondness for you. 

"Go away. Come and see me later," he says. 

You sigh and spin away from him. "I will, but not because you told me to!" you call, leaving the office with an awful sense of victory. 

Miguel scrubs his face with his hands as you go. He's really not sure what he's going to do with you. His plan to hold you at arm’s length isn’t working anymore, and honestly? He doesn’t think he could stand it a minute longer. Thank whoever’s watching over him that you actually do as he asks for once and leave. 

Miguel was one sweet smile away from kissing you up against the wall.

[yazmarina]

not just a figure of speech (you got me down on my knees)

paul aron (f2) x gender neutral!reader

flirting with your teammate seemed a good enough idea, until a not-so-good qualifying tears down every ounce of restraint from your body.

warnings/notes: smut, friends to ???, oral sex, semi-public sex, lots of flirting

a/n: anj stop using lyrics as titles challenge failed. a short and sweet one in honor of our barcelona pole sitter! enjoy <3

"You're here early."

You look up from the monitor in front of you to see Paul walking into the Hitech tent, an easy smile on his lips. He takes the seat in front of you, gently nudging your foot under the table.

"Only because I wanted to see you as soon as I could," you respond. A grin makes its way to your face at the way Paul's cheeks immediately redden.

"Good one," Paul commends, nodding as he avoids your eyes.

"What? You're not happy to see me?" You ask, leaning over the table, peering closer at Paul.

Paul meets your gaze and you can see that the red tinge has reached down to his neck. You giggle, your own stomach bursting into butterflies as his eyes scan over your face.

"I'm always happy to see you, ________," Paul says, reaching over to pinch your cheek.

You lean into his touch, laying the entire side of your face against his hand. He briefly runs his thumb over your cheek, retracting his arm just as quick. You straighten in your seat, clearing your throat.

The engineers and strategists around you don't even bat an eye at the exchange, or even if they had noticed, they've grown too accustomed to your and Paul's teasing, a habit both of you picked up towards the start of the season as a way to get around the awkward tension you two had as new teammates.

You'd tell him he looked handsome as he entered the room and he'd blush and return the compliment. You'd always follow it up with a hearty laugh, brushing it off as friendly banter whenever someone asked.

It's always been this way. And every time you thought it would go somewhere, when the pause and smile between cheeky compliments gets too long, or when hands wander during hugs, Paul would always turn away, distancing himself from you until you inevitably gravitate back toward each other.

You feel like it's something, something that you should probably talk about with Paul, or at least address. But what would you say? What is this?

"Track walk in ten, guys."

You jolt out of your thoughts, everyone around you already packing up to head to the track. You catch Paul's eyes again and he grins, rising from his seat before holding out a hand to you.

You take it without much thought, eventually snaking your arm around his, grip firm on his bicep. If people didn't know better, they'd think the two of you were stepping out for a date.

"I'm excited," you admit, peering up at Paul as the two of you exit the tent. "The track's great. Aren't you excited?"

Paul nods. "I am. Might be in for a win, finally."

You beam, squeezing his arm. "That's my guy."

You miss the way Paul's eyes practically shimmer as he gazes down at you.

-

"P fucking five," Paul curses under his breath, dropping his helmet with a loud clatter to the floor.

You listen and pause just outside his driver's room, the thin, opaque flap of plastic separating him from the rest of the team tent. You know better than to interrupt a driver in the throes of a bad qualifying result but as a teammate and his friend, you know that Paul would never dare lash out at you even if he was upset.

So you call out to him.

"Paul?"

You flinch back when he pulls back the cover of his room. His hair is disheveled, his eyes somber. Paul's frown softens when he sees you and he immediately widens the opening to his room.

You step in, fidgeting with the sleeves of your fireproof as Paul zips the canvas flap shut.

"I...," you begin, not really sure what to say. Paul avoids your eyes, messing around with some stuff on his massage table but you know he wasn't really doing anything of note.

Maybe it was a mistake to come in at all.

"Can you just...," Paul begins, straightening up, still unable to look directly at you.

You wait patiently for him to formulate his words, your own fingers twisting into the fabric of your race suit.

"I should leave, I'm sorr–"

"...stay here."

You blink, Paul's words registering in your brain half a second late. He finally looks at you, eyebrows creased.

"Don't leave," Paul says. "I said you could stay."

You exhale, finally letting yourself relax. Paul seems to mirror your demeanor because he finally slumps against the massage table, head hanging low as he stares at the floor.

You shuffle uncertainly forward, coming into Paul's line of sight. He's looking at you with this hurt look in his eyes, one you've never seen before. It's jarring, slightly unnerving, the way your teammate is being so vulnerable in front of you right now.

"A lot can be done from P5," you assure Paul. "I'm down in 11th."

"I'll reward you if you get a podium," you continue with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood, not really meaning whatever it is you're saying.

Paul raises his eyebrows, a hint of a smile gracing his lips.

"Reward me with what?" he asks, sliding backward to sit on the massage table.

You feel a violent blush settle on your cheeks as your brain finally catches up with your mouth.

"With dinner, Paul. I'll treat you to dinner," you deadpan, rolling your eyes.

Paul chuckles, leaning back on his hands, gaze unwavering as he continues to stare at you.

Your hand flies up to your neck, a nervous habit as you realize just how hard Paul is staring. Clearing your throat, you seem to snap Paul out of his trance, eyes blinking as he refocuses on your face.

"What do you want me to do, then?" You ask, trying to steer the awkwardness away.

Paul gives you a look and squares his jaw, a teasing glint in his eyes.

He jerks his chin inward, prompting you to realize that he's saying, 'Come here'. You swallow, stepping closer, breath hitching as you watch Paul part his legs. Your mouth falls open when it dawns on you just how close he wants you.

His hand reaches out tentatively, fingertips brushing gently against your arm. You let him tug you closer, closer, and closer still, until you're situated between his legs. With him sitting, you're nearly the same height. You can feel his breath on your face. He's within kissing distance.

"I can think of a few things," Paul finally says, his hand dropping from your arm down to your waist.

"Hey," you blurt out. Paul flinches and jerks his hand back, the amusement in his face replaced with genuine worry.

"Only if you want to, of course, I mean I wasn't suggesting anything that's–"

"Paul."

He pauses, eyes wide, as if scared he'd offended you somehow.

You realize that this is it. This is what it all boils down to. All that teasing and tentative touches have come to this.

"The reward only comes after the podium," you remind him.

Paul lets out a relieved laugh, both his hands now snaking around your waist. He holds you firmly in place, tilting his head to the side as if studying every inch of your face.

"A good luck charm, then?"

Your face breaks out into a grin, your own palms creeping up Paul's firm thighs. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as he watches you tug his race suit further down.

"I was thinking a kiss, but if you wanna do that, I'm not gonna stop you," Paul comments, nudging you teasingly.

"Would you prefer a kiss over me blowing you?" You ask, knuckles brushing against Paul's bulge.

Paul shakes his head.

He lifts his hips up for a second, allowing you to pull his suit all the way off, along with his bottom fireproofs and underwear.

You gasp softly as you're met with Paul's length.

"Surprised?" Paul questions, guiding your hand to it. You wrap your fingers around and give an experimental squeeze.

Paul groans, throwing his head back. He stiffens even more in your hold.

"Not at all," you answer, dropping to your knees in one graceful swoop.

"You're just as I imagined," you admit.

You lick a long stripe from the base of Paul's cock to the tip, swirling once over his head before spitting on it. Paul shivers above you, mouth hanging open.

"Fuck," he mutters softly. "You've thought about this?"

"Mhm," you confirm, wrapping your lips around him fully.

You feel a harsh tug at your scalp and you whine as Paul threads and twists his fingers in your hair. You retaliate by sinking lower around him, stopping only when you feel his tip against the back of your throat.

"Holy shit," he whispers, pulling your head back so he could peer into your eyes.

"Make it quick," Paul warns, tightening his hold on your hair even more. "Debrief is starting soon."

You don't have to be told twice as you pull back all the way before sinking forward again. You set up a rhythm, swirling your tongue over the tip every once and again, teeth lightly grazing his length as you come back down.

Paul clamps a hand over his mouth, not trusting himself to keep quiet, not with the way you're kneeling in front of him right now, his dick down your throat. He has a vice grip on your hair, sending your own arousal down between your legs.

You speed up when you hear voices just outside Paul's driver room, aware that a thin piece of plastic is the only thing separating the rest of the team and the image of their two drivers in the middle of a scandalous act.

As if reading your thoughts, Paul snickers, raising his eyebrows as you look up at him.

"They'd freak if they saw you like this," Paul taunts. "The second in the championship blowing the championship lead?"

You pinch Paul's thigh and he curses, laughing breathlessly right after.

"Okay, okay, sorry baby," Paul croons, loosening his grip on your hair.

You pull off him, panting, your hair in a sorry state.

"You've annoyed me now," you warn with a smirk. "You can use your own hand to finish the job."

Paul pouts. "Hey, now. I said I'm sorry."

"I know," you say. "If you can cum in the next two minutes, I'll let you do it inside my mouth."

"Fuck," Paul mutters, his hand already starting to pump along his length.

You snicker, laying your head on Paul's thigh while your palm strokes the other.

