#sometimes faces work better with more years on 'em

[simptasia]

i have no special attachment to the andrew garfield spiderman movies but i watched the clips of his spidey in no way home (i have no desire to like actually watch the movie) and it gave me a fond fuzzy feeling

like, the andrew version peter parker is a delightful lad

[callsign-datura]

quit talking.

frustrated simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader warnings: smut, obviously. mentions of putting a muzzle on you, not dealing with feelings, unprotected sex, bro is def a tits man (he sucks on em), oral sex (f recieving), light choking, creampieee a/n: 1k? how the hell?? thank you! :)

If there's one thing you know how to do, it's piss Ghost off. It's not really fun to you, it's more of a competitive thing. He's been in this line of work for much longer than you have, but you've been in it for long enough that you should be treated like a valuable ally than an untrained soldier, or a rookie. But for Ghost, that nickname has stuck. "C'mon, rookie, get your head straight."

"Eyes up here, rookie."

"Are you listenin', rookie?"

Your blood boils every time the word slips from his mouth. Every time he does it, you keep yourself from snapping at him. You put a smile on and follow his directions.

But sometimes it isn't so easy.

He orders you around, and tells you what to do; like a lieutenant should. Yet for some reason, you feel your chest tighten when he gives you an order. You know damn well it's a personal issue. Probably some feelings you haven't dealt with yet that you aren't ready to deal with. But you butt heads. You can tell that your defiance pisses him off and the flicker in his eyes makes something in your heart surge; something you tell yourself is satisfaction. Recently, it's been worse... maybe it was the mission last month where you were stuck in a closet together and he couldn't keep his hands to himself, or the fact he acted like it didn't even happen after. Probably both.

---------------------- "Rookie."

That damn nickname again. You snap quickly, against your better judgment; but he can't blame you. It's been a hard day of biting your tongue. "How long have I been on this team, sir?" "Not long enough to be givin' me so much attitude." He snaps back just as quickly, and usually it'd be enough to extinguish that fire, but today, it's not.

"It's been two years." "Two years of you talking' like you've known us for ten. Sorry to burst your bubble," he barks, turning his body to you as you recognize that look in his eye that you shouldn't be messing with him today. "You haven't. I'll keep callin' you 'rookie' until you get that in your head." His arms hang at his sides, his fists idly clenching and releasing as he steps towards you. "You got a problem with that?" Your eyebrows knit together and you tilted your head back as he gets close, his upper body curling to lean over yours and stare you down. Cold, brown eyes staring into yours; something that would normally give you chills. But not today. "Yes, actually, I do. I'm not a rookie anymore, I've been working with you long enough to the point I should have earned the respect I deserve." The words are slipping out. You realize how stupid it sounds and how you should have just been quiet and stopped fighting, but it feels good to get it off your chest. So you keep talking. "I'm a valuable asset to the team. I'm a good medic, a good ground unit, I'm damn good with a knife and I have good survival skills. I think those are grounds for respect from my lieutenant. Everyone else treats me well, but you." He rolls his eyes so strongly that you think it probably hurts. "You wanna know why they treat you well, rookie?" He retorts, his voice low and husky and raspy. His face is inches from yours and your senses are flooded with him; it's almost enough to get you to forget about why you were fighting in the first place. "It's 'cause everyone else knows that bein' nice to you and lettin' you act like a proper twat is better than tryin' to discipline you. You act like a child and they let you because you're too damn stubborn to get through to." The words piss you off again, and you open your mouth to respond, yet nothing comes out. "Don't." He warns. "This is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? I just want to be respected." "Nobody gives you shit anymore, rookie, but me. It sounds like you're mad that I'm the only person who gives you shit and doesn't let you get off easy."

"Because it's bullshit-" "I only give you shit when you're actin' like this." The glimmer in his eyes changes, and it becomes something you can't entirely put your finger on. "I only give you shit when you're yowlin' about 'not being respected' when you know damn well you are, you're just angry that I'm mean to you." "'Cause you are!"

"I am because I know that's the only way you listen." He says, his voice returning to something stable. "It's like you hate me."

Oh. His eyes flare again, this time with recognition. "That's what this is about? You think I hate you?"

"Well, sometimes..." Your voice lowers and you avoid eye contact with him, trying to focus on anything but the monster of a man in your proximity. "Sometimes it feels like it."

"Really? And that's why you're constantly puttin' up such a fight with me? 'Cause you think I hate you?" His voice turns... amused. Jesus Christ, he's enjoying this. "Yes, and--" You try to retort, but you can't think of anything. Your mind blanks. "And..." Embarrassment burns hot on your cheeks and you shut your eyes. He chuckles quietly. "That's fucked, sweetheart. You're not gonna believe me, even if I talk till I'm blue,"

"As if I could see." You snap, looking away. "...N' even if I talk, you'll interrupt me." He chuckles again. His voice tenses a little as if he's irritated. He grabs your hand and starts leading you somewhere and you start talking again. "I don't know where you get off on being rude like that." He laughs, in disbelief. "I could ask you the same thing." "You haven't said anything to me about that mission," you begin. Your voice is shaky. These are untrod waters, but you want an answer. "Not a damn thing. Not a text, hell, you barely look me in the eyes." "Mm." He responds, his voice higher-pitched, once again with recognition. "So it's that, too." He glances back at you, and you barely even realize where he's leading you until he pushes open the door to his quarters and pushes you inside, stepping in too, and shutting the door behind him. "You're mad about that? That we haven't talked about that?" You open your mouth, but the surprise doesn't let you say anything. So you nod, looking around the room. It's bland. Very... Ghost. "I haven't said anythin' to you about it 'cause even thinkin' about it makes it difficult for me to see you in a professional light." He pauses. "It shouldn't have happened. If anyone finds out, it'd be me taking advantage of you,"

"That wasn't what happened, though. I was asking you--" "Quit." He snaps, his hand coming up to cup your chin and hold your jaw, urging you to stay quiet. "Quit interruptin' me, fuck. You talk a lot, you know that?" His other hand goes to the zipper of your jacket, pulling at it and unzipping it. Your eyes flicker down to watch his hand, and you stay quiet.

He chuckles again and shakes his head, his eyes wide with disbelief and amusement... some mix of the two. "Now you're quiet. When you're gettin' what you want. Dunno what I expected." He lets go of your jaw and pulls your jacket off, tossing it to the side and turning both of you, backing you up against the door.

"I don't hate you... Quite the opposite." He murmurs, his voice softening. You watch as his thumb hooks into the bottom of his mask, pulling it over his nose as he leans in and puts his other hand on your waist. He goes for your neck, and you tilt your head instinctively. More than happy to obey. "It's jus' the fact that this is entirely unethical. No matter how we put it... it's unethical." He kisses the flesh of your neck, lips dancing along the softness there, testing for any sweet spots. He nips when he feels you tremble. "...Now that isn't to say I didn't enjoy it... 'cause I did. I dream about it, pet," his voice shakes and his grip on you tightens. "Fuckin' dream about it."

The vulnerability at this moment makes your body heat up. Warmth is building in your lower stomach, and a soft noise leaves your lips as you tilt your head back against the door. Your back arches as his breath ghosts your neck.

"Dream about you... n' this body, n' your voice, and your whimpers. I look at you, and I remember." He starts kissing your neck again. They're rough, and his breath is hot. You tremble again as his lips travel down, stopping at your collar as he reaches and slips the strap of your undershirt off your shoulder, and kisses the span of flesh that's been uncovered. Tongue darting out, following the contour of your collarbone, teasingly; leaving tingles in its wake that send heat straight to your cunt. "Makes it so goddamn hard to treat you like you're my teammate and not a person who haunts my dreams."

Another noise leaves your lips, and his hands slide up your sides, bringing the fabric of your undershirt with it. You lift your arms to let him, and you lock eyes for a moment. His are sparkling with lust, and he chuckles before his hands travel up your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls it from your body and drops it to the side, and his lips are on your flesh again. He nips at certain spots, nibbling gently and sucking deep marks into the flesh. His kisses go from your collarbone to your breast, and his lips close around your nipple. Your body tenses and goosebumps prickle over the flesh of your chest, and you tilt your head back again, legs pressing together as his hands rub up and down your sides soothingly. His tongue laves over it, sending tingles of pleasure through you as your eyes flutter shut and he grunts against you. His teeth nip at it gently before he releases it, switching sides. His hands slip down your sides and move to your pants, undoing the button of your jeans and tugging them and your panties down around your legs, detaching from your nipple to do so.

His gaze is immediately dragged to your cunt, and he hums low in his throat before he looks up at you. "C'mon, dove. Give me a taste, mm?" He asks, teasingly; but meaning the question entirely. Your expression twists in embarrassment, but your desire for him overrides any hesitation. And you nod. One of his hands cups the underside of your leg, lifting it up and to the side as he litters kisses along the inside of it. Having him so close to you makes your entire body shudder and a moan leaves your lips, your hand coming down to cup his head as you watch him. It's a lewd sight, but the view makes you tingle. He bites down lightly and a whine leaves your lips as you lightly swat his head. He chuckles in response and looks up at you, pulling away from your thigh to litter kisses over your cunt. You're wet enough to the point he can fucking see it; and your face flushes a bit more in embarrassment and you tilt your head back. You shudder, tilting your hips forward and chasing a bit more friction... and he delivers. His tongue darts out, dragging up between your labia to catch your clit. Your body shudders and you give a sharp whine. The feeling is electric, and you already feel something building in your stomach, yet you try to suppress it in turn for just feeling the sensation. His other hand comes up and his thumb pulls at the flesh, lightly spreading you out for his convenience, his lips closing around your clit as he grunts and the vibration of it turns into straight heat and makes you twitch. He sucks gently and you mewl, your hips shifting away from the unfamiliar sensation, forcing him to detach before he pulls you back in and clicks his tongue.

"Come on now, pet. You wanted this, didn't you? Stay still." You whine in affirmation, looking down once again and gasping as he buries his face into you once more. He dips his tongue into you, and his eyes roll briefly as he grunts at the taste of you; something that he'd get addicted to easily. Hell, he's already addicted to you; why not? He pushes his tongue into you for a moment, groaning again. His grip on the underside of your thigh tightens and he brings it upward a bit more, resting it over his shoulder as his hand slips up your tummy, giving the pudge there a little squeeze before he switches his attention to your clit, lapping his tongue over it slowly and gently. Each swipe sends heat into you, your walls clamping around on nothing, moans leaving your lips as he keeps his head buried into you. The sensations are mounting and he laps his tongue a bit faster to elicit more reactions from you.

Your hips buck into the sensation and a squeal leaves your lips. His hand slips back to cup your hip, pulling you further into him as he laps at your clit again and again. The hand keeping your labia spread shifts downward, and you jolt as he presses his middle and pointer finger against your hole, circling the flesh to gather your slick. The movement of his tongue stalls for a moment until he pushes his fingers into you, and he laps again, but much faster this time, grunting out in satisfaction at the way your walls flutter around his fingers and suck them in more. Moans leave your lips and your body tenses up, a cry leaving the moan before you shift down a little to push into his fingers. He curls them, feeling along your inner walls slowly and gently to find that spot that'll make you quiver, and he does; your hips buck again and you cry once more, the pleasure overloading your senses and rendering you to a whimpering mess. He laps away at your clit again, eating like a man starved; curling those two fingers on your g-spot and rubbing his fingertips against it slowly, gently.

