#like. Halfway through the day it was just Over. I was ready to die. I could Not more than average

[twilightarcade]

ok so I was reading then slept 4 like an hour and a half

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 1

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Magical Orthodontry...

(I should probably mention that my thoughts about plastic surgery/any kind of cosmetic enhancement are pretty much that as long as the person who has it done likes the result, it does not matter if anybody else thinks they needed it.

It’s their body, their choice and if they think they look prettier with a new nose/straighter teeth/fuller lips, good for them.

For myself, I love what braces did for my teeth and what one of those heatless curler things currently does for my hair lol)

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

It was bad. 

Eira shouldn’t have expected any differently. 

Maybe it had been the promise of mail-order catalogues that had made her think that maybe this time she wasn’t going to want to die halfway through her biannual week of torture…

But there was nothing the shadows could do, short of giving her pain potions that rendered her unconscious and plying her with soup. 

She let them. 

She was too weak to protest, in too much pain…feeling like a baby bird that needed them to slowly spoon broth in her mouth so that she only needed to swallow. 

But at least they were there. They didn’t leave her alone. Regardless of when she woke up…at what time of day or night…they were there. 

Ready with pain potions and armed with soup, and when she just needed something to get her mind off the pain, they told her stories. 

Little fables of Illyria and Prythian…children’s stories. 

Maybe one day she could tell the same stories to Nyx. 

It took 4 days… halfway through that week, when there was a knock at her door. 

Elain, the shadows whispered into her ear and she held back a groan. 

She didn’t want to deal with her sister. 

“Come in!” she called nonetheless and only then realised that she still had the key in the lock. The shadows swarmed out to turn it and then disappeared, scurrying underneath her desk. 

She forced herself to sit up, wondering how much of a mess she looked…probably like death warmed over twice, but to be completely honest…she wasn’t pretty on a good day, so what did it matter? 

Becoming Fae had somehow perfected the faces of her sisters. They still looked like themselves, but the cauldron had seemingly made them much more symmetrical, their limbs longer, their ears pointed…and for Elain, the cauldron…it had turned her from beautiful into otherworldly gorgeousness. 

For Eira…it had made her ears pointy. 

No, wait that wasn’t true…Her hair was seemingly even more unmanageable than it ever had been as a human…and her teeth…the less was said about that was better. 

She had already been self-conscious about them as a human. As a fae, surrounded by ridiculously attractive people every day, it was…something else entirely. 

“Good Morning,” Eira said quietly. Elain stared at her, surprise etched on her face. 

“Have you really spent the few days moping in your bed?” she asked, judgment clear in her voice. Eira wanted to bristle. Hadn’t Elain done the exact same thing when she had first been made? And Elain hadn’t had the excuse of a cycle for it. 

“Yes, Elain,” she said back quietly. “It’s….It’s that time of the year,” she mumbled, looking at everything but her sister. If Elain couldn’t even smell the thick cloying scent of blood that was clinging to Eira, she couldn’t help her. 

Elain just harrumphed.  “Look, I do realise that I may have been needlessly harsh,” she said, crossing her arms. Somehow managing to sound gracious even now.“But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere.” 

Eira blinked. Twice. 

Somebody put her heart into a vice and crushed it. 

Of all the things she had expected Elain to say…this wasn’t it. 

“Azriel is completely disinterested,” Elain continued. “And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.” 

“What does it matter to you?” Eira finally managed to bring out, her voice thankfully not shaking…And still….she sounded…weak. That’s what she sounded like. 

“I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that,” Elain said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.”

Eira flinched at Elain’s words. She couldn’t help it. 

Even when she knew…she knew her sister was right. She knew that…

“You should just stop your pathetic attempts of flirting with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable,” Elain continued with a roll of her eyes. 

Pathetic attempts of flirting? What did Elain even mean? Her nervous ramblings? Her stolen glances? The way her heart skipped a beat when she got to see him? 

She had never asked him out…on a date or anything else…she had never even mentioned courting in his near vicinity. She had done nothing, said nothing to Azriel that made her feelings obvious to him. 

It was all just…

“There are plenty of fish in the sea…” Elain said with a sigh. “You’ll find somebody else one day,” Elain told her, sounding some mixture between pitying and bored, as she turned to go. “Do you want me to ask Feyre to send Madja?”

“No, thank you. I have pain potions,”  Eira whispered, and Elain turned on her heel, marching back out of her room. 

Eira listened to her sister leave…she buried her face in her pillows.  

“Would you lock the door, please?” She whispered. 

Nobody else. Just her.

Why shouldn’t Elain once again stab her in the same wound…why not?  Why…

And then…somehow it was like somebody flipped a switch. 

She turned angry. Angry at Elain, at her twin sister. Who hid behind this veil of sisterly worry and only used it to hurt Eira?

She was so…she was so…She was so angry. 

She never was angry.  But right now it was swelling beneath her skin and she wanted…she wanted… Not revenge. Not really. 

She made Azriel uncomfortable with what? With nervous ramblings and stolen glances? 

Fine. She would stop that. She would stop all of that. 

She wouldn’t even talk to him again, so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. She would ignore him. She would be icily polite and that was that. 

And she would find herself a husband and have all the babies she wanted and that would be that. She would find herself…somebody else. Somebody who wanted her.  Somebody for whom she wasn’t annoying…who she didn’t make uncomfortable.

Somebody for herself. 

Something for herself. 

She would fill her room with stupid trinkets she bought herself because nobody else would do it for her. She would buy pretty dresses that tried to mask that she wasn’t as pretty as her sisters. She would do all of that. 

And what her sisters thought about any of that…well, she didn’t fucking care. Not anymore. 

She wasn’t the only one angry. The shadows were hissing, spitting, swirling menacingly, nearly filling the whole room…and she wasn’t scared. That didn’t even cross her mind.

How dares she? The shadows hissed. She owed you an apology, not…not this.

Maybe for the first time in her life, Eira Archeron wanted to be utterly and completely selfish. 

Nobody was going to put her first. Not if she didn’t do it herself. 

“I’ll be buying myself something horribly expensive,” she finally said, her voice shaking. 

Do it, the shadows said, amusement bleeding into their voice, still angrily swirling, coming to wrap around her wrists. Buy whatever you want.

They dropped a catalogue next to her hands, and Eira reached out to take it with shaky hands. 

Whatever she wanted. 

The problem was only, she had no idea what she wanted. 

Maybe a new dress? Maybe some jewellery…like a necklace? Or a bracelet? 

A ring?

Like the rings her sisters had? Given to them by their mates, who loved them? 

Feyre’s Sapphire? The Ruby that encircled Nesta’s finger since her mating ceremony? 

Or maybe Elain’s ring…gold and diamond, looking like the rays of the sun, so fitting for the future wife of the heir to the Day Court. 

No. No jewellery. 

These godforsaken pearl earrings had been enough. 

Something Eira wanted. Something Eira needed. 

Eira could use a new pair of shoes. She already had brought her old ones to the cobbler thrice. Maybe…that wasn’t a ridiculous request after all…

She opened the catalogue, paging through it until she found the shoe section. She stared at the little pictures accompanying them. Humans hadn’t yet figured out how to do print in full colour, but the drawings on this page were brightly colourful. Clearly not a problem here in Prythian. 

She quickly slipped over the pages that had silk slippers and pretty heels on them. That wasn’t practical to run after Nyx with, right? Then she found a page with practical leather shoes… decisively female, a small heel…they weren’t that dissimilar to human fashion. 

She examined them closer. “Laces or Buckle? What do you think?” she asked the shadows. The ones with shoelaces were cheaper…but if she bought one with the buckles, she could also change them out, buy extra buckles…swap them with a crystal-embellished buckle or silver for gold…

All of that was possible. 

The ones with the buckles! The shadows said quickly. 

“They are pretty, aren’t they?” Eira commented and marked the page by folding down one corner as she turned the page. 

Definitely one contender. 

She couldn’t remember ever having done anything similar before. 

When she had still been human, as a child her mother had reigned over her wardrobe with an iron fist. They had never been allowed to pick out anything. 

And then later…after they had lost their fortune…well, picking out anything involved turning around every clipped copper coin. 

She had never been able to just…leisurely look at things and find the pretty and think about buying them…without even really looking at the price tag attached to them. 

Eira flipped back to the shoes, the tip of her finger tracing the writing…she had always been atrocious at reading. The letter tended to change their position, and it hadn’t changed as a Fae either. and she could never tell that to anybody, because the one time she had, her finger had been violently rapped by a wooden ruler and that had been that. 

If she just took her time…carefully…it worked. Just took her longer. She found the price attached to the shoes, knowing that even without the shadows, she could afford them. 

She had stashed away money in the chest at the foot of her bed after all. Not a lot but…enough for the shoes. 

Eira paged through more of the catalogue…oohing and awwing over dresses, where the shadows tried to talk her into buying herself a ballgown much to her amusement, though in the end, they agreed on a pretty blue-grey dress with billowing sleeves cuffed at her wrist…

Eira would never feel comfortable in the Night Court fashion of cropped tops and pants…she would much rather be covered up completely. But that dress…that looked quite pretty. 

She turned to the next page, and the next after that, trawling her way through skirts and cardigans and shirt waists…

And then Eira found the fabric section, biting her lip. Any time she had gone to a fabric shop in Velaris, it had been to buy fabric for a gift for her sisters. Never for herself. She didn’t need anything. 

That’s pretty, the shadows whispered in her ear, seemingly solidifying to point out a specific cotton print on that page. 

She wondered how they even saw anything. They didn’t have eyes. But then magic seemed to be the answer to nearly everything in Prythian. 

It was pretty. A ditsy little floral print…white ground, green leaves…It was pretty. So was a white cotton gauze with little dots…that was the one that she considered seriously. The price was good…she could use a new dress for her birthday…

She marked that page as well, flipping over to the next…and there it was. 

It was an advertisement that caught her eye, and she was nearly flicking to the next page as she caught the word teeth. 

“Faes can fix teeth?“ she asked weakly, as she read that advertisement, a promise about cosmetic procedures…like full lashes and eyebrows and…perfect teeth. 

Perfect teeth. 

“Could they fix mine?” she asked, desperation bleeding into her voice. 

Her teeth were…well, her greatest insecurity on a good day. They were…fine. It wasn’t painful at least. It was just that her two front teeth were too big for her face…which made her look like…

What’s wrong with your teeth? Do they hurt you? You’ll need a healer for that, the shadows said immediately, worriedly. 

“They are too big. Just the two front teeth. I look like a rabbit,”  she admitted in a whisper. Or a mole rat. Her mother had preferred the latter. 

Everything else could be fixed one way or another…but nothing could be fixed for her teeth. 

When she had been a child she had still hoped that she would grow into them, but that had never happened. 

And not even the cauldron had thought it would be prudent to fix them. Leaving her with them…still standing out starkly. 

They were the reason why she never smiled widely, why she made sure to talk with her lips pulled over them…why she didn’t wear bright lipstick. 

A few dozen things that she didn’t do because of them. 

You do not look like a rabbit, the shadows disagreed with a snort…and then after a moment:  Do they bother you?

They asked that like it was a near foreign thing…like…

“My mother used to…She used to tell me that…” She tried to bring the words over her lips but she choked on them. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t…

Once you feel better, you can go and have them changed to however you want to look, the shadows told her softly. Do they truly bother you that much?

“I know that I won’t ever be the beautiful one. But…if…If I could just feel…just feel pretty…just once,” she whispered, staring at that advertisement. 

If they could just fix her teeth… 

As soon as you feel better, the shadows promised her. But that’s not ridiculously expensive. Neither is one single pair of shoes, that dress….or a few yards of that fabric. Nearly teasing. 

But it was nice teasing. Sweet teasing. Teasing that did nothing but make a small smile appear on her face. 

“I could always buy more fabric,” she gave back, biting her lip and the shadows tugged at her fingers in response. 

But if magic could fix her teeth…maybe it could also fix her hair. 

A light brown mess on her head that never did what she wanted it to do… 

“Is there something for my hair as well?” she asked hesitantly, and the shadows flipped through her catalogue until it brought her to a page with hair care supplies. 

There are potions you can use…enchanted brushes too, they told her. You’ll want something for naturally curly hair.  

They didn’t need to tell Eira that twice. 

The morning she stopped bleeding she was out on the streets of Velaris as soon as the sun rose…dropping off the dresses she had hemmed, and picking up her newest commissions and then walking to that shop that promised her perfect teeth. 

It was a woman, a female, her age who looked up from the magazine she was reading, took one look at her, asked for a handful of gold coins…gave her a mirror in her hand and then drily said: “Just say stop when they have the size you want.”

And that was that. 

Eira could have wept with her gratitude. 

Her teeth looked perfect. Just like she had so often hoped they would look. 

The same could be said about her hair after one bath with her new potions and a run-through with her enchanted brush. 

Unmanageable frizzy hair that never looked like she wanted it to look? 

With magic no more. Thick, perfect, glossy curls fell over her shoulders in fat ringlets. 

To say that she was in a good mood after that…It was the understatement of a dozen centuries at least. 

Eira was ecstatic. 

She loved it. She felt…she felt so pretty. For once. 

“Good Morning!” she chirped as she entered the dining room. Not even the sight of Elain pouring over her wedding binders could put a dent in her happiness that morning. 

“Good Morning,” Elain responded, staring at her like she had gone mad but Eira didn’t care, as she poured herself a cup of tea, took a slice of toast, smeared jam all over it... 

“It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it?” she asked brightly, as she took a bite, chewed, swallowed…

Elain stared at her. 

“Eira…what did you do with your teeth?” her sister asked her, staring at her. 

“I got them fixed! Isn’t that great? Magic can do that!” she enthused. They were perfect! They looked just like she wanted them to look!

It was like thunder pulled over Elain’s expression. “You can’t be serious!” she snapped. “What were you thinking?!”

“That I got my teeth fixed?”  Eira gave back questioningly. What did it even matter to Elain? Couldn’t she just be happy? Eira was so fucking happy about her choice. 

“This doesn’t change things, Eira!” Elain said harshly. “It’s still never going to go anywhere!”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was beaten to it. 

“What is never going to go anywhere?” Feyre’s voice came from the doorway as she entered, Nyx on her hips, staring around the room…waving chubby little arms in Eira’s direction that made her smile at him brightly. 

“Eira’s little crush on Azriel,” Elain said evenly. “He’s completely disinterested. and she has gone and gotten her teeth fixed in some hare-brained attempt to…”

“What does it matter to you?” Eira interrupted her. This had nothing to do with…him. This had been for her. Because she was the one her teeth bothered, long before she had ever even met him.  “They aren’t your teeth.” 

Feyre stared at her and Eira smiled brightly, showing all her teeth…something she would have never done before. But now she did. 

“Your teeth were fine before,” Feyre told her, staring at her like she couldn’t quite believe that Eira had gone and done this.  

“My teeth were too big for my mouth,” Eira disagreed. And really, she didn’t understand why she even needed to defend herself on this. “The last time I checked I was allowed to do with my body whatever I wanted,” she murmured under her breath. 

And this…this was harmless. This was just fixing her teeth. It didn’t hurt anybody. Not her, not anybody else…

Feyre didn’t seem convinced. “How much money did you spend on this?” her sister asked her, a sharpness sinking into her voice and Eira crossed her arms. 

“Not a single coin that belongs to you or your mate,” she gave back, her voice cold. “I spend my money, money I earned, on something that I wanted.” 

She was allowed to want things. Whatever she wanted, the shadows had promised her and they had kept that promise. 

“Did you do this because of Azriel?” Feyre asked, softening slightly. “Eira, that’s not going to work.”

She knew that. 

“My whole life does not revolve around other people,” Eira said calmly, meeting her sister's gaze. “I wanted it.”

“He’s still not going to be interested in you,” Elain snorted. 

Once again. Hitting that one weak spot her sister had sussed out. 

People always thought that Elain was oh-so-sweet. What they forgot was that even the most beautiful, most fragrant rose had its thorns. 

She said nothing. Didn’t flinch away. Didn’t say anything. 

“It’s true,” Feyre said with a sigh, actually agreeing with Elain. “I have wanted to talk to you about that, Eira…” her sister said, visibly uncomfortable. “Could you at least try to get over him? It’s…it would be better for…this court.”

Of course, it would be. This court. 

Because that’s what mattered, right? That’s what mattered to the High Lady. 

That the court was functional. That the spymaster wasn’t uncomfortable…that her sister wasn’t having a ridiculous puppy crush on another member of this court.  

And what was Eira supposed to say to this? 

What was she supposed to say to that? 

Eira’s feelings didn’t really matter anyway. They were nothing but an inconvenience. 

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice quiet, staring at her hands so that she didn’t need to look at two of her sisters…so they wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. “I’ll make sure that my feelings won’t inconvenience anybody else ever again.”

“That’s not…” Feyre started, but Eira shook her head.

“I understand,” she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth, all her appetite gone, as she stood to go back to her room. 

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Fixing Bad Dreams

masterlist

summary: without even realizing, you’ve been using your powers to turn butcher’s bad dreams into good ones.

pairing: billy butcher x female supe!reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, talk of sex

timeline: set after season 3

gif source

When Butcher had realized you were a Supe, obviously his first thought was that he had to kill you. But he soon realized you weren’t like the others. Not in a “oh she’s still a good person” way, but in a “wow she’s fucking weak, she’s basically still human” way. It was true. Essentially all you could do was send telepathic messages to people. That was it. (You also had a slight healing factor, but even that wasn’t very strong.) You couldn’t read minds, you couldn’t move things with your mind, you were barely a Supe.

Or, maybe he was just trying to justify sleeping with you. Whether he’d admit it or not, he really liked sleeping with you. Not just the sex, he liked physically sleeping next to you. With you. He’d sleep best when it was next to you. He wouldn’t wake up in a cold sweat, he wouldn’t have nightmares about watching his wife die bloody.

Most of the time, you woke up before him. You’d find his shirt from the night before and put it on, along with your panties if you could find them. Although, Butcher tended to rip your more delicate ones.

As you tiptoed around the room looking for where he had thrown your underwear you heard him mumble something in his sleep. You hurried next to him, his brows furrowed as he clenched the sheets in tight fists.

You held his cheek, bent down, and kissed his forehead. That always calmed him right down, you didn’t know why. And it did just that; he unclenched his fists, unfurrowed his brows, and let out a soft breath of air.

You smiled at the thought. The great William Butcher like forehead kisses in his sleep. That’s what calmed him down.

He stirred awake shortly after, seeing you looking around the room still.

“Mornin’ love,” He yawned. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

“Good morning,” You smiled and walked over to him, taking a seat on the bed. “You sleep okay?” You ran a hand through his hair then down his cheek, stopping to bend down and kiss him sweetly.

“Great, love,” He smiled. “Was havin’ a bit of a nightmare but it turned into us making out in the office the other day.”

“Really?” You furrowed your brows a little.

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh…no reason,” You shook your head a little.

“So, what were you looking for?” He asked, intentionally changing the subject.

“Where the hell did you throw my panties last night?” You asked, turning to glance around the room. He reached under his pillow and pulled out what you’d been looking for.

“I may have hid ‘em so you’d make me breakfast without wearin’ ‘em,” He smirked.