"Come on, Paul," you coax sweetly. "I'll give you more later if you can get that podium."

Paul grunts, speeding up even more. He eyes you darkly and you simply smile, digging your nails into the flesh of his thigh.

"Open," is all he says and you obey immediately, straightening up, your tongue sticking out as you anticipate Paul's release.

You yelp as you feel Paul nudge your head forward, his cock sliding into your mouth as it twitches, spurting hot cum straight down your throat. You swallow immediately, gagging slightly when you feel even more landing on your tongue.

You gasp as you pull away, some of the leftover dribbling down your chin. You swipe it off with your thumb, licking it clean, laughing as Paul slumps backward.

"Shit," Paul concludes, chest still heaving from the effort.

You pull yourself up, legs trembling slightly from the strain of kneeling for so long. Paul eyes you as you smooth your hair down, wiping at your face with the back of your hand in case you missed any trace of him.

"No podium, no sex," you remind him, leaning down to leave a kiss on his cheek.

You move to pull away but Paul tugs you back down, your feet stumbling over each other. You start to protest but all words die on your tongue when you feel Paul seal his lips firmly over yours.

"You should have just said that at the beginning of this weekend," Paul jokes, laughing when he feels you smack him on the arm.

-

"Well, would you look at that?"

You chew on your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling as Paul approaches you, his 1st place trophy tucked under his arm. He glances at it momentarily before looking back at you.

"That's a podium," Paul points out, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, but the smile finally breaks loose on your face.

"Room 807. Come by before you go out and celebrate."

Paul snickers, leaning in briefly to kiss your cheek this time.

"Are you kidding? You're coming to celebrate with me," Paul declares over his shoulder, sauntering off.

"Double celebration, baby!"

[itsonlydana]

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

➛ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

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

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

➛ words: 9,3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that it would change where he stands.

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

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

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

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

"Talk to me, woman!"

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

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

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

"Jake."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The choice comes easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is your best friend and roommate.

Get a grip!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe a little bit.

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

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

Candles!

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

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

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

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

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

You shouldn't stare.

No matter how magnificent the sight is.

And oh, it surely is magnificent.

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

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

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

And look where that had brought you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man was truly an enigma.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What if?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While you go out for dates- he works.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By the look of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, that was one way to put it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Any normal-thinking person would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ice cream!"

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

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

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

"You wouldn't dare!"

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

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

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

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

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

That does shut you up instantly.

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

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

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

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

"All of it and none of that!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffs. "Me? Like what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thranduil cocks his head, "It is?"

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

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

Nearly.

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

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

"Without a doubt in my mind."

"Alright."

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

That is until Thranduil's arm drops lower.

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

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

At first, it's just his fingertips.

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

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

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

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

This has to mean something.

This has to be something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The same way he suddenly pressed his mouth on yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were kissing Thranduil.

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

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

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

And you hope it will never be any different.

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

"What?"

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

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

"Let's go to 'Oakenshields'"

[plumipal]

AAAAAOMG UR TWST OC IS SO ADORABLE?? i'm absolutely in love with eden sm (+ his design?? the star eyes and the wings are my favorite,, i wanna smooch all his tattoos!) and i hope it's okay to ask a few questions about him... (I KNOW U SAID IT WAS OKAY BUT I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE 😭 i'm genuinely interested in knowing more!)

1) does he have anyone in the twst cast that he tolerates/likes? i know he's part of the whole harem thing but is there anyone he doesn't necessarily mind being around (or even sharing with the prefect?)

2) do grim and eden have a good relationship? i would assume so since they're living both with one another but do they just get along with each other for the prefect's sake or are they actually best buds? (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

(little dumb idea but i think it would be so cute if the prefect treated the two as if they were all like a little family! eden and prefect being the two parents and grim their rambunctious kid lmao,, i would imagine the others not being so happy about it (っ‘ω`c))

3) is he okay with physical affection/pda? is he totally chill about it or would he rather shy about the whole thing? is he open to having the prefect touch his wings or his tattoos?

4) oooo any funfacts that you have about the new ramshackle resident?? just in general really if that's okay with u ofc!! ☆

aa okay that's it!! i hope my questions weren't annoying or anything! (っ‘ω`c)

Had to get one of those wheels ive seen going around where you put the oc and how they feel about the character and how the characters feel back about them, but with a twist lol (most of them are haters).

The ones he are most tolerant with are grim, ace, deuce, jack and kalim. Only one he could possible share with would either be kalim, jack or deuce, because of how he sorta is annoyed by ace.

Of course cant forget how he feels about you :) he thinks you are very very very special and he loves you a lot <3

He likes grim a lot, seeing as grim isn't one of the students that is oh so annoying. He warms up to the monster, seeing how gently you take care of grim, wanting to do the same. It feels, domestic, in his opinion.

Grim likes Eden a lot too, he has never belittled him, he has always made sure to feed grim along with Eden being very warm (and therefore very nice to sleep on). In grims opinion, he thinks you should go with Eden, cuz he is a good candidate for marriage (grim has been bribed with love, affection, and tuna).

He takes good care of the cat son, making sure he is healthy and happy.

Now onto pda. Eden are only okay with you touching the wings, the tattoo and the core, being as they are quite sensitive. The scar is still off limits, but maybe if you make him warm up to you even more you might be able to-

He loves when you help him with his wings, it's one of the best feelings out there. Fo mind that only you (and grim) can touch the wings, anyone else is off limits, ESPECIALLY ROOK HE IS FORBIDDEN TO TOUCH THEM.

Eden facts!! He has lil "ear-holes" like birds, just behind the feathers. Be careful around that part when you help him with his feathers, otherwise you might have a pouty and angry Eden on tour hands.

His eyes also glow in the dark! It's the scariest during the nightly snack runs down to the kitchen, seeing him suddenly stare at you, but you slowly get used to it!

You don't know where the extra eyes sometimes come from tho...

Also some general facts about Eden!

Dorm: Ramshackle

Birthday: 1/1

Age: ???

Height: 185cm

Fav subject: alchemy

Hobby: cleaning in ramshackle, birdwatching

Likes: you

Dislikes: Loud noises, blond 3rd year hunters named rook hunt, people trying to grab onto his wings that aren't you

Fav food: he don't need to eat to gain sustenance, bur he likes mashed potatoes with gravy

Least fav food: soup, any soup, he hates it

Btw if anyone were to write for Eden I would explode it would mean the world to me

[abbeym28]

Clarisse La Rue - I'm Your Man

Clarisse x gn! reader from any cabin but Hermes and Ares

An- This is my first PJO fanfic and it took me like a week to write this lol and I don't know if I really like it?? Pls tell me if you catch any mistakes or anything, you guys don't even want to know how many words I couldn't write. But there are about 3,000 words!!! Images aren't mine

Also, I think I will open request, so if anyone want me to write another PJO fanfic pls just send a request!!!!

Warnings!!- Kissing near the end, a weird amount of Chris and Luke, they are like your besties but they are also weird??? One swear, some fights and foreshadowing and stuff, I hope that's it

You hit the ground hard after you had tripped into the boundary that separated your new camp from the outside world. The stayr that had led you here ran past you and yelled a lot of words that somehow your ears couldn't pick up on.

The monster that had been chasing you previously roared and tried to reach out for you, but the force field (or whatever it was) protect you as you watched from the ground. Farther away, there seemed to be more shouts and loud noises.

“There you go, up up up up,” Two different hands gripped onto your biceps and loosened slightly when they had both pulled you up to your feet. They quickly tighten again though once you started to sway forwards.

“Woah, what happened to you?” You blinked and tried to turn to look at the person who had said that, but more shouting and loud thumps plus the strain on your neck caused the shocking feeling of probably the worst migraine of your life stopped you from doing anything.

“Let's take them to the infirmary. Some Apollo kid can take a look at them and then we can show them around once they feel better.”

At that point, the world was started to spin and you felt like you were being moved, but it was hard to tell. You were pretty sure that everything had turned black after a shout of victory filled the air.

You were starting to wish that you were still unconscious on the infirmary bed.

You were following to guys around, Chris and Luke, and they claimed that they were the ones that had help you get to the infirmary in the first place. They were bringing you around the camp, making sure to point out the bizarre and magical things. Like the pegasus.

“And over here, this is where we train. Luke is the best sword fighter in the camp.”

“Don't brag about me like that, it's weird.” Chris laughed and Luke punched him in the arm. They moved out of the taller grass to go towards the more compacted dirt area where other campers were shooting arrows and swinging swords.

You stood still in your spot, watching them. You missed your home and old normal life.

“Move it.” A shoulder bumped into your own, and you don’t know if it was pain or something more, but your whole arm felt as if it was touched by electricity. You jerked back, and the girl that had bumped into you raised an eyebrow. She was facing you now, and two other kids who you assumed were her siblings found a place behind her, as if they were some sort of shoulder pads.

“Well?” She tilted her head to the side, and you mirrored her.

“Is something wrong?” Your question made her two goons snort.

“You’re the newbie, right? Well, it was your monster that gave me this scar. I can hardly wield my spear now!” She pointed to her arm, which you only then realized was set in a cast. You must have been too busy paying attention to how beautiful her hair looked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't know you were the one fighting it. Thank you.” You nodded and turned away to go back over to Chris and Luke as Clarisse looked a bit confused and surprised.