The sensation causes the cord in your tummy to tighten. It doesn't take more of his assault to throw you over the edge; he continues, with an increased fervor upon feeling you tense around his fingers and hearing your noises take on a desperate edge. He pulls you closer, grunting into your pussy as you cry out and ball your hands into fists, grinding a little into the friction as your vision goes white and you sob his name. You continue, riding out your orgasm and whimpering his name quietly. His movements stop after your noises quiet, and he withdraws his fingers and pulls back to look up at you, making sure you're looking at him before he pulls his fingers apart; showing you the string of your fluid that connects them between breaking. He chuckles a bit and stands up as he looks you over. Your eyes flutter shut and you whimper softly, tilting your head back. Your body relaxes, but not for long as you hear a zipper being undone. Your eyes open just as he turns you around and pins you against the wall. One hand against the wall between your waist and your arm, his lips on the back of your shoulder as his other hand comes to your waist, pulling back you back against him. You give a surprised noise and he chuckles. "What? D'you think we were done?" You don't respond, and he hums. "Good. 'Cause we aren't." He pushes against you as you arch your back, your eyes widening as you feel his cock pressing against your cunt; a whine leaving your lips before he pulls his hand from your hip to wrap around the base of him, adjusting himself to rest the tip of his cock against your hole, watching as you flutter around him. He chuckles softly at the sight, and puts his hand on your lower stomach, slowly guiding his hips forward. His cock slips into you with ease, and you feel a faint stinging pain from the stretch, but the full feeling his cock gives you distracts you from the pain. It's familiar, almost; like your body remembers how he fit inside you. Your slick coats his cock, making the fit a bit more easy. He groans softly into your ear, the feeling of you around him more than heavenly. "Fuck. S'fuckin tight. Mm... like you were made for me, hm?"

He grunts quietly as he feels you pulse around him, and he tilts his hips slightly, cupping your lower tummy as he grinds into you testingly. A whine leaves your lips, but you don't stop him. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you feel some sort of sense of relief at finally being filled; by him. His breath fans over your shoulder as he grinds into you slowly, rolling his hips into yours; pulling out a bit before pushing forward and rubbing his hips into yours. He continues like this, one hand sliding up your front and wrapping around your throat, a gentle hold that keeps your head still. Your eyes keep shut, eager moans leaving your lips as you push back into him. For a few moments he continues this movement, just reveling in the feeling of your cunt around him before he begins thrusting. Slowly, at the same pace, raking his cock in and out of you, sending shocks of pleasure through you as you tighten a bit around him, eliciting groans from him. His movements speed up and the hand on your lower stomach slips downward, his middle and ring finger rubbing circles over your clit. You lurch a little and give a little cry, still feeling a bit overstimulated from the previous activities.

That sensation leaves almost immediately as he thrusts into you quickly, the sounds of your bodies together filling the room amongst his groans and your squeals. You lift one of your legs, tilting your head against the wall and his grip on your throat tightens as he starts rutting into you; the feeling of you is getting to him as much as the feeling of him is getting to you. Your moans increase in pitch, and your mind is scrambled by the pleasure. Your walls quiver as he continues, bullying into your cunt. He's chasing his high, and the circles he draws on your clit also increase in pace. The cord in your stomach draws taut, signalling your incoming orgasm; you can tell by his pace that he's close too. "Fuck-- Gonna cum." He warns into your shoulder, yet his pace doesn't falter.

You whimper and your chest tightens at the thought of him pulling out; wasting his cum like that. "Inside," you babble out quickly, hands balling into fists against the wall. "Please, inside." You stutter over your words as he continues thrusting into you, but he understands you immediately.

You don't have to say it twice. After a moment, he bucks into you up to the hilt, and a shaky groan leaves his throat as he cums; hot, thick ropes that flood your cunt with his spend. The sensation, mixed with the feeling of him rolling his fingers over your clit is enough to make you cum as well, and you cry out, walls quivering on his cock before tensing, milking him. Your body trembles and he pulls his hands away, holding you close to him, hums of affection leaving his throat as he thrusts into you a few more times before his movements stall. There's a bit of content silence before his voice breaks it. "Still think I hate you?" You pause, then you murmur in response shakily, "Mnh-mnh. Thank you..." "You're welcome, pet. But next time you need my cock, say it instead of being a brat." "Then the next time you dream about me, tell me." "...deal."

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons pt.2! :))

warnings: mentions of weed/alc , injuries/blood, VERY mild sexual content (boobs and ass 😕)

content: loser!ellie x reader :3

authors note: im back w another BANGER🔥🔥🔥 since ppl loved the last one IM BACK W MORE 😈

pt. 1 ! taglist.! masterlist!!

- CANNOT handle spicy food. my porcelain princess has the spice tolerance of a victorian child she is coughing and crying at the slightest spice 😞😞

- speaking of food…my girl is a CHEF!!! she hates leaving the house and she’s too broke to buy food so she’s just in the kitchen whippin ts!!!! she even has a goofy chef hat that she wears when she cooks. (this is so ellie coded i dont know why)

- loves commentary youtubers . kurtis,danny,nickisnotgreen,jarvis, and chadchad 🔥🔥

- knows so much niche internet drama…she tries to talk abt it and ur like???? literally what are you talking about….which gives her the perfect opportunity to ramble

- so many random injuries CONSTANTLY. she’s constantly covered in cuts and bruises and has no idea where they come from (mostly her awful skateboarding)

- “this ones for you” before she devastatingly fails to do a trick on her skateboard and falls on her face, and her entire lower face is covered in nose-blood

- whenever she gets hurt, she always asks you to “kiss it better” 😞😞 so cute im dying!!!

- follows you around like a puppy all day. goes with you on all your errands, sits by you while you do work. she is ALWAYS THERE

- if u think shes bad when shes sober, she’s literally the clingiest drunk in the world!!!! she will literally be constantly attached to you. even when you go to the bathroom, she’ll literally hold ur hand through the door while u piss cuz u wouldn’t let her in 😞

- she’s even worse when she’s high, cuz shes so BOLD. will literally just randomly motorboat ur tits while ur talking with zero explanation.

- loves sitting on the floor???? literally will just be down there. sometimes when you’re on the couch she’ll sit by your feet and cling onto one of your legs

- NEEDY!!!! oh my godddd so needy. every time ur doing something not involving her she’s trying to get your attention. most of the time shes doing really stupid shit in front of you for no reason. “babe look” is her favorite thing to say

- literally had a huge bruise on her leg cuz she tried to do a cartwheel inside and banged her leg on the kitchen counter

- whenever you lay on your stomach, she loves laying her head on your ass

“it’s my favorite pillow!!”

- sometimes she just randomly squeezes ur boobs when she walks past you. always with some random sound affect too. she’ll just walk by you while you’re cooking and just honk ‘em 😕

- sleeps DIRECTLY ON TOP OF YOU. like literally lays on you like a starfish all night

-sleeptalker!!! its always the most non-coherent things ever, and it’ll last for like 30 minutes.

“no papa john i don’t wanna hit a nae nae 😞”

- cannot be trusted on the road. she is actually a hazard to public safety

- this is such an unpopular opinion but she is DEFINITELY a passenger princess. she likes staring at you too much she can’t drive she’ll crash!!!!

- does NOT exercise. but she’s like. randomly strong. she’ll carry all your groceries in one trip and push ALL your luggage when you go on vacation

- literally turns into a child when you take her to the beach. building sand castles, swimming in the water, and finding rocks and shells and bringing them to you like a dog

- definitely wears those stupid snorkel goggles when she goes swimming cuz she likes doing flips underwater and hates water in her nose

- LOVES CAMPING!!! that girl can be OUTDOORS.

- has binders full of pokemon cards. she goes to this card shop by her house that has pokemon saturdays and plays matches for like…the whole day. she can and WILL trash talk a 7 year old little boy after beating him

- follows so many niche meme pages

- orange chicken enthusiast.

- this is literally canon in the show but she HATES COFFEE. she is a chai latte woman. with oatmilk cuz like…duh….lesbian

- absolutely goated at just dance for NO REASON

- really good at making string friendship bracelets

[jarofstyles]

Illicit- II

Check out our Patreon- part 3 and 4 are up there now!

Warnings- Cheating (H with Y/N), asshole H lol

WC- 3.1k

------

“How was the event yesterday?” Niall asked, leaning back in his camping chair. 

The lake view was stunning. Nestled in the foothills of the mountain range, the lake town had always had charm. It was a true small town, despite the string of multi million dollar lake homes, and Harry had found it to be one of his favorite estates their family owned. That’s why he hosted an end of summer weekend there with his true friends. His small handful of trusted people and their significant others- and a few staff with iron clad NDA’s- were invited out to the lake house for the last hoorah of summer activities. Tubing, swimming in the lake or the pool, volleyball, bonfires, even fireworks that he hired out, all of it was being utilized before it couldn’t be anymore. It was similar each year, but this year had a new, important addition.

Y/N, his sweet little thing. 

“Horrible.” Harry grunted, watching as Y/N and Zayn’s girlfriend Hannah combed the bush around the lake looking for wildflowers. “It’s never good. I despise those things, and the fact I have to go to save face makes it even more insufferable.” The events were so drab and dull. Sometimes, in his youth, he’d enjoy the food or the drinks. Winning something at auction. But now it was watered down with people who, quite frankly, didn’t deserve to be there. He could give to charities on his own- and he did- but un-fucking-fortunately, if he showed up then there would be more eyes on it. His presence was just as valuable as his money. 

“Don’t blame ya for hating ‘em. As soon as I got out of them I felt better. But how was Katherine? She splattered you all over her instagram, said she got flowers from ya. Did you?” He knew the answers, obviously, but wanted the confirmation he all too easily got with the scoff and Harry’s head tipping back to finish his beer.  

“Fuck no. I haven’t gotten her flowers since the first date. I left Y/N in my bed, arrived to the event late to get my ear chewed off about how rude it was and dragged around to be photographed even though I’d rather chop off a thumb.” He grunted. “Then I went home, Y/N was asleep so I packed and then… woke her up.” His face grew a slight smirk, remembering how he woke her up with his mouth between her thighs and flowers actually bought for her on the nightstand. He felt awful whenever he had to see Katherine and knew it wasn't something that Y/N liked either, so he wanted to make it up to her whenever he could. The fact that Katherine showed him off like a showpony and lied about flowers she had certainly got for herself was laughable but not at all surprising. 

“It’s so odd to see you like… properly into a girl.” Niall admitted. “I have to admit, though, y’look actually happy. Weird as fuck to see you walk around with a smile after the scowls you’ve become famous for.” It really was. Y/N had exposed a softer, gentler side of Harry that hadn’t been seen before. Before Y/N he wouldn’t have been caught dead with a woman on his lap, and yet he pulled her into his lap whenever he got the chance. Even here. He didn’t give a fuck if his inner circle saw- no, he wanted them to. The need to show off the one girl he actually wanted was overwhelming at times. 

“She’s different.” There was no use in denying how much he really loved Y/N. It was obvious, written all over his face when she was around or even mentioned. She’d taken the stiff iron walls of his heart and turned them into soft molten fluff for her to mold. There wasn’t much shame he had, except for having to hide her for a bit. “I just want this contract to be over so I can move it along. She’s halfway moved in but I want her there all the time. Just can’t have her fully there because… y’know.” Because Katherine liked to show up unannounced sometimes and demand attention. He never really did, sending her off with the excuse of work, but once he got serious with Y/N he had his locks changed and a lack of care that increased as the days went on. 

Harry was an awful boyfriend to Katherine and he simply did not care. He hoped that she would come to her senses and break up with him but apparently, the perks of being attached to his name were too good to give up just because he was mean, didn’t give her attention or affection. He’d refused to kiss her besides the cheek and told her that he didn’t care if she got it somewhere else, but he was on a ‘sex ban.’. Ironic, considering he was the most thoroughly sexed he’d been in his life. Sometimes he felt a tad bit of guilt, just knowing how his mother would feel if she found out how awful he was to her- but she didn’t like the girl either! 

He was desperate for this to end so he could introduce her to Y/N. The woman he was certain he was keeping for as long as she let him. Harry was a possessive man and intended on that being forever, but he cared about her too much to lock her into a secret engagement. She deserved to be able to show off and tell the world- and so did he. 