“All you had to do was ask,” You smiled. You leaned down and kissed him again before you stood up. “Bacon and eggs ‘ll be ready in a few minutes, come meet me in the kitchen?”

“I’ll be right there.”

**

“You seem to be in a good mood this morning,” Butcher chuckled a few days later. You walked up to him cooking pancakes, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Smells amazing,” You hummed. You got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

As you sat down at the table you let out a soft laugh.

“Okay, seriously, why’re you in such a good mood?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You shrugged.

“Cause the A/C stopped working halfway through the night and we both lost a good two hours of sleep?” He raised a brow.

“Remember last summer? We went to that water park with Hughie and the others after the tests came back negative and you were cancer free?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He turned to look at you fully, suddenly very interested in each word you said.

“After the A/C went out I had the best, most intense dream about it! I mean, the smell of the chlorine in the wave pool, the sound of those birds that kept trying to take your fries, everything!”

“Huh…I’ll be fuckin’ damned,” Butcher mumbled, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“What?”

“Nothin’ love, I remember that day too.”

**

Grass so green it looked fake, the sky so blue and clouds so perfect it all looked like a Bob Ross painting. Birds chirped in the trees as Butcher dipped down and kissed you again.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” He smiled. He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, under your floral dress.

A picnic in the park with William Butcher. A fucking dream come true.

The cruel sound of the alarm jolted you awake. Butcher stretched his arm out and over you, hitting the snooze button.

“Perfect fucking timing,” He grumbled. “I think I was about to get lucky.”

“Me too, actually,” You laughed a little. “Guess we’ll have to make it up to each other.”

**

“Hey, let’s eat breakfast outside,” Butcher suggested.

“You hate eating outside?” You laughed a little. You took a sip of your coffee as you watched Butcher cook breakfast.

“Don’t be silly! On occasion, picnics can be fun!”

“P-Picnics?” You furrowed your brows. “What gave you that idea?”

“Just a dream I had.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Were you putting thoughts in his head? Messing with his dreams enough that it influenced his life when he was awake? How else were you messing with his head?

“Earth to Y/n!” Butcher pulled you out of your head.

“Huh?”

“I said food’s ready. Now, c’mon, get off your ass and eat outside with me.”

“Okay,” You smiled, hiding how worried you actually were.

You followed him out to the balcony overlooking the busy city.

“So what was your dream?” He asked when you both sat down at the outside table.

“Wh-What dream?” You asked.

“Remember? We both woke up to the alarm, both said we were about to get lucky in our dreams, and then we had earth-shattering morning sex. So, what was your dream?”

“I- I don’t really remember it…now all I’m thinking about is the earth-shattering morning sex,” You smirked a little.

“Ah ha!” He matched your expression, but added a sense of pride. “That’s my job, love.”

**

“Butcher, we need to talk,” You said later that night. He was ready for bed and already under the covers.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows knitted with concern.

“I- I don’t think I sh-should sleep with you anymore,” You replied, tears in your eyes.

“You’re breaking up with me? Why?”

“No! I- I fucking love you and that why I need to get as far away from you as fucking possible!”

“Y/n, you’re not makin’ any sense,” He got out of bed and walked up to you. You backed away from him, shaking your head.

“I- I’ve been- I think I’ve been messing with your h-head somehow,” You let the tears fall. “Not on purpose, I swear! But I- I’ve been controlling your dreams, so who knows how else I’ve been controlling you!”

“I know about the dreams.”

“What?”

“I figured it out a couple weeks ago. You were going into detail about a dream you had the night before, and it was the same dream I had.”

“Why didn’t you say something! Butcher I could be completely controlling you! You probably don’t even really want to fucking be here! Fuck!” You put your hands on your head.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to act how you’re acting right now. I knew you weren’t doing it on purpose, otherwise you wouldn’t have told me your dream.”

“B-But what if…”

“What if what, Y/n? You really think you could accidentally force me to love you?” He took a few steps closer to you, this time you didn’t back away. You nodded. “Alright, how ‘bout this. Right now, try your absolute hardest to make me do something.” He put his hands on your shoulders and touched his forehead to yours. “Go on, use your powers on me.”

“I’m trying!” You exclaimed. You really were, but he was right; you weren’t nearly strong enough to mind-control someone. You let out a breath of relief. “Fuck, that would’ve been a fucking nightmare!”

“Well, good thing that’s your specialty then, love. Turning nightmares into the best fuckin’ dreams I could ask for.”

“I love you, Butcher,” You smiled and he did the same.

“I love ya, too,” He mumbled as he kissed your lips.

[imninahchan]

⌜ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: strangers to lovers, my poor spanish skills, casual and unprotected sex [you can't do that, c'mon!], readerʼs a brazilian woman, some portuguese words, dirty talk, age difference, finger sucking, male oral, manhandling, light pussy spanking, ʽpapiʼ, dumbification, dacryphilia. ˚ ☽ ˚.⋆ ⌝

꒰ 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹ʼ𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 ꒱ sooo never thought about posting something in eng but @femmechaotic (thx baby) showed me her translation and i gave it a second chance. This was originally written by me in portuguese, thatʼs why the reader is brazilian. Eng is not our first language, sorry for any mistakes, just posting for the fun of it♡

𓍢ִ໋🀦 HE'S THE KIND OF MAN YOU'LL ONLY MEET ONCE IN A LIFETIME ─────

You realized this from the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time. Sitting a couple of tables away from his, on the balcony of the hotel lobby.

You simply couldn't help but notice it: the thick strands of dark hair, how his hands run through it, as the gentle morning wind blowed. The basic white tank top, a coat hanging over the chair next to him at the table. His big and pointed nose, his eyes hidden mysteriously behind the lenses of the fancy sunglasses.

He's definitely not Brazilian. You could tell just by the food he chose from the buffet on his plate. Youʼre just so genuinely intrigued by the whole set of ongoings, obsessed with watching him, that you forgot about your own — boring — breakfast. The buns were cooling next to the black coffee in the porcelain cup.

You wanted to open the messaging app on your phone and send a sassy comment to your best friend, saying something like: “omg u won't believe how cute is the guy i just saw”, but you didn't even have time for that. The man raises his chin, with his attention shifting from the phone device in his hands to noticing your presence ahead.

You look down immediately, feeling as if you had committed a crime and you've just been caught in the act. You bite your lip, trying to hold down a childish smile, like a vicious little girl. Your palms starts sweating; suddenly cold. The intention was to keep yourself busy with the porcelain cup in the short meantime, trying to deal with the awkward sensation of being caught.

Itʼs not working, of course. You didn't know whether to drink or not, sometimes you try to sip the hot liquid, but you give up halfway through, lost like a robot in a breakdown. And when he raises his eyes once more, in the same direction as you looked for so long, the man's gaze meet yours again.

It feels, apparently, like youʼre going to faint, to actually die, Jesus! You've never felt so embarrassed in your entire life and you insist on thinking about how you're never gonna be able to eat, think or breathe while being in this crime scene — also known as the balcony of the hotel lobby.

“Get up, then!”, you think to yourself. You pick up on a couple of the cold buns from the plate, taking a sip of the — now cold — coffee, and walking towards the lobby. Like, damn, youʼre not even dressed up, maybe the clothes are not so bad but you donʼt even have any makeup on or hair done the way you liked it so much (and did it religiously every day).

But there is an actual explanation for you not being ready. The plan, initially, was just having breakfast and enjoying the view for a short period of time, so you could visit the downtown in Madrid afterwards. Now, you are running away like a criminal, with your mouth full of bread heading towards the elevator.

When you finally thought that the closing of the gray automatic doors would mean freedom, your heart has one more reason to flutter, as soon as the man steps into the cubicle before he could lose the sight of you.

You decide to chew more quickly, hiding the other roll of bun between your hands. Standing next to you, he takes off his pair of glasses, holding his coat and a crossbody bag.

He looks at you.

— Enzo — he says, and from the way he announced his name, you can tell by his accent that he speak Spanish. You swipe the back of your hand over your mouth, wiping away any remaining crumbs.

— Oi... hmm — You stammer the response in Portuguese, automatically panicking again for a few seconds when realizing that your brain couldn't think of a greeting, even in your first language. After some quick struggles, you tell him your name.

— ¿Eres de aquí? ¿de Madrid? (Are you from here? From Madrid?)

— Ahm... — You stutter, again (unfortunately). — Brasil!

He smiles.

— Ah, sí. Brasil... ¡Es un lugar magnífico! (Oh, yes. Brasil... It's a wonderful place!) — and praises. But his gaze turns sharp, he needs to know: “Entiendes lo que digo, ¿no?” (Do you understand what I say, right?)

— Sí, sí! (Yeah, yes!) — you return with a wide smile back at him, almost hyperventilating.

Your desperation is pathetically noticeable, itʼs cute actually. He watched you, smiles softly, almost like a chuckle. The curiosity gets into your nerves, you wanted to ask more questions, extend the conversation, but the elevator reaches your floor, and you leave, too withdrawn to say anything.

“Shit”, you curse at yourself, it wasn't so difficult to have a decent small talk, you should've said something, anything. You brood all day long, thinking you're such a dummy for missing the opportunity. Why did you have to act like a stupid teenager, huh? Then, after what happened, not even the museums — that you were so excited to visit — were fun anymore, no place in this goddamn city could take away that little thread of regret from you.

In the next day, however, you go down for some coffee at the same time as you did the other day, with the foolish intention of trying to see him again, and thatʼs it, it worked; like a freaking miracle. The man was sitting in an armchair in the lobby, it seemed like he was waiting for you too, what were the odds?

You can even feel your legs wobble.

— ¡Buenos días! (Good morning!) — he greets you. — ¿Cómo se dice ‘Buenos días’ en Brasil? (How do you say ‘Good morning’ in Portuguese?)

It takes a few seconds for you to think and say it back, ‘Bom dia’ (Good morning), you respond. He smiles.

— Es muy parecido (It's pretty similar) — he comments, awkwardly. Then, looks at the buffet, “¿Vamos?” (Shall we?)

Although he sometimes used terms that you completely donʼt know the meaning of and have to ask him to explain again, the conversation is, apparently, going very well. You discover that he is older, Uruguayan, and not Spanish as you immediately thought he was. You tell him a little about the country you come from, and he gets enchanted by the way your accent pronounces his name. Enzo. Paying attention to the ʽzʼ sound, unlike the pronunciation in Spanish.

it was with his company that you explored the city. The both of you went to a small square together, had some ice cream, met tourists hotspots, then chatted while exploring a little shop nearby. You hated to admit it but the situation was indeed romantic. Later in the afternoon, you were taken by him to a bar.

There, the conversation extended even further, including the beer you guys shared. When you didn't understand anything he said, (what was quite often in the conversation) you just laughed, your cheeks getting really hot and red from smiling that much. Honestly, you could leave him talking to himself for hours, just because you loved the husky sound of his deep voice and his pair of brown sparkling eyes.

It didn't mean that you were in love or anything, right? Besides, there was no way you could fall in love in such a short period of time.

But the heat you felt emanating from your own body definitely meant something. It could be because of the dark blue button-down shirt — these pieces never fail to be attractive, right? —, or the silver ring that caught your eyes every time he articulated with his hands in the air. Even his perfume... ah, the perfume! A fragrance that filled your lungs, woody but with a slight sweet note. Projecting all day long, torturing, practically inviting you to bury your face in the curve of the moreno's neck.

At nighttime, he takes you back to the hotel: his excuse was that he wanted to help you with the shopping bags, as if you had bought all of Madrid. And it was supposed to end there, at your hotel room door, simple as that. He hands you your things, and the most he does is lean over, slowly, as if he is silently asking for permission, and so, he places a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, millimeters away from touching your lipstick-painted lips. But you hold his hand, before the man walks away down the hall, you donʼt let him escape.

He approaches you again, his other hand touches the corner of your face. Warm, affectionate. ¿Qué te pasa, nena? (What's wrong with you, baby?) The focus of his brown eyes are on your mouth now, the question is whispered, seductive. The touch of his fingers bypass your jaw until it gets on your chin. ¿Quieres algo más que un beso? (Do you want something more than a kiss?)

Youʼre not sure which words to use, which command to prefer. In fact, you donʼt even want to be thinking. You want to shut your brain, to be so dissociated so that only your body can enjoy the moment. You wrapp your arms around him, your face can finally hid in the curve of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his. You hear the sound of his chuckle, feeling his big hands being placed on your waist. ¿Qué quieres? Dímelo. (What do you want? tell me)

You look up to him, shy. The tip of your nose rubs against his, creating a friction that, just because of the absurd proximity, makes everything even more tense, burning erotic.

— No Brasil — you say, trying to hide it by biting your lip —, se diz ‘foder.’

Enzo's smile grows, almost in slow motion. “Foder” (fuck), he repeats the word in a whisper. Again, you donʼt even have to think much to understand. Everything sounded similar, and it seemed that your mind was connected to his by a chaotic carnal desire.

The Uruguayan's lips meets yours; his hot tongue brushes against yours. Your bodies take on a life of their own. Little by little, the main setting stopped being the hotel hallway and became your room. The door gets closed with a gentle push from his feet, while the chosen path is towards your bed.

His hands moves up from your waist to grab your blouse and take it off from your warm body. When you lay on the mattress, supporting on your elbows, itʼs the cue the man needeed to messily pull down your shorts.

— ¿Quieres ponerte de rodillas? (Do you want to be on your knees?) — he asks, as he unbuttons his own blouse. The sharp look he gives you, bathed in desire, delirious. On his lips, you notice the smudged red of your lipstick. — Correrme en tu boca... (Cum in your mouth...)

Maybe itʼs your mind lost in urgency, because you donʼt process what was said to you. You keep your eyes still, your mouth half-open, taking in air, panting. So pathetic that all he does is laugh at your face, running his hands through his hair instead of going straight to the belt of his shorts.

— ¿Qué? ¿No lo comprendes, no? (What? you don't understand it, do you?) — the tone used with you bordered mockery. And contrary to what you would normally feel like, it gives room to a sick feeling, butterflies in your stomach, you feel even more horny, stimulated. He leans in close. — Mira. (Look)

And as if you were learning something for the first time, you imitate him when he parts his lips. You let the man's thumb drag over your lower lip, and then his middle and index fingers together slide over your tongue, until they occupy your mouth. “Así” (like that), he pushes and retreats with his hand, in a slow, sensual movement, “Metértelo en la boca.” (Put it in your mouth)

Ah, now you understand him well. Your face burns, the wet way the fingers come out of your mouth, a little strand of saliva kept resisting in the distance, itʼs wanton. You nod, kneeling on the wooden floor, eyes glued to him unbuckling his belt until you could have his erection in full view.

You part your lips once again, as you were ‘taught’. He fills your mouth, up to a point where your nose touches his crotch, and comes back, completely wet. It allows the Uruguayan to control the pace, to catch the corner of your face. You raise your gaze to his, surrendered not only by the lasciviousness of what you were doing, but also by the beautiful view you had of his face from that angle.

Enzo uses the index finger of his free hand to run down the curve of your nose, affectionately.

— Qué ojitos más bonitos... (You have such beautiful little eyes) — he praises you, with a smile. At that moment, you could swear your heart felt like it exploded. — Eres tan bella, nena. Preciosa. (You are so beautiful, baby. Precious) — he sighs, his head falls back, then to a slide side angle. He looks at you in such a mischievous way that you avoid returning the look. — Me encantaría correrme en tu boca... pero prefiero guardarlo todo para dentro de ti. (I would love to cum into your mouth... but I prefer to keep it all inside you)

You get taken back to bed, easily manhandled by him when you silently gave up control of the situation. He comes over, dangerously close, unlocked the front fitting of your bra, getting lost between your breasts as soon as he releases them from the tightness of the piece. You hold onto his hair, restless under the delicious sucking of his tongue, the wild bite of his teeth. You gasp, having to move away from the black threads of his hair while his mouth travels down your belly.

He releases you from the last piece of underwear too, the wet kisses were loud and pornographic, crackling on your skin. The tip of his big nose rubs lightly over the area where he knew your sensitive clit was. His palm run through your wetness, the chill of the his silver ring sliding across your boiling skin.

He clicks two, three slaps in a row that makes you shudder, whimpering softly. Enzo smiles, he didn't need to, but he returned to that mocking tone from before, of someone who had to calmly spell out the commands so you could understand.

He brings his hand to your lips, gave a little tap on the top, de aquí, and then went all the way down again, leaving a wet trail until he gave your pussy another tap, a aquí. And itʼs these little details that makes everything even better. It makes you feel so dumb, foolish, but itʼs so strangely good...

When he puts himself inside you, you lock your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around him, feeling him dominate everything in you. He, however, insists on eye contact, lifting his torso, resting his forearm against the mattress, to look you in the eye. He smiles, panting like you; moaning low, hoarse. At first, slow, but soon he surrendered to the speed, to the sharp sound of your moans with each stronger thrust.

And there where so many thrilling impulses, fuck it... You want to cover your mouth, close your eyes to try to contain yourself. Itʼs the nasty noise of your bodies in shock, his deep voice, the scent of his hot skin. Youʼre so sensitive that your eyes get wet, a little tear runs down your cheek.

— Oh, no... Perdón, perdóname, cariño. (Oh, no... I'm so sorry, honey) — he stops, his thumb wipes the tear from your face.

'En—', you even started to want to call his name, but the frustration of no longer receiving the same thrilling sensations and to the same extent was such that you only knew how whine; your mind melting, finally murmuring “Dale, dale, papi.” (Give it to me, please, daddy)

Enzo smiles again. He leaves a few kisses on your lips, repeating your words between the kisses, as if he was making fun of your desperation and also the term you used to refer to him.

— ¿Más rápido, hm? Más duro? (Faster, hm? Harder?) — he turns you over on the bed, putting you on all fours. The dirty talk makes you smile, dumb with lust already, clinging to one of the pillows. The Uruguayan's body lead over yours, bringing his mouth close to your ear. — Tranquila, nena. Te daré todo lo que quieras. ( Calm down, baby. I will give you everything you want.)

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

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Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 8

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you decide to skip class with evan, and he takes you back to your apartment. after a slight argument, and an awkward run-in with your roommate, he invites you to homecoming at the end of the week.

word count: 6.1k

previous chapter

A/N: YUPPPPP FIC TITLE FINALLY DROPPED!!! this chapter may have gotten away from my, my b. but i like how it turned out hehe. enjoy<33

warnings: no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader, inexperienced!reader, slight smut, angst

MDNI- 18+ only!

It’s almost halfway through October, and everyone around campus is getting ready for homecoming. You’ve never really been interested in it, but with Evan on the football team, you can feel yourself getting a little bit excited about it.

You’re walking to your class with Evan, the one that assigned you as partners for your assignment, when you both get an email from your professor. You both read it at the same time, your professor telling you that she’s made this class a work period for your assignment, since she knows most people won’t be there anyway because of homecoming. A large smile breaks onto Evan’s face as he takes his eyes off his phone screen and looks over at you, stopping you in your tracks and making you face each other.

“Will you skip with me now, princess? We’re already way ahead, I’m sure you can skip just this once.” You fight back a smile as you turn your head to look at him, shaking your head. You know you don’t really have to be there, but you really don’t want to make a habit of skipping class. You’re both in your last year, and you want to make sure you end on a high note.