Well, this might get interesting.

“How is she so pretty?” Your chin sat on the palm of your hand as you continued to stare at Clarisse as she twirled her spear and took the final blow against her opponent, being some kid from the Apollo cabin. Sweat glistened down the side of her face as the sun casted the perfect lighting to cast upon her smirk of victory. A towel was thrown onto your face, blinding you of the surrounding scenery.

“Gods, you kind of disgust me sometimes. No one looks good when they sweat like that.”  Chris shrugged as he whipped his face with a towel of his own.

You scoffed and got up off of the bench that you were sitting on. Training like this was never easy, especially at camp half blood, aka the camp of the Greek demigods. But, it did come with its separate perks.

“But Clarisse does. You shouldn't project on other people just because you aren’t fond of how you look after these battles.” Another towel was thrown at you as you giggled.

“She doesn't even like you that much, even after all of these years. Maybe you should give up trying to get closer to her. Did you see what she tried to do to Per-”

“Clarisse still isn’t really someone you want to interact with. Their are better people at this camp to get along with.” Luke interrupted Chris and handed the two of you cold bottles filled with what you assumed to be water. Chris started drinking it right away, while you sat it down on the bench along with your towel. Chris and Luke had shown you around the camp when you had just arrived, but even back a few years ago, there was just something you knew you needed to be wary of.

Even if Clarisse doesn’t like you the same way you like her, being around her has taught you some things about trusting others. And tips of how to weild a spear.

"As a head counselor, don't you think you should support relationships?” Luke rolled his eyes.

“Your not apart of my cabin, and neither is Clarrise, but I can still be worried about a friend, right?” You hummed and turned to head back up to the dining hall, or maybe your cabin. Anywhere more secluded would be nice at the least.

“Hey! You forgot all of your stuff!”

“A water bottle and towel aren’t stuff, Luke,  I’m good.”

The dining hall became less and less secluded the more the minutes passed. It wasn't really getting late, but teenage campers did find themselves to be very hungry after training and various other activities.

Closing your eyes, you leaned against the wooden pillar behind you and tried to let your mind calm a bit. You couldn't quite shake the bad feeling that seemed to loom over your shoulders.

Did you choose the right group to hang out with? The weight of friendship bracelets weighed down on your wrist. Time and time again, Chris and Luke, and also Clarisse, have proven themselves to be good and trustworthy people. So why did something always feel wrong? Why can’t you just trust them? And what do these feelings say about the future?

The bump of a shoulder against yours made you shake out of your thoughts and forced you to open your eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Clarisse stood in front of you, slight worry lines creased between her eyebrows. Suddenly the world didn’t seem so dark, and the evil didn’t seem too bad.

You grinned at her and she backed away, letting you take a place by her side. She was carrying some food on a lunch tray in her left hand while her right still clenched around her spear.

“You scared me there!” She hummed as she sat down at a table in the back that no one else was near or sitting at. You sat next to her.

“Don’t you want to go get food?” she focused her attention on placing her spear in a safe position, so she missed the smile that seemed to glow like the moon on your face. She was worrying about you! After a minute passed and with you not answering, she turned towards you with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” You snapped out of the seemingly lovestruck way you were to answer what she had asked.

“Oh, I’m not too hungry. You don't need to worry about me one bit!” She turned away and picked up her fork to eat the still warm meat and mashed potatoes.

“I wasn’t.” she grumbled. The rest of the lunch was silent, with Clarisse eating and you picking at the peeling paint that still somehow coated the wooden table. The minute she was done shoveling all of the food into her mouth she got up and grabbed her spear. You jumped up after her, following as she returned the tray and left the dining hall.

“What are we gonna do now?”

“Spar. But you don't have to join.” Clarisse’s words sounded firm, but despite the seeming protest against you, she did want to spar with you. You had made great progress since you had first gotten to camp, progress that had made the daughter of the god of war and many others as jealous as it did make them proud. In time, Clarisse found that it might just benefit her to keep you around. You treated her nicely, and you could challenge her abilities while not being upset when she lashes out. You weren’t someone who would just come into her life at any time, but you were more like an anchor that grounded her. Feelings she had never even dreamed of feeling seemed to grow stronger each minute she's next to you.

She was just really terrible at showing it.

The two of you spent the rest of the day up until nightfall fighting. You called it quits first, the want and ache for food and a nice shower were starting to over take the feeling of needing to be around Clarrise.

She walked back with you to the showers, and you had to resist the twitching in your hand that reached to hold Clarisse’s.

With your hair still dripping wet, you made the short walk of going to the dining hall for a snack and then to your cabin. It was the laughter that rang out in the night air and the shadow of Clarisse’s silhouette that made you pause.

“So you don’t really like them, right? Why let them stay close to you like you do?” More questions seemed to arise, all from people you could recognize to be from the Ares cabin.

“We understand that they are useful to you. When it comes to them, it doesn't seem hard to please them either. The way they follow you around just kind of reminds me of a dog, ya’ know?”

Laughter seemed to get louder as the world around seemed to stop and spin faster at the same time. There were calls of your name, or maybe not, who knew? There seemed to be more sounds that sounded like fighting, sounds that remind you of when you had first crash landed at camp.

But all you really seemed to know was the maybe Luke and Chris were right, and that maybe the ground was getting closer, and maybe there were footsteps coming towards you, and maybe-

- You passed out. Chris was pacing back and forth in front of the bed you were laying in. You groaned and moved to sit up.

“Chris, what are yo-”

“OH MY GODS, YOU’RE AWAKE!!!??? ‘Kay, how many fingers am I holding up??” A hand was pushed right in your face but you groaned and paused his hand away and messaged your temple.

"What time is it?”

“It’s noon. You were out for, like, a solid day.” The refermery door opened quickly, making it slam a bit into the wood wall. You winced.

There was no way that your headache was going to go away any time soon.

Both Clarisse and Luke walked in, and there seemed to be some sort of angry tension between them. But they both seemed to loosen up a bit once they both saw you sitting up and watching them. Luke said your name in relief, but then Clarisse pushed past him in urgency.

“Come on, let's go somewhere else,” she grabbed your hand and tried to pull you up, but you did your best to put all of your weight in staying down.

“Clarisse, they just woke up. They need more rest, or at least some food-”

“That doesn’t matter right now, I need to talk to them about something, Luke.'' They were shooting daggers at each other through their eyes. Clarisse sighed and said your name. “Come on, we need to go-”

“Clarisse, I’m staying here.” You could feel the look of shock that she was giving you, but you focused on staring at the white bed sheets that you were fiddling with.

“Your cabin mates were right, and I think I don’t want to be your dog anymore. You don’t have to pretend anything anymore just to make sure you can keep me around, because I don't know if I want to be around you anymore.” The silence that followed your words was deafening. You peeked up through your eyelashes, and it seemed as if Clarisse was literally fuming.

“My cabin mates have no idea about anything they said. You are not a dog, and you have always been-”

“Clarisse, that's enough. They don't want to be near you anymore, so you should leave.” Clarisse glared at Luke, then looked back at you, staring for a long moment. She let out an angered huff.

“Fine, but you better watch your back from now on, Castellan.” And with that, she spun around and stomped out the door, slamming it hard enough that the whole cabin shook and a little vase full of flowers that was sitting on a windowsill fell and shattered into hundreds of pieces. In a strange way, it felt as if your heart could relate to it.

For the next week and a half, Clarisse was the one following you around.

Well, for the most part.

You would catch her staring from a distance while you practice archery with Luke, or when you did swimming lessons with the younger kids and Chris. You knew that she tried to get closer a few times, but with how close Chris and Luke stuck by your side, you could see that this whole situation was frustrating her to no end.

“You guys know you don't have to follow me around like that, right?” you set your lunch tray down on the table and Luke set his food down next to you and Chris sat across from you.

“We have to make sure our favorite camper is safe, right?” Luke patted you on the back as he took a bit of his food and you rolled your eyes.

That night, you snuck away from your cabin and down to the lake. Being out anywhere in camp after dark makes you feel paranoid, but almost nothing could compare to the serene scenery. You sat down on the edge of the lake, where the sand wasn’t that wet and the water's small waves could just barely touch your toes.

You brought your knees up to your chest and sighed and buried your head in them. Why didn’t anything feel right? Was taking a step back from Clarisse really the right answer?

A twig snapped from somewhere behind you and you sprung up and squinted towards the forest. Gods, please let it not be a harpy. But it wasn’t. It was Clarisse.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned her immediately as she walked closer towards you.

“Following you. What are you doing here?”

You stayed quiet and sunk back onto the sand. Clarisse silently sat down next to you, farther away than what you really wanted, but close enough so you could feel the heat of her, the heat that all of Ares’s kids seemed to have.

“I'm here to think. Clarisse, have I- have I been stupid?” The question came out more desperate than how you first wanted it to.

“Yes.” You laughed a bit at how quick her response came. But even with that, tears felt like they were coming into your eyes, and you angled your head to look at her. She was once again already looking at you, her gorgeous brown eyes slightly lidded and a small smile graced her lips.