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. It’s good there wasn’t an infidelity clause, he was dumb as fuck for that. It’s a shame cause she’s a pretty girl, could probably find some other new blood to stick to and make her money that way. But I get why she’s sticking to you. All those people wanting a slice of your empire must be fucking exhausting.” Niall was wealthy, his family going back a few generations short of Harry’s own, but it didn’t have the public notoriety that his did. He often wished that was the case for his legacy. 

“Wish she would just have a real moment of clarity and realize no money is worth this, that she could be getting dick and designer bags and someone else to dote on her. Not me. Never will be me. But, in just a few months it’s not my problem and her arse will be on the curb whilst Y/N will go public with me.” He didn’t plan on waiting very long for that. Perhaps it would be in bad taste to only wait until a day after a public breakup but he would do it if Y/N didn’t have some weird guilt surrounding Katherine. 

Their conversation was cut short by a call of his name, his beaming girl approaching with a basket of wildflowers in her hand. His heart stuttered, his scowl falling to build up a soft, fond smile. His arm opened and he patted his lap, motioning her to sit pretty on his thigh and drape her legs over him- which she easily did. Her breezy, cornflower blue dress hit just above her knees and the off the shoulder cut showed off a nice amount of skin. A necklace she had gotten from him, a sunflower pendant with an H etched into the back hung perfectly on her neck, glistening in the setting sun. The floppy sunhat looked fucking adorable on her, pushed back enough to ensure it didn’t hit Harry in the face. 

“What have you got, my love?” He asked tenderly, hand folding on her thigh and tucking under the hem of her dress. An intimate hold, but they were in their own safe place. As soon as he went public with her, he was going to show the world just how much. HE wasn’t necessarily the public type, but he had no qualms with letting people see Y/N on his arm, draped in jewelry his money bought, on his yachts, in his businesses, with his ring, and hopefully, full of his child. He couldn’t think about the last one for too long without getting hard, though, so he reserved that for later. 

“We got a little bouquet for the table for dinner. Love the flowers you got too, but it feels nice.” Her hand stroked through his ungelled hair, loving the curls they formed whenever he was unstyled. He left it like that specifically for her, and she took advantage of it. “My mum and I would do it every summer, we had that flower garden. Remember the photos?” Harry nodded, he did indeed. He would be building her her own whenever he could propose and they moved further out of the city. “Yeah, good! So, we got some and m’gonna go ask Ms.Greta if she’s got any vases. We’re eating outside tonight, yeah?” 

“We are. Proper grill out. I think she does have some, I don’t remember offhand what we’ve got here but-” He squeezed her leg, letting his fingers press into the warm flesh. “Before y’go and do that, think you forgot something.” His expectant look was clear on his face. Y/N gasped, quickly remedying the situation as she curled her hand around his strong jaw and tilted it so she could connect their mouths for what she intended to be a chaste kiss. Harry had different intentions. Instead, he snuck his tongue into her mouth and used his hand to cradle the back of her neck, slightly damp with sweaty hair, keeping her to his mouth. He was never one to half ass, even when Niall began to fake gag. 

“Alright, fucking christ. Swallow her whole, why don’t you!” Niall continued to make childish noises but Harry continued, ignoring his friend as he hummed against his girl’s mouth. He had few places he could actually do these sorts of things and he’d be damned if he let anyone tease him out of it. This was the woman he wanted more than anything, and he liked the tiny glimpses he got into their possible future. 

—------

“I like this.” Y/N mumbled into his chest. The day had dwindled down and she was sitting on his lap in front of the fireplace in the master bedroom. Harry’s chest was bare as her cheek rested against the smooth expanse, the middle of it covered in a thin layer of hair. He’d started to let it grow since they’d begun to see one another when Y/N expressed how much she found it sexy, and Harry was one to please her when she said things like that. “Not having to hide. I can’t wait until you can be mine for everyone to see.” Her lips brushed his pec, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Guilt swarmed inside his stomach like a disturbed beehive, making him swallow down the lump in his throat. While he felt no guilt at all for the supposed infidelity towards Katherine, the guilt lied in having to suppress the most incredible relationship with Y/N. He knew she didn’t love feeling like a secret all the time, and while Harry had said he didn’t care if people found out, Y/N had to think of her own reputation. That was what had him ensuring he kept it under wraps. While people would just see him as yet another dumb, horny man? They’d see Y/N as a homewrecker, a slut, every bad name under the sun. Not to mention the online bullying she’d be subjected to by Katherine, her little group and all her naive fans. 

He’d never cared about someone like this before. Yes, of course he loved his family and his friends, but this was a whole other level of care. It went bone deep. Y/N was the type of person you met once in a lifetime. The type you couldn’t let slip through your fingers because you really couldn’t. Y/N was everything and more and Harry was dedicated to keeping her as happy as possible, but the reality was that they had to hide just a bit longer. 

“I know, my love.” He said quietly, trailing his fingers over the crown of her head. “It’s hard right now. I never anticipated meeting you or I never would have… Wouldn’t have taken the deal.” The words were murmured just for her, eyes searching her own to try and gauge her emotions. She didn’t seem particularly devastated, but there was still that undercurrent of sadness that made his chest twinge. “I know I’ve told you time and time again about how much I am obsessed with you, how you’re the woman I want… But I can’t wait either. You’ve not even a clue about how much I look forward to showing you off.”

While he had complained of Katherine doing so, it was a whole other ballgame when you truly adored the person and felt proud to be theirs. 

“You do?” She peeped, eyes rounding as she peered up at him. Sometimes she was so fucking beautiful that it felt like a hit in the stomach. She was clear of makeup now, showing off her natural features. He loved seeing her in any capacity but this had to be his favorite. Private, intimate, bare. Her hair in two messy braids but still managed to have some strands in her face. Her lips were soft and plump, the overnight mask on them that she had tried to explain to him and he still had no clue what it did other than make his girl happy- his Y/N was his gift. He knew he didn’t deserve her but he never claimed to be a good person- He would keep her forever. Some could call him intransigent, but he wouldn’t argue. 

“Of course I do. Look forward to everyone seeing you on my arm. I think it will be apparent that I’m pretty far gone. People will wonder what magic powers you possess.” He laughed through his nose, leaning in to kiss the side of her head. “You just bewitched me, sweet little thing. Had me in knots when you blocked me, y’know that?” His smile grew. “Never wanted to talk to someone so badly in my life.”

“From what I knew, you had an actual real girlfriend!” She defended adamantly. “And then you basically locked me into a room with you to explain yourself. Scared the shit out of me. Y’know, there were rumors that people thought you were some sort of mafia boss.” She snorted. “Kind of believed it for a bit. You’ve got the whole, tall, dark and handsome thing going on. Mysterious. Kind of a dick.” She yelped when he lightly pinched her side, erupting into a fit of giggles. “Hey! No. You’re a handsome asshole. And to your credit, that was the last time you were all weird with me. Once I believed you, you became a sweet little thing.” Her voice cooed as she reached up to pinch his cheek like a grandmother would, making him roll his eyes.

It was true, though. He’d met her and it hadn’t gone so well in the beginning. His reputation for being cold and callous to new people, to most, actually, didn’t help when his interest in her spiked. He remembered very clearly, watching with a drink in his hand as she laughed with some of the girls. Grinning wide and showing teeth, making his chest do the weird pitter patter it usually did now when he saw her, but the first time had shocked the hell out of him. He’d never had that sort of reaction to someone before. Sure, he found people hot and experienced lust, but it was the first time in his life he craved conversation. To be nosy. So he hunted her, cornered her like prey and had him picking her brain for a while. He’d been gaining momentum, touching her and getting her a drink , and she had been into it until someone whispered into her ear on the way back from the bathroom what he assumed was the information that he was ‘taken.’ 

So what? He had gone through drastic measures to convince her to see him again, even showing her the contract that was notarized. 

“A mafia boss?” He snickered, raising a brow. “Not a chance. Though I appreciate you thinking I’ve got what it takes. No, unfortunately it’s just the multitude of legitimate businesses in my empire, my darling.” His smile grew warm, watching her return it. “Though, if that’s something you want to roleplay in bed, I’d not be opposed.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t be, perv.” With a roll of the eyes she patted his chest. “Never met someone so dirty in my life. Energizer bunny must be a sponsor of your cock because I swear, even being older than me you’ve got more stamina.” It was the truth, but she didn’t grasp how it was just for her. He used to be satisfied with a fuck or two a week, he could go without it if he went to the gym. Being with Y/N changed him to an insatiable beast, but she was his willing accomplice. 

“I don’t see you complaining when my cock is in your pretty cunt and you’re crying for me t’let you cum. Begging Daddy to let you cream all over my cock, because you tend to be a messy little girl. At least m’nice enough to let you.” He said with a straight face. There was no comment about how he could feel her clench on his thigh, but she already knew he could. His filthy mouth couldn’t be competed with and thankfully, Y/N had a thing for dirty talk.

“Alright- jesus.” Y/N whined, burying her face against his chest. “Don’t get me worked up now. I’m a little sore, someone took it out of me in the shower.” The grumbled words made him smirk, smugness and pride evident on his face. If she was really hurt she would let him know and he would grovel on his knees to make it better. “If you take it easy, I think you could have me in the morning. Wake me up with it.” A treat for the man, considering he adored watching her eyes peel open and a whimper sounding from her sleep swollen lips as he slipped in and out of her warm insides.

“Hm. I suppose that’s a fair deal.” He signed, acting resigned as he tugged her closer to him. “I’m lucky to have you, my minx. Always so good to me.”  Even more than he deserved. 

[shadowtriovibes]

pt. i: break a sweat

pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iii: sweat it out || pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, dubious safe sex methods, even more dubious interpretations of how the room of requirement works

Summary: sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

"Speaking of which," you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. "What prize will you not be winning?" Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, "I have something in mind." You force yourself not to get distracted. "Do tell." "If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game," he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

Seeing Sebastian for the first time since the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts is quite the shock.

You knew from his detailed letters that your dearest friend had spent the better part of his summer break training for Quidditch tryouts in the fall, frequently flying down to the Poidsear Coast to log hours and hours at their pitch.

Sometimes he would even bring Anne along with him when she was feeling well enough to ride on the back of his broom. He’d convince her to release a secondhand Snitch for him to track down, and while he hunted it down, she worked on the assignments your professors had set to help her prepare for her return to Hogwarts in the fall.

He’d even written to tell you that he’d never felt more confident on a broom, and that if he only got to have one last season on your house team before leaving school, he was determined to make the absolute most of it.

You knew all of this, and yet when you first see him in the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, you nearly swoon like a Muggle schoolgirl at the sight of him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s taller. Even seated next to Anne at the Slytherin table, you can see his entire head whereas you can barely make out the top of his sister’s. Sebastian had never seemed that much bigger than his twin before, but things have clearly changed.

Then, you notice that his complexion has changed as well. He’s tan from spending all summer training in the sun, his button-down shirt suddenly looking so crisply white against his sun-kissed face.

His freckles, too – there are so many more.

But that could also just be because there’s simply more Sebastian now. His shoulders are broader, his chest wider, and even his hair has grown long enough to brush upwards into a less haphazard style (though certainly not as severe as Ominis’).

It’s as if your boyish Sebastian from the previous school year had quite suddenly become a grown man in just three short months, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

It takes you a few minutes to adjust as you slide into a seat across from him next to Ominis, and based on the look on Anne’s face, she at least knows what’s got you so flustered.

During a lull in conversation about Anne’s return, you tell Sebastian, “You’re looking fit.”

You hope you can casually get it out of the way, and that no one will dwell on it.

“Am I?” he asks with an easy smile.

“I mean physically,” you insist, remaining one step ahead of him. “I nearly mistook you for one of the Beaters for the Magpies.”

“Sebastian could never be a Beater,” Anne interjects. “He’s too much of a show-off to be anything but the Seeker.”

“I’ll be whatever the team needs me to be,” he insists. “I practiced for all four positions this summer, so wherever they want to slot me in is fine.”