“But if we use this class, we can get more ahead.” you tell him in a slightly teasing tone, making him smirk. He knows you’re on the edge of giving in, so he tilts his head to the side as he looks down at you, murmuring a soft “please?” 

You purse your lips, pretending to think it over for a moment, while he desperately waits. Finally, you smile widely up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tilt your head to the same side as his.

“I guess I can skip class just this once.” you say with a soft sigh, laughing softly as a smirk breaks out on his face. He puts his hands on your wide hips, squeezing them softly as he speaks.

“Good girl. You won’t regret it. Is your roommate home?” You feel your heartbeat quicken at his words, and your lips part slightly as you try not to look away. You shake your head, swallowing as you think about it. Is he alluding to what you think he’s alluding to?

“Good. I’m taking you there. One of my roommate’s is home all day today.” he says quickly, then takes your hand and all but drags you in the direction of your apartment. 

You giggle softly at his eagerness, but let him drag you along, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“Not everyone has your long ass legs.” you tease as you finally catch up to him. He squeezes your hand, giving you a wink as he glances down at you beside him.

“I’ll pick you up and carry you if I have to.” he matches your tone, licking his lips as he turns onto your street. You’re not that far from campus, and right now, he’s very thankful for that.

Your eyes widen at his words, and you quickly shake your head, feeling nervousness in your belly. 

“You absolutely will not.” you tell him sternly, a small laugh escaping your lips. It makes your stomach flip to think about, but you really don’t want him to try. You’re sure he’s used to smaller girls, and you’d rather die than see him struggle to pick you up, or not be able to pick you up at all.

He guides you to your apartment quickly, and stands behind you while you unlock the door, his hands making their way to your hips again.

“This place is nice.” he trails off once you get inside, eyes surveying the room in more detail, having been distracted the last time he was briefly in your apartment.

“You’ve seen it before.” You roll your eyes as you drop your bag on the kitchen counter, watching as he stands in the hallway, looking around your living room. He turns to you once he’s finished and makes his way over to you, dropping his bag beside yours before he pushes you back against the kitchen counter. You feel his warm hands on your waist through your thin dress, and you look up at him, feeling all your nerves melt away as you take in his soft expression. He’s looking at you with a dazed smile, taking in the fact that he finally has you all to himself.

“So, what’s your roommate’s schedule like?” You put your hands on his chest as you raise a brow. 

“Why does that matter?” you ask in a confused tone. Why is he bringing up your roommate right now? “Because I wanna know how much time I have with you before she comes home and interrupts us.” he purrs, and you feel your mouth go dry, Now is the time, you think. You desperately want more of him, and you feel like you’re finally ready for it.

“She has a long day today. She’ll be gone until late.” you inform him softly, tilting your head to the side as you move to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

“Good to know.” he mumbles with a smirk before leaning down to your lips, his mouth meeting yours in a searing kiss. You moan softly as his hands move down to your hips, squeezing them softly. You part your lips slightly and allow his tongue to enter your mouth, as if claiming you. One of your hands makes its way to his hair, which makes him hum softly. Slowly, he brings one of his hands down to your thigh and raises your dress, letting his fingers move up to your panties sitting on your hip. You feel your breath catch in your throat as his hand dances across your waistband, toward the middle of your stomach, and he picks up on this, leaning back to look at your face.

“Just relax, princess. You’re being such a good girl for me.” you whimper softly at his words, feeling his fingers slowly dipping under the waistband of your panties, but not moving right to where you want him.

“I'm sorry.” you mumble, looking up at him with wide eyes as your hands trail down to his biceps. You hold them firmly, trying to ground yourself, torn between giving into your nerves and giving in completely to what you want him to do. He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he stops his fingers from moving any further.

“You don’t need to be sorry, princess. You’re good. There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’m gonna take care of you. Promise.” he purrs, leaning his head down to kiss your neck softly, fingers starting to go lower, just centimeters from your slit.

“I’ve never-” you say quickly, trailing off right before his fingers make contact. You figure you should be honest with him, as embarrassed as you feel about it.

“You’re- You’re telling me you’re a virgin?” he asks slowly, his brows furrowing slightly at your words. He knew you weren’t as experienced as him, not many were, but he didn’t think you were this inexperienced. He can’t help but move his hand out of your panties as you nod, mind working in overdrive as he takes in the new information. He wants to do so many things to you right now, but he knows he has to be far more gentle than he originally thought.

You blink slowly as he pulls his hand away, inhaling a shaky breath as you push his hands off of you and cross your arms over your chest. You take his surprise as disappointment, and you feel intense embarrassment wash over you as you look down, tears threatening to escape your eyes. 

“No, no, no. Wait a minute. I’m not mad, baby. You just surprised me, I wasn’t expecting that.” he tries to reassure you, noticing your walls coming back up as you avoid his eyes. You shake your head, leaning back as far as you could, still trapped between him and the counter, his hands quickly reaching out to grab your hips again. 

“I thought it was obvious! I could barely even kiss you!” you exclaim softly, looking up at him as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you for it. I knew you weren’t experienced; I just didn’t think you were a virgin.” he says softly, reaching up to take your arms from your chest. He then takes your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him. You sniffle softly. You feel pathetic; you can’t believe you’re crying right now. 

“You seemed like you were upset.” you tell him, your voice barely audible. He sighs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead softly.

“I’m not upset, princess. I’m just- I don’t know what to do right now.” Your brows furrow slightly at his words, and you try to lean away from his touch. You can’t help the tears forming in your eyes again as you speak.

“So, you don’t want me anymore?” You can’t believe how today is going. You were about to give yourself to him, and now it feels like that’s so far from happening, you might as well not even think about it. He sees your face fall, and he shakes his head quickly, keeping your face in his hands despite you leaning away.

“No. God, no. That’s not what I meant. I want you, so bad. You have no idea how much. I just- Are you sure you want your first time to be with me?” he asks you softly, his thumbs gently running across your cheeks in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, your voice slightly louder. Your brows are furrowed. Why is he asking you this? Of course you want him. You thought that was obvious by now. 

“Because I have to be gentle with you, and patient. But, with the thoughts I’m having right now, I don’t know if I could be.” You bite your lip, your eyes softening at his words. You’re so desperate for him at this point that the things he’s saying are going in one ear and out the other. Your roommates' words ring through your head, and you know that right now you just want to get it over with.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” He scoffs slightly at your words. He begins to realize that you don’t quite understand him. If he weren’t so nervous about not hurting you, he’d have you pinned down on your bed, kissing and sucking on your chest and roughly thrusting into you, but he knows he can’t do that yet.

“No, I do, baby. You deserve that. I care about you too much, I don’t wanna hurt you. Ever. Or have you regret it.” You frown slightly at his words.

“Why would I regret it?” He sighs at your question, tilting his head back and closing his eyes for a second to collect his thoughts.

“Baby, you deserve someone who wants everything that you want. A relationship, special treatment. I don’t know if I can give you that. I’ve never been in a serious relationship; I don’t know if I can treat you as well as you deserve.” You can’t help the scoff that escapes your throat, beginning to get angry with him. Where did this switch up come from? Can’t treat you well? You think about when he took you to see the stars. You know he can. If he doesn’t want an actual relationship, you’re starting to think you can handle that, as long as he keeps treating you the way he has.

“What if I didn’t want a relationship?” you challenge, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. You’re beginning to think he just doesn’t want you, and he’s just too scared to be honest.

“Princess, I know you well enough. You’re not that type of girl.” You huff softly, looking away for a moment. He can’t believe your words. It’s like you’re a different person right now; the shy and soft-spoken girl from the last few weeks is nowhere to be found.

“I could be.” It’s his turn to scoff as he shakes his head, giving you a “really?” look.

“I don’t want you to be just so you can be with me.” he tells you, his face falling slightly. His head is reeling, he doesn’t want this new information to change anything, but he can’t help the nerves creeping into his stomach that he’ll be your first. It feels like it changes everything.

“Where is this coming from? Why are you pulling away all of a sudden?” you ask him, your angry tone slowly slipping away, being replaced with a hint of sadness.

“I don’t know, princess. This is all new to me. I don’t know what to do.” He runs his hands over his face, turning away from you and taking a step away. He hopes taking a step away will somehow make his thoughts make sense. Your presence messes with his head. He’s never felt this way before, and it scared him to think that he could mess it up so easily.

“Well, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to go find a random guy to sleep with and then come back to you? Make it easier for you?” You ask sarcastically, taking a step forward, your arms flailing as you speak. You’re joking, but a small part of you thinks you might just do it if it means you can keep seeing him like this. He takes his hands away from his face, giving you a stern look.

“Absolutely not. I would never let that happen.” he says, his tone low. Jealousy fills every inch of him as he imagines you with another guy, letting him put his hands and mouth all over your soft body. You scoff, running your tongue along the inside of your teeth at his sudden outburst.

“Then what the hell do you want? You don’t want me, but you don’t want me with another guy. So, what?” You can feel your anger bubbling up as you speak in an exasperated tone. He’s not making any sense. He doesn’t want you, but he doesn’t want you to get with someone else?

“I don’t want you to find a random guy at a party. I want you to have someone who’ll treat you with respect. That wants to take his time with you.” You feel yourself move before your brain catches up to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him hard.

“Then do it.” you tell him once you pull back. You notice how quick his hands are back on your hip and your jaw, and you think it’s a good sign.

He looks down at you, his breathing quicker than normal as he thinks it over. He’s torn. As much as he wants to give you everything, he’s nervous that he won’t be able to. Your eyes search his as he thinks, and you see in his eyes that he’s about to cave.

You stand up on your toes again and kiss him, slowly walking him back to the couch and pushing him down onto it. You move to straddle his waist, putting both of your hands on his face as his hands find your hips. You’re not sure where your newfound confidence is coming from, but you’re too caught up in the moment to think about it.

“Baby I-” he pulls away after a moment, knowing he can’t just give in to you. He can feel his pants getting tighter as he feels your clothed heat over him, and it’s taking everything in him not to flip you onto your back and rip your clothes off.

“Will you try? You’re better than you think you are. Will you give yourself a chance?” you cut him off, speaking softly, one hand twirling a small lock of hair on the base of his neck. He groans at your words. He can see the hope in your eyes, and he really doesn’t want to let you down.

“Okay, I’ll try. For you.” he says after a moment with a small sigh, and he can’t help but mirror you as you give him a big small. You lean into his lips again, whining softly as he pulls you further down against his lap. 

“God, you’re gorgeous. My pretty girl.” he purrs against your lips. You smile at his words, beginning to move your hips against his in a slow grind. He groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls away.

“You’re making it really hard for me to hold back, princess.” he tells you softly, licking his lips as he looks up at your puffy lips and blown pupils. The only thing on your mind is him, how his hands feel on you, how his lips will feel as they trail down your body. You bring your hands down to the hem of his shirt, and he lets you pull it over his head before you let it drop to the floor. Your eyes take in his bare torso, biting your lip as you trace your fingers down his bare chest.

“We can’t do this, princess. Not today.” he murmurs, eyes trailing down over your clothed figure, aching to see more.

“Please.” you whisper, and his eyes snap back up to your face at the softness of your plea.

“No. No. Don’t give me that look.” he gets out, his hands itching to grope every inch of your body.

“What look?” you ask innocently, looking at him with big, doe eyes. You fight back a smile as he groans, tilting his head back to rest on the couch.

“That look. Those big eyes. I know what you want, princess, but I’m trying to hold onto some shred of resistance here.” he tells you sternly, raising his head back up to look at you. You laugh softly, running your hands through his hair.

“So don’t.” you lean in, whispering in his ear. He can feel your warm breath on his neck, and he’s getting painfully hard as you all but plead for him to take you.

“Stop, princess. Please.” he begs. He can feel his resistance hanging on by a thread. He wants nothing more than to do what you’re asking him to do, but he knows he has to hold back.

“Do you really want me to stop?” you whisper in his ear, leaning down to kiss his neck softly.

“Yes. No. Fuck, princess, I should tell you to stop.” you sit back, looking at his expression. You know he’s still holding back a little, so you try to set your nerves aside as you reach for the hem of your dress, pulling it slowly off your body and dropping it onto the floor. He lets in a sharp breath as he takes in your exposed form. He smirks as he takes in your heaving chest, and the way your hands start to shake in slight nervousness. You can’t help the twisting in your stomach as he takes in your nearly bare body. You know he must like your body enough; he’s been with you for weeks, but you can’t help but still feel a little insecure as he sees you without clothes covering your soft curves.

“What are you doing?” His eyes don’t leave your torso, and he fights back a groan as his eyes land on your soft belly. He can’t help but let his hands move from your hips to the sides of your stomach, tracing the stretch marks littered across your form.

“It’s hot in here.” you murmur with a soft giggle, shrugging. His eyes move back up to your face, and he raises a brow at your obvious lie.

“We both know that’s not why you did that.” he teases softly. He licks his lips, trying desperately to keep his eyes trained on yours.

“Prove it.” you tease him back, leaning back to his neck and kissing him again, your hips instinctively moving against his.

“This isn’t fair, princess. You know what you’re doing.” he groans, his hands gripping your hips even tighter, unsure if he wants to help guide your hips against him or stop your movements completely.

“Please. Touch me.” you whisper before bringing your lips to his, parting your lips as he slides his tongue into your mouth. 

He feels the last of his resistance snapping at your soft pleading. He trails one of his hands to the waistband of your panties again, slowly dipping his fingers into them. You buck your hips as his hands move down to your core, and he feels how wet you are for him. He groans as he feels your arousal, slowly moving his fingers to circle your clit, pulling a soft whimper from your lips as you pull away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

He wants so badly to go further; wanting to feel his fingers slowly stretch you out, but he holds back. He increases his pace slightly, chuckling as he hears your continued whimpering and heavy breathing. He’s barely done a thing, and you’re already so desperate for him. 

“You like that, princess? That feel good?” he asks softly, using his unoccupied hand to tilt your head up and meet your lips in a searing kiss. 

You nod, whispering a breathy “yes” against his lips, moving your hips against his fingers, desperate for more. He chuckles softly, continuing to move his fingers at a slow pace, coating his fingers with your wetness to help with his movements.

As he keeps moving his fingers, you feel your release quickly approaching, so unused to feeling someone else’s fingers on your, and your moans and whimpers become louder and more breathy. You lean back from his lips, tilting your head back as your hands move to his shoulders, your grip tightening.

“You close, pretty girl?” he asks softly, putting one hand on your chin to tilt your head back down, forcing you to hold eye contact. You nod, your breaths coming out in shallow pants as you teeter on the edge.

“Let go for me, princess. Keep your eyes on me.” His words are all it takes for you to fall over the edge. Your body tenses as you come on his fingers, hips bucking slightly as you chase your high. He smiles at how hard you’re trying to keep your eyes on him, and slows his fingers, but he doesn’t stop them completely, instead guiding you through your release. 

“You did so good, princess. So good for me.” he whispers, his hand reaching up to the back of your head as you lean your forehead against his shoulder again. He pulls his other hand out of your panties and brings them to his lips, sucking them clean with a low moan. He savours your taste, trying to commit it to memory.

After a moment, you catch your breath, and lean back off his shoulder. You meet his lips again in a soft kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, slowly moving your hands down to his belt, itching for more. He sucks in a sharp breath and reaches down to stop your hands, shaking his head softly as he pulls back from your lips. 

“Not now, princess. That’s enough for today.” You whine softly at his words, but they make you think. For today? He was adamant before about not doing anything intimate with you, and now, you’re not sure where you stand. 

“So, what does this mean?” you ask softly after a moment of silence. He sighs, tilting his head back against the couch, thinking for a moment. He’s still so torn. He knows doing what he just did maybe wasn’t the best way to go about this confusing situation, but he loved the soft whimpers falling from your lips so much that he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I don’t know.” he tells you after a moment, raising his head back up to look at you.

“Were you serious? About caring about me?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as you fidget with your fingers in your lap.

“Of course, princess.” You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning ever so slightly closer to him.

“So, now what?” you ask again, hoping he’ll know what to do. This is so new to you. You know he’s not completely used to this either, but you think he might have a better idea of how to navigate this.

“Well, I know I want more of you. I don’t just wanna be with you once and then disappear. I want to keep you.” Your smile widens at his admission and you look down for a moment, face growing hot.

“Keep me?” you ask softly, looking into his eyes as he raises your face back up to his.

“Yeah, however I can. I wanna take you on a date, I wanna go to parties with you. I want you with me. I don’t want you with anyone else.” He knows he’s not making any sense right now, but he’s telling the truth. His thoughts are so jumbled that he can’t make sense of himself. He’s hoping that you’ll be able to; he admires how smart you are.

“And you said you didn’t know if you could give me that.” you remind him, brows furrowed. He lets out a soft laugh, shrugging before his expression goes serious again.

“Yeah. But, I want you. I want you to be mine. My girl.” he mumbles the last part more to himself, a small smile making its way back onto his face at the thought. You’re in slight disbelief. He’s singing a completely different tune than a few minutes ago, and as much as it surprises you, it makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah?” you ask, almost inaudibly, your eyes full of hope.

“Yeah.” he tells you matter of factly, feeling his heart race as it sinks in. You’re going to be his. 

“Okay.” You’re not sure what else to say. You laugh softly, leaning into his chest, resting your cheek against it. He rubs his hand up and down your back, relishing in the fact that you’re all his to touch, to take care of.

You listen to his heartbeat for a few minutes, and then lean back to meet his gaze.

“I’m yours.” you mumble in a daze, a wide smile spreading across your cheeks. He chuckles softly, nodding as he runs a thumb across your cheek.

“All mine, princess.” He pulls you in for another kiss, hands moving back down to your hips as yours hold his head. 

As you continue kissing, you hear your apartment door open. You pull back with wide eyes and jump off of him, sitting beside him on the couch and pulling a blanket over your exposed body before your roommate, Lindsey, sees you.

Her eyes glance between the both of you once she rounds the corner, a smirk forming on her face as her eyes trail across his bare chest. She can see how tightly you’re holding the blanket, and your dress still on the floor in front of the couch, and she immediately knows what she just walked into.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Evan says smugly, leaning back and extending his arm behind you on the back of the couch. He’s very clearly not embarrassed by his exposed torso, or the position you’ve been caught in, and it makes your blood boil. Your head snaps to him, giving him a glare at his tone, your cheeks hot in embarrassment.

“Hi,” your roommate says slowly, dropping her back onto the living room chair, “what are you guys doing?” Your eyes trail back to her, eyes narrowed. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she finds it hilarious. 

“Nothing. Just, um, working on some homework.” you reply softly. You’re not sure why you’re lying. You all know exactly what’s going on, and she’s your best friend, but you can’t stop the lie tumbling from your lips awkwardly.

“Homework, huh? This your study buddy?” she teases, crossing her arms over her chest, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

“I’m Evan.” he informs her, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. If Lindsey wasn’t here, you’d smack the smirk right off his face.

“Right. You guys been studying all night together?” she asks innocently, but her face is anything but. You groan softly, hiding your face in your hands. You hear Evan chuckle beside you.

“No need to get shy, princess. We’re all friends here.” you glare at him through your fingers, which makes his smirk widen.