“I care about you, Clarisse. Like, a lot.” You blurted the words out, and you almost regretted them. Almost, but then Clarisse scotched just a little bit closer to you.

Clarisse whispered your name and brought her hand up to your cheek. Your ears felt hot, and so did the spot that the girl in front of you was softly caressing.

“Why did you push me away like that?”

“Because… you don’t feel the way that I feel for you, and I've known that for years, Clarisse. And, your cabin mates, like, hate me. I just… didn't want to put myself through anything I wasn't prepared for, I guess.” The waves lapping away at the shore was the white noise that saved you from quite literally going crazy.

Clarisse just stared at you.

“Look, I don’t really have… the best relationships with other people, but I know that I care about you too. Also, I beat up siblings for saying all of that shit, so please stop using it as an excuse. ” Clarisse pulled you a little bit closer, as if she was asking a question. You answered it by letting her pull you towards her, and it was you who leaned in first.

The kiss was like a spark, with your lips on hers and with her hands moving to sit on your hips, gripping at them in a way that grounded the both of you just a bit. Your hands went to tangle in her curls, pulling on them gently as the kiss dragged on. You pulled away first, taking deep breaths and looking at Clarisse with wide eyes.

“I’ve been waiting to do that,” She went back in for another kiss, but you put your hands on her chest to make sure she stayed a bit away.

“Clarisse!” you whisper shouted as she blinked at you.

“What?”

“Should we really be, you know-”

She lightly grabbed the fabric of your shirt and pulled you back into her. Your second kiss was just as passionate as the first one, but the second one seemed to tell you so much more.

“I’m in love with you. I want to be yours, and I wish that you could be mine.”

You were taken aback by her words, but they made you weak in your knees and you could swear you were melting.

“I’m in love with you too. Iv'e been yours “

And then with the moonlight illuminating you both, you kissed Clarisse for the third that evening, which was most definitely not going to be the last one before the harpies could find you.

[mearchy]

The clones with drugs and alcohol - HCs

In no particular order. Obviously TW for mature themes.

REX:

Thinks of himself as a very responsible drinker, only occasionally indulges and usually when talked into it by his brothers.

Won't touch spice or any other drugs.

Able to be coaxed into shenanigans SO easily when drunk

Therefore his brothers have IMMENSE motivation to get him drunk when they want to pull Nonsense

Can also be a very sad drunk, I think. Please give him hugs.

Can hold his liquor... fine. His tolerance isn't great because he doesn't drink often but he's got engineered supersoldier metabolism so he holds up alright, to his relief.

CODY:

Who do you think Rex got his responsible drinking and drug habits from?

Except Cody is the kind of mf who learned through EXPERIENCE.

His batchmates have stories about teenage drunk Cody that they are sworn to secrecy about on pain of death.

Drunk Cody is TWICE as ready to throw down and is five times LESS inhibited about bodily tackling someone with no regard for his own safety.

Cody can probably hold his liquor but wouldn't it be so funny if he couldn't. Marshall Commander two-sheets-to-the-wind-from-four-glasses-of-wine.

WOLFFE:

He's the guy who will make direct, unwavering eye contact (ha. just the one.) with you across the table as you're both taking a sip from your drinks and suddenly you're in a competition for who can keep chugging their drink until the whole thing is empty and he's so scary how is he DOING that-

Wolffe has a naturally competitive and snippy personality but I do actually think he softens more around the edges with a few drinks in his system.

Not in a sloppy way just smiling a little more and being more affectionate.

Doesn't like or trust any substances that aren't well known to him, won't touch anything other than alcohol.

FIVES:

Sloppy, loud, kind of peevish drunk. All the shit that's always simmering under his skin has an excuse to come out.

“Listen, man. We need to start a revolution. Why hasn't someone bombed the Senat- oh, they have? Shit, can I be in on that?”

Will drop space acid or smoke space weed but only if Echo does. And Echo is smart enough to know that the paranoia Fives gets when he smokes weed is not worth it.

Type of guy to run across some random person in the desert and take psychedelics with them and go on an intense spiritual journey where he communes with dead gods. And then he shows back up at camp a couple hours later having achieved six new levels of enlightenment looking none the worse for wear. Only ever tells three people about this.

ECHO:

Echo is the kind of guy to have an Excel spreadsheet of dosages so he can bake the world's most precisely engineered edibles.

It doesn't work anyway because Fives keeps sticking his fingers in the batter and now the damn ratio is slightly off, why would you do that-

Also cannot keep a secret for the absolute life of him so he cannot pretend to be sober and he must be kept contained while drinking/stoned illicitly.

Maybe a very loving drunk. Or very sad. I'm not sure.

HARDCASE:

You already know he's in the club taking shots dancing on tabletops with his shirt off.

Life of the party, BUT he also doesn't mind being the designated driver. Flyer? Designated sober friend.

Type of guy to cheerily carry his drunk, passed out besties home and dump them into bed.

He's actually an explosives expert not just an enthusiast and he’s kind of a genius and everyone forgets that until he gets drunk and starts writing the equations to create insane explosive devices on his napkin while enthusiastically explaining it to his friends.

Very high alcohol tolerance.

GREGOR:

This man dresses like he's from Bangor Maine. I just know he was on that void planet smoking wild amounts of weed, and wearing Birkenstocks and a Patagonia puffer vest over a flannel shirt while doing it.

Thinks alcohol is a crutch.

FOX:

World's most miserable drunk.

But also can act really embarrassingly flamboyant so he stays away from alcohol at all costs.

Heh... I should kill my boss heh... wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if ... haha if I just walked into his office with a grenade right now and pulled the pin... fine, fiiine, yes, stop yelling at me. I would neeever leave Thorn with that much paperwork.

Zero tolerance, complete lightweight, doesn't matter how often he drinks. Can't hold his liquor for shit.

DOOM:

He either does mind-boggling amounts of coke or he's completely 100% straight edge and always has been. Don't ask me how I know this.

BLY:

He's so normal about alcohol I bet.

But he is giggling and kicking his feet and twirling his hair while talking to his brothers about Aayla and about the adventures of his men.

Absolutely incorrigible gossip.

Not braver after a few drinks just more prone to melting into a puddle.

Tried space MDMA once (spice?) just to say he did and hated it.

Uhhh if I do a part two it will include the bad batch and some other clones I missed.

[roosterforme]

At Least Twice a Day (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: language, mentions of smut, mention of injury

You loved having Goose and Carole stay with you and Bradley. His mom always taught you a new recipe, and you could tell how happy it made Bradley to spend time with them. Especially Goose. 

The guys were out walking Tramp after dinner, and you were helping Carole make a cake in your kitchen as you kept pausing to look at your engagement ring which used to be hers. 

"He'll take good care of you," Carole mused out loud as she cracked some eggs. "Not that you can't take care of yourself, of course. But he'll give you anything you need or want. That's just the way he loves you."

Her words made you feel gooey. "That's the way I love him, too."

Your future mother-in-law's beaming smile left you wishing Bradley would return from his walk so you could touch him. You just always wanted to be touching him. "Chocolate frosting?" Carole asked, interrupting your thoughts. 

"Yes. As long as Goose likes that."

She laughed and tossed her head back. "Goose has never meet a food he won't eat."

"Sounds exactly like Bradley."

Once the pretty cake was cooling and the frosting was ready to go on it, the front door opened, and Tramp bounded in ahead of the guys. "It smells good in here," Bradley murmured as he made a beeline to give you a hug. He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled your cheek against him. "Well this is a warm welcome."

"I missed you a little bit," you whispered. You made sure Carole and Goose looked distracted as you said, "You told me you'd make some more time for me all week. I want it real bad." You sent him a little pout just to reinforce things. It was hard to be as intimate as you liked when his parents were visiting.

His response sounded a little stern. "I know. I've been tired. And a little preoccupied. Don't act like you aren't getting it, Baby Girl." You pressed your lips together, because he'd actually taken the time to go down on you this morning before he got dressed. For almost thirty minutes. And it had been really good. "Now what smells so delicious?"

You patted his belly; he was still trying to get in shape again after his horrific accident during his last deployment a few months ago. "I don't think you should eat too much cake, okay. You told me to make sure you were making healthy food choices."

Bradley sighed and said, "If you make it, I'm going to want to eat it." He sounded a little snippy, and you knew it was because he loved his mom's recipes, but you'd stand firm.

"Just one small piece. I'm going to ice the cake, and we can all eat it tomorrow before your parents fly home to Virginia."

"Fine."

------------------------------

Bradley knew you were probably a tiny bit annoyed with him when you excused yourself early to take a shower and get ready for bed. But the cake looked so good, and he wanted to eat it even though he did tell you not to let him have too many sweets. His parents were on the couch watching a movie together when he changed into his gym clothes as he heard you get into the shower. Since he had his weight bench in the garage now, he should be using it every day. 

When he walked into the living room on his way to the kitchen to make a protein shake, he felt two pairs of eyes on him. "What?" he asked, turning toward the couch. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Well..." Carole began, already cluing Bradley in to the fact that this would be an irritating conversation. "We couldn't help but notice that you got a little bit snippy with your fiancée earlier."