“Silly Sebastian,” Violet McDowell calls out from a few seats down, a wicked grin on her face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are many more positions than just four?”

Your entire end of the table bursts into laughter while Sebastian simply flashes a wicked grin, and you think about using your ancient magic to hurl one of the stacked platters of food in front of you at Violet’s head. (Or maybe you should simply toss her out into the courtyard.)

“Is this how it’s going to be this year?” Anne sighs. “When I left, Sebastian was just an awkward boy with his nose always buried in a book, and now the girls are lusting after him.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Ominis agrees. “He had a big enough head before he was attractive.”

“I think it’s excellent,” Sebastian laughs. “It’s about time everyone realized that I’m the perfect man, and all it took was a little bit of Quidditch practice and one last growth spurt.”

“‘All it took,’” Anne mumbles at the same time Ominis exclaims, “‘Perfect man?!’”

While both his sister and best friend take turns putting dents in Sebastian’s inflated ego, he takes it in stride and sneakily winks at you from across the table when he catches you silently observing, your gaze firmly settled on the sharp line of his jaw.

Sebastian makes a mental note of the fact that you immediately go red. Even if no one else notices, he certainly does.

—

Two weeks later, you and Anne link arms with Ominis to walk down with him to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin team tryouts.

“Now that I’ve got a brilliant witch on each arm, I suppose I won’t be needing my wand as often to get around,” he teases.

“Please, I know a thing or two about that wand of yours,” Anne replies. “Last year I spent a full month reading books on wandcraft that Sebastian brought me from the library. If I had to guess, I think you can probably ‘see’ more clearly than either of us can. It’s powerful.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Ominis demurs. “I’m just naturally perceptive.”

Once you arrive at the pitch, the three of you take seats along the practice bleachers with a few of your housemates, who chat excitedly when the Slytherin hopefuls begin to take the field.

You spot Sebastian quickly, even among nearly two dozen others in green practice uniforms circling for warmups on their brooms. Compared to how big he’d looked at the start of term in just his school robes, he’s huge now – equipped with pads across his shoulders, forearms and shins that accentuate his muscular form.

He’d declined a helmet, of course, because despite his newfound bulk he’s still the same exasperatingly headstrong boy you’ve nurtured a crush on for nearly your entire school career.

“Between us, what do you think his chances are of making the team?” you ask Anne.

“Truthfully?” she smirks. “I think he’ll have his pick of positions, unless Imelda wants to humble him on purpose.”

“Which one would be humbling?” you ask, amused.

“Probably Chaser,” she muses. “He’d be an excellent Chaser, of course, but it’s his least favorite.”

“I’ll bet he becomes a Beater,” Ominis offers. “Without the Dark Arts, I’d like him to have some sort of outlet for his intensity.”

“Fine, then I’ll say… Keeper,” you say, smiling to yourself at your private joke that only Sebastian would appreciate. “Because that way he’ll get to stay in one place the whole game and know that everyone’s eyes are on him.”

—

Shortly after tryouts wrap up, Imelda sequesters herself in the girls’ dorm to put together her official roster and the majority of Slytherin’s upperclassmen start passing around Butterbeers while they settle in to await her decision.

Sebastian is inarguably the center of attention, casually leaning against a table in the corner with Anne at his side. A flock of fifth-year girls crowds around him to listen intently as he talks about the impressive diving save he’d made, capturing the Snitch just feet from the ground.

“He’s going to be insufferable now,” Ominis groans while the two of you watch from across the room. “There’s barely enough room for his ego in this friendship as it is.”

“Come now, we can keep him in check,” you laugh. “Especially with Anne here.”

“It’s really good to have her back,” Ominis agrees softly, smiling to himself when he hears Anne’s voice through the noise, telling Sebastian’s fan club how he’d attempted a similar save over the summer and ended up crashing into a derelict poacher camp.

Huh.

However, before you can spend too much more time thinking about Ominis and Anne, you hear the noise in the room spike as Imelda saunters down the stairs, a rolled-up piece of parchment in her hand.

“Who’s ready to meet this year’s Slytherin Quidditch team?” she calls out, and the entire room bursts into excited cheers.

She starts to read off from her list, allowing brief pauses for applause after each name. You and Ominis snake through the common room to stand by Sebastian. He seems to be perfectly calm, but by now you can recognize some telltale tension lingering in his jaw.

Anne holds one of his hands to reassure him, swaying a bit nervously herself.

While Imelda works her way down the list, the four of you learn that hasn’t been named Slytherin’s Keeper. He’s not a Beater either, nor is he ultimately a Chaser.

“Lastly, your newest Seeker,” Imelda teases as she reaches the end of the list. “...It’s obviously Sallow!”

Sebastian beams brilliantly while Anne pulls him into a tight hug, and Ominis smiles and murmurs his congratulations to his friend, assuring him he always knew he’d make the team.

There are several other girls quick to offer their congratulations as well, but you wait for the crowd around him to thin out and for Anne to escort Ominis to get more Butterbeers before you sidle up next to Sebastian and nudge your shoulder against his.

“Excellent work, Bash,” you murmur. “You put on quite a show at tryouts.”

“Only because you were watching,” he flirts back, and you roll your eyes fondly.

Since the start of term, he’s been relentless with his play-flirting. You resist it as much as you can, but it always makes your heart race when he calls you “love,” or offers to carry your books for you, or even charms little notes poking fun at your classmates into tiny birds that gracefully land on your desk during classes.

(You don’t have the heart to ask him to knock it off, because even though you know he doesn’t mean it, it still feels nice to be the center of his attention.)

“Then I’ll have to come to see you start in next week’s match,” you offer. “Especially if you only play that well when I’m watching.”

“You can be my good luck charm,” he jokes. “Felix Felicis is prohibited, but you’re not.”

“That was awful,” you laugh, but Sebastian just grins.

“Tell you what,” he says after a moment. “We should make a bet on it.”

“A bet?” you ask. “On what, that you’ll win?”

He shakes his head. “Too easy, we’re playing Ravenclaw, we’ll obviously win. I mean something more challenging.”

“You’re clearly confident,” you tell him. “What are your terms?”

He considers his offer for a moment and then says, “I’ll bet that I can catch the Snitch in under thirty minutes. I’ll even let you be the official timekeeper, since I’ll be a bit preoccupied.”

“Under thirty?” you ask skeptically. “That’s nearly professional, Sebastian. Ominis told me most games last at least an hour.”

“I’ve been practicing all summer,” he insists. “Anne would release a Snitch and I’d even give it a five-minute head start, but I never let one get further away from me than the far side of Marunweem Lake.”

“Careful, Sebastian, you sound quite cocky,” you murmur, and you think you see Sebastian’s gaze dip down to your mouth for a split second.

“I am,” he agrees. “In fact, I’ll even let you pick your prize first, for if you win.”

“Alright,” you laugh. “When I win, I want… for you to write my History of Magic assignments for the next month.

“That’s it?” he scoffs. “You could have anything and you want me to write your essays?”

“I didn’t start studying magic with the rest of you lot, and I don’t know a lot of the foundational things that Binns wants us to reference,” you remind him. “You know your history much better than I do, and I need to bump my ‘Acceptable’ up to ‘Exceeds Expectations’ by the time N.E.W.T.s roll around.”

“Love, I would’ve done them for you anyway,” Sebastian says dismissively, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning at the nickname. “Pick something fun.”

“Fine,” you reply. “I want…”

You consider your options for a moment, trying to think of something that isn’t either obscene or pathetic. Finally, you have an idea.

“There is one thing I’ve been thinking about,” you tell him, a secret smile on your lips.

Sebastian perks up, leaning in closer. “Go on then.”

“I want you to help me set up Anne and Ominis,” you say carefully, watching him for any signs that he’s about to blow up.

He just blinks at you, bewildered. “What.”

“I think they would be a lovely couple,” you croon. “And I know she’s your sister and you’re, y’know...”

“I’m what?” he demands.

“You’re very protective of her,” you say tactfully. “But we’re all adults now, and I think they really understand each other. I want you to help me convince them that they should give it a chance.”

Sebastian is quiet for several long moments.

“Well,” he finally murmurs. “I would prefer it if Anne never dated anyone so I wouldn’t have any more reasons to worry about her, but I suppose if she must, Ominis is a good man.”

You shout excitedly and wrap your arms around his impossibly broad shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He easily allows it, fondly pressing his nose to your hair.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, since you won’t win and I’ll never have to aid you in your scheming,” he murmurs against your temple.

“Speaking of which,” you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. “What prize will you not be winning?”

Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, “I have something in mind.”

You force yourself not to get distracted. “Do tell.”

“If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game,” he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

“O-oh?” you ask softly, squirming a little in his grasp. “Just me?”

“Just you,” he confirms.

His eyes are dark, and despite the cacophony of the room around you both, he’s focused solely on you.

“And what would we be doing in the Room of Requirement?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t even dignify your question with a response. Instead, he deliberately drags his thumbs across your hips, raking his gaze down your body and back up with a pointed look.

“You mean it?” you ask him quietly. “You aren’t just teasing like earlier?”

“When was I teasing?” Sebastian asks, amused.

“This whole time,” you insist, fidgeting nervously with the laces at the front of his Quidditch shirt. “All the flirting, all this back-and-forth… You’re just winding me up.”

“I’m not,” he says quietly. “I thought about you all summer, love. I missed you like mad, and I sincerely want you.”

Merlin.

Some bold part of you steps a little closer so you can lean in close to his ear and ask, “Are you sure we shouldn’t just go to the Room of Requirement right now?”

You hear Sebastian swallow and exhale sharply.

“N-not now,” he answers. “After the match. I just…”

He doesn’t really have the words to articulate it, but he wants to earn your affection. He has to prove he’s good enough first, that you aren’t making a mistake by letting him finally force your close friendship into something more.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, gently brushing your lips against his cheekbone. “Just don’t get too distracted and fall off your broom, because I actually want you to win.”

“The match or the bet?” he asks in a low voice.

You just take a step back with a teasing grin, and before you disappear into the crowd to find your friends, you murmur, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sallow.”

—

It’s so many flights of stairs up to the Room of Requirement. You almost feel bad for Sebastian, but not enough to stop relentlessly tugging him up countless flights in the quiet Astronomy Tower.

He must be exhausted already, you assume. While the match itself had only lasted twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, he spent nearly all of them racing around the pitch alongside Ravenclaw’s Seeker, eyes trained on any flash of light that shimmered like gold.

He’d even taken a Bludger to his right thigh. You’d felt like you were going to be sick just watching it collide with him, but he’d merely dropped a few feet with a wince and sped off again.

Not even a damn Bludger could knock him off his broom.

(As soon as your nausea had dissipated, you’d felt another dizzying wave of sensation take over slightly south of your stomach.)

Just as he’d promised, he quickly caught up with the Snitch near the base of the Hufflepuff student section, landing not-so-neatly in the muddy grass with one arm thrown up in the air. He was evidently clutching the struggling Snitch and beaming so hugely you could see it from your spot in the stands fifty feet in the air.

As soon as Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, the Slytherins had begun to move en masse toward the stairs, preparing to turn their common room into the official site of the year’s first not-so-clandestine party.

You, however, snuck away from the group and lingered outside the team’s changing area. Inside, you could hear raised voices.

“Imelda, you don’t understand,” Sebastian was whining. “I need to go now.”

“There’s a way we do things here, Sallow,” she had argued “I’m the captain, and if I say we’re going to discuss the game before anyone leaves, you stay.”

Sebastian had a few choice words to say to that but ultimately relented, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly while you leaned against one of the canvas walls that lined the interior channels of the pitch. Ultimately, it only took about ten minutes to discuss how everyone could improve – and Imelda’s only suggestion for Sebastian had been to try to find a dryer patch of grass on which to land next time.

Seconds later, he’d burst through the door and started to take off toward the castle.

“Bash!” you called out. “Not so fast.”