“Don’t you have to go now?” you ask Evan in a low tone as you pull your hands away from your face, giving him a knowing look.

“What? No, I-” He’s cut off by your hand colliding with his chest. It’s not enough to hurt, of course, but enough to stop him mid-thought. “I mean, yeah. I should, uh, get going. Don’t wanna be late to that, thing. You wanna walk me out, princess?” You look back over at your roommate with an innocent smile, hoping to be out of this situation soon. You don’t move, painfully aware that you’re almost naked under the blanket, and you know that Evan knows. He just wants to see you get as flustered as possible. 

Lindsey’s eyes travel back down to your dress on the floor and laughs softly before she turns to walk to the kitchen, making herself look busy as she gives you both time to get dressed.

You jump off the couch and grab your dress and his shirt, throwing his shirt at him and putting your dress on quickly, smoothing it down as he catches his shirt and puts it on. You grab his hand, tugging him off the couch and pushing him towards the door, your roommate and him fighting back laughs at your awkward movements.

“Right. You should hurry. Don’t wanna be late for your, uh, thing.” you say softly, opening the door and pushing him into the hallway, barely giving him enough time to grab his bag on the counter.

He turns around to face you once he’s in the hallway, laughing softly as he notices that you have your head poked out the door, keeping it open just enough for your head to fit out.

“I’ll see you later?” you ask softly, a hopeful smile on your face.

“Well, actually, homecoming is tomorrow. Would be nice to have my girl there.” Your smile widens at his semi-awkward stance. He raises a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it softly. He’s not sure why he’s suddenly so nervous; he just had you coming on his fingers, but the idea of you in the stands and cheering for him has his head spinning.

You step out into the hallway, closing the door behind you, knowing your roommate is probably listening.

“You want me to come to your game?” He nods, feeling his nerves float away as he takes in the excited expression on your face.

“Yeah, it’d be nice to see you there, in the front row. I can give you my old jersey to wear.” He smirks, stepping closer to you again and putting his hands on your hips. He can’t get enough of them; he loves how soft they are under his fingertips. You feel your nerves come back, thinking about it. Your worst fear is putting it on and it being tight on you. You know it’s a little unrealistic; his jersey has to go over him and all his gear, but you still feel the nerves in your belly anyway.

“You don’t have t-” he cuts you off, now determined to see you in his jersey, with his name on your back.

“No, I do. I wanna see you in it. And I want everyone else to see you in it.” he murmurs before meeting your lips in a soft kiss. You smile into the kiss, feeling yourself cave as you feel his hope conveyed through the kiss.

“I guess I could.” you trail off once you both pull away. He smiles widely, nodding.

“Yeah, you will. But just a heads up, I think the guys on my team will try to flirt with you, some of them get kinda dumb when they see a pretty face.” You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. You’re sure they do get like that, but you doubt you’re any of their types. 

“I doubt that.” you tell him softly, shaking your head.

“No, I’m telling you. With my jersey on, they won’t be able to help themselves.” You furrow your brows, tilting your head to the side, watching his smile widen at the thought of every guy on his team seeing you as his. 

“What does the jersey have to do with anything?” you ask, confused.

“If you have my name on your back, they’ll know your mine. It’s like a challenge, and they’ll wanna get a rise out of me, trust me.” He’s sure he has nothing to worry about, which is why he’s so excited to see them try to flirt with you. He knows you’ll come home with him at the end of the night. He’ll make sure of it.

“Men are weird.” you joke softly, making both of you laugh softly. He shrugs, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he smirks down at you.

“I never said they weren’t. So, you’ll come? It’s a big game,” You nod, and he smiles before he continues “And you’ll come to the afterparty with me too? Wanna show you off some more, celebrate the win with my girl.” You nod again, laughing softly at his adamance that his team will win.

“But, just a heads up. I might be a little more rowdy if we win. Might get a little handsy.” he explains in a slightly teasing tone, but he’s dead serious. He knows how he usually is after a win, and with you, he’ll be even worse.

“In front of everyone?” you tease softly, feeling your nerves slowly creeping into you again. It’s one thing to have his hands on you when you’re alone with him, but it’s another completely to have his hands on you in front of so many people. You’re barely used to his hands on you in general.

“Gotta show everyone that you’re with me. Gotta show off my good luck charm after we win.” You feel your face heat up at his words, and you look down. You nod slowly, eyes trained on the shirt stretched across his chest. You like the idea of being his good luck charm.

“Should I meet you there? At the game?” you ask, looking back up into his eyes, biting your lip softly.

“No, I’ll pick you up. I’ll be here around 6, I’ll give you my jersey, and then you can sit in the front row and cheer me on. God, I can’t wait to see my name on your back.” He mutters the last sentence mostly to himself, groaning at the thought.

“So, I’m guessing that me wearing your jersey is a non-negotiable.” you tease him, giggling softly at his suddenly very serious expression. 

“You’re damn right. Now, gimme a kiss.” he says sternly, putting a hand on the back of your neck and forcing you up onto your toes as he leans down slightly. He tries to deepen the kiss, but you pull back, suddenly remembering that you’re still in the hallway of your building.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” you tell him softly, slowly backing up to your door, putting your hand on the handle as you lean your back against the door. He hums softly, eyes trailing down your figure.

“Can’t wait. 6 o’clock.” He winks, starting to step backwards until he finally turns and walks down the hallway to the stairs.

You walk back into your apartment in a daze, groaning when you see your roommate sitting at the kitchen island, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey.” you trail off, smiling awkwardly at her.

“So, you gonna tell me what that was about?” she teases. You laugh, nodding as you sit down on the chair beside her, beginning to tell her everything.

next chapter

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[issdisgrace]

A RIVALRY, A CRASH, AND 3 SIMPLE WORDS

WARNINGS: kinda sad, car crash, burning, hospitals, idk what else to put

A/N: This is for @marksbear2. I hope you like it. Also sorry it took a while I have been procrastinating.

You and Lando have been rivals since day one. Always trying to finish higher than the other, always trying to score more points than the other, and ALWAYS bickering when you weren't on track. Whether it was about the actual race or not, you guys always found an excuse to bicker.

And in hide sight it was so clear you guys were in love with each but neither of you knew what you were feeling towards the other and it was so confusing so it was just easier to fight with each other than figure out what you were feeling.

So you guys continued like this for a while as both of you climbed the ranks to Formula 1. And in the end of both were called up at the same time Lando of course to McLaren and you to Mercedes.

While so many things changed for the two of you and you now had to be more civil to the other than in prior years. Ultimately, that didn't change how competitive you guys were and it didn't change your bickering.

And from the very beginning of your guys' F1 careers there were bets in all the garages, included your guys on who would confess to who in the first place. The bets were split in almost every garage, but they more leaned to Lando, confessing first and boy where they wrong.

It was Monaco 2024. It was a race you guys did every year. You thought it would be just like last year's smooth sailing. You qualified good not as good as of course you wanted to but good none the less. Then the day came and with it came a deep dread in your stomach. Something bad was going to happen. You knew it.

Then Checo had his crash in lap 1 and that dread only grew stronger, so strong you thought you were going to throw up. But you pushed the feeling to the side and got ready to start up once again. Before you knew it was lights out and away you go again. It was lap 39, halfway through the race when engine trouble started.

Your team told you to stay out. That it would be fine and they would figure it out. That definitely didn't make you feel any better than before. Then at the beginning of lap 78 you were suddenly on fire, not smoking, not anything like that, on fire. Before you could think, you lost control and crashed into the wall others still flying by.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tried free yourself from the car. You could see and feel the flames burning. It was burning through your suit. You couldn't feel anything as you continued to try to free yourself and just as freed yourself help arrived. Climbing out of the burning car, when you stumbled towards the medics. Multiple people with fire extinguishers put out the flames on your body.

It was only when you were loaded into the amblulance and on the way to the hospital when your senses returned. The overwhelming pain hitting you like a semi truck along with a putrid smell you thought was the smell of your burnt flesh. But you didnt really have time to fully process it because before you knew it you where at the hospital and being rushed into to surgery.

Lando was almost to the finish line when he heard over radios that you were on fire and then crashed. He felt like he was going to be sick, a thousand thoughts racing through his head. The loudest thought by far was you were going to die and he would never get to tell him he loved you. He was scared, no scared didn't even describe how he was feeling. He was petrified.

As he got out of his car and rushed to Zak Brown, the team CEO to get details of your crash and if you were ok. He told Lando you were ok as far as he knew. Lando felt a little better hearing that but he told Zak once podium was held he was going to that hospital to be with you. He didn't care of the consequence he needed to be there.

Zak being the man he was told Lando not to worry and he would handle the FIA if they gave him a hassle. Lando thanked him profusely before heading to podium.

It was over before Lando knew it and he was rushing back to his driver room to change, gather his stuff, and head to the hospital. Once he was there at the hospital, he rushed in and started asking about you. He lied when the nurse asked him what his relation to you was and said he was your husband.

The nurse told him that you were just prepped for surgery and were on the way to it. And it wouldn't be for a couple hours until you would be out of it. So he would have to wait until he was allowed to see you. He spent the next couple of hours pacing up and down the waiting room anxiously waiting for you.

It felt like a million years had passed before the nurse came and got him. He grabbed his stuff and quickly followed the nurse to your room as she told him the surgery went well and graphs were a success and that it probably be awhile until you woke up because of the anesthetic and the pain meds they pumped through your system.

His heart broke into millions of tiny pieces when he saw you in the hospital bed. He immediately made his way to your bedside and pulled the chair that was nearby towards you and sat down. He didnt even notice the nurse leaving as he gently grabbed your hand. It was now that all the tears he had been holding back started to flow and he ended up crying himself to sleep.

When Lando woke up, his head now rested on your chest as you combing your hand through his hair. He looked up at you surprised that you were awake. He pulled away from you question after question spewing from his mouth. You just hushed him and pull him back into. I love you; you said as you rested your head against his. I love you too; he said back as he wrapped his arms around you. His body would sure complain about the awkward position later, but he would deal with that later.

He needed this. You need this right now. You guys would talk about what your relationship was going to look now on later. You just need to be in the moment with each other.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Yeah that's totally fine sorry for not being more specific. Can I have jean, eren armin mikasa and bertholdt saving the reader from like a titan or something thanks. ( you can cut mikasa and/or eren if that's to many people for you)

a/n: i’m so so sorry this took so long. this has been in my inbox forever & i hope you’re still around, anon.

jean saves you

it was a warm night, tonight. you and jean had decided to take a late night stroll, enjoying the cool breeze and each others company. you were both oblivious to the gaping hole in wall maria.

you were laughing and joking with jean about something eren had said earlier. jean didn’t think it was all that funny but tolerated it for the sake of being in your company.

“you’re just a little hotheaded,” you laughed, pinching your thumb and pointer finger close enough to touch.

“did you hear that?” jean asked, his voice falling to a whisper.

“that’s not funny, jean.” you said sternly.

“seriously, Y/N. shut up for a second.” he hissed. he throws his right arm out in front of your chest, preventing you from taking one step further.

as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw it. the unmistakable foot of a titan.

your legs frozen in fear, you looked over at jean. a blank expression was on his face which was all drained of color.

it was quiet to the point where you could hear it’s breath. you could feel the warm humidity settle on your face.

in a fleeting moment of bravery, his hand wrapped around your wrist. and jean ran like hell, dragging you with him. your legs could barely keep up with his.

eventually, you reached the dorms where jean practically threw you inside. he alerted his comrades and they all begin to get their gear in a hurry to slay however many titans might be lurking within the walls.

he stopped you halfway through buckling your straps up. “no,” he said, “it’s too dark. i’ll be damned if i let you out there.”

jean wouldn’t hear another word from you as he ran through the door and into the darkness.

eren saves you

eren, now in possession of the attack and founding titan, waged a war in marley. through the chaos of it all, his goal seemed to be taking the war hammer titan’s power. you were stationed on the ground in marley, thanks to the call of the commander. it was a stupid plan but a sacrifice you were willing to make if it meant the safe return of eren.

levi and hange knew it was risky, sending you down there alone but you were the only one willing to die. you accepted long ago you’d die out on a mission and in terms of them, this seemed like a good one to go out on.

with your feet on the ground, you knew you had to act now. you needed to get the war hammers or the jaw’s attention so eren could proceed with his goal. you settled on the jaw, having a bit more familiarity with the titan because of ymir.

getting its attention was easy. running was the hard part. in the midst of everything, it went right over your head that the jaw would be near impossible to escape.

your odm gear could only carry you so fast. sweat dripped down your face in fear. you were so ready to die, weren’t you? why were you fighting it now?

a final attempt. you spin around, facing the titan and its’ teeth. flashy white teeth that would send you to your death. this is what you became a scout for.

you drew your blades, prepared to fight.

but you didn’t have to.

eren’s titan let out a roar that shook the earth. with a quick swoop, he grabbed the jaw in mid air as it leaped towards you. the attack titan held your gaze as you thanked eren over and over in your head. you hoped he could hear you.

armin saves you

in paradis, there were humans and there were titans. everything else was irrelevant. of humans, there were civilians and there were scouts. you, following your friends into the survey corps, were a scout. a terrified little girl but a scout, nonetheless.

the day you were pursuing the female titan, you had fallen out of rank. a few abnormals had pushed you further and further away from your comrades. but you had no choice, if you wanted to live, you had to abandon them.

your horse was fast enough to allude them until in a moment of fear, it bucked you off. your steed fled quickly, leaving you to your legs as a means of transportation.

what’s worse is you were in an open field, no trees to grapple onto. you would have to use the titan as an anchor if you were going to slay it.

zipping up, you launched a hook into it’s neck. sending you, it smacks you down. you had quick reflexes, hooking down into the ground and zipping back down instead of tumbling down.

how were you supposed to reach the nape of an abnormal?

a faint galloping sound reaches your ears, alerting you of a comrades presence. armin arlert.

armin showed up with his own horse and a spare. leaping up from his own horse, he flies by the titan, cutting the muscles in the back of the knees. the titan drops down giving you time to pull yourself up onto the mare.

riding back, you yell over at him, “you came back for me?”

“of course!”

bertholdt saves you

“shit,” bertholdt murmured from a branch as he saw you coming up over the horizon.

bertholdt and reiner had just taken ymir and eren. and you were damned if you weren’t going to do anything about it. your commanders told you to leave it alone but you just couldn’t. eren and ymir were your friends, dammit, and you were going to get them back.

you didn’t know you were riding into a death trap until it was too late.

titans gnawed and clawed at the tree the warriors were holed up on. you saw the cluster of them just as they had heard your horse’s hooves hitting the ground.

quickly losing interest in the people above them, the titans turned towards you. and eren and ymir wouldn’t be any help, knowing the condition they’re in.

could you turn back? you’d risk luring a group of ten, maybe fifteen, titans back to your squad. they’d handle it, right? you didn’t want to find out, instead, you charged forward relying on the trees to give you some relief.

“shit!” bertholdt repeated more urgently once he saw you continue heading forward. with the knowledge that the titans were learning to climb, he forgot he was a warrior.

“bert, don’t!” reiner threatened.

in this moment, he was a solider coming down to save you. he didn’t care about the details, he’d figure that out later. as long as you were safe, that’s all he cared about.

and he did save you. he used the titans as landmarks to grapple his way to you, lift you off the horse and back up into the tree tops.

you were safe, but at what cost?

mikasa saves you

it’s always been said that mikasa was an army of soldiers shoved into a teenage girl and while you never doubted it, you witnessed something that would make even the most sexist man bow down to her. with the fury of all her ancestors, she saved you from a death you had thought was inevitable.

stupidly, you had gotten yourself pinned against a tree. worse, you had gotten yourself pinned against a tree with empty gas canisters. your odm gear was useless and there were no low hanging branches to try to climb up.

three large titans loomed above you, nearly salivating at the thought of their next meal. their teeth were giant and captivating. it was all you could look at as they started to close in, and you could picture yourself stuck between their two front teeth. you would forever be a remnant of their latest snack until their greedy tongues would finish you off and swallow what’s left.

your back was pressed even more firmly against the wood. it hurt. could you run for it? were you able to run fast enough that you could dart between their legs without one of them grabbing you?

it didn’t matter anyway. fast enough or not, your legs refused to move. frozen in fear, you picked neither flight or fight.

a scream of feminine rage stopped the giants and pulled their attention away from you. you could have used the distraction to make a quick get away but still, your feet were glued to the ground.

she was quick, mikasa. she was fast enough to where the only thing you saw were silver blades reflecting the sun, zooming through the air. and as she moved further, each of the three titans dropped one after another. they fell like giant columns and the sound when they hit the ground was loud. the earth shook with their death.

it was no sweat to her. the look in her eyes told you she’d do this over and over again until she couldn’t no more. she was a cold blooded killer and she saved your life that day.

[piastrinorris]

What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DNI), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving),

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: A late night post-Truth or Dare chat with your best friend has you admitting your own lack of experience, sexually. Thankfully, he's more than happy to tutor you.

A/N: finally got inspo for one of my wips! just another 12 to go 🙃

As Nancy and Robin work together to drag a near-catatonic Eddie out of Steve's living room, you nudge the party’s host’s foot with your own. “Alright, Harrington, truth or dare?”

He chuckles, “Seriously? Still? We’re the only two people left, right now.”

You shrug, “’M not ready to go home, yet. Unless you’re really willing to turf out your best friend onto the cold, dark streets of Indiana?” You look at him, doe-eyed, and he laughs again.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Truth.”

“Who’d you lose your V-card with?” you ask plainly, and Steve, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes on it.

“What the hell! Remind me who it was that insisted on the ‘nothing sexual’ rule when we started playing?” he sputters out.

You shrug, “Around the others, sure, but I’m curious. It’s like, the one thing we never talk about.” 

Steve sighs in defeat. “It was… Tina Langdon. At that party on the last day of sophomore year. The one you wouldn’t go to.”

“Couldn’t,” you correct him, “I was ill, remember?”

He scoffs, “Please, you were fine all day, you can’t fool me, you just chickened out!”

“This isn’t about that,” you shake your head, feeling yourself get flustered.

Steve grins slowly. “Yeah, it is! I know you, you were getting some heavy hints from… Who was that guy, oh my god, this is gonna bug me…” He falters, rubbing his jaw in thought.

"Greg Patowski," you mutter.

"Greg Patowski," he repeats in a reminiscent tone, shaking his head and looking up as he waves his finger up and down. "Alright, 'fess up, your turn now. Who was yours?"

Your cheeks burn hot. "Steve!"

He grins wickedly at you. "C'mon, dishing out what you can't take? That's not like you! You started this!"

After a moment, you bashfully murmur, "It was… It - you just…" Steve still looks at you with anticipation, so you blurt out, "It was Greg, okay?!" He scoffs in disbelief. "He - it was that night, too, actually. He came over from the party to 'check on me', we made out on my bed, it… went further. He was in the room and out again within ten minutes," you admit with a scowl.

Steve's jaw drops in shock. "Are you serious?!" You nod. "Who el-"

"No! My turn to ask now." You take another moment to compose yourself before asking, "W-what's your favourite, like, part of it?"

"Sex?" he asks, and you nod. He blows a long breath out before eventually answering, "Probably the stuff before it. Like head, god. Giving it? Hell, yeah. Getting it? I swear, I don't care what else happens," he throws his head back and smiles wistfully.