"Oh here we go," he muttered in response, running his hand through his hair. "How much did you hear?"

They shared a look before Carole asked, "Are you sure you're pleasing her in the bedroom?"

He froze in place and barked out an annoyed laugh. "We are not having this conversation. Absolutely not."

His dad put a hand on his mom's shoulder, but that didn't stop her. "Oh, yes, we are. We have always been very open about sex, Bradley. It's nothing to be ashamed of!"

Bradley looked at her bright blue eyes before glancing at his dad. It wasn't that he was embarrassed to talk about sex with his parents even though he was well into his thirties, it was more that he wasn't sure how to defend himself right now. "This conversation is not necessary. She was being dramatic."

Carole scoffed in response. "It's not dramatic when you're letting your partner know you need something, Bradley. She's going to be your wife!"

"Yeah," Bradley barked. "And she's already getting it at least twice a day most days!"

Goose choked on his sip of tea. 

"Oh," Carole said softly, but she looked a lot calmer now as Bradley shook his head. "Well, that's good."

"Mmhmm," he hummed sarcastically with his hands planted on his hips. "I am fucking my fiancée regularly. She's plenty satisfied. She just likes being a brat. But thank you for your concern." He turned toward the kitchen, nearly forgetting what he was planning on doing in the first place. "Jesus," he grumbled as he grabbed his protein powder. "The fucking audacity."

------------------------

When you woke up the next morning, Bradley was still sound asleep, so you made your way to the kitchen to start breakfast for the four of you. The coffee was brewing, and you were collecting ingredients for some pancake batter when you froze. Half of the cake was gone. "What the fuck?" you gasped, and that's when you saw Bradley walk in. "You ate the cake."

He frowned at you. "No, I didn't."

"You did!" you accused. "It's half eaten! You ate it out of spite!"

Bradley raised one eyebrow and asked, "Are you serious right now?"

You spun when you heard Goose clear his throat, and you turned to see that Carole couldn't even look you in the eye for some reason. "Good morning," she said as she reached for a mug. "Goose has something he needs to tell you."

"I ate the cake," he said. "It was delicious. I had one piece, and then I couldn't stop eating it. And then the next thing I knew, half of it was gone."

"Oh," you replied softly. "Well, that's okay. Why don't we just finish the cake for breakfast?"

"That sounds lovely," Carole replied, barely meeting your eyes. 

You took a deep breath and turned toward Bradley. "I'm sorry, Roo. You can have a much cake as you want, I shouldn't have told you not to eat it."

He leaned in closer and whispered, "I'll have a little slice, Sweetheart. And I'm sorry I haven't been as attentive this week as I usually am. If you want me to fuck you nearly constantly, you know I will."

"Shhh," you hissed. "Your mom is already barely looking at me right now!"

Bradley laughed as his parents took the cake and coffee into the dining room. "That's because I told her you're a needy little thing who wants me balls deep inside her all the time."

"You did what?!"

[wondersinwaynemanor]

you think the Wayne kids would try to get Bruce's attention all at once? one look among each other, they already know the plan and they want to be competitive about it.

like for an instance:

Bruce, in his study at the Manor, answering work emails when he hears the heavy footsteps of his children and loud voices from outside the door. he holds a breath, readying himself.

Damian, his sketchpad on his hand, opens the door: Father, no matter what they say, stay completely still. I'll work on a portrait of you.

Bruce, blinks, before offering a smile: Of course, son. Let me finish this email then I will-

before Damian can close the door, Jason barges in with a few car keys on his hands, almost hitting Damian in the process.

Damian, growls: Careless Imbecile.

Jason, grins and ruffles Damian's hair: Well, it's nice to know you love me, Dami.

Damian attempts to push Jason away from the table, but to no avail. Damian tts.

Jason, approaches the table with ease, lifting the sets of car keys: Hey, old man. I was thinking of going out tonight. What car should I take?

Damian: Don't let him, Father. He's a careless, clumsy, fowl excuse of a human being.

Jason tries to pinch Damian's cheeks before the younger boy moves away.

Bruce, blinks, before studying the keys: Anything, Jaylad. You're free to drive-

then Steph enters with a bag of chips on both of her hands, 3D glasses covering her eyes.

Steph, grins widely: Heya, B! Me and Cass are planning to watch Jurassic Park in the family room. Want to join us?

Cass also enters the room, 3D glasses perched on her nose, a gentle smile on her face.

Jason: So the others aren't invited, huh?

Bruce, blinks and smiles at the two girls: Surely after dinner, okay? Let's make it a family movie night. But first, I have to finish-

Damian, approaches Bruce's side: But Father, you already agreed that I will make a portrait of you.

Damian then looks at Steph and Cass: Traitors!

Steph, just grins even more: It might be too scary for you, Dami.

Damian, whines: I've seen it a couple of times!

Dick, enters the room next, smug smile on his face: You all better be talking about my charming personality.

Jason, rolls his eyes: Actually the exact opposite. We're talking about how annoying you are, Dickface.

Dick wraps an arm on Jason's shoulder, trapping him for a side hug: Awww Little Wing, you flatter me.

Jason pushes him away.

Steph and Cass giggle at the side of the room.

Dick, walks over to where Damian is, bringing him close to him as he faces Bruce: B, I need your help with a plan for the Titans' mission. I'm kind of doubtful about it.

Bruce, blinks and nods at his eldest: Sure, chum. I'll be down at the cave-

Cass, goes near Bruce this time, holding him by the arm: No, you said we watch.

Bruce, touches Cass' hand: Yes, sweetheart. Don't worry, all of us will watch, okay?

Damian, groans: That film can wait tomorrow night.

Steph: It has to be tonight.

Jason: I have plans with Roy tomorrow night.

Dick: I think I'll be off world tomorrow.

Duke, enters the room, a bright smile on his face: Hey, everyone. Hi Bruce, want to check out these new puzzle boards I got? Seems like you need a break.

everyone replies with something.

Bruce, pinches the bridge of his nose: Will everyone please not talk at once? Better yet, will everyone give me some peace first? I need to plan the rest of my day so I can be with each of you.

Tim is the last to enter the room, wearing a suit: B, I need you to come with me to Luthor's meeting. He's planning something and I need you to help me figure it out.

the rest of the Wayne kids erupt with different conversations.

Damian: I was here first. The rest of you can just go on with your lives without Father.

Jason: B, just tell me which car I should drive and I'll be off your shoulders.

Steph: You're not going anywhere after dinner, Bruce. We're watching the movie with and without the rest.

Cass: You already agreed.

Dick: So we're just going to ignore that I need help? This is an important mission. The world can be at stake here.

Duke: Well, I'm at stake here. Plus, Bruce needs to rest.

Tim: So we're just going to let Luthor do whatever he's about to do. We're better than this.

Bruce, stands up from his chair: Okay, okay. Everyone, just give me a few minutes and I'll let you know what happens next. Please, just... Please.

everyone grumbles under their breaths and leave the room.

Dick, speaks by the time they are away from the study: Is the bet still on?

Steph: I think I'm winning cus Cass is B's favorite and I agreed with her on the movie.

Jason: It's probably baby bat.

Tim: My money's on Duke.

[archangeldyke-all]

OMGOMG i love baby mommy sevika, but i keep thinking…. what would sevika be like with a kid who isn’t technically hers? like, reader had a child with someone else before even meeting sevika, and she always thought she hated kids and that it was a total dealbreaker for her, until she meets YOUR kid.

i can imagine the awkward first time meeting, tea parties in the living room while you’re making dinner, guarding that kid like her life depends on it when you all go out somewhere, letting them crawl into bed between the both of you when they have a nightmare :(( baby fever is a crazy thing fr.

AWEEEEE

men and minors dni

sevika's obsessed with you. it's pretty obvious.

she's always got her eyes glued to you from where you work behind the bar.

when you talk to her, she's always got a sweet little smile pulling up at the side of her lips as she listens, a sparkle in her eye each time she makes you laugh.

so, you aren't surprised when she asks you out.

you're just... a little hesitant.

"i'm sorry, forget i said anything, this was so stupid of me..." she sulks, turning away and rubbing the back of her neck. you squeak and reach over the bar, grabbing her wrist.

"i'd love to!" you say. she blinks in surprise. "it's just... i have a kid." you say. sevika blinks again.

"what?!" she asks. you laugh and nod.

"...yeah." you say. "i know you aren't really the 'kids' type, so... it's okay if you don't want to go out anymore." you say. sevika blinks again as she takes in the new information.

"since when?" she asks. you laugh.

"she's three and a half now." you say.

"what the fuck? why'd you never tell me?" she asks. you shrug.

"you're always talking about how you hate kids, i figured you wouldn't really be interested in hearing about mine."