When he turned and spotted you, his face lit up.

“You waited for me,” he breathed.

“Of course I did,” you said. “I believe you’ve won a prize, and the nature of it is time-sensitive.”

He looked like an utter rake with that crooked smile on his lips. He was still in his uniform head to toe, his hair even messier than usual thanks to his helmet. He’d even kept his pads on, so when he reached out to take your hand, you felt impossibly small next to him.

“Shall we?” he asks, and then the two of you were off.

By the time you reach the Room and ensure no house elves are present, you’re both out of breath and panting.

“Come here,” you whine, throwing your arms around his shoulders and messily kissing along his jawline.

“W-wait,” he stammers. “Let me get these pads off, and–”

He cuts himself off, making a face.

“I need to clean up,” he tells you, suddenly self-conscious. “I must look like hell.”

“You look obscene,” you reply, dragging your hands down his chest pads. “Which is obviously a compliment.”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to stop you from attempting to undo the laces at the front of his trousers. “Just – just let me clean off first, the prefects’ bathroom isn’t far and I got the password off of Weasley.”

“No, don’t leave,” you whine, and Sebastian is merely a man, he can’t resist the girl he’s been in love with for years when she’s begging him to take his pants off.

“I must smell foul,” he laughs. “You’re – you’re seriously okay with this?”

“Look where we are, Sebastian,” you croon, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. “Just imagine what you need.”

For your part, you imagine a plush armchair where you can wrangle Sebastian into finally taking a seat, and one quickly spins to life just behind him. You take advantage of his distraction to shove him backwards toward it and climb astride lap.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” you tease him, straddling his thighs and dragging your nose along his cheek so he’ll tip his head back for you. “If you require something, the Room provides.”

“I require a bath,” he drawls, cursing quietly when you gently bite just over his pulse point. “Quickly, please, Room.”

Sebastian waits patiently while you eagerly strip him of his pads, but the Room doesn’t change.

“I thought you said you’ve taken baths here,” he points out skeptically. “In a huge basin, like the prefects have.”

“I have,” you insist, frowning. “I don’t know why it’s not…”

Then you trail off, your realization making you go red.

“Go on, love,” Sebastian murmurs, sliding a hand up the back of your thigh to lazily palm at your ass underneath your skirt. “I know that face, you’ve figured it out. What’s the problem?”

“W-well, it’s my Room,” you tell him sheepishly. “So it, um… I suppose it defaults to what I require.”

“And what you require,” Sebastian says slowly, “is for me to not take a bath?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“I… I suppose the Room must have deduced that I – I like you like this,” you whisper, dragging your hands across his rumpled Quidditch shirt. “And I don’t need to wait for you to clean off.”

“You don’t?” Sebastian asks, his eyes now impossibly dark. “You’d let me touch you just like this? I’m a mess, I’m covered in sweat and mud and probably some blood, even.”

“Don’t care,” you breathe, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt. “I want you now, Sebastian, exactly like this.”

He says some absolutely filthy words under his breath, sitting back so he can strip off his filthy uniform shirt. You can’t get your hands on his body fast enough, hurriedly familiarizing yourself with his sculpted core, broad chest, and strong shoulders.

He’s less of a mess underneath where his shirt had lain, but his skin is still warm and damp with sweat from the match. You want to put your mouth all over him, everywhere – and there’s so much of him to explore.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you like this,” you confess to him. “You’ve gotten bigger since last spring, and so handsome… how did you become a man in just one summer?”

“You think I’m the only one who changed this summer?” he asks with a low voice. “Look at you.”

“What about me?” you ask dumbly.

His hands go straight for your chest, roughly tugging open your uniform shirt with no regard for the longevity of its buttons.

“Here,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts through your thin brassiere. “I can assure you that I noticed where you’ve grown bigger.”

You gasp softly as he tugs down on the cups of your bra until he can lean in and press his mouth to your skin, sucking on one of your nipples and then the other.

“And here,” he murmurs into your chest, his hands returning to the backs of your thighs and sliding up your ass. “You have all these curves now, love, and they’re driving me mad.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper. “Take off my clothes.”

He helps you wrestle your skirt up over your head and tosses it recklessly as far as he can. When you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, Sebastian wraps one strong arm around your lower back and hooks the other below your hips, easily standing up from the armchair to walk you over to the bed you’d hastily imagined into existence.

Once he has you on your back, he tugs down your last remaining garment and leaves you bare and exposed to him, breathless and flushed all over.

“Your turn,” you remind him, even though part of you wishes he could leave the uniform pants on (despite the impracticality).

Once he manages to peel off the last of his clothes, he settles on his knees between your legs and skims a hand up your body, from the curve of your hip all the way up to your cheek.

“Is this too fast?” he asks you softly. “Did I ask too much?”

Your heart aches. Sebastian always stuns you with his sincerity when you least expect it.

You turn your head to kiss his palm and murmur, “No, love.”

His shoulders drop a little, the last of the tension he’d been carrying all week draining from his body. He wants, he always wants so damn badly and he would never forgive himself if he marred your first time with each other by rushing you.

“Can I touch you?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Please,” you whine, letting your knees fall wide.

(Whether or not the other has ever done this before is still a mystery to you both, and it’s not something you’ll discuss until afterward. But right now, it’s of no importance to you.)

For a while, Sebastian’s hands roam your body without an agenda, acquainting himself with your breasts, your hips, the insides of your thighs. You moan softly when he drags his thumb along your slit, spreading your wetness around until he can easily rub slow circles over your clit.

“How do you feel?” he asks you.

“Good,” you gasp. “So good, Sebastian, like that.”

“Do you want more?” he offers, and you frantically nod, one of your hands fisting the pillow behind your head.

He carefully presses one long finger inside you, glancing between your face and your entrance to make sure you’re comfortable the entire time. One finger quickly becomes two, and when two nearly becomes three, you have to pause and take a breath.

“Enough,” you pant. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure?” he asks you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving him a few slow strokes while he leaks precum onto your hand and groans helplessly.

“I want you,” you insist. “I’ve wanted you.”

“R-right, yeah,” he agrees, trying to clear his head and focus on the task at hand. “Enough.”

He gently nudges your hand away so he can guide himself inside you, one hand wrapped around himself and the other gently pressing on your inner thigh to keep you still for him.

Underneath Sebastian like this, pinned to the mattress by his hips and hands, he completely overtakes your senses. He’s all you can see, all you can touch — you even taste and smell him.

Masculine sweat. Dark brown eyes. Crisp autumn air. The curve of his collarbone where it meets his shoulder. Woodsmoke. A million tiny freckles. Metallic blood from a split lip. Flashes of copper in his messy curls. Singed pine needles.

Sebastian groans low in his throat as he presses in, his hair falling into his eyes before he frantically brushes it away so he can see you take him for the first time.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he bends down and presses his forehead against yours.

“Tell me,” he begs, his hand curling gently around the back of your neck to hold you close.

“Tell you what?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every syllable.

“Tell me that it feels like this for you,” he practically breathes into you. “It feels like you’re — you’re everywhere, like you’re all there is.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper, and his hips snap against yours.

“Say it,” he growls. “Please.”

“You’re all there is,” you gasp. “You’re all mine, Bash.”

He makes a sound like you’ve sucker-punched him, messily kissing wherever he can get his mouth on you – your cheek, your jaw, your lips. All the while he’s fucking you open with relentless, eager thrusts.

He’s not going to last long, but you don’t expect him to. You just want him to feel good – the two of you have already wasted enough time not doing this, so why delay satisfaction?

You wrap your legs around his hips to hold him against you, rocking your own hips upward to meet him and coax him closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come,” he grits out, grinding into you desperately the closer he gets to his climax. “Can I finish inside?”

“N-no,” you whimper. There’s a potion you can drink to make it safe that takes an entire week to brew, and the batch that’s currently bubbling away at your potions station across the Room isn’t quite ready yet.

“Where?” he begs.

“Anywhere else, wherever you want,” you promise him, your mind quickly tossing out mental images of him spilling himself across your breasts, into your mouth, on the curve of your back.

He pulls out of you with a reluctant moan and kneels between your open thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock to finish himself off. You watch his eyes while he takes you in, seemingly torn between meeting your gaze and staring transfixed at your fingers between your thighs as you get closer to finishing yourself.

“Next time, love,” you murmur softly. “The next time you fuck me you can finish in me, I’ll take it all.”

“Promise?” he asks breathlessly, still an incorrigible flirt even when he’s seconds away from his orgasm.

“Promise,” you whine, spreading your legs a little wider when you catch his gaze lingering again.

You’re so close, desperately rolling your hips against your own hand until you tip over the edge, the rush of your release arching your back before you collapse lazily against the bed.

He shuffles forward and groans your name just before he spills, leaving a warm, wet mess all over your stomach and between your hips. You feel properly claimed – especially when he flops down next to you and immediately tugs you against his chest, unbothered by his release smearing between your bodies.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes into your hair. “Merlin, I love you.”

“You love me?” you whisper against his collarbone.

“Enduringly,” he says.

You rest your cheek against his chest and listen to his racing heartbeat for a few moments before you tell him, “I love you too, you know.”

Just then, the Room starts to rumble.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asks, urgently peering around for his wand.

He quickly settles and even laughs under his breath when he sees the Room shifting around the two of you to provide a spacious, sunken bathtub in the middle of the room, complete with a luxurious amount of taps that undoubtedly offer an array of bubbles, salts and soaps.

“Oh, now you want to let me clean myself up?” Sebastian drawls. “After you’ve completely worn me out, hmm?”

“It’s more for me,” you giggle. “I can’t possibly sleep like this, but you’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

As if Sebastian would ever pass up the chance to feel you up in the water.

[soapskneebrace]

Obviously if your asks aren’t open then feel free to disregard this- (love your work btw I just- I cant- 🥰)

Do you think they keep the dog tags *ON* during sex? How do you think they’d wear them during it? Would they have you wear them?

You don’t HAVE to answer for each individual character obviously if you would rather just do it as a whole or just one that’s fine! Whatever works for you 💕

*cracks knuckles* I’ll do ‘em all. (Sorry for the long post, I’ll put it under a readmore when I get home 🙏)

Do the Tags Stay on in Bed?

Ghost wears his tags because, like the mask, they just don't ever come off. He is two people when he is with you--Ghost is the creature that can protect you, that can do the things Simon Riley would have been too weak for when it comes to your safety. But Simon is the man that could have loved you properly. Simon is the man Ghost believes could make you coffee in the morning, could rub your neck at the end of a long day.

It isn't initially why he wears his tags when he fucks you, but it is now--Ghost holds you in an iron grip, looms over you as he thrusts into you hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall, and feels the tags with a dead man's name clink against his chest. They remind him that you deserve whatever is left of the man who would have been far better for you than Ghost ever could be.

Soap wears his tags fully out of pride. The SAS is his life, is a massive part of his identity, and while he knows not every mission he's sent on is wholly for the good, he holds onto his conviction to act with integrity and compassion no matter what. The SAS might not always do good, but he will, as much as he can.

He wants you to be proud of him, too--he's really doing it all for you, after all. When those tags hang between you as your legs are wrapped around his waist, as they come to rest on your chest when he leans down to kiss you, he wants you to know that when he wears them he's thinking of you.

Gaz has no preference, but more often than not they stay on because he forgets to take them off. Usually, it's because the moment you're both free with enough time to actually have sex, he isn't going to bother with silly things like getting completely undressed--he wants you, now.

So, they've whacked you in the face a couple times as the two of you have gone at it. It's too funny to get mad at, and Gaz always uses it as an excuse to "make it up to you." Sometimes he'll take them off, too, and put them around your neck instead. "Keep 'em safe for me, eh?" he says with a grin.

Price takes his tags off. Over 20 years of service have left him wanting something that exists apart from violence and bloodshed, and every moment he spends with you is that something. He doesn't want to be the Captain with you, not unless he has to be--putting his tags aside gives him permission to just be John with you.