Shuffling in your seat, you ask, "H-how did you know what to do?"

"Hm?" Steve asks, and you die a little internally as the thought of repeating yourself, though it seems as though he's heard you. "Oh, well, Tina was, as you know, the grade above us, so she was already more… Experienced, and that helped a lot. She pretty much told me where to go and what to do." He shrugs. 

You're already nervous enough about having to explain yourself to him, when Robin and Nancy reappear at the doorway. "Hey," Nancy calls, making you jump. "Uh, we threw Eddie into one of the guest rooms. Rob and I are just gonna head home, now."

Steve frowns, "You carried him all the way upstairs? I could've done that for you!"

Robin glares at him from under her brow. "What, because two poor, defenceless young women couldn't handle it on their own?" She gives you a look which you silently translate and respond by punching Steve in the arm, which makes Robin laugh, "Nice. See you kids around!"

"Night!" Nancy calls after her before they both head out the front door.

Steve rubs his arm and pokes your shoulder. "So, Jumpy McPuncher."

"Good one," you deadpan, and he laughs.

"C'mon, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

"Well…" you start hesitantly. "You know I was telling you about the guy who's been kinda flirting with me at work?" Steve nods. "I was, uh, thinking of asking him out, but then I was thinking about the bigger picture, and how eventually that's gonna lead to - to, y’know, possibly sleeping with him, and I was wondering how to make it… Enjoyable, since I don't really know how to…" you falter through the end of your sentence, and Steve frowns.

"You've… Been with others since Greg, right?" You shake your head, and he looks at you incredulously. "What?! You've dated people since then!"

"Dated, sure, but I'd make up some shit about not being ready for a commitment before it got to that point," you admit quietly. 

Steve nods slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "Okay. So… You wanna learn how to please a guy?" You nod bashfully and his nod quickens as he hops up onto the couch you'd been leaning against. "Alright."

You look at him in confusion. "W-what are you -?"

He takes some pillows off of the couch and hands them to you. "For your knees," he explains.

"Are you…?" You ask quietly.

"Offering myself as your test dummy? Sure, if it'll help you out," Steve's reply is so casual. "That is, of course, if you want, don't feel like you have t- oh, okay," he smirks as you tentatively unbutton his jeans.

You snap your hands back into your lap in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do that?"

"No, no, if… If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, we really don't have to," he studies you with concern, but you shake your head.

"No, I… I want to. This is the best case scenario, right? I can learn, and not worry about disappointing - not that I don't care what you think, but like, you're you, you know?"

He smiles warmly. "Sure am, and you're you. And I'll guide you on what to do, but you gotta be confident with it, 'kay? Just get going with it, and don't take it personally if I tell you to do something a little different, alright?" You nod, and once again reach to undo his jeans. He shuffles them down to his thighs, and you can see a noticeable bulge in his underwear. "You wanna take it out, or me to, or not yet?"

"Can I…?" You clear your throat, remembering what he just said about confidence. "Can i just touch it over…?" You hold your hand to hover just over his crotch area and he smiles with a nod. The affirmation is oddly calming as you start palming him, and he hums out a soft moan.

"That feels nice," he muses. "Nice and gentle."

He keeps humming with delight as he watches you, and you notice something as you keep palming him. "You're getting hard, already."

"Doesn't take much, right?" he smirks. "Plus, you're doing so well, there."

"I, um… I know you're saying I should take things at my own pace, but I don't wanna take too long, should I take it out now?"

"Go for it," Steve mutters under his breath, still smiling.

You reach beneath the elastic of his underwear, take his shaft in your hand and move it out into view. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops when you see the size of it. "You, uh, you're much bigger than Greg Patowski."

He chuckles, "Good to know. Still wanna keep going?"

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. So, what do I do from here?"

"Whatever you feel like doing," he shrugs. "You can use your lips and kiss it, or use your tongue and lick it, or you can get straight onto putting it on your mouth. I promise you, as long as it feels good for you, it's gonna feel good for me, too."

You study his member for a few seconds before tentatively licking along his length. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch. "Oh, god, yes. That feels so good. Mmm, and you look good doing it, too," he muses as he looks at you. You look up at him and chirp in questioning affirmation, and he bites his lip. "So good. You know, if you really wanna tease them, you can push your whole mouth against it without wrapping your lips arou- oh, fuck, just like that," he groans as you lean into your motions.

You sit back on your heels to frown, "But if I do that, there's still so much that I can't fit."

"So there is," he raises his eyebrows. "Why don't you try spitting into your hand and getting to work on the rest of it?"

After spitting into your palm, you smirk up at him. "Oh, you want me to get to work?"

He's about to give you an equally smug response when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and start working it. "Fuck, yes, there you go, just keep touching m- mmfff," he moans. "God, see? You're a natural."

Still stroking him, you experimentally run your tongue around his swollen mushroom tip, to which he grips the cushions next to him oh-so tightly. You finally wrap your lips around his member and sink down onto it as much as you can.

He moans so loudly that he brings the couch cushion up to his mouth to bite down on it. It makes you instinctively hum around his cock, which makes him squirm and whine more. You pull back again to look up at him in awe, and he asks, "What? Surprised that I'm moaning, or that you're able to make me?

"A little of both," you admit bashfully, and he sits back, spreading his legs further as he leans back. 

"Well, when you're doing such a good job, of course I'm gonna," he smirks.

"S'pose I've got a good teacher, huh?" You raise your eyebrows as you jerk him off.

He shakes his head, "Can't take credit for that, baby, this has all been you. Though, if you want a little guidance, why don't you try sucking your cheeks in while you're down there?"

You happily take him back into your mouth, revelling in his moans as he encourages you. Every ounce of praise he gives you tingles that shoot to your core, and every instance of him calling you a good girl has you light-headed.

You try and sneak your hand between your thighs, but it doesn't go unnoticed. With a chuckle, Steve asks, "You good?"

You whine, "Y're not… Th'only one who's… Enjoying this."

His smug expression stretches into a full-blown grin. "Yeah? You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead."

"Is this good? The right thing to do?" You ask as you reach inside your panties, face melting with pleasure as you finally make contact with yourself.

"Fuck, yes, baby, you look so fucking hot down there, getting yourself off to - what is it, huh? You like the praise? The moans? Or do you just really like having my cock in your mouth?"

That's the real answer, right at the end. You've never especially wanted to get this intimate with anyone, not even that one flirty customer you'd thought about asking out, but now there's only one person you ever want to be thus close with.

But he's your best friend. He's doing this in the name of helping you overcome your anxieties, that's all. You can't jeopardise what you've got with him.

"All of it," you whimper out, briefly looking over to glance at his fingers to allow yourself to imagine them as you sink your own inside you, getting back to sucking him off, making sure you hollow your cheeks every now and again like he told you.

With his moans, you lose yourself in the moment of imagining him touching you that as you hook your fingers inside of you, you instinctively keel over, sinking yourself further down on his cock. Steve lets out a long, stuttered groan at that. "Fucking shit, baby, y'almost got me in whole, god, wanna fuck the rest of me into you, too." You whine around him and he tuts, "Don't think you're ready for that, yet. You're gonna gag, and I don-"

You push yourself even further down, trying desperately to ignore your gag reflex, and he throws his head back to moan, "Fuck, yes, good girl! Such a good girl, taking all of that fucking cock, and holding it there, all while touching yourself, fuck. You're so hot, y'know that? Oh, fuck, baby, you need to breathe, c'mon," he reminds you softly, pushing you away. "That's it, oh, look at all that drool," he simpers, wiping the spit from your chin.

"Do… Do people like that? Seeing all… This?" You gesture towards your face, and he shakes his head.

"Don't know, don't care, doesn't matter. I fucking love it," he groans as you wrap your hand around his shaft again, stroking him all the way from base to tip. "Oh, shit, you really are a fucking natural at getting me off, baby. You gonna get us both off at the same time, yeah?" You nod, and his face contorts with his impending climax. "Fuck, get that mouth back on me, I wanna feel your moans against my cock coax the cum right outta me."

Not needing to be told twice, you happily comply, making sure you try to moan around him as much as possible. He strains out another moan, gasping out, "Fuck, so… So proud of you, look at you. Taking me so well, looking so fucking good touching yourself. Such a good little student, 'm gonna teach you so much more. How a real man eats you out, how a real man fucks you, fuck, so much for you to learn. Y'want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me with my fucking cock in your mouth."

"Wan' y'to hh-fuck me, hh-so bad," you whine, not moving, and he groans.

"You're so fucking cute when you talk with your mouth full, baby. Aww, you gonna do it? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?" he groans, and you rub at your clit rapidly. "That's my good girl, fuck, look up at me with those eyes, so sweet, so sexy, while you get us both off, c'mon, baby, you can do it, atta girl."

The impending desperation in his tone mixed with his words finally sends you over the edge, moaning shrilly around his cock as you feel your orgasm press deeper than anything's ever felt before. You practically see spots as you squirt all over your fingers, trying desperately to stay focused on keeping Steve's cock in your mouth long enough to take all of his load, swallowing everything as he gives it to you.

He breathes deeply as he comes down from his high, smiling blissfully as he sits forward, cradling your face in his hands. His large, thick-fingered hands. He licks his lips to speak when the wet patch on the pillow you'd been sitting on distracts him. "Holy shit, did you squirt?!" You look up at him and shrug, and he strokes his thumbs against your cheeks. "From now on, I'm making that happen for you, 'kay?"

"So, you meant it? You'll keep teaching me?" You ask hopefully.

"In a ways," he shrugs. "I'll keep showing you what real pleasure feels like… But not for some… Guy who shows up at your work sometimes. Sure as shit not for some Greg Patowski type. I'm. Here to please, you. Got that?" 

You nod, licking your lips, a hint of a smile tickling at you. "Real hung up on Greg still, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it should've been me," Steve admits. "I wanted to make my move that night, but then Patowski bounced early, and everyone was talking about how he was bragging about how he was gonna seal the deal with you. And so, my young and stupid self went and drowned my sorrows with Tina."

You chuckle softly. "You know, when I heard knocking at my window that night, I really hoped it would be you. Always dreamt of you sneaking in through my window and having your way with me. But I like this better."

"You do?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Yeah. You were right, about getting with someone with more experience." You shuffle yourself closer to him, further between his legs, letting go your arms rest around his hips. "'Cause now you've definitely ruined other men for me."

He grins, pulling you up and scooping you I to his lap before grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fervently. "You wrecked me a long time ago, baby. Glad to see you're finally catching up."

[dropsofpluto-writes]

If Only In Dreams (Hotch x Reader oneshot)

Summary: You've been Jack Hotchner's babysitter for quite some time now, but his dad is what keeps you coming back, even if it's only in your dreams. Until now, that is. 18+, minors dni

Warnings: smut, piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), voice kink, plot if you squint

Grad school was kicking your ass. Fully and completely. Classes and coursework was stressing you to the max, but you remained strong. Still, money was important, so you found yourself in the kitchen of SSA Aaron Hotchner’s home, making a simple meal for Jack to eat before he went to bed. It didn’t hurt that you loved Jack, or that your boss was amazing.

You supposed that you were a woman of simple pleasures. Sure, Mr. Hotchner was generous and kind, always overpaying you for the services you provided. But, by God he was one hell of a man. 

Neat, black hair that you were begging to feel, rugged features that even Michaelangelo couldn’t carve, and his voice. Surely he could recite the first 100 digits of pi and you would go weak in the knees. To your credit, it had also been far too long since you had cum.

But alas, you were just making boxed mac-n-cheese for his young son. Plus, there’s now way in hell he would ever hold you in the same light. You knew that he never spent his free time touching himself to the thought of your moans, your breath on his skin, the way you must taste, the way only your voice could scream his name. But, you imagined all that and more of him. Maybe that was okay. Maybe you shouldn’t violate the one good constant in your life.

“Jack, honey! Dinner will be ready in 5. Could you wash your hands and grab yourself a drink, please?” giggling to yourself, watching the young boy finally walk away from the biggest Lego tower that you’d ever seen him make.

“Yep!”

The two of you ate dinner at the kitchen table, mostly talking about Jack’s newest friend from school, but soon enough he was in bed, and you were cleaning up from the meal.

As you scrubbed the pot, silently cursing yourself for not putting it to soak before they sat down to eat, you found your thoughts were consumed by your employer. On more than one occasion, he had told you to call him Aaron, but you remained in your ways of calling him Mr. Hotchner. you had told him that you liked the formality of the moniker, but you were also terrified that if you were to call him Aaron, it would come out as a choked moan, as it had so many times in the confines of your own bedroom.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your reverie. The lock screen displayed a message from the man occupying your mind.

Is there any possible way you could stay a bit longer tonight? Got held up with paperwork at the office. I would ask Jessica, but she can’t tonight -H.

While you had never spent the night at the Hotchner residence before, you had nothing else of importance that evening, so you agreed without an ounce of hesitation.

Sure thing! Sorry you got held up, but I’m always happy to help. <3

Thanks a million, y/n. -H

You began to make yourself comfortable on the couch and continue with your homework, knowing you would likely fall asleep within the hour. Still, getting some of the work done was better than getting none of it done. 

“Goddamn it!” Halfway through the last assignment, your computer decided to die, and of course, you forgot that damn charger at home. After all, you hadn’t planned on staying the night. You instead occupied yourself with mindless scrolling on social media, eventually drifting to sleep. 

If your thoughts of Aaron during the day were criminal, your dreams at night would surely guarantee eternal damnation.

“Oh sweet Jesus, Aaron, just like that!” you dreamt of the man with his head buried in between your thighs, a rather common theme in your fantasies. The vision of the man you worked for was truly a sight to behold. Tendrils of his raven hair falling over his forehead, pupils blown in ecstasy as he devoured your pussy. He licked through your folds like a starved man. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, allowing the man full access. His tongue gently circled your clit, engorged with pleasure. As he wrapped his lips around the bud, the all-too-familiar coil in your stomach began to make itself known, signaling your impending orgasm.

“Holy shit, p-please! You’re so fucking good, Aaron. M-make me feel so, so good.” Dream Aaron kept the pace, alternating between thrusting his tongue inside your and sucking your aching clit into his mouth, sending you rocketing toward the edge.

“Yeah, you like that baby? Want me to make you feel good?” you groaned at the loss of his mouth on your pussy, but as quickly as it left, he was back at it, devouring your aching cunt like a starved man.

Your orgasm began to build, feeling yourself reaching the peak, when the dam finally gave way, filling you with white-hot pleasure as you moaned his name.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Fuck. 

You slowly opened your eyes to the dimly lit living room, and was faced by the gracious image of your boss. There he stood, suit jacket in hand, tie loosened, the top buttons of his tailored shirt undone.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, hoping that the dull light of the lamp in the room wasn’t calling attention to the fiery blush creeping across your cheeks. Looking at the watch on your wrist, you noted the time. 2:45 AM.

“You were writhing around, and you called my name a few times.”

Were you imagining the knowing glint in his eye? His eyes had always been a point of interest for you, their inescapable depth equal parts comforting and chilling. No, surely he couldn’t know that you were dreaming of his face between your thighs just mere seconds ago.

“Huh. I’m not one to remember dreams too often.”

“Y/n, I am a profiler, and one of my duties is to know when a suspect is lying. Why don’t you tell me the truth?”. He walked toward the side of the couch where you were sitting, his presence both suffocating and bringing you to life.

There was a long pause before you replied, scrambling to think of anything that didn't make you look helpless and desperate.

“I think it was a -um- nightmare? Your tone was utterly unconvincing.

“It didn’t sound like a nightmare to me, Y/n,” the timbre of his voice sent waves of heat between your thighs. “It sounded like you were having a great time. Like we were having a great time.”

You had been caught. Like a deer in headlights, you froze entirely, not wanting to confirm or deny the truth laid before you. Somehow, a small part of your brain chose honesty.

“Yes. You’re right. I’m so sorry. If you need to find another babysitter for Jack I completely understand.” You sat up, hoping to look a little less helpless

“Now that would just make me a hypocrite, Y/n,” his voice was softer now, but just as lustful as you'd dreamt. “You were in my dreams, too. I dream about what lies beneath your clothes, what you’d look like in my bed.”

This couldn’t be real. Surely he was just embarrassing you to make a point. Still, you held out hope that he was being true to his word.

“Oh, God” was the only thing to escape your lips, just above a whisper.

“We can continue, or you can tell me to stop and we’ll never discuss it again. Either way, I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, please. God, yes Mr. Hotchner.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Aaron?” he questioned you, a devilish grin across his lips.

“Please, Aaron”

He was on you in an instant, lips crashing to yours. This was not gentle, nor did you want it to be. This was long-awaited passion. Your arms circled his neck, and his found your waist, picking you up as if you were weightless. He moved his head away from you barely, trying to read your face. All he saw was a hunger for himself, deep in your eyes.

He began to carry you in the direction of his bedroom, the one place in his home you’d never been in. As you entered the hallway, you made sure to be as quiet as you could, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy just a few rooms away.

Aaron tossed you onto his bed, a place you never thought you would actually see. You took him in, his looks, his sound, his smell- clean but still uniquely Hotch. He toyed with the hem of your shirt and brought it up to your navel, gazing deep into your eyes again to gauge your response. You removed the thin garment, exposing your bare breasts, flinging it somewhere near his nightstand. The cool air of his bedroom quickly spread gooseflesh across your skin, nipples puckering in response. 

He removed his own shirt and you pulled him closer to you with a foot behind his knee. You sat up to get a better view of his rolling muscles, a bit padded by age, not that you minded. As you admired his body, you couldn’t help but skate your hands across his skin, up his arms, over his shoulders, down his pecs, toward his abdomen. He had quite a few scars here, and you decided not to ask about their origin.

He leaned in toward you, kissing you again fervently. You responded in kind, aching to be one with him. You sighed into his mouth as your hand found his length, shocked by the size.

“Not just yet, my love. Tell me more about your dreams of me”

You were near naked in front of the man, but you somehow felt a pang of shame again.

He hooked a hand under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You eat my pussy,” you said, craving the real thing over the imagined scenario.

A low groan erupted from his mouth as he knelt down at the edge of the bed, gently pushing you onto your back. He parted your knees, kissing gently up your thighs, teasing you.

His hands snaked into the waistband of your shorts, removing them and your underwear at once. You were completely bare to him, and you decided that this was easily the best moment of your college experience thus far. 

He looked up at you from between your legs, and asked you once more, “Is this really what you want?”

“Yes, please. I need your mouth on me”

That was all the affirmation he needed. Quickly, he dipped his tongue between your labia, relishing in your taste. He hummed in approval as you moaned softly.

“So wet just for me?” He chuckled gently.

“Just for you, only for you, Mr. Hotchner”

He landed a soft smack to the outside of your thigh, just enough to sting.

“Call. Me. Aaron.”, he said, punctuating each word with a strong lick across your clit.

“Only for you, Aaron”

He made quick work of you, eventually inserting one finger, then two, feeling your walls pulse as you were brought closer and closer to the edge. His free hand reached up to your breast, cupping and kneading the flesh, then pinching your nipple. Your hands flew into his hair, eliciting a deep moan from the man ravishing you. Gently pulling, you let out a breathy gasp. 