"those are other kids, this one's yours! of course i wanna hear about her!" sevika shouts. you grin, then pull her across the bar to kiss her on the lips..

when you pull away, she's blushing.

for your first few dates, it's just you and sevika. you don't want to introduce your kid to anybody until you're certain they'll be around for a long time. she understands. and she absolutely loves spending some one-on-one time with you.

but, the more pictures of your kid you show her, the more stories you tell her about the little girl, the more sevika gets excited to meet her.

and then, about five or six dates in, sevika tells you she's in love with you. and your babysitter has a family emergency, and calls you half way through the date (while you're riding sevika, the both of you moaning 'i love you's against each other's lips) to tell you she's coming back to your apartment with your daughter in tow, and she'll be there in ten minutes.

you don't really get to prepare for any of it-- all you have time to do is pull your pants up and hide sevika's strap before your daughter is bursting through the door with a loud "ma! i'm home!"

at first, sevika's nervous as shit.

but you watch all her hesitation melt when your daughter lights up at the sight of a new friend in her home and starts lobbing her with question after question.

"what's your name!?"

"sevika."

"how old are you?"

"thirty eight."

"woah! that's so much older than me. i'm four!" she exclaims, waggling four fingers in sev's face. sevika chuckles.

"i thought you were still three."

your daughter groans. "i'm three and nine tenths, that's basically four!"

"you're right, i'm sorry." sevika says.

"what's your favorite color?"

"purple?" sevika guesses.

"me too!" your daughter gasps, clambering into sevika's lap. you cringe as you watch it happen, knowing how clammed up sevika gets when it comes to physical affection, especially from kids, but you're shocked when you watch sevika simply wrap an arm around her waist and help her adjust in her lap.

"what's your favorite animal?" sevika asks. your daughter grins.

"rhino!" she says. "it's like a unicorn and a dinosaur had a baby." she says.

"that's a good point." sevika says, smiling sweetly down at your daughter.

all your fears of the two of them meeting evaporate.

from that point on, the two of them are besties.

every time sevika comes over, she immediately searches for your daughter. when you've got her at the sitters, sevika pouts, complaining until you shut her up with kisses.

"i thought you hated kids." you complain one night as you watch sevika play dollhouse with your daughter. (she was supposed to be eating dinner with you on the couch while the two of you watched a movie.)

"yeah, 'cause most kids suck. you've got a real good one here, babe." sevika says, ruffling your daughter's hair, making her giggle.

sometimes, sev will come over to keep your rugrat occupied while you clean or cook or catch up on household chores. she's fucking amazing with her.

you've caught her with various clips in her hair and glitter on her eyes and lips as your daughter plays 'beauty salon' on her. sevika just grins and shrugs, then holds up her nails, all messily painted rainbow, for you to examine. "like my new look?" she asks. you snort.

"you might need some touch-ups, but you're really rocking those bobbles babe." you say, pointing to the little bobbles decorating the tiny ponytails in her hair.

sometimes, you'll catch them playing 'dinosaur', which is just sevika crawling around as your daughter straddles her back, cackling when sevika sits up on her knees and roars.

sevika quickly becomes your daughter's favorite person. when she doesn't come over, your girl pouts, asking you 'where your lady friend' is tonight.

and when she finally moves in with you, sevika becomes the designated 'storybook reader' at bedtime. apparently, she 'does the voices way better than you, ma.'

your daughter calls her 'babe'-- since it's what you're always calling her.

sevika's such a sucker for your girl, always sneaking her candies and eating her veggies off her plate for her, shooting her a wink each time.

and when you're out in public, sevika's always got your girl on her back, giving her a piggyback, and shooting nasty looks at anyone who does a double take at the sight of sevika toting around a squirming, laughing little girl.

one night, the two of you are curled in bed and sevika sighs.

"i never thought i'd love a kid like this." she says. you smile.

"you love her?" you ask. sevika nods.

"so much. it's insane. like... i'd die for the little shit in a heartbeat, y'know?" she asks. you grin and nod, pressing a kiss to her head.

"'s called being a mom." you say. sevika blushes, and you kiss her again.

over time, your girl starts calling sevika 'step-ma sev' or 'silly sevy' or, most commonly, 'stinky sev.'

sevika never complains about her, either. not once. not when she's on a sugar high and screaming while she runs laps around the house, not when she paints on the walls of your and sev's bedroom, not even when she interrupts you and sevika mid-sex to crawl in bed beside you, scared of the monster shaped shadows in her bedroom.

before she proposes to you, she asks your daughter for permission to join your little family. your little girl gives it gladly, but, her being five and all, accidentally ruins the surprise for you.

"'s sev' gonna propose to you when i'm there or is it just a special ma n' sevy thing?" she asks one morning as you're whipping up breakfast.

sevika freezes where she's pouring a glass of orange juice, and you burst into laughter.

"i dunno, baby, do you think you should be there?" you ask your kid. she nods.

"duh! i wanna see the fancy ring!" she says. you giggle.

"you wanna see a fancy ring huh?" you ask, ignoring sevika's stuttering beside you. "come with me." you say, waving your daughter to your bedroom.

when you return, sevika's still frozen in place, and your daughter is giddy with excitement, her hands behind her back.

"stinky sev!" she exclaims. sevika blinks down at her.

"y-yeah?" she asks, nervously.

your daughter thrusts the tiny velvet box in front of her, flipping open the lid, revealing the ring you'd picked out for sevika a few months ago.

"look what my ma got you!" she exclaims.

sevika blinks up at you with tears in her eyes and you shrug, gently taking the ring from your daughter's grip and sevika's hand in yours.

"you wanna be mine forever?" you ask. sevika blinks, tears quickly falling down her cheeks.

"you fucker, i wanted to do it first!" she complains.

"that's a dollar in the curse jar!" your kid exclaims. you both laugh.

"i should warn you before you say yes, though, i'm kinda a package deal with this brat." you say, ruffling your daughter's hair. she giggles.

"hey! i'm not a brat!" she exclaims. and then, when sevika laughs and swoops in to kiss you, "ewwwww!" she cries as she runs away.

sevika chuckles against your lips and you pull away with a smile.

"is that a yes?" you whisper. she nods, her voice too shaky for words.

from the living room your daughter calls for you. "did she say yes ma?"

"she said yes, babe." you call back.

"fuck yes!" she screams.

you and sevika both turn your heads to glare at her for the word.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[lowkeyremi]

𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

pairing: k. bakugo x fem!reader summary: Your man's birthday is coming up! Time to set up the venue for the birthday boy! Uh oh... gotta keep it on the low, I think he might be on to you. content: fluff, established relationship, bakugo is nosy, little bit of swearing, mention of other characters (his friend group) (you can find the rest of the series here!) wc: 1k

"Shhhh!! Hurry up and bring the rest of the stuff out to the car." Kirishima and Kaminari can't seem to keep quiet while loading the rest of the supplies into the car for Katsuki's party. The two keep giggling and messing around.

"Sorry [name]! We'll be quieter!!" You highly doubt that because they said that the last two trips and if anything they've gotten louder. "Come on guys, we don't wanna give it away. You know how hard it is to actually surprise Katsuki." The boys know how much you've wanted to do this, so they quiet down and quickly take the rest of the party supplies to your car.

At this point it's almost like a challenge; to see if you can surprise him. His last two birthday parties you've tried to plan out were a major fail because Todoroki didn't understand the element of surprise and said, "Oh yeah, we're just getting everything ready for your party." and the other year he had threatened Mineta into telling him what you were plotting.

So, this year in order to keep it an actual secret, you had told very few people (kirishima, mina, sero, denki, and midoriya.) and sent Katsuki off to his parents to "enjoy his birthday with his family." His birthday isn't until a few more days but his parents were able to tire him out enough to keep him from asking questions or bothering you guys. he's currently in his room napping at 7pm.

"Alright, Sero, Can you read through the checklist once more to make sure we have everything?" Sero's quiet helpful, he'll be hanging up a lot of the decorations and what not. You had momo make a bunch of cool decorations yesterday while Katsuki was out with his parents and then sato baked a cake, that resides in the teacher's lounge thanks to Aizawa Sensei. You had also gotten the decorations that you and Mitsuki went out and bought a little while ago. She is such a big help and a huge part of why this whole plan is working.

Sero reads though the checklist and you give him a small "yeah" each time you see an item on the list.

"Okay I think that's everything let's go!"

In all honesty, Gym Gamma isn't that far away from the dorms, but carrying all of that stuff would have been a huge pain, which is why you're taking your car, with special permission from Aizawa of course.

When the six of your arrived at the gym you took charge of making sure the door was open for everyone to load everything in, and locking it behind you when everyone was inside.

Your teachers had already come up with some kind of white lie saying they were using the gym for some kind of new practice when in reality you're just setting up Katsuki's party.

So far everything's going according to plan, since Kirishima is probably the strongest one there he helps with setting up tables and moving them. While Denki sets up all the music equipment. (he, jiro, tokoyami and momo are going to play music)

Mina, being a natural leader is telling people where to put things, how high to hang up decorations and what not. She's really damn good at it too.

While you're in the trance your phone buzzes in your pocket and you hear the familiar ring tone of fireworks. When you and Katsuki started dating you set his ringtone to fireworks just to piss him off, and at first it did, but now he's just used to it.

"Hello?" In response you here a loud shuffling noise and a small grunt.

"Where the fuck are ya? Your location's off." If it were anyone else on the phone with him they probably would have thought Katsuki was being rude, but this is just how he is.

"Are you sure? I'm like 100% sure it's on." It's not. You know it's not. You aren't completely sure if he knows the gym is "off limits" because he crashed as soon as he got back. There's no way you're gonna risk it though because if he does know about the gym not being available he'll get suspicious of you being there.