Besides, they'd get in the way. John does his very, very best to please you, to satisfy you beyond any expectation you may have of him, and sometimes that leaves you needing to bite down on his neck to keep from screaming. You’d probably not prefer to break a tooth on the tags’ chain.

Alejandro also takes his tags off, although it’s less about keeping work and pleasure separate and more about the annoyance they can be. When he is with you, Alejo is focused wholly on you, and does not appreciate distractions of any sort. He doesn’t want to have to fling his tags around to get them out of the way, or let them hang to be caught on an errant foot or wrist.

He does, however, love to see you wear them. It’s totally a possessive thing, but in the best way—Alejo worships the ground you walk on, and seeing his name around your neck inspires the same awe usually reserved for the divine. He thinks you could have anyone you wanted, and is humbled daily that you continue to choose him.

Rudy doesn’t care either way if the tags are on or off, and if the topic ever comes up he leaves that up to you. It’s an attitude that is very in-character—Rudy’s satisfaction comes from ensuring that you are satisfied, no matter what. Rudy’s love language, hands down, is acts of service.

Similarly to Alejo, however, he does enjoy seeing you wear his tags. “They belong to you anyway, mi vida,” he’ll tell you, lining your neck with gentle kisses. “All of me does.” (He has been known, however, to forget where he puts them if they do come off. So it’s probably better if they stay on.)

Bonus: Valeria gave hers to you a long time ago. She asks very frequently to see them, to make sure you keep them with you at all times. She promised herself she would never, ever carry their weight again, but she also can’t quite bear to throw them away, so now they stay with the only person in the world that she trusts.

If you wear them to bed, it will inspire a frenzy in her that will leave you limping the next morning. Those tags are a past version of her, a version she emerged from like a snake shedding its skin. While she is never sure how to feel about that previous self, seeing you take care its vestiges satisfies an ache in Valeria that she will never acknowledge.

Bonus: Graves has mixed feelings about his tags overall, being that he is technically not required to wear them anymore. They don’t mean the same thing to him now that they used to. That doesn’t mean they aren’t always on him, of course—he keeps them tucked into his boots. So you never see them.

If you were to ever find them, bring them into the bedroom? It could go one of two ways. On the one hand, you could end up benefitting short-term from the frustrated agitation those tags inspire, with Graves using your body to relieve an old, invisible hurt you never knew about. He will withdraw from you afterwords, though, too caught up in himself to really connect with. On the other, he could just withdraw immediately, recede from you, and the tension of that encounter will linger for days. It’s best not to involve his tags at all.

[luveline]

for the kisses before dinner au — steve has a bad/hard day with the kids and you help him feel better <3

thank you for your request! kisses before dinner au ♥︎ dad!steve x mom!reader | 4k words

Getting home from work is your favourite part of the day. Sometimes it's to see your three girls, all ecstatic, bouncing-pff-the-walls-happy to see you, and sometimes it's to see Steve's face. The relief of getting his partner back. 

"Hey," you call as you open the door, two grocery bags in hand. Steve always says he doesn't mind making dinner, but it doesn't really seem fair to you that he never gets a break, and tonight, you're the one who's going to cook. 

"Mom!" Ave shouts immediately. She appears at the top of the stairs and sprints down them. Your heart does a flip at her carelessness.

You can't help nagging. "Ave, babe, can we please walk down the stairs? I don't want you to slip," you plead, words softening as your six year old wraps her arms around your thighs. You bend to give her a quick hug. "Hi." 

"Hi, mommy."

"Where is everybody?" 

"Well," she says, and you know from her tone you won't like the story she's about to tell, "Bethie tried to eat the washdables and dad tried to give her a bath but Dove hit her face on the laundry box, so…" She peers up at you with wide eyes. She's got her dad's comedic timing. "They're upstairs." 

"You want to do mommy a favour? Put these on the kitchen floor?" you ask, offering the grocery bags. She takes them. They're very heavy. "You can drag 'em, Ave. Let me go check on your sisters and I'll be right back." 

Ave smiles like a champ and leaves for the kitchen, two plastic bags rustling as they slide across the floor behind her. You rush out of your shoes and up the stairs, checking the bathroom first. The window is fogged with steam and the floor is covered in tiny wet footprints. Your troupe isn't anywhere to be seen. 

You follow Dove's weak grizzling to Beth's bedroom, nudging the door open with your foot. 

Steve is making a very valiant effort to dress Beth and comfort Dove at the same time. He looks up from where he's sitting on the floor and all the tension on his face drops, his relief palpable. You don't want to get mushy about him being the best father in the whole world, but he is. You'd die for him in a heartbeat, and that makes this sort of stuff easy. 

"Hi, babies," you greet, arms already out to take Dove.

If you could, you'd take Beth instead, because getting her dressed is a much more difficult job than calming Dove down, but Dove craves your attention every second of the day, as babies tend to do. If you don't pick her up she'll start screaming. You've learned from experience.

Steve offers her up with an extreme amount of care considering she's not a baby baby, she's eighteen months. You heave a satisfied sigh. There's something about how warm kids can be, your own kids, that puts you at ease from the moment you hold them. 

You and Steve used to kiss like idiots when you got home from work. You remember when Avery was a baby, and you'd get home and she's be laying on her play matt, you and Steve could watch her from the sofa cuddled up together, putting off laundry and dishes and bath time because it wasn't the end of the world if you didn't get to them. These days, you have to stick to deadlines and chores. If you don't, the house turns to a mess, and it makes everything that much harder on you both. It's best to stay on top of it. 

So while you'd love to sit yourself down in Steve's lap and have him rub your back, you don't. You barely say hi to one another. He finishes getting Beth dressed and you break out the mom-ese, bubbly talking at Dove in the hopes she'll talk back. Dove follows after Beth — they're both so quiet. Avery's the chatterbox. 

"Hi, baby, I missed you," you croon, face plastered over with a smile. "Have you been good for your daddy today?" 

She sniffles at you. True to Avery's report, there's an unfortunate mark spreading across her brow denoting where she'd hurt herself. You kiss it gently. 

"Poor baby, you got an owie. Aw, sweetheart, mommy's gonna have to wrap you up in bubble wrap, aren't I?" 

"We could put her in a hamster ball." Steve suggest, pulling Beth's shirt down over her tummy.

"We could," you agree. 

Dove doesn't understand and it doesn't matter, anything at all cheers her up if you say it sweetly. Pleased at being the centre of attention no doubt, she drops her face into the crook of your neck. She's likely tired from crying, and it's not too far from her bed time. 

Dove settled, you navigate Beth's tea set spread out across the floor and sit on the end of the bed, not far from Steve's position. You reach out, stroking the wild mess of hair at the back of his head. He hadn't showered, which means today has been a hard day. 

"How are you, handsome?" you murmur, sliding your fingers deeper into his hair to scratch lightly at his scalp. 

He stops where he'd been helping Beth into a sweater and drops his head toward his shoulder, turning at the waist so he can see you. "Tired." 

"Yeah?" 

His eyes slip closed, a momentary bliss. "Your kids are evil," he continues. 

You look past him to Bethie, who's quiet. She's always quiet, but this is near silent. She shifts from one foot onto the other. It's like looking into a shy little mirror. Beth has always looked more like you than Steve. 

"Bethie," you hum, "are you okay?" 

She pulls her sleeves over her little hands and frowns. Steve sighs and straightens up, forcing you to take back your hand from his hair. 

"I'm not mad at you, Beth," he says. 

Her face crumples up. You have the energy to find it adorable, but Steve's so tired he can't summon much more than a hug for her. She twists up into his arms. 

"I'm sorry," she whines. 

"It's okay," he promises, patting her back in a slow rhythm. "Now you know why me and mom tell you not to chew on them, yeah? They aren't food, my love." 

My love. It would sound odd coming from Steve if he didn't say it as gently as he does. 

Speaking of food, Avery has not appeared. You tilt your head to one side, and you question yourself on if you're hearing what you think you are. The fridge beeps when it's left open too long, and you're ninety eight percent sure there's a beeping sound coming from downstairs.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks. 

Beth steps back and wipes her cheeks with both hands, nodding. 

Steve replaces her hands with his own and wipes her sticky skin tenderly. When her cheeks are dry, he frames her face with both hands and smiles at her until she smiles back. 

You're not surprised when she goes in for another hug. 

"It's okay, Beth," he says again, "you're not in trouble." 

Beth has a huge guilty conscience. You wonder sometimes how she's turned out so different to Ave considering they've been raised with the same amount of devotion, and you worry that maybe she's been given a little too much sheltering. That being said, Avery had, to your regret, suffered from time to time in place of your and Steve's ineptitude. Nothing that has ever left a mark, but small things you'd wished you'd known. How the majority of her crying had been because she needed burping (so much burping), or how owning a pair of hairdressing scissors does not make you a hairdresser. Sheltering seems fair. 

You love your girls. You want them to be happy more than anything and you don't mind sheltering them, even if they all end up shy and clingy. 

You love clingy. 

"Stevie, I'm gonna make dinner tonight, okay?" 

"Thank you," he mumbles into Beth's hair. 

You frown deeply. He really needs a break, and it's only Thursday. That's one more day until the weekend. 

You lean down, Dove pressed to your chest with both arms, and kiss the top of his head. "I need to call Jessica, and then we'll have dinner. Do you want to go lie down? Take Bethie with you and cuddle?" 

"What do you think, pretty girl?" he asks her, pulling his face from her hair. He strokes down the side of her face with the first knuckle of his index finger. You can practically feel the sensation from watching, the light, fluttering tickling feeling. 

You and Dove ditch their lovefest and bump down the stairs together, one careful step at a time. 

In the kitchen, Avery has made a mess.  

You blink. "Ave," you moan, "what are you doing?" 

"I'm putting stuff away, mom, what does it look like?" 

She's sarcastic rather than cruel, there isn't a drop of attitude in her whole body. 

"It looks like an explosion," you say. 

"I'm putting stuff away," she insists. 

She's dragged a chair to the cupboard, there's canned food all over the counter, there's a busted bag of macaroni elbows on the stove, and the fridge has been open so long the lights inside have turned off. 

You have to laugh. "Do me another favour?" 

"What do I get?" she asks. 

You pretend to think about it, humming to yourself. "Hm, let's see… a kiss?" 

She shakes her head. 

"A hug?" 

She shakes her head again. 

You tip your face toward Dove's, who babbles an incomprehensible suggestion. "I don't know," you murmur, "I don't think that'll work." 

"What won't work?" Avery asks, a plastic wrapped head of broccoli in her hands. 

"What if… We have cake and ice cream after dinner?" 

"Friday treat?" Avery asks, gasping. 

"But on a Thursday!" you agree, turning your excitement to Dove. "My lovely girls deserve something sweet, I think. And your dad, too." 

Avery narrows her widened eyes into a more 'grown-up' expression, playing it cool like Steve pretends to sometimes. "What's the favour?" 

"You and Dove watch some TV while I make dinner?" 

"That's easy," Avery says.

You beam at her. "Thank you. You're such a good girl. Come here, give me some kisses before you go." 

You kiss Avery until she's groaning about slobbery cheeks and send her and Dove into the living room with a sippy cup of juice and two secret cookies, hoping to distract them for a while. You clean up Avery's mess, and you admit to yourself that she wasn't doing a bad job. Really it was sweet of her to even try. You make dinner, and while the veggies are sautéing you call your boss, Jessica. 

You don't explain, only ask if it'll be okay to take one of your holidays. She's not thrilled to give you one, but she knows you have three girls. 

And so, you have the day off tomorrow. Steve can take a breather. 

You pull the table away from the wall and plate up everybody's dinner one by one. Rather than shout, you do the rounds. 

Avery and Dove are snuggled up together in the middle of the big couch.

"Dinner's ready," you cheer, sweeping Dove into your arms. "Let me go get daddy." 