“Oh, Aaron, I think I’m g-gonna cum”

Aaron sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swiping a circular motion on its surface. You felt yourself hurtling toward oblivion, mind encapsulated by your boss. His fingers curled within you, keeping pace as you rode out your orgasm. 

Once you came down, you stared into his eyes, marveling at the man who was now leaning over your body. His cock was visibly straining against the tight cotton of his slacks, and you gawked at his size. 

“Need you inside me, Aaron. Need all of you so so bad.”

That was all the confirmation that he needed to release his dick. He was quick, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down his strong muscular thighs. You made a mental note to tell him just how hot he was. 

You saw his enormous length, red and weeping at the tip. It must be painfully hard, but all you could think about was how to get him inside you. 

He quickly gathered the evidence of your release with a gentle swipe of his cock through your folds, then aligned himself with your aching cunt. With a gentle thrust and a gorgeous moan, he pushed himself inside you, taking his sweet time to bottom out. You were overcome by a sense of fullness. The small thatch of hair at the base of him rubbed softly at your clit, adding to your euphoria.

He started to fuck into you, ravenous look upon his face. God, this man knew some things. With every thrust into you, he hit the sweet spot inside you, brushing against it with a fervor. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, willing him to destroy you. You would sell your soul to stay in this moment forever, but memories would suffice.

“G-gonna cum, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” 

“Oh fuck, Aaron! I’m on the pill, I don’t care, just please make me cum”

Instead of replying, he opted to press his thumb into your clit, making quick work of your orgasm.

You were surrounded by a white hot pleasure, the best you’d felt in eons. You look over to the man at your side, also coming down from his own orgasm. 

“Has anyone ever told you just how beautiful you are, Aaron?” you say, gazing at him with adoration.

“Only you.” His reply was brief, but he had a gorgeous grin spread on his face. You laughed softly, just happy to be where you were with the man you were sure you loved.

[diana-bluewolf]

It’s the fanfic I wrote about in the previous post

—------------------------------

Word count: ~4500

Warnings: passive suicidal ideation (don’t ask me how I ended up here with a funny comic as a base); m/m; not proofread.

English is not my first language - sorry for the mistakes!  

Additional tags: Ominis/M!MC, hurt-comfort, demisexual MC, SFW

Summary: Chris had read that “I’d die for you” thing in some books. It didn’t make any sense to him because it didn’t sound like a big deal. He’d die for himself. But when he thought about Ominis’s words echoing around the Undercroft, he realised that for the moon-eyed boy he was ready to make a much more labour-consuming sacrifice. 

He’d live for him.

—------------------------------

When I feel so alone out here And freedom means I am lost When every day seems a slow-motion suicide You reignite my lust for life Lust for Life Song by Poets of the Fall

"Guess who's back!" 

Sebastian raised his head from the book he was reading on his bed to find Chris at the doorway to their dorm. 

"Oh, you were away?" teased Sebastian, grinning and arching his eyebrow. Ominis, who was resting on a small couch next to the fireplace, rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards Chris, smiling.

It was Friday evening. The lessons had recently ended, and the only thing keeping the students indoors was the spring rain outside. Besides, the N.E.W.T.s were approaching, so there was no time to relax.

“Aww, it’s so nice to be missed,” said Chris theatrically as he threw his shabby case on the floor next to his bed and shot Sebastian a smirk. The green-eyed boy was soaking wet after walking in the rain and took out his wand to dry himself, but instead came over to Sebastian and shook his head like a dog, spraying his friend with water.

Sebastian laughed and tried to kick Chris away, but he dodged, smirking.

“Well, I have to admit,” Sebastian said, watching Chris casting the drying spell on himself, ”it was a bit problematic to maintain the same level of chaos in the castle for the last two weeks. But I did my be –”

“Two weeks and four days,” objected Ominis hastily.  

Chris blinked in surprise and then beamed at the blond, who now was pursing his lips as if he said something wrong. Apart from that, Ominis looked just as collected and neat as usual, but something was off. Apparently, Chris got lost in his thoughts while watching Ominis because he didn't hear Sebastian asking him a question.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Chris returned to reality, realising that Sebastian was staring at him with a strange expression.

Sebastian suddenly clicked his tongue and exclaimed, "Blimey, look at the time! I've got to dash." He shut his book and jumped off the bed, heading towards the door.

"Wha – Why?" Chris furrowed, puzzled by his friend's sudden haste. 

"No time to explain – an urgent matter!" exclaimed Sebastian. As he ran past Chris, he tripped over and crashed into the other boy, shoving him towards the couch where Ominis was sitting. "My bad, guys! See you later!" And with that, he disappeared in the doorway.

Chris lost balance and landed atop shocked Ominis. He only managed to fling out his hand and prop it against the wall behind the couch to prevent himself from smashing into the blind boy at full speed. 

Ominis twitched and breathed out madly, “What the hell are you –“ trying to feel the intruder with his hands to understand what had happened. 

“It’s my knee,” commented Chris quietly when Ominis’s hand grasped the mentioned part of his body. 

“Sorry, I have no idea what gave Sebastian the impression I needed some flying practice,” uttered Chris. He attempted to stand up but froze halfway, looking at Ominis under him, their faces barely an inch apart.

Ominis, who could feel Chris’s breath on his lips, forced himself to speak through clenched teeth, "Oh, I will organise some flying practice for him later."

From the Astronomy tower.

An urgent matter. Of course, Sebastian did it on purpose. He was the only one who knew. 

_________

It had happened the night before.

A thud had pulled Sebastian out of his dream, and he had found Ominis on the floor on all fours, tangled in his blanket and groping around with trembling hands for his wand.

“Hey,” Sebastian kneeled beside his best friend, “I’m here, buddy. What has happened?” He found Ominis’s wand on the floor and pressed it into the blind boy’s palm. “Looking for this?” 

Ominis grasped the wand and sat on the floor, leaning heavily on his bed. 

“What has happened?” repeated the question Sebastian. “Was it a nightmare?”

Ominis, throwing his head backwards, only nodded slightly, his lips pursed.

“I thought they were gone,” said Sebastian, sitting on the floor next to Omins and realising it had been a long time since something like this had happened. 

“I thought so, too,” Ominis finally uttered, “but…it’s just…I guess it’s a…”

Sebastian waited for his usually composed and eloquent friend to find the right words in the silence of their dorm. 

“Him,” Ominis finally managed to say as if his throat was squeezed. 

_________

If someone at the start of his fifth year had told Ominis how much his opinion about Chris Mongrel would change, he would have offered them to visit St Mungo, just in case, to check their mental state. The new student had been just a class clown with a finger in every pie, not to mention that he had seemed to keep pulling Sebastian into dangerous activities.  

The Neophyte. It was what Ominis used to call that new show-off because the Heir of Slytherin was irritated by the new boy’s real name, pronounced by Sebatian too often. The new fifth year was manipulative, could lie with the most sincere expression and was the last person Ominis could think good of.

Nevertheless, of all people, it was Chris who eventually turned into the only source of warmth that could at least slightly dispel the cold of Dark Magic that Ominis found himself surrounded by - the cold of Sebastian’s despair. It was Chris who made great efforts to save Ominis’s friendship with Sebastian despite all the pressure he had on his shoulders due to the goblin rebellion. It was Chris who was there for him when Ominis needed it most, and if not for him, Ominis probably would have done another thing he would regret forever - turning Sebastian in. 

But then…Then Professor Fig died.

Chris became withdrawn and indifferent to anything around him, barely communicating with anyone. Even when he did, he was rude and obnoxious. By the start of their sixth year, Chris pushed away everyone. They didn’t talk for months. The only thing he paid attention to was lessons and schoolwork. Chris became an even more brilliant student than before. The teachers loved him. The students kept away. 

Some tried to bully him, but it looked like Chris just waited for this. His revenge was cruel enough to get him expelled. But the Hero of Hogwarts could make an innocent face when needed, and since he was the teachers’ favourite, he got away with everything.

Meanwhile, Ominis struggled with nightmares more than usual after the events of the fifth year. The scream of the muggle that he tortures with Crucio… this time followed by Avada Kedavra spell cast by him. Anne cries after burying Solomon, but this time, she blames Ominis for helping Sebastian find the relic. Sebastian killed his uncle, but this time, Ominis meets his best friend in Azkaban after turning him in. Chris disappears from the hospital wing in the turmoil after the fight for Hogwarts, but this time is found dead later. 

Ominis often couldn't fall asleep, and since being trapped with his thoughts in the night silence of their dorm was unbearable, he came to the common room after lights out. Chris seemed to deal with the same, so they often encountered each other there.  

The brunet usually would leave to sneak out of the castle without saying a word. As Ominis found out later, at best, Chris would sleep, curling up beside his "little" pet, Misha the Wolf, in the Forbidden Forest, because it was giving him the illusion of not being alone. At worst, he would indulge in that habit. The one that made Ominis feel cold inside. The habit of chasing for the opportunity to die. 

No, Chris didn't actually try to kill himself on purpose. But he never endeavoured to keep his life safe either. The boy simply didn't care. Whenever there was an opportunity to risk his life – Merlin knew how Chris managed to find them, whether it be killing a poorly trained troll or wandering into a cave full of Acromantulas just to find a thing of sentimental value for one of the nearby villagers – he would go for it eagerly. 

It lasted until the middle of their sixth year, when one night, Ominis found Chris bleeding in the Undercroft. The brunet didn’t want to go to the hospital; he had no Wiggenweld potions left and was generally too weak to care for himself. Ominis knew some basic healing spells – he had to learn them because of his idiot of a friend (for both of them, actually). 

Ominic treated the other boy’s wounds, clenching his teeth in silence. When he finished and was about to leave without saying a word, he heard that indifferent voice with a hint of mockery. The first words Chris had told him in the last half year.

"Thank you, Dr Gaunt. I'm looking forward to the next appointment."

Here, the author doubts whether it would be offensive to present Ominis’s answer as it was to the noble ears of the reader. So here is the censored version:

"Your life belongs to you, and I can't make you treat your belongings as I want, so I just ask you – No, I beg you – Keep. It. Safe. You lost someone you hold dear. I understand that. But you know what? You are not the only one here who came through this. And now you're endangering the life of another person I care about - and you don't even give me a chance to help him! You did so much to save my friendship with Sebastian. Why don't you even try to save ours?!" 

As mentioned above, it didn't sound like that exactly. It was pronounced in a mad voice and with a couple or two eloquent curses that were odd to hear from Ominis. Chris also didn't yet know that it was possible to beg someone for something by grabbing that someone by the collar and slamming them into a wall. 

Ominis had no idea how or why, but it seemed to have an effect. The next night, when they came across in the common room, Chris suddenly said “Hi” before leaving. Despite them being alone, Ominis wasn’t even sure it was addressed to him. The other night, they exchanged a couple of awkward words. The next night, they had a little meaningless conversation about a book Ominis was reading to distract himself. The night after, Chris suddenly offered to read aloud to Ominis. 

The next time, Chris suddenly stopped reading and put away the book to apologise for being a jerk all that time. That brought a string of heated discussions when slipping to blaming or resentment alternated with climbing the steep mountain of understanding each other.

Not every night was smooth. Too much had happened. Too much they both closed their hearts. But none of them stopped coming to the common room after lights out. 

Eventually, they rebuilt the wall they set up between each other into a cosy little house, in which both of them felt comfortable and knew where to put their shoes so that they wouldn't irritate the other one or which plaid to choose to cover the housemate when he was cold. It was the house they didn't want to leave, the house they could call home. In fact, it was the only place both of them could call home.

Chris became softer with others, too, and even though he still remained true to himself with most of them, being detached and manipulative, there was another side of him that only Ominis knew. The Chris, who was selfless, caring and reliable. Some might say he was too caring, as annoyingly overprotective as one can be. 

But for Ominis, it was an oasis he could immerse himself in and dissolve his unsettling thoughts. Floating in the void of his blindness and being raised in a family where the threat could come from any direction, Ominis perceived the world as precarious, to say the least. The price for this was his nightmares. 

Ominis used to hate nights, but now he couldn’t wait for when he and Chris would meet alone, following their unspoken tradition. He loved their conversations or just the silence they shared when they were too tired to talk, and he especially found pleasure in hearing the other’s voice, which was reading to him, quite deep and low for the owner’s age – the voice that soothed Ominis and filled him with warmth, the voice that made him feel safe.

First, Ominis began to fall asleep easier. Then, his nightmares started to fade until they dissolved almost completely. And then, in their seventh year, he found himself having new dreams. These were… good. Too good, but also causing concerns – dreams that were inappropriate towards a friend. 

Ominis wasn’t ashamed of them and cherished this new feeling that had bloomed in the soil, soaked with guilt, grief and fear. However, the boy was not going to reveal his secret and risk what he obtained, especially since Chris had never shown interest in a romantic relationship with anyone. 

Little did Ominis know how Chris’s absence would impact him. The longer the other was away, the more often Ominis woke up terrified because the old nightmares were returning. Last night seemed to be the last straw, so when Sebastian asked him what was happening to him, Ominis couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to get all the emotions boiling in him off his chest. All the time, he wanted to tell Chris the truth, but was afraid. The way he missed the voice he loved so badly. 

He had told Sebastian the truth. 

He had fallen in love with their friend. 

The friend whose presence had made his nightmares disappear.   

_________

Ominis had made Sebastian swear he wouldn't tell Chris anything. But Sebastian wouldn't be Sebastian if he hadn't found a loophole in his promise. Why would he wait for his friends to take the first step towards each other if he could just throw one into another? It was a much more efficient way to shorten distances than steps, wasn't it?

If Ominis' thoughts weren't occupied by his current predicament and the panic growing in him because of Chris's proximity, he would be mad at Sebastian. Or should he thank him? How else could Ominis get a chance to become closer to the one who, although attentive in general, was absolutely oblivious when it came to romantic feelings? And thinking about it – really, how? Like this, by accident? That wasn't right.  

But Chris was so close. His warmth. His weight, pressing Ominis into the couch. His smell – the mixture of ink, pine and …was it Wiggenweld potion? 

Just like before. 

Did Chris need it again recently? Ominis hoped it had stayed in the past. 

Perhaps this concerning thought was the only thing keeping him from pulling Chris closer and reducing the little distance between them to nothing. In fact, Ominis knew that he had to push Chris away but hoped that Chris would be the one to get off the couch (and, well, him) first. For some reason, the brunet didn't hurry to do it.

Meanwhile, Chris used the opportunity to look at Ominis closer. The blond's face was crimson now, but it wasn't that that bothered Chris – just a normal human reaction to a violation of personal space. Chris had difficulties understanding what personal space is. Of course, it's better to keep away from people as much as possible – it's simply easier this way. But if you already interact with them – what's wrong if you stand too close to someone? 

But it mattered to others, and Ominis, Chris did know, valued his personal space even more than people usually did. Chris would have stepped away immediately if not for a detail that caught his attention – the dark circles under Ominis’s eyes. 

Just like before. 

When Chris had left half a month ago, he had thought Omnis would finally have an opportunity to rest from him. Deep down, he was always afraid – what if Ominis was spending so much time with him out of sheer politeness or, worse, pity? 

In his fifth year, Chris had been sure that if people were “kind” to him, it was just because they needed something from him. Why had Sebastian been so friendly with him when he had arrived at Hogwarts? Obviously, because of ancient magic, which could potentially be a key to healing Anne. All this nonsense about “friendship” was just a convention, a game played as long as it was beneficial, a fairytale to fantasise about. 

But then there was Ominis, who didn’t conform to the idea that friendship was a mere cooperation. For some reason, he cared for Sebastian no matter what, despite all the disadvantages. And then Chris began to doubt. What if friendship really existed as it was described in books? At least in rare cases? Inside, he always wanted to believe in it, but his rational side made fun of his naivety. But what if he did find a proof? 

It became important for Chris to save the friendship between the two Slytherins at all costs because if it fell, so would all his childish hopes that he, too, could be someone’s friend one day. 

Who was he to Ominis? Chris didn't lie to himself – of course, he was just a convenient tool to handle Sebastian. Anyway, he idolised Ominis like a magizoologist would worship a unique fantastic beast they had just discovered. 

And then Fig died. 

Sitting there, somewhere under Hogwarts, alone, absolutely alone as usual, next to the body of the only person closest to the notion of family Chris had ever had, the boy got mad at himself. 

Why is he so obsessed with others? Why does he still hope so desperately to obtain the illusion of family? To find a magical creature named ‘friend’ from fairytales? Why does he keep hurting himself with shards of shattered hope when he can just be alone and not care about anyone?

Sink or swim. It was always his motto in the orphanage. He was alone, and he always would be. Why did he suddenly start to hope for something else in Hogwarts? Stupid, he was so stupid. It was time to accept it and grow up. 

He had never valued his life. But after Fig had died, Chris started to hate that he was alive and often sneaked out of the castle in the hope that a particular goblin, troll or poacher would become the last.

Too bad he was good at surviving. 

Until that time in the Undercroft. Chris was finally so close to ending this meaningless turmoil. And then Ominis intervened. Of course, The Saint and Noble one had to heal The Loser to be even more perfect. 

But when Ominis was pressing him against the wall and kept yelling at him, Chris realised that the blond wasn't mad because of Chris's disdainful and arrogant attitude. The words that Ominis was spitting into his face weren't the words Chris had expected to hear. 

Ominis was desperate. For some reason, he was really afraid for Chris and valued his life more than Chris himself ever did – not for something, but in spite of everything, as if Chris were someone like Sebastian to him.

After Ominis had left, his words echoed in Chris's ears for a long time as he slid down the wall onto the dirty floor of the Undercroft. The person Ominis cared about? Their friendship? Could it be that Chris had been Ominis's friend all that time? The thought was totally new and shocking for him.

It was hard to believe in it. 

Impossible. 

But doesn’t rage often work like Veritaserum? And Ominis had been mad. He had been so mad that Chris feared that if he had said a word, Ominis would have killed him on the spot and become even madder.

When Hope, the dying creature with broken wings inside of Chris, tried to draw attention to itself, the boy became irritated that he wanted to listen to it again instead of kicking it away. But this new theory was worth investigating. What was he losing? 

Starting to speak with Ominis again was one of the hardest things he had ever done (and he had defeated Ranrok). What if he understood it all wrong and would just impose himself on the blind boy? What if their last interaction had at last destroyed whatever they had had? What if Ominis would just push him away, laughing? But the experiment should be continued. 

The results exceeded Chris’s wildest expectations. Ominis not only accepted him as if nothing had happened and gave him enough time to gather himself together to apologise. For some miraculous reason, Chris felt that Ominis needed his mere presence – not something from him – even when they just sat together next to the fireplace, listening to the quiet song of fire. 

Following the sink-or-swim motto, Chris wasn't used to caring for someone. But now he was ready to give anything at all, only to see Ominis smiling, to make him happy. And every time Chris succeeded, he couldn't be happier himself. He almost forgot that itching desire to find an excuse to risk his life. 

But when he was away, the old doubts began to haunt him. Why would someone so perfect as Ominis want to be around someone like Chris, whose life was just a mess? The guy without a past, broken present, and a future, whose arrival he was endangering. 

The more time he spent away from Ominis, the louder the voice in his head pushed him to do something stupid until it finally got the better of him. 