"I'll check again, but I'm pretty sure it's off." His voice is groggy with sleep and he goes quiet while checking to see if you're location is on. While he's doing that you quickly mute your phone and yell out, "WHO'S NOT DOING ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?"

Midoriya is the first to respond, he runs right over to you ready to help.

"Listen, Izuku. I'm about to tell 'tsuki that i'm headed to my favorite book store on campus. I need you to take my phone and just kinda hang out there and if something goes wrong, like he tries to call just call one of the others so you can let me know, okay?" The green haired boy shakes his head furiously fast.

"I CAN DO IT!!" Even though you're slightly exhausted, Midoriya's energetic attitude does hype you up a bit.

You quickly unmute your phone, "Hey baby, I'm going down to the book store for a little while. I need to get this one book."

His bed creaks, indicating that he's just finally sat up in bed, "Alright, I'll meet ya there."

"I just need some time alone, please don't come by." You try your best to sound like you need space, because you know your boyfriend respects you and your space.

"Oh.. alright. If you want me to come get ya I will." Guilt slowly trickles through your stomach when you hear his voice drop into disappointment but you know it will all be worth it in the end.

"Love you Kats, I'll see you in a bit." The blond hums quietly in contentment.

"I love you too, be safe." With that he hangs up the phone.

Izuku quickly leaves with your phone to the book store and you + the others get back to work on decorating and making sure everything is organized.

"Okay guys! I think if we keep working at this pace we'll be done in thirty minutes or so." Everyone whoops in excitement.

It turns out you aren't the only one who wants to surprise Katsuki Bakugo.

day 1: you make a birthday gift for katsuki - @zanarkandskylines

day 2: you invite all of class 1-A to the party - @xbabyd0lli3x

day 3: shopping for decorations- @angels-fantasy

day 4: You make a present plan 2.0! - @starieq

💖 day 5: Decorating the venue for his birthday party ! @lowkeyremi

day 6: Baking the cake for his party - @queenpiranhadon

day 7: you and your classmates surprise him ! - @cashmoneyyysstuff

tag list: @gina239 @mystic60 @meowze4r @icedemon1314 @bigsimpo343 @ah-mya @whezdostuff @berry-vioo @seonne @slayfics @food8me @katsuisbaby @azzo0 @kit-katsukii @stoned-anime-babe @kukikoooo

orange = can't be tagged

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[yanderepuck]

I'M BACK BABY

The amount of time I restarted this fic is insane. It was going to be Isaac, realized Faust fit better, but Isaac deserves smut but he'd be so ooc. So here we are with Faust, it's still a little ooc but you can deal.

Anyway. It's a modern au. I don't wanna give away the plot twist but the ending is funny. Trust me

You lay in bed, swiping on your phone. Swiping left on guy after guy after guy. Why is there no one cute in your area? Where did they all go for summer break?

You finally get to a guy that makes you stop. You look through his pictures. Wow he's hot. A little older than you but you're looking for a hook up, so what does that matter. You barely think twice about swiping right. You don't match immediately and so you swipe through some more guys before eventually falling asleep.

The next morning when you wake up, you start going through your notifications. Most of them are unimportant and clear them. You see that you have a match and a message.

You open it to see that it's the guy you liked last night. Johann. He sent you a message, you're sure it's some cheesy pick up line and you aren't wrong.

'That outfit of yours is cute, but it would be much better on my floor.'

You can't help but chuckle a little. It might be early but you're okay with starting the day with some flirting.

'You'd look much better on me instead.'

You continue to go through your phone, seeing what you missed before you get out of bed and start going about your day.

It was a few hours later before you got a reply. You honestly weren't expecting anything in return. Most guys want something that night and by morning are over it and unmatched.

But instead you got a message.

'I know something else of mine that would look good on you~'

You think for a moment before figuring out what to send back.

'Your lips can go where they want. But I think your hands would make a pretty necklace'

Then the messages come faster and by late afternoon you are doing nothing but flirting with each other.

'Why don't you come over tonight so we can actually have some fun~'

You pause. Do you really want to go straight to his house? You know nothing about him. You can't even say you've talked to him for a day, you've just been flirting. Would that be safe?

That's what you would be thinking if the two of you didn't start exchanging nudes an hour ago. Seeing his erect cock got you feeling a type of way. A good type of way.

Damn you're so needy. You've been lonely for just a little too long to think of any consequences and agree to his offer. You couldn't have him come to your place. It's small.. and a disaster. You clearly look like a broke college student.

You look up the address he sent you to see what the area looked like. It seemed nice. It was a nice house, and pretty close to you.

'I'll be over soon~'

You change your clothes into something nicer looking and head over.

It didn't take long for you to be knocking on his front door. You are standing on the porch a little nervous. Hook ups are nothing new to you, but you really hope he's as hot as he is in his photos.

The door opens and a tall man opens the door. That's him alright. Wow he's hotter in real life.

"...damn you're hot."

"I could say the same thing about you," he pulls you inside, closing the door behind you. You can't believe you said that out loud.

"Did you find the place alright?" he already has an arm around you.

"Yeah," you slip your shoes off, immediately shrinking a few inches. You look back up at him. Damn. How is he hotter now that your shorter?

With your head up he kisses you. You came for a reason, and it wasn't to necessarily get to know each other. Maybe each other's bodies, but if you don't learn a thing about the other by the end of the night that's fine.

You kiss him back, which only causes him to kiss you harder. You moan and turn your body to face him. As your hands went up his shirt to feel him, his hands went behind you to grab your ass.

Encouraging him, you press your body against him. In a swift motion he picks you up, keeping a firm grip on your ass. Your arms move to hold onto him by his shoulders while your legs wrap around his waist.

As he carries you to his bedroom, you take the opportunity to try to get some moans out of him by kissing his neck.

Just as he started to moan for you he drops you on his bed, immediately taking his shirt off.

"Is there anything I shouldn't do to you?" He tossed his shirt to the side

You almost don't hear him. How did you luck out with a guy so hot. Since you don't answer he leans down, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him.

"If you don't answer I'll just use you how I like."

You feel your cheeks flush. Oh god. That's a dream. But maybe you shouldn't agree to that since you have just met him.

"Make me your personal fuck toy."

Definitely not what you should have said.

He smirks and lets you go. "That's what I like to hear."

You quickly start taking your shirt off. Once it's over your head he pushes you onto your back and starts to yank your pants down to your ankles. You move further back onto the bed and slip out of your underwear.

As you are taking your bra off you hear his belt being undone. Something about that sound gets you excited. With your bra to the side he gets on top of you, grabbing your hands so that he can tie your wrists together with his belt.

He does it so quickly that you swear he does this all the time. He sets his glasses to the side before going further down on the bed, almost laying down.

As your legs are being spread open you look down, seeing his face between your thighs. With your legs over his shoulders, you get a good glimpse of his bright green eyes before you shut yours with a gasp.

His tongue slid its way into you. You were already wet with anticipation but now you are leaking into your tongue. He's treating you as a meal, lapping you up and getting his tongue as deep in you as he possibly can.

It isn't long before you're squirming. His hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you down on the bed. He nibbles you a bit, teasing you with teeth. Feeling you jump only causes him to do it again. Your thighs try to close, as if you want him to stop, but you really don't want it to end.

Letting go with one hand, he starts to rub your clit, going in circles.

"Ahh-hh no!" You moan louder and squirm in a way that it seems like you are trying to roll over. Once he starts rubbing you, it doesn't take much to cover his tongue in your cum.

You try to look down at him, to catch a glimpse of his eyes. When you make contact with his, he looks like he's going to go feral. This is what you wanted after all.

"If you're going to be my fuck toy, let's flip you over."

He doesn't give you the option to roll over yourself. He sat up, grabbed you, and flipped you himself. You could help but moan. He even moved you so that your ass was in the air.

His hands grabbed your ass and rubbed it roughly, getting you to moan again. You could feel his hard tip pressed against you and whined. You've been waiting for this all day and now he's right there. You try to move back to get him to slip inside.

He chuckles. "Well I'd you're that eager."

He smirks and pushes his whole length inside you. He was going to ease himself in, but since you're so impatient.

"Ahh-!"

You bury your face into the bed and pull at your restraints.

"Don't be shy now."

He reaches up, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling it back.

"I want to hear what kinds of noises my new toy makes."

His voice is in a low growl, though your moans it can be hard to hear but each word gets you wetter.

His hips pull back before snapping back into you, getting you to yelp.

"Good girl," he praises you as he starts to thrust into you at a regular pace, making sure his full length enters you. "You're so tight and yet you can fit all of me," he pulls your hair more to hear you yell.

You try to prop yourself up on your tied up hands as he pulls your hair more and more.

"And you just keep getting wetter," he teased, his cock being able to slide in and out of you faster.

He doesn't seem to hold back with how hard he thrusts into you. One hand isn't enough to keep your hips in place and your legs start slipping.

Faust lets your hair go, making you fall forward. Without losing momentum, he fixes your hips and presses down on your upper back, forcing your face into the bed.

Your hair is in your face, your hot breath hitting you back. Your body is squirming again. With your hips at a new angle his cock is hitting a new spot, getting you to cum again nearly immediately.

"You're a perfect toy," he grunts a little, still going despite you tightening around him. "You take me with no complaints," he pushes you down harder as he pounds into you rougher.

"Ungh-ahhh! F-fuck!" You pant, barely able to get out words.

He feels himself starting to get closer, but he stays in you for as long as he can. His thrusts are getting out of rhythm. Finally he pulls out of you, making a trail of cum down your back.

He tries to catch his breath for a moment before helping you lay your body flat on his bed so that he can grab something to clean you up.

As he steps away you try to push your hair out of your face. In a few moments your back is cleaned, your hands are freed, and you're laying there with your head on his chest.

~~

For the rest of the summer your hook ups became nearly a regular thing. You don't plan on keeping it once the summer ends so you don't end up getting to know each other much. You're there for a hook up, no strings attached.

Or so you thought.

Your college classes start again. It's the first week of the semester and you're looking over your schedule.

"Ugh. My schedule is awful. I already can't wait for this to be over."

You head to your next class. It's a lecture hall. You already know it's going to be one you're going to fall asleep in.

You walk into the class and look for a place to sit when you look at the front to get a look at the teacher.

Shit. No. He can't possibly be the teacher.

"Johann?"

Faust looks up from the papers he's looking at to see who called his name and makes eye contact with you.

"Shit."

~~~

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @xalxtusxiao @namine-somebodies-nobody @ana-thedaydreamer @evil-quartett @ameyoruakiikemenseries @yrenesposts @tele86 @damekathearasi @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @nightghoul381 @vampiricpancake @lulu-the-smol-floof @tako-cafe @floydsteeth

[princessmaybank]

Public Play Time

Pairings: Dark!JJ x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FWB, name calling, public play, vibrator, fingering, rubbing, squirting, voyeurism (?), cumming, teasing, degrading, humiliation, etc.

Summary: JJ got a new toy for you two to play with.

Authors Note: If I missed anything let me know! Also I love hearing what you guys think! It's not required to leave comments but it is very much appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

JJ smirked and scrolled his thumb up his phone. You squeezed your legs together and gave JJ the 'im gonna kill you' face. "Are you okay Y/N?" Sarah asked sounding concerned. You nod your head in response then took a deep breath as you felt the buzzing inside of you start to go away. "Yes I'm okay, I really have to pee though."

"Oh do you want me to go with you?" Sarah asked. "No, you really don't-" She cut you off. "Well, I have to pee now too, let's go." As Sarah tugged you away by your arm, you stared daggers into JJ's skull. He silently laughed at you as he watched you tut along to the mall's restrooms.

When you got into the bathroom, Sarah rushed to the end stall and locked herself in. You went into the farthest one from her that was available and not disgusting. All you could think of was taking this damn thing out, so you began pulling your pants down and reached for the vibrator. When your fingers wrapped around the tail, it suddenly turned on and you felt that amazing sensation again. You knew you had to keep quiet but without you knowing, a loud moan came from your lips.

"Are you okay Y/N?" You heard Sarah call from the sinks. "Yeah-yeah I'm awesome." You felt the vibrations increase speed, which unfortunately meant you could hear the sound it was making. "Uhm Y/N, are you sure you're okay? What's that sound?" She was now in front of your stall. You couldn't handle this, you reached down and quickly removed the pink toy from your hole. The power button was hard to find but when you did find it, it immediately stopped buzzing. You dropped the toy into your purse, flushed the toilet and walked to the sink. "Yes I'm fine, and I'm not sure what that was, you heard it too?" You played dumb.

Sarah only gave you a side eye as you walked out and caught up with everyone else at the food court. JJ was chatting with Kiara while Pope and John B were off in an arcade.

You and JJ aren't exclusive, you are kinda just friends with benefits, lots and lots of benefits. So you feel bad when you see Kiara rubbing up on JJ and get jealous. Lucky for you, JJ doesn't like her like that, and when he sees you, he has no problem bringing you into the conversation.

While the three of you are discussing what to get for lunch, you notice JJ pulling out his phone, ready to have a little fun with you. You smirk to yourself remembering what you did moments ago. As his finger glides across his phone screen, he looks to you with his lip between his teeth, waiting for a response that you never give. JJ quickly looked back at his app and saw the phrase 'not connected'. He immediately glared at you when he realized that you turned it off.

He couldn't make a big scene so he simply asked to have a private word with you. Kiara walked around trying to decide on what to eat. JJ pulled you into the hallway that leads to the bathroom and pinned you against the wall.

"Fess up princess" His eyes were dark, he was clearly upset. "To what Jayj? I didn't do anything." You taunted him, never taking your eyes away from his.

He threw his hands under your skirt, moved your panties to the side and stuck two digits inside your soaked pussy. "Jay-" You moaned into his shoulder but he cut you off. "I knew you were lying, you can't hide anything from me, slut." He whispered in your ear while slowly moving his fingers in and out. "Someone might see-" You pleaded. "I don't give a flying fuck princess. Let them look, maybe you'll learn a lesson."

He snuck his fingers into your purse while his other hand was playing with your heat. When he felt the oval shape he remembered, he pulled it out slowly making sure to not alert you. When he was ready and had the toy turned on, he pulled out his fingers and just as you were getting ready to complain, he shoved the toy back inside you. "I never said we were done playing princess." JJ opened his phone and made the toy start buzzing. "Now you're gonna be a good girl while we eat with our friends. No moving, no whimpering, and especially no cumming." He moved his hand to your face and gave your cheek a little slap. "Got that princess?" JJ grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. As you shook your head yes, he sucked his teeth. "You know I need you to use your words." His eyes were somehow darker and you were already squirming from the pleasure between your legs. "Come on, you at least know how to say yes and no, right?" He teased. When you finally worked up some courage to answer he slapped your clit. You moaned from the pain and pleasure it caused. "Stop being a dumbass and answer me you fuckin' slut!" His voice was demanding, he was getting louder and people were giving small glances.

He caught you looking around as people began watching you. Like he said, he didn't mind people looking, so he put his hand in your panties and rubbed your clit while his other hand controlled the vibrator.

"Is this a turn on for you? Being degraded and humiliated in public?" He whispered in your ear making sure you could see the faces of people gathering to see you. "Jayj- th-this is wrong-" He cut you off once again but this time with a harder slap to the face. That caused pretty much everyone to walk away from the situation. "What was that? I thought you liked being treated like the skank you are? You didn't wanna fucking answer, I'll make you answer." Your eyes started brimming with tears. This was becoming too much but you felt your orgasm coming. "Oh look at the little baby, you're crying now too? You're being a little bitch, just cum. Since you clearly can't handle the pressure." That was enough to throw you over the edge. You thought you were just cumming until you felt the explosion of liquid come from your tired hole.

"And after all that, we learn that you can squirt. Look at the fuckin mess you made, someone is gonna have to clean that shit up. They'll think 'I wonder what whore did this.' and it's you, you will know that you're the whore that made this fuckin mess for them."

There couldn't have been better timing for Sarah to walk down there. She looked between the both of you and giggled. "I knew it was you two everyone is talking about." She started walking to the bathroom. "What do you mean?" You try and fix your appearance and pretend you have no idea what's happening but Sarah isn't stupid. She gave you both a smirk and crossed her arms. "Omg you guys have totally got to check it out, some hot blonde is finger banging his girlfriend in the hall!" She recited the words she heard from one of the girls sitting at the table next to the group. "Not to mention everyone else saying things about what you two were wearing, AND you guys have been gone for an unreasonable amount of time. But at least you got your kicks." Sarah giggled and walked into the bathroom.

JJ planted a kiss on your cheek. "Sorry I slapped you. I was really turned on." You smiled and looked back at him. "Was?" He gave an awkward smile and pointed to his shorts which now had a wet patch gracing the front. You couldn't help but giggle at him. "I guess we can call it even. But let's get you and this mess cleaned up." You started pushing him to the guys room. "Okay but let's just go home after please, I don't know if I can stand the looks on their faces right now." He whined. "Look who's being a little bitch now." He rolled his eyes with a small laugh.

After everything was cleaned up you walked out with JJ, everyone's eyes were on both of you. A few guys that JJ knew shouted and clapped for him as you were trying to hide your face. When you sat down in front of the group, you could feel everyone glaring. "Did you have a good talk?" Kiara asked. "Learn anything new?" Pope poked. "Have some fun?" Sarah winked. "Did you get your dick wet?" John B teased which resulted in JJ throwing napkins at him. "What? I heard the hallway was flooded!" He teased some more.

Eventually you moved past the topic and you had some PG fun at the mall. When it was time to leave you headed to the Twinkie and JJ walked behind you with his arms around your shoulders and he gave you little kisses on the neck. "Hey Maybank! I don't need my van flooded too! Hands off!" John B yelled back at JJ while he put the keys in the ignition. "Yes sir!" He saluted John B and got in the van. The rest of the ride home and the night at the chateau were filled with jokes and teasing moments for the two of you. The girls even took you while the guys took JJ and prodded you both with questions. "Would you ever do it again?!" Kiara asked. "Absolutely."