The incident with ashwinders only cost him one Wiggenweld potion. 

But it was enough to bring back memories of Ominis beating some sense into him in the Undercroft.

No matter what, Ominis wanted him safe. 

Chris had read that “I’d die for you” thing in some books. It didn’t make any sense to him because it didn’t sound like a big deal. He’d die for himself. But when he thought about Ominis’s words echoing around the Undercroft, he realised that for the moon-eyed boy he was ready to make a much more labour-consuming sacrifice. 

He’d live for him.

So Chris had made sure the last incident had been really the last one. 

Anyway, he had missed Ominis deeply, so seeing him today was a relief. But Merlin - the blond looked so tired. 

“You didn’t sleep well recently”, Chris said quietly, slowly running his right thumb under Ominis’s left eye.

That voice, the voice Ominis loved and missed so much, sounded so gentle, so concerned, and so…close. The touch felt like an electric jolt. Ominis’s head was spinning, the heart pounding in his ears and racing so fast, forcing his breathing to quicken, but it was a trap because he inhaled more of Chris’s smell now, and that was the end of Ominis’s composure. 

He reached out his hand and lowered it on Chris’s back of the head. Someone stop him! He ran his fingers through the short strands. That wasn't right! Clinging to the last echoes of reason, Ominis whispered, pulling Chris closer, “Aren’t you going to stand up? Someone might see us and jump to conclus –” 

The door flung open, revealing one of their housemates, a boy with jet-black hair and chocolate eyes, holding a book.

“Hey Ominis, you – ” he broke off. The short pause was followed by a flow of frantic “Sorry!” and the sound of rapidly fading footsteps.

Chris jumped off the couch and glanced at the retreating intruder. That was an impressive running speed, he had to admit. Perhaps they scared the boy even more than he did them. “Like this?” he asked, amused.

“Precisely like this,” Ominis sounded bitter. The warmth, the smell, the weight – everything disappeared, leaving him with his heart beating wildly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers tightly. 

Chris tilted his head, watching the blond. Was Ominis so upset because that boy misinterpreted what he saw? The brunet wouldn’t care about it, but Ominis looked frustrated, which was something to care about. Chris had to fix it. 

”I…I will go and try to find him. Explain that it was a mistake,” he said, trying not to imagine what it would look like. 

Hi buddy! It wasn’t what you think it was. I fell on him. What? No, I normally don’t fall on people like this, so yeah, you’re safe. Chris shook his head. Maybe he would need to come up with a lie that would sound more plausible than the truth. But it was the problem of the future Chris.

“Right,” Ominis simply brought out. Chris was about to leave but suddenly stopped.

“Imissdyu,” he blurted, turning to the couch but averting his minty eyes from the boy on it, even though Ominis couldn't see him.

”I beg your pardon?” Ominis was baffled. If he didn’t know any better, he just heard, “I missed you.” But, of course, he knew better. Phineas Black would sooner smile at students heartily than Chris Mongrel would speak about feelings. 

"I…" It was Chris's turn to grow red even more intensively than Ominis a couple of minutes before. He knew the words were correct – he had read in books about people saying them to each other in similar circumstances, but Chris couldn't bring himself to repeat them. 

"Please, don't make me say it again. You heard it right."

After a short pause, he added, suddenly interested in the stone pattern on the floor, "Can I read to you tonight? I mean, as usual." Then, he would ask why Ominis didn't sleep well.

"I hoped you'd ask this," the blind boy finally smiled. Then, he would ask what made Chris drink the Wiggenweld potion.

“See you later then,” beamed Chris, relieved. He finally looked at the moon-eyed boy and was about to head out when Ominis’s voice stopped him.

“Chris?”

“Mhm?” 

“I missed you, too.” Only Ominis could smile like that – like the warm light of the lamppost sparkling on the snow. “Hear you later.”

“I…khm…yeah…Gotta go.” Chris made a few steps backwards toward the way out, still watching Omins, then turned around and crashed into a doorpost. “They… have to make the doors wider,” he said, leaving.

Ominis chuckled softly, listening to Chris’s fading footsteps. Then, a wave of panic washed over him again as he realised that mere minutes ago he could have ruined everything, succumbing to temptation. He rubbed his face with his palms, exhaling audibly. What was he thinking about? 

But now, everything was right. And tonight he will sleep better. Thank Merlin, the point of no return had not been reached. Or should he say thanks to the student that had broken into their dorm? 

Perhaps that guy will have another visitor today. 

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

The song from the epigraph. I wrote Chris's part while listening to it.

[itsruki]

Daddys and his friend

SoftDom!Mitsuya x BabyGirl!Sub!Reader x SoftDomKakucho

MDNI! MINORS DO NOT READ!

Masterlist:

a/n: This one is caused by some random thought that went out of hand. i wrote it in one session and am glad it came out HALFWAY okay.

Synopsis: Takashi Mitsuya and you are a couple and he wants to reward you with a nice playsession, that involves his friend, Kakucho Hitto

Trigger warnings: afab-reader , mentions of unprotected sex, fingering, mutual Masturbation, Anal, petnames: Good girl, Baby, Perfect girl, Sweet girl, Princess, treasure, Angel and Dear

word count: 2,326

Once you stepped through the door of your shared apartment and heard the door close, you felt Takashi hands wrap around your body from behind and his nose press against your neck. His hands went up, and he began to fondle your tits. His fingers began to rub over the area where your nipples would be. It was a hot day, so you only wore a crop top, sweatpants, and as underwear, a thin bra and some random panties. "Ahhh~" you moaned "T-taka~? What are you doing~?" You leaned your head back, so it's on his shoulder. He took the access to your neck as an invitation and began to bite and suck on your neck. "I can't help it, baby. You are just so fucking pretty. I love those tits. They are so fucking beautiful. I wanna suck them so badly. Will you be a good girl and let Daddy suck on them?" He didn't even wait for an answer. He pulled up the crop top and yanked down the bra. Not only that, but he began to draw circles around your nipples and squeeze down on the meat. Your nipples stood hard and perky, ready to be messed with. He pinched them, rolled them between his fingers, and pulled on them. Your moaning became louder. He gasped and cursed again. Then he turned you around and leaned down to push his face between your tits. "Could fucking die between those tits. So fucking precious." He grabbed onto them, cupped them in his soft hands, and began to kiss the two mountains. Then he gave one of your nippels a flat lick, and you whimpered. He wrapped his lips around your left nipple and began to sloppily suck on it. He swirled his tongue around it and sucked like no tomorrow. Your hands found their way into his hair. Once your nippel was red and puffy from the sucking, he swapped to the other one. You could already feel how unbelievable wet you were. His fingers massaged your tits and held them up so he had a better angle.

He took one of your hands and placed it on his crouch, so you felt his hard cock. He threw away your top and the bra right after before grabbing the back of your neck and forcing a kiss on you. The kiss was messy. Wet and sloppy. Drool was running everywhere. You helped him take off his shirt and unzip his jeans. He pulled down his jeans and boxers, just enough so his cock would be freed. You loved his cock. It was large and long. It had some pretty veins on it, and the tip had a cute share of pink. You don't know what came over Mitsuya. He was so rough that day, but you loved it.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his cock, and you instantly understood what he wanted. You wrapped your fingers around his cock and began to give him long and intense strokes, which earned you a long groan from him. 

He locked your lips again, and you felt his hand slide down your stomach into your sweatpants. His fingers went past your panties and brushed over your little bundle of nerves, which caused you to moan into the kiss. It took him no time to slide two fingers into your already drooling cunt and pumping, in and out. He leaned back and looked you directly in the eyes while you two touched each other. You couldn't stop looking at him, your hand still pumping his cock. He licked his lips, a third finger in your pussy, the thumb rubbing your clit. You felt close. You were almost there, and he could feel that. "Don't close your eyes, baby. Let Daddy see those pretty eyes when you cum over my fingers."

He grabbed your hips to keep you steady on your feet when you began to shake. Your eyes locked onto his when you were almost at the sweet, sweet climax. 

"Cum for me, baby. Cum for Daddy. You are doing so fucking good for me. Fuck….cum. Cum, baby!"

And you did. You came all over his fingers. You fell forward against his shoulder, and he steadied you. Your hands never stopped pumping his dick; you could hear him moan and groan because of that. "Such a fucking perfect girl...baby...I have a surprise for you. Because you've been such a fucking treasure to me. I have something for my sweet girl."

You looked up to him. Completely delirious. You stopped pumping his cock and leaned back. He then pushed down your sweatpants and panties and after that his pants and boxers. Then he led you to the bedroom. You thought you two would just fuck on the bed and that would be the end of it, but when the bedroom door swung open, your jaw just dropped. 

At the edge of the bed sat Mitsuya's friend, Kakucho Hitto. He was completely naked, his cock in hand. He was stroking his rock-hard cock and smirking at both of us. "You weren't lying when you said her moans are Devine. Fuck. Had me hard just from hearing her....And her body….shit….I could bust just looking at her…" Kakuchos eyes went up and down your body. Your head turned, and you looked at Takashi, who just smirked at you. "She really is my perfect little angel. … what do you think, princess? Do you like your surprise? ...tonight we will make you feel good, baby. It's all about you. You will be a good girl and let Kakucho use your body, right? Be a good girl for Daddy too, hmm?"

Your brain shut down, and you just nodded. "Then go on, princess. Show our guests some love." 

You kneeled down between Kakuchos legs and looked up at him. A smile was on your face when you took his hands off his cock and began to replace them with your own. He was slightly bigger and girthier then your partners cock so you needed both hands. You leaned down and licked the tip, which caused him to groan. You looked up to see a tint of pink on his cheeks, which made you smile. He was so cute. You felt his hands grabbing onto your hair. "Can I be a little rough with you, angel? Gonna let me fuck your mouth?" and you nodded. He slowly thrusted upwards and your head downwards, which caused you to gag and tear up. He groaned as he wiped off your tears. "What a cute fucking girl! Her throat is so perfect. Keep going, baby. You can do it. We know you can." you tried to focus on breathing to take his cock as good as possible when you suddenly felt something cold on your ass. Mitsuya poured lube on your hole, which caused you to shiver and moan against Kakuchos cock. "Don't worry, baby, this will feel so good for you" Takashi said. You felt his fingers rubbing your asshole, which made you whine. You never done anal before, and while you talked about it before, you weren't expecting it now. You felt his index finger pushing into your virgin asshole. Your eyes rolled back as Kakucho kept fucking your mouth. Takashi was gentle, slowly pushing in and pulling out, stretching your hole out before adding a second finger and eventually a third. At that point, you were just a drooling mess. Your pussy was clenching around nothing as Takashis fingers moved faster and faster in your ass. "Is she ready already? I don't think I can wait much longer. I really wanna cum in her pussy." kakucho stated. Takashi chuckled and gave him a nod before pulling his fingers back out. "Baby we will make you feel so good now." Kakucho pulled your head off his cock and kissed your lips. You then felt your almost limp body pulled on the bed. Kakucho was lying against the headboard on his back, and Takashi was still behind you. He kissed your shoulder before whichpering "Go ride his cock, baby. Make Kakucho feel good with your pussy, okay?" 

You nodded and climbed on top of Kakucho. You used your hand to position the tip at your entrance and then lowered yourself onto him. He was big, so you had to go slow, and while his hands were on your hips, he didn't push you down. "You do so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock in your tiny pussy nice and slow. Feeling all stretched out by me. God. You look so gorgeous, stuffed with my cock. I can't wait to cream the insides of your pussy."

Your face blushed when you heard all the praise. When you were fully bottomed out, Takashi stopped you from moving. "Wait a second, baby. Now it's my turn to join in." You looked back in confusion when you felt his cock against your asshole. You whimper, but he just kissed your neck and shoulder before whispering, "Shhh. Relax angel. You can take it. I'm sure you can. This will feel amazing. You are such a precious girl, baby. My little baby girl." he then slowly pushed his cock into your asshole. You whined a little in pain, but then felt Kakuchos fingers against your clit, rubbing it. "Relax baby. Let him in." he said. You tried to take deep breaths to relax your body as he pushed inside your hole. Once he is fully in, you three just sit there for a moment. "You're doing so fucking good, baby. Fuck....Your ass is so tight…..it's so fucking good." He gave you more and more kisses all over your neck and shoulders. 

A few moments pass before Takashi asked "can I move angel?" and all you could do was nod. Then you felt them move. One went in, and one pulled out. They alternated, and all you could do was rip your eyes open. Your upper body fell over against Kakuchos chest and held onto his shoulders. One of his hands was still rubbing your clit while the other held onto the plush of your hips. Takashis hands found there way on your tits, cupping them and playing with your nippels. "Doing so fucking good for us~ such a perfect little girl." "Yea. I can feel her squirm every time you thrust into her ass." Takashi leaned in now, pushing you deeper onto Kakucho's chest. You were pressed into a sandwich position as they both kept thrusting into you. The pace was increased and your vision went blurry. Your lips found Kakuchos and you began to make out, his tongue invading your mouth, fighting for dominance. You felt your core tighten as your pussy got violated more and more. Kakucho broke the kiss "Are you close, baby? Will you cum for us?....do it. Cum for us, baby girl. Cream all over my cock. I want to see you make a mess on me, dear." His hands both grabbed onto your hips as his hips pistoned upward more aggressively. You whined and pressed your face into his neck. As they kept chanting for you to cum. You came and you body began to uncontrollably shake. "fuck she is milking me for all I have. What a fuckinh good girl….such a good….fucking...girl…"

He kept fucking into you until his breath got heavier and heavier. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Can I cum in that pretty pussy? Can I ruin the inside of you? You want that, right?" You were so fucked out that all you could do was frantically nod. He groaned like an animal before he pumped into you a few more times before emptying his balls inside your pussy. "Fuck...fuck, fuck…fuck…."

Takashi laughed as he kept fucking your tight asshole. "Such a fucking good girl...does Kakuchos cum feel good, baby? Hm?....don't worry, angel, I'm almost there…..almost….fuck…….moan for me baby..beg for Daddys cum...beg for Daddy to paint that little asshole of yours white…" he was teasing you as if he wasn't balls deep in your hole. Tears ran down your cheeks as you tried to form a sentence but you just couldn't bring one out. "Common Mitsuya….she is completely fucked out...no way she can even talk right now. Don't bully our little girl. She did so well….she deserves a reward, right angel?" and you nodded. You heard Takashi chuckle behind you as he grabbed onto your hips, lifted them up a little, which caused Kakucho to slide out of you. It made you whine before you felt Takashi thrust even deeper inside. You had the feeling he was rearranging your guts. He wasn't talking anymore. He was only grunting and growling. The thrusts grew more and more aggressive. He bit your shoulder before he gave you one final thrust. He shot his hot cum deep inside your ass….it felt do fucking good. He let go of your hips and you fell back onto Kakucho. He wrapped his arms around you and Takashi fell to the side next to you before cuddling up to you too. "Wow….fuck…..that was better than I expected and I already expected it to be insane…." Kakucho laughed. Takashi was still panting and your brain was empty. "You two need a break?...you okay?" and you both just nodded. Takashi pulled you between them and hugged you, tight and kissed you face and rubbed your back. "You did so well, princess... So good for me....for us...I love you so much." you held onto him and smiled. He never forgot to give you the aftercare you needed. Then you felt Kakucho cuddling up from behind and kissing your shoulder "mhm...very good job, baby. We are so proud of you."

At that moment, you felt like you were in heaven…..two men taking care of you in such a sweet way. You kissed Takashi's lips and felt him wrap your leg around his hip. It was all soft and sweet until….you felt something hard rubbing against your belly.

"Again?!"

He laughed.

Taglist: @mztoman @ilovetwodmen @accountthree

©itsruki reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[wisteria-blooms]

I need to know about paradise potions please

WIP Game

Yes!! Thanks for asking!!

It's Bill Weasley smut with the sex pollen trope. Y/N is invited by her best friend, Percy, to housesit at the Burrow while the family is away at the World Cup. Little does she know, Fred and George have cooked up a new product called the "Paradise Potion" which is basically... Viagra and can't wait to see how it works.

Anyway, Bill is afflicted via coffee and is bed-bound the rest of the day if you know what I mean....

“Keep it,” Percy countered as she shoved the white mug back to your side. “I wouldn’t trust anything they put out. I’m glad it’s you that took the last of what mum made.” While Percy could be harsh on his siblings, you were grateful for his looking out for you. To be fair, you were also skittish around Fred and George. They weren’t as easy to read as other people. A friendly smile could mean something sinister.  “Would anyone like some liqueur in the drinks?” Fred asked, skipping three steps as he ran down the stairs.  Molly shot him a glare. You shook your head.  “Loosen up, (Y/N),” Fred commanded. “If you hang around Percy all day and refuse any fun, you’ll both die virgins.” You went beet red, a shade that rivalled Percy’s. You prayed that Bill wasn’t paying attention to you.  “That is ENOUGH!” bellowed Molly who whipped around so quickly that she nearly chucked her wooden spoon at George. “I won’t have you ruining our morning with distasteful conversations, not especially with all our guests, and our lovely (Y/N).” She charged over to Fred and handed him a stack of plates. “Go on, make yourself useful and set the table.” “(Y/N), darling,” she said, her sudden change in tone a little frightening. “I’ve cleared out Bill’s old room for you. Since he’s heading back to Egypt right after this week, he’ll share Charlie’s room for the time being. There are fresh sheets and towels and a change of clothes if you need. You are welcome to use the bath right next to the room.” “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” “Coffee’s ready, dear brother,” George sang. “How do you take it?” “Just black,” Bill responded. “Thank you, George.” You peered at Bill through a sip of coffee. Your heart fluttered--it was lovely to see him again, even if it was just for an hour or two before he traveled halfway across the world again. In fact, you stared at him so intently during breakfast that your fork definitely missed your mouth a couple times. 

[merlucide]

Crossdresser x BLLK pt3

notes: I’m bouta go ham y’all istg.

warning: Y/N is female, cursing, cringe lol

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4

The match started and pretty much right off the bat Team V’s Nagi scored a goal.

Nagi then scored another goal just as impressive as the last. Then Zantetsu scored one after him. 

Everyone’s hope for this match died. How could anyone score against these genius’s?

Y/Ns future relied on this match, and they were gonna loose.

Bachira quickly dashed through the field and scored an unexpected goal. 

If Bachira could score a goal against Team V, Y/N totally could too.

She regained her confidence and was ready for what came next.

She was able to stop the ball from getting passed to Zantestu and was able to pass to Kunigami who then was able to make a goal. 

The score was now 3-2, Y/N was pumped that she had a chance at winning- and also she impacted the game with her cool pass.

(Y/Ns gonna steal Chigiri’s goal mkay, he has a goal already🙄) 

Y/N was guarding another player on Team V around the halfway line. Chigiri was cornered with the ball by Zantetsu and another player, if he shot itd be blocked.

Chigiri passed to Bachira but the ball had spin and the ball was kicked higher than expected. The ball was headed into a part were no one was guarding, Reo was running towards the ball.

Y/N was close enough that should could catch it.

Even though the ball was high, she wasn't worried because she's was confident in her flexibility and strong legs. With a quick move, she lifted her leg high up and kicked the ball. Her kick was strong and precise that the ball flew straight into the goal. 

The score was now tied a 3-3 and Y/N was fucking pumped. 

She finally scored a goal, she finally showed her value. She did it.

Team Z was so close winning, that means she could keep playing soccer. 

Everyone was ecstatic at Y/N super goal and was ready to win this match.

Only 15 minutes left in the game Zantetsu started it off with a pass to Reo.

Reo then passed to Nagi and he made goal right off the bat. 

Next start off Kunigami made another goal and the game was back to a tie. 

It was a 50/50 chance now.

There were so many missed goals and saves until Isagi finally made the final goal.

The game finished at 4-5.

They did it, they made it through first selection. Y/N showed her value, she did it.

Y/N jumped and screamed with her teammates at the incredible victory. They all worked so hard and it all paid off. 

In Y/N opinion, this victory meal was the best one yet. She was so proud of her contribution and her team.

She then passed out on the floor from exhaustion with her teammates.

Next morning Ego called in to tell everyone some news

Apparently Y/N and the others aren’t headed to 2nd selection right away and have to have endurance train for a while. 

She couldn’t lie, she was pretty pissed. Training really sucked

10 days of training, oh boy.

Started off fine, same as last time, but then quickly felt like the world was on fire and she was gonna die.

Y/N felt like was gonna puke she did

Before Y/N came to blue lock she was toned, now she looks like she could kill someone with her bare hands. She’s rather impressed with her physique, felt like a MMA fighter heh.  (FIRST SELECTION IS OVER)

Ayeee we did it- uh that all I have rn.. comeback for pt4 ? 😅 EDIT: NEXT PART!!!

made March 6 2024

[lemonnsss]

Moral of the Story pt. 3

Warnings: cheating, illusions to sex, angst, not BETA'D we die like men.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Taglist: @vicmc624, @mostlymarvelgirl, @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy, @moonlightreader649, @whattheduckisupkyle, @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan, @mrsbarnes32557038, @imyourbratzdoll

Word count: 2.1k

“Oh, so soon?” he leaned in, obviously interested in my request, “And what might your boon be?”

“As you can probably guess, I need a job. I have an interview tomorrow morning for the role of your PA. If that doesn’t pan out -because of anyone's request outside of your own- I still want a good-paying job with decent benefits. Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll cut it short, you’re hired.”

“Please, I don’t need your pity.”

"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't hire you out of pity. It's because of what you did just now. I gave you barely any details, and you came up with a sub-par solution." Satisfied with his answer, he reaches over and takes a sip of my coffee. 

"Sub-par says I go out, find your bodyguard, and drag him back here." He visibly aspirates, coughing into a napkin for a minute or so. I got up, got a straw, and returned. By the time I sat down, he had regained most of his composure.

"You had a good plan that led to a good solution," gesturing to himself, "I'm a rich asshole. Are we happy?” A slight rasp remained in his voice.

“Sufficiently. I accept the role of your PA, Mr. Stark. When should I start?"

"After your interview with Ms. Potts. You did say that if anyone aside from me was against you as my PA, you'd be fine with it."

I leaned back, covering my eyes with my hand, ”Yeah, I did."

"Don't try denying it. JARVIS has been recording- I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I fully acknowledge and stand by my previous statement. And, did you just admit to illegally recording our conversation?” My other hand raised pointing at him, “If so, that would be quite unfortunate for you and Stark Industries.” I separated my fingers to see his shocked yet slightly confused expression.

"Well, shit.”

I lowered my hand to the arm of the chair, tilting my head slightly, “Did you think I wouldn’t own up to my word? Please, Tony -can I call you Tony? I’m going to call you Tony- I do have morals, they’re a bitch, but they’re there. When I make promises, I follow through with them.” I look down at my lap, my hands wrapped around my stomach, “I hate people who break their promises. They are the worst kind of people. All that does is hurt those around them, but they’re too self-centered to realize that until it’s too late- sometimes even then it doesn’t click.” I glance up, he’s leaning closer to me, a worried look plastered across his face.

I straighten, collect my things, and move to get up, “I suppose I’ll see you at my interview tomorrow, Mr. Stark.” I walk away and out of the café, hearing the bell ring as I walk out.

I fell face down into my bed, arms spread out. “I just met THE Anthony Edward Stark and acted like it was no big deal. What is wrong with me?” I grabbed a pillow, held it to my chest, curled up into the fetal position, and screamed. “How could I have acted like it was nothing? He’s an A-list celebrity and I just brushed it off!” I prop up onto my elbows, my hands extending forward.

I spent the afternoon and evening just watching TV and reading. While I didn’t typically read graphic books, Hemingway and Remarque’s book had been sitting in my collection untouched for far too long, and it wasn’t necessarily a horrible way to finish the day. About halfway through “All Quiet On The Western Front” I realized just how depressing this book was and how glad I hadn't gone over it with my high school classes. The case remained much the same for “A Farewell to Arms”.

My phone alarm went off, signaling it was time to start getting ready for bed. I got up to grab it, shutting off the tone. I stood up, went to the bathroom, completed my nightly routine, and set out my clothes for my interview, although it seemed I had been hired in all but formalities.

I woke up the next day with a slight ache in my bones but, nothing like the previous day. I got ready and headed out to the Stark Industries headquarters. When I arrived I wasn’t necessarily shocked. The lobby was sleek and modern, bustling with the morning rush. I walked up to the receptionist, an older woman, and told her that I was there for the interview for the role of Mr. Stark’s assistant. I confirmed she looked me up and down before saying my name aloud. She handed me a card, stating it was a single use and would be deactivated once I left the building before pointing me to the elevator, guarded by the head of security, Mr. Stark’s bodyguard, Happy Hogan.

I walked over he looked at me slightly puzzled as I walked up to the elevator, sliding the activated card. It took a moment or two before the door opened and I could not be happier. I walked in and the doors shut. 

“Crap, I didn’t get the floor.” I placed my face in my hand, aggravated at my forgetfulness.

An electronic voice rang out, “I believe I can be of some assistance, Mx.”.

I screamed, “What the fuck?” I backed into a corner, grabbing the rails.

“Apologies, I seem to have startled you. I’m JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s AI.”

“O-okay? Can you send me up to Mrs. Potts’ floor?”

“Of course.”

The elevator ride passes quickly thanks to Stark’s AI. As the doors open JARVIS informs me that the door on the right leads to Ms. Potts’ office. I walk up to the door and knock, ”Come in!” A voice calls out. I open the door and introduce myself.

Ms. Potts was a taller woman with blonde hair. She ran around frantically, “I’m so sorry, an urgent business meeting just came up. Would it be okay to reschedule your interview?”

“Yes, yes, of course. These things happen, I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?” I move close to her desk.

The look on her face shows she didn't expect my reaction. "Um, yes. In one of the piles over there. There should be twelve documents with the keywords Stark v. Hammer." She points over the corner where there are three medium-sized piles of papers

"Oh, is that all?"

"Yes, thank you. My assistant has been on sick leave for two weeks and my office has become an absolute mess." I hear the clink of metal on the ground. She squats down, looking for whatever it was that had fallen.

"Really, it's no problem. I've worked in worse offices, this is nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"The lawyer I worked for in college. He was a mess. He wouldn't let anyone move his things, so it just stayed that way until he needed a specific paper or file, and then he would send me looking. Apparently, he did that to all of his assistants after one of them, about five years before me, lost one of the major papers in a big case for the firm. He fired her immediately." I rifled through the paperwork, quickly finding a handful of the documents.

"That sounds horrible, although, from a business person's perspective I can somewhat understand." 

"Yeah, it was crazy. I worked for him for four years and almost feel bad for leaving. He finally adjusted and was comfortable with me going through the records." I had found all but one of the papers at this point and had looked through all three piles with no luck.

"Ms. Potts?"

She stands up, bumping her head on the edge of her desk, "Yes?"

"Sorry, um, are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine." She grasps the back of her head, wincing. She's clearly not.

"Are you sure? You hit your head pretty hard."

"Yes, really. What were you asking about?"

"Okay, are you sure all of the papers are over here? There's one missing. I've gone over the stacks at least three times." 

"Yes, of course. They're all there, I could've sworn." She walks over, or at least attempts to as about halfway she grasps her head, a small groan accompanying the action. I run over, offering my arm. She takes my arm, and I lower her to the ground, a quiet 'thank you' thrown in the midst.

There was a small cut on the back of her head, a small amount of blood flowing out. I place my fingers on the cut, using my powers to heal it. A sharp pain found its way to the back of my head for a moment before it fades.

"Thank you. I think I just needed to sit down for a moment. But, yes, all of the papers should be over here. It's odd that there's one missing."

"Could it be in a different stack?"

"It shouldn't be, then again, I haven't exactly been keeping this place clean enough to say. Crap! The meeting's supposed to start in a few minutes."

"How far into the meeting do you need the papers, and how long do you expect this meeting will be?"

"Maybe two-thirds of the way through and half an hour at the shortest. Why?"

"I'm gonna buy you some time, obviously. I'll look through the rest of the papers to find the missing page. Once I find it I'll head over to your meeting room and deliver the papers as if you'd asked for them just before the meeting began. How does that sound?"

She walks up to me and hugs me. As she pulls away she says, "You are a lifesaver! Thank you." She grabs her papers and walks out of her office, presumably to the meeting room as I stand there stunned, unmoving as a stone.

When her trance breaks, I start moving around the room, quickly checking each pile for the missing paper. I tried to stay in the general area she originally pointed me to with no luck. I slowly moved towards the desk, it was the only place I hadn't checked yet.

I went through the different stacks before finding the paper in the third, guess it really was the charm. I collected all of the papers in a manilla folder, finishing it off with a paperclip -just as a precaution. As I went to grab the door handle JARVIS told me which meeting room they were on.

I walked out to the small foyer between the two offices and entered the elevator. JARVIS took me to the correct floor.

I walked up to the door of the meeting room Ms. Potts was in and knocked on the door before entering. I looked inside to see a variety of old, white businessmen and Ms. Potts in front of a projector explaining something I wasn't about to pretend I understood. She looked relieved. 

I walked in just enough to where I could close the door, "Apologies, Ms. Potts, is this a bad time? I have the paperwork you requested."

"Oh no, not at all." She walked over to me, taking the folder from my hands. "Thank you." She whispered.

"It was no problem at all, Ma'am. Would you like me to continue working in your office, or go home for the day?"

"Please, wait in my office." She tipped her head slightly, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed.

I excused myself and headed back to Ms. Potts office. I waited for her in one of the armchairs at her desk. I checked my phone and realized I hadn't read the e-mail from Scott yet. I opened his message, the contents shocking me.

'Hi, I know it's been a while since we've talked, I mean really talked. I'm sorry, I chose a girl who saw me as the second choice over the person who's been my best friend practically since we met. I'm leaving the mansion too. Things have been crazy here. The professor is making Jean and Logan sub for all the classes you used to teach, and he'll be doing so for every teacher who leaves because of what happened. I'm planning on moving back to Anchorage. My parents left the house to Alex, but he gave everything to me in his will, making it mine. That house has to be 80 or so years old now, it's going to need a lot of repairs. I'll send you the address once it's all fixed up, maybe have some tea and catch up. 

See you someday,

Scott.'

[stardustndreamsofsilver]

Inferum

Part One

Jake x OC(f)

Warnings: talk of human remains, spooky themes, alcohol use, club scene, cramped spaces. Most of what I've written about the Catacombs is based on fact, but overall this is a work of fiction so please don't take everything as such.

Previous Part Here

Memento iroe in die consummationis.

I’d planned to go straight to the Catacombs as soon as I arrived in Paris, since I had booked a ticket to visit for that afternoon a week in advance. But the combination of jetlag and a restless thirteen hour flight got the best of me. When I arrived at the hotel and dragged my bags into my room, I practically collapsed onto the bed and went into a comatose state. By the time I woke, I’d missed the entire rest of the day and most of the night. So, I decided to just go back to sleep. What was the harm in a few more hours of rest anyway?

The next day, I woke up at 11. Later than I’d have liked , but better than sleeping through another day. Rolling over, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up rubbing my face. Taking a deep breath, I stretched my arms in front of me and yawned. Running my hands through my hair, I pushed it out of my face and stood to gather my clothes and get ready for the day. This didn’t take me long, and thankfully, I had the foresight to book a second ticket for a visit to the Catacombs for one o’clock that afternoon. 

Tugging on my Danner hiking boots and grabbing my bag, I left my hotel room and began my trek to the Catacombs. When I arrived, I was just on time for my time slot. Thanking the attendant, I began my descent into the ossuary. With each downward step, the air became cooler and more damp. About halfway down, I pulled a light jacket from my bag and put it on. 

Taking my time, I studied all of the plaques and murals along the guided path until I reached the Samaritan Fountain. This is where the query workers mixed the mortar they used for the masonry work. When I reached the fountain, I gazed down at the well opening it sat upon. I wasn’t sure why I felt compelled to do so, but as I peered into the darkness below, I felt someone walk up behind me. Straightening, I glanced around for the stranger. But there was no one. At least, noone near enough to me to have caused the feeling of someone entering my space. With a furrowed brow, I continued on.

As I made my way through, I began to look for the signs of the ever present yet ever invisible cataphile. A cataphile is someone who explorers the unmarked sections of the catacombs. Most cataphiles do not also act as unofficial tour guides, but there are a few who will for a price. I knew this coming here, so I was prepared to pay whatever price that may be. 

Continuing to follow a fellow group of tourists, I spotted one of the telltale signs of a cataphile. A small cluster of coins. An American quarter, a German €1 coin and a 50-øre coin. These coins were to show what languages the cataphile could speak and mark an entrance to an unmarked section of the catacombs that was safe to go through. Glancing around, I noticed a guided tour coming from behind me. Turning to face ahead, I continued on at a leisurely pace, letting the group steadily pass me. I slowed until I was nearly the only one left in the passageway. Waiting to make sure to watch the last person walk around the bend, I turned around and walked toward the small opening between the bones I’d seen the coins placed in front of.

The opening was at the bottom of the wall of bones and looked barely large enough for me to belly crawl through. Not wanting to miss the opening between visitors, I took a deep breath and took my bag off my shoulder and nudged it through to the other side. Lowering to my knees, I laid down and began to pull myself through. Midway through, I heard the sounds of voices coming from the otherside. My heart began to race and I rushed to pull myself the rest of the way through. 

I just barely made it before I heard the sound of footsteps coming closer and then continuing on past. Breathing a sigh of relief, I grabbed my bag and draped it across my shoulder. Standing up and lightly dusting myself off, I hear someone approach.

“J'imagine que vous aimeriez voir les vraies catacombes, Madame. C'est bien cela?” I hear them say.

Turning I face the cataphile and can just barely make out their outline from the light thrilling in through the cracks between the bones. Nodding, I reply, “Oui, pouvez-vous me montrer le chemin ? Être mon guide?”

“À un prix,” They say, rudding their fingers together as if rubbing a coin. “You are American, yes?”

“Yes, I am,” I say. “What is your price?”

“Ah, I could tell. You almost speak in perfect French, but your accent is just a bit off,” They say crossing their arms. “First, I must know what it is you seek in the catacombs mon cher. Then we set the price.”

A bead of sweat trickles down my neck. I hadn’t thought I’d be asked this. I’d read that most guides don’t ask questions. They just want proof that they’ll be paid and that’s all they require. I’d counted on that fact, actually. What I seek would surely send any guide running. Should I tell the truth or withhold it and hope by the time they realize it’ll be too late to turn around?

I decide on the latter and say, “I am seeking the druids.”

They remain silent for a long moment, “The druids you say? Hm, we will see. 5,000€ and I will take you to what you truly seek.”

My heart lurched in my chest at that amount, but I’d put back more than twice that for this. Slowly, I nod my head in agreement. “5,000 and you will take me where I need to go and guide me back? And should I want to visit again, will you take me for the same price?”

“Oui. Do we have a deal madame?” They say extending their hand.

“Oui.” I say taking their hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Come then, we shall begin our journey. You may call me Pip. What may I call you?” They ask while turning and walking further into the tunnel and putting on their headlamp.

“Addey, you can call me Addey,” I reply, hurrying after them and doing the same.

“Okay, Addey. Do you want to go just to see the druids or would you like to see the sights along the way?”

“Seeing the sights will be fine,” I say, glancing at my watch. There was plenty of time between now and midnight. The longer I could draw this out the better.

“Magnifique, to the theater we go.” 

About an hour later, we arrived at the theater and Pip drew back the velvet curtain. As I stepped through, I couldn’t help the small gasp I let out. The theater was nothing like I’d imagined. I’d thought it would be a shabby projection screen and some metal fold out chairs, but this… This was magnificent. There were rows of plush theater chairs leading down to an opulent stage. It felt as if I'd stepped back in time. The lanterns lining the aisle gave off an almost heavenly glow as I walked closer toward the stage. 

There were people filling the first few rows of seats watching the play unfold before them. I took a seat at the end of the third row and watched the actors tell their story. From what I’d gathered, I could see that this was a play about love, as the best ones are. And the leading man yearned for the love of the captain he’d served under during the war. It was beautiful and tragic. When the lights went up and the cast took their bow, everyone stood and cheered. Wiping a tear from my cheek, I stood and joined them.

“So you have loved and lost then?” Pip asked, leaning in so that I could hear them above the applause. All I could do was dip my head before they took my hand and said, “Come, it is time to move on. What do you say to finding some wine?”

With that, they took me to one of the underground clubs. The club, Gens Beaux, was crowded and the air was hot and heavy. Pip led me to the bar and signaled to the bartender before turning back to me. “So what do you think so far of our city beneath the city?”

“It’s fascinating!” I practically yell over the music. “I knew about the clubs, but I’d no idea there was a true theater here! I’d thought it was just a white sheet and a projector.”

Pip laughed and said, “Oh no, that would not do. Though that is what we used before the discovered the theater and during its renovation. It took nearly six years for us to restore it to what it is now.”

My jaw dropped, “Really? That’s amazing!”

Nodding their head and taking a sip of their wine they continue, “Oui, I imagine it’ll take just as long to restore the new section we found.”

“Oh? What did you find?” I askwith genuine interest.

Shaking their head, they lean in close and say, “It’s a secret. No one can know until it’s finished.”

I laughed and say, “Alright, keep your secret.”

Turning to face the crowd, I watch in wonder. People’s bodies moving to the rhythm of the music, the lights casting odd shadows. I’m sure the query workers that built this place never would have thought that this is what it would be used for. But then again maybe they did, I think as I recall the theater. They’d built a space for people to gather and enjoy the arts, so perhaps they thought there would be parties too.

Taking a sip of my drink, my eyes catch on a pair staring back at me. They belong to a man across the room, his hair long and his looks are rugged but handsome. He’s wearing a necklace of some kind that reflects the light when it hits it. I tilt my head to the side and continue to take him in. He does the same and drinks from his glass. He seems to be a part of a group consisting of three other men and a couple of women. They seem to be close.

“He is handsome, yes?” Pip asks.

Jumping slightly, I laugh and reply, “I can’t be sure, a little too dark in here to tell.”

With a laugh, Pip tilts back their head and finishes their drink. “Come, time to go.”

And with that, we continue our trek through the catacombs.

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