"I'll do it!" Avery says.

She runs up the stairs and you turn back to the kitchen. Dove hates her high chair, so you elect to have her in your lap, even if that means you don't actually get to eat anything. When Avery appears she's jubilant, hand in Steve's and pulling him through the door. 

"Hey, troopers," you say absentmindedly, focused on spooning mashed veggies into Dove's open mouth. 

"Hey." 

"Stevie, listen, I got the day off tomorrow," you say. 

"What?" 

"You just-" You lift your gaze to meet his. "You looked so tired." 

He stands by the side of your chair and drops a slow, sweet kiss into your temple. "You didn't have to." 

You kind of did. You don't want him to get sick, or — honestly, it's not even about overworking himself. You want him to be happy. Happy, and not overwhelmed. 

You savour the short squeeze he gives your neck. 

After the most pathetic dinner you've ever seen (seriously, your family are sapped), you get cake and ice cream in three bowls and line your girls up in a row on the couch. Nothing steals their attention more than sugar and Sesame Street.  

Finally, finally, you can talk to Steve. 

He sits in the armchair. 

You come to stand in front of him, not shy, but tentative. "Could I-" 

"Shut up. Don't even ask me, or I'm gonna be furious." 

You smile like an idiot and sit yourself down in his lap, careful not to put all your weight on him. He rolls his eyes and twists your around until your back is flush with one of the armchair's arms, legs hanging off of the other, ribs to Steve's stomach. 

"Stevie," you mumble, cupping his cheek, "you okay?" 

You cup his cheek in your hand, tugging his face closer to your own. His arms curl around your waist and he hangs onto you like a life raft. 

He looks as though he might brush it all off. Then, eventually, he confesses, "God, it's been never ending today. Dove- She smashed that weird paperweight from my mom, like, ten minutes after we got home from dropping off the girls, and then she screamed bloody murder when I wouldn't let her touch it." He lets his head rest against yours. "Then the school called me because Avery forgot-" He sighs. "I forgot to give her clothes for soft play. So we had to get back in the car, and you know how much she hates that car seat. She's been miserable all day, and I didn't eat until you made dinner so I've been miserable, and I hate when I'm like that because it's not her fault. I'm lucky Beth's been so quiet, but then she started eating pens, so..."

"It's not her fault, but it's not your fault either. Don't feel guilty about things you have no hand in, honey." 

His voice goes weak. "I don't want to be that fucking angry dad who's mad and miserable." 

"You're not. You never, ever could be," you say, laughing softly. You scratch his jaw. "I won't say they can't tell when you're upset 'cause we both know they can, but I can promise they know it's not permanent." You angle his face carefully to the girls, where they all sit happy as clams, lips sticky and smiling.

"Angry dad," you repeat. "Babe, you're barely mad. You're tired. It was a bad day." 

"Wasn't all bad. Thank you." 

"We are a team," you whisper, pronouncing each word emphatically. 

"I know. Thanks for being my team," he says. 

You rub your cheek against his collar. "Sorry today sucked, handsome. I swear tomorrow's gonna be better. You don't have to get up in the morning, I'll do drop off and breakfast, and then when you do get up we'll," — you kiss his neck — "spend the whole day doing nothing. Or, you'll do nothing. I'll do laundry." 

"I have to clean the bathroom." 

You kiss his neck again. "I'll do it. Don't worry, baby. I got you. I got you completely. You can write me a list, if you like, but I don't need one. I'll do everything." 

He whines into your neck dramatically. "I don't know how it gets this bad." 

You give him another kiss, another, folding love into each one. 

"I mean, I've been doing this- We've been doing this for six years. Six years," he whispers pointedly, "and I still can't perfect it." 

"Families definitely aren't supposed to be perfect." You suck in a quick breath. "I mean, mine is. My girls, my guy. You're perfect." 

"God." 

"Is there something you need me to do tonight?" you ask gently. "Do you want to go shower?"

He starts to torment you, hands rubbing all over your back and arms, face a heat smushed to the top of your head. "I need you to stay here. Can't remember the last time I got to do this."

You wiggle your feet over the armrest. You're not sure, either. Too long. 

He pushes against your stomach. When you're pregnant Steve's hand may as well be glued to it. Now, though, it's just soft. You'd be insecure if he weren't so loving, and loud about it; he worships you and your body unabashedly. 

You don't know how you feel about having more kids. It's too complicated to hash over tonight, you'll give yourself a migraine. You want more, you want as many as Steve wants, and Steve wants a football team, but you struggle through every pregnancy. Avery's had been terrifying, Beth's had been exhausting, and you'd been so sick and weak during Dove's that Steve had genuinely sat you down and made sure you knew you never, ever had to do it again if you didn't want to. For any reason at all.

But you look at your girls and you get this awful panging longing for more. And wouldn't Steve just adore a baby boy? Wouldn't you?

"You know, we have a pattern going," you say. 

Steve smiles. "What pattern?" 

"Two and a half between Ave and and Beth, two and five months between Beth and Dove. If we had another one, there would almost be two and a half between them, too. If we tried now, I mean." 

You're not just saying it to lift his mood, and you're not saying it because you definitely know what you want, but it's a conversation you wouldn't mind having. Steve's excited smile is a bonus.

"You want another one?" he asks. 

You stare into his eyes. "I'm not sure, but you do. Right?" 

"You know I do, but it's… it's your decision, it always is." 

Hasn't he told you that a thousand times by now. "Is it really only mine?" 

"You're the one who's at risk. You're the one who has to carry her." 

"Her," you say. "You're so sure it'd be a girl?" 

His laugh is warm where it kisses your cheek. "Pretty sure that's my only mode." 

"I'd want a boy, if we had another one. A boy who looks exactly like you. He would be the most handsome little boy in the world." 

"We can't have more that look like me," he argues, sounding like himself for the first time tonight. "Don't you think two's enough?" 

"No." Easiest answer ever. 

"Seriously? Dove glared at me earlier and it was like looking in the mirror." 

"I love your face, Steve. You know that? I really, genuinely, think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met. Of course I want our kids to look like you." 

Steve raises a hand to your neck and kisses you. You don't remember to close your eyes, he's too quick, and when he pulls away he laughs. "Shut your eyes, weirdo," he demands. 

You close them. For your efforts, Steve gives you a handful of quick, close-mouthed pecks that slowly soften, your favourite kind of kissing without getting too handsy.

His lips are a little bit chapped. You make a note to smooth him over with some chapstick tonight, and you laugh at yourself for making a note. 

"What?" he asks amusedly, words reverberating into your lips and tickling you. 

You don't want him to be insecure. "Just happy, Steve. So happy it's awful." 

He doesn't kiss you anymore than that. You're hoping you can entice him for at least a few more, but Beth has other plans. She slides down the couch and slinks to the armchair, looking very polite as she pauses in front of you. 

You and Steve have the same reaction. Rampant affection. 

"Hello, gorgeous," you say, holding out your arm. 

She struggled to climb up into your lap. 

"I haven't seen you very much today, have I?" you ask, helping her sit on your tummy where Steve's hand had been before. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm okay," she says sweetly. 

"Yeah? You have ice cream on your lip, you want me to wipe it away?"

She nods heavily and closes her eyes. You share a mischievous glance with Steve, and then you lean forward and kiss the corner of her mouth. 

"There," you say when you pull away. 

"Mommy," she mumbles giddily, "that's not wiping." 

"Sorry, I just missed you so much. Think I can have another one? Would that be okay?" 

"Leave some for me," Steve complains. 

Beth ignores him. "You can have-" She trips over the words but keeps going anyhow. "Can have as many as you want, mom." 

"I can?" you ask, delighted, barely waiting before you're pulling her into your chest to press soft little kisses into her chubby cheek. 

"Oh, she's my shy girl," you murmur at her lowered chin. "She's so shy. She has such a pretty face I just can't help it, I gotta kiss it." 

Steve noses along your ear. "'Cause she looks like you." 

You pinch his waist until he's threatening to roll you off him. 

"I'm serious." 

"Think of Beth," you say deadpan, before sinking right back into mom talk. "Me and my girl are having kisses and he's just jealous, right Bethie?" 

"Right," she says. 

Steve groans at such a terrible betrayal and deflates in defeat, his thighs sliding underneath you. "Whatever." 

You take pity on him quickly. Dove will side with you unquestionably, but Avery's about justice, so you psst at her until she turns your way, and you mouth, "Kiss your dad, pretty please" with raised eyebrows. 

She practically throws herself off of the couch and hurtles to the armchair. She's super tall for her age and she doesn't need any help at all to climb up. There's not much room but she makes it work, kneeling on the armrest beside your head, hands vying for her dad's arms. 

He looks up in surprise. "Hey, Avey." 

"Kiss?" she asks. 

Steve simpers. "I knew you were a good egg. Get off of me, mom." 

"No way," you say, squirming in his lap. 

Dove notices what's happening and makes her way to you with an expectant smile. Soon, you've whipped her up into your lap and Steve is submerged in his girls, hands and arms and kisses all over him. 

"Love you, dad," Avery says.

"Love you," you say, pleased with her amazing timing. 

"Love you, daddy," Bethie says, her ear to his heart. 

Dove raises a socked foot up toward him like it is the most important thing she's ever done, a signal for wanting tickles. He has to pull his arm out from where it's sandwiched between you and Avery, scratching the bottom of her foot until she's giggling infectiously. 

"I love you," he says. To all of you, presumably. 

This doesn't last as long as it should. 

"I love you all," he clarifies, "but one of you is crushing my leg." 

It's absolutely you. He's kind for not saying it. 

"Wanna move to the couch? I'll go get us some blankets," you offer, brushing hair from his eyes fondly. 

His eyes squint together ever so slightly. "That would be nice."

—

requests are open for more of this au <3 pls consider a reblog if u enjoyed cos im an attention seeker and they make me happy, thanks for reading!!! <3

[ddejavvu]

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on bradley bradshaw in which y/n is a girl in her early/mid 20's who's maverick's daughter and her and bradley are secretly dating. one day mav finds something belonging to rooster in her bedroom and realises what her daughter has been up to, but isn't pleased at all.

thanks x

Bradley's aviators are the last thing Pete wants to find when he washes your sheets. You've insisted a thousand times that you're a big girl now, you don't need your dad to do your laundry for you, but he likes it. He likes taking care of you, even if he doesn't need to.

He doesn't like it now, though. Not when he spies a pair of muted sunglasses, a familiar chip in their bridge. He'd made that chip, more years ago than he's come to terms with, when he'd elbowed Goose and sent the man ramming face-first into a pole. Knowing who they belong to now unsettles him greatly, because they should not have been anywhere near your bed.

He pockets them, refraining from the urge to crush them just for the memories they hold.

Bradley stops by twenty minutes later, before Pete's had enough time to process what he's assuming is the situation. He's fuming, not only that his baby is having sex, but that she's having sex with Bradley.

"Hey, Mav." Bradley nods to the man, and Pete reconsiders the key he's given to Bradley for emergencies, seeing as he's been waltzing in to canoodle with his daughter.

"Hello, Bradley." His tone is icy, but Bradley's used to Pete having bad days sometimes. It's practically part of the job description.

Bradley pokes his head into the kitchen, then the bathroom, before finally exploring the living room where Maverick sits.

"I can't find my glasses," He offers up an explanation where it isn't requested, desperate to make conversation instead of suffering in silence, "I just don't know where I left 'em, they're not in my car, they're not in my apartment, they're- they're in your hands..." Bradley frowns at the aviators he can see in Maverick's grip, "Where were they?"

Maverick doesn't bother looking at him, glaring at the glasses instead, "In my daughter's bed."

"Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit? Oh, shit? Yeah, 'oh shit'! Bradley, how could you?" Pete shoots out of his seat, fist squeezing around the glasses, "I've spent her entire life telling her not to get involved with pilots, warning her off from men I know spend their time in testosterone-filled locker rooms of pure filth, who see women at bars like conquests, who get so crazed on deployment that they'll fuck anything in a skirt. Because I was that pilot, Bradley. She deserves better than someone like me, and I'm trying to make sure she gest that! And you know that, you were her bodyguard at bars! You were supposed to help me protect her, how long have you been going behind my back like this? When I trusted you?"

"Mav, slow down," Bradley keeps his voice calm, "I know a lot of pilots are like that, okay? Trust me I know, I work with Hangman. But that's fucked up, and I know that. You think I cheer him on in the locker room? You think I bet him he can't bone a lady in the bathroom? He's gross, and that's not how I act. You know that, I know you do. I know you know I care about her. And I don't blame you for being scared, but you're not gonna chase me away. That's- that's because I care about her. I care about her, so I'm not gonna leave just 'cause you tell me to. You can be mad all you want, but I'm not gonna dump her for it."

"How long?" Maverick repeats, face flushed in anger, "I said, how long?"

"Eight months." Bradley admits, voice strong. "It's been long enough to know I care about her. And I- I love her."

Pete's eyes flutter shut, then squeeze. He looks like he's in physical pain, and he's barely able to stop himself from crushing the glasses. Bradley doesn't dare speak, doesn't add fuel to whatever fire is burning in Pete's chest. He just stands there, strong and silent.

"I'm not happy about this." Pete finally grunts, keeping his eyes shut as he shoves his fist forwards, jamming the aviators into Bradley's chest. The younger pilot catches them, tucking them into the front of his shirt before Mav can change his mind and stomp on them.

"I'm sorry. I hope you see things differently when you see us together. All you know now is the, uh, undesirable stuff. But I treat her well."

"You'd better." Pete threatens, his voice barely above a whisper, "Go home. When I open my eyes I don't want to see you here. And no sneaking in tonight, or- or ever again. I'm installing cameras."

"Deal," Bradley promises, already on his way to the door in case Pete changes his mind and charges, "And- um, is it alright if I take her to dinner tonight?"

"Only if you take her somewhere nice," Pete decides, "And have her home by nine."

"Yes, sir."

When the door shuts behind Bradley, Pete lets out a monumental sigh. He feels like his lungs collapse with the breath, and all he can do is pray that you're actually treated to dinner, and that you two don't sneak off to some motel somewhere to pass the time.

[therealcocoshady]

RED CARPET APPEARANCE 🎥

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

This is Part 2 of Daddy's Spaghetti 🥰

Synopsis : You argue with Em about a red carpet appearance at the Oscars.

The last thing you wanted was to argue with your boyfriend right before going to the Oscars, but there you were. Lately, the two of you had been arguing quite a bit. To be fair, both of you were working a lot and being in a long distance relationship didn’t help. Not only did you have to manage hectic schedules, you also had to deal with time difference and last minute changes in plans. You had been dating Marshall for a few months now and you weren’t too sure how long things would last. Sure, when you were together, things were great, but actually getting together seemed impossible, these days. Right when you thought you could both make time, there was always something coming up, like an unplanned studio session, a meeting, or God knows what else. It didn’t help either that Marshall was paranoid about the two of you being seen together. 

After more than a decade in the spotlight and living in Los Angeles, you were used to paparazzi and having your picture taken whenever you were running errands. Of course, sometimes, it was annoying, but you had learned to live with it. Marshall, on the other hand, in spite of having a career lasting over twenty-five years was as paranoid as one could get. It was one of the many reasons why he hated being in Los Angeles and always tried to get you to come to Detroit instead, along with the weather being too hot. In truth, you didn’t mind going to Michigan or spending a lot of time inside, just the two of you. This time, however, you wished he would be the one making an effort. You were nominated for an Oscar for the first time and it was a big night for you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of public appearances but you wished he would agree to coming with you. After all, he was a nominee himself - for the same movie as you, mind you - and everyone pretty much knew about your relationship, even though none of you had officially confirmed it. To you, there was no reason not to walk the red carpet together. However, when you asked him if he would be your date to the Academy Awards, he wasn’t too enthusiast. In fact, all you got from him was a « erm, I don’t know. We’ll see. Let me think about it. ». And after giving it some thought, he decided not to go with you, breaking it to you over FaceTime, three days before the event. He brought up a bunch of reasons, like having a studio session with Dre that might run late and prevent him from making it in time, hating the red carpet anyway and not wanting to be paraded in a suit that made him look like a penguin. He did not seem to care that you having to take someone else as your date would mean you wouldn’t be sitting next to each other or that you would have wanted him to be by your side. You were mad. You had always known he didn’t really care about awards and public appearances, but you wished he would make an effort for you. Him being set in his ways made you feel like he wouldn’t put you first, just for once. 

Do you even want to be with me ? You blurted out after he told you to find another date. 

What the fuck ? He asked with disbelief all over his face. What does that have to do with that damn red carpet, Y/N ? 

You cancelled the last time you were supposed to come to LA, you’re never available and now you won’t even make an effort for me, you explained. If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say so… 

You’re so dramatic, they better give you that Oscar, he groaned. Not everything is about you, you know ? I’m working my ass off to get the album done in time, I don’t need you complaining over a stupid red carpet appearance. 

Oh I’m being dramatic ? You asked as you stared at his face on the screen. I’ll give you drama : you can book a hotel room and forget about all the nasty things you were planning on doing to me in bed for next time we were supposed to see each other. 

Whatever, he said as he rolled his eyes. Just go and rehearse your acceptance speech. I have to go anyway. I have Dre calling on the other line. I’ll call you later. 

He did try to call you a couple of hours later, but you didn’t feel like picking up. You were still pissed off and, frankly, a little stressed out too. After all, he hadn’t answered your question about wanting to be with you. You knew you’d have to talk to him at some point - and get to the bottom of the situation, but you also didn’t want to break up over the phone merely three days before one of the most important events of your life. Whatever it was, it could wait until after the Oscars. 

You ended up walking the red carpet with your older brother as your date. The two of you were extremely close and he had always been your plus one to events. It sort of made sense to go to the Oscars with him, even though you would have loved to have Marshall by your side. Your big brother was all smiles as he watched you pose for the photographers in a stunning custom Alaïa dress. However, your attire or possible Best Actress win wasn’t exactly the main focus of the journalists, who were yelling questions about your boyfriend who was nowhere to be found. 

Where is Eminem, Y/N ? One asked. Is he coming tonight ? 

Are the two of you together ? Another yelled. 

You didn’t answer the questions about him, only the ones about your nomination, how you’d feel about winning, the movie and your outfit. You tried to focus on the positives and everything this night meant for your career, but you had a hard time focusing. All you wanted was Marshall’s hand in yours and him to be by your side. Hell, you had even picked the dress color because you thought he would like it. You knew that blue was his favorite color and had figured that, if the two of you were to walk the red carpet together, it would make his eyes pop. 

Breathe, your brother said. You look tense. Is this about Em ? 

Just call him by his name, you said as you rolled his eyes. You’ve met him. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be your date and enjoy the open bar, he continued, but you look… upset ? 

I think he wants to break up with me, you said nervously. 

No he doesn’t, your brother scoffed. Where did you get that from ? 

Well, he’s never available, he didn’t want to be here with me tonight, and he called me dramatic, and… 

First of all, you are dramatic, your brother chuckled. Also, you know he’s working a lot… 

I should have known better than to ask his biggest fan for support, you said as you rolled your eyes. 

Just shut up and focus on your big night, sis, he said with a smile. My baby sister might be getting the biggest award there is for being dramatic, tonight. Now, I think we should focus on that, as well as the fact that stylists managed to make you look presentable. 

Your brother’s weird encouragement was a good way to make you smile, and the glasses of champagne waiters kept on handing you did a great job when it came to taking the edge off. You were taken to your seats and the ceremony began. You kept nervously searching for Marshall in the crowd but you didn’t manage to spot him. Was he skipping the whole thing ? Your mind wandered as the ceremony unfolded and you were soon on autopilot. It was your first time attending the Academy Awards and this had to be the longest ceremony ever. The only entertaining things were the various performances. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard the music of Marshall’s song - the one he had written for the movie. He was not supposed to perform tonight - this had not been announced - but he was on stage, rapping the song that got him his second Oscars nomination exactly twenty years after winning Best Original Song for Lose Yourself. The crowd was wild and you were excited as well. Seeing him on stage made you forget how mad at him you were and you were back to being his number one fan, gushing over how good he looked and rapping the lyrics at the same time, like the groupie you very much were. His performance got him a standing ovation and, twenty minutes and a commercial break later, he was back on stage, accepting the award for Best Original Song. Only this time, he was conforming to the Academy’s dress code, looking dapper in a tux. He might hate this type of outfit, but no one could deny he looked absolutely incredible. One detail did catch your eye : the bow tie he was wearing was made of the same fabric as your dress. He was matching with you ! 

When you wouldn’t return his calls, he called me to ask who you were going to wear, your brother told you. 

He did ? You squeed. 

Yep. Not the kind of thing anyone who wants to break up with you would do, I think. I’m not supposed to tell you, but he’s got another one to match your second dress, too… 

You couldn’t help but smile. The fact that he would go out of his way to call your brother, as well as the dressmakers to have a bowtie matching your dress was absolutely adorable. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Marshall, who was giving a heartfelt speech about how great it felt to have the Academy acknowledge hip-hop and how grateful he was to have the opportunity to be on this stage, two decades after Lose Yourself won. His speech was just like him : elegant and understated. When he went back to his seat, you could see him search for you in the crowd and you waved quietly, sending him a kiss. You couldn’t wait to go and hug him. 

Can’t you behave ? Your brother chuckled. There’s cameras, Y/N. And try not to eye fuck him or drool, this time, will you ? 

I’ll try, you giggled. 

You were almost in agony the rest of the night and the two of you kept looking  and smiling at each other. As always when the two of you were in the same room, you were unable to take your eyes off him for a single second. You didn’t pay much attention to anything else that was going on, so much so that you almost missed your name being called for Best Actress. Everyone around you got up and cheered for you and you were lost. You had actually won an Oscar ?! You ? It didn’t feel right. Bit it was indeed, your name on the screen, and people kept on looking at you. Your brother had to help you get up as you came to your senses and realized that your childhood dream had come true. You made your way to the stage as tears of joy were welling in your eyes. You were almost shaking with nerves as you started your acceptance speech. You had one written and memorized but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. You spotted Marshall in the crowd, who was smiling and looking at you with pride in his eyes, mouthing a silent « I love you ». 

I… Wow, you said nervously into the microphone. I can’t believe this is happening. I had something really heartfelt, clever and funny written but I can’t remember a single word so please bear with me. Hum… Standing here, on this stage, holding this award is a childhood dream come true. First, I want to thank my family who has always supported my passion, and I’d like to thank everyone in Hollywood that gave me a chance to act. And everyone who didn’t. In fact, I want to acknowledge every person who doubted me. And every boyfriend of mine who called me dramatic. There have been a few, and you best believe I’m creating a group chat tonight and telling them that I actually got an award for being dramatic and made it my full-time job. Um… What else ? Oh, uh, thank you to my manager, assistant, glam squad… Shout out to Alaïa for getting me into this dress tonight, and shout out to Marshall Mathers who will be taking it off me tonight. Dreams do come true, guys ! 

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter and you could see Marshall laughing before you exited the stage. When you made it backstage, you took a moment to sit and realize what just happened. You had won an Oscar. Oh, and you had accidentally mentioned Marshall taking off your clothes. On stage. While million of people probably watched the ceremony on TV… Oops. A few people came to congratulate you, though you were quickly ushered back to your seat for the remainder of the ceremony. The movie you were in did not end up winning Best Picture, but you easily got over your disappointment. When the ceremony ended, you were swarmed by an army of people who came to congratulate you. You even got to hug Meryl Streep and tell her how she was the one who made you want to act in the first place, and this was definitely the highlight of your night. Your brother had gotten out of your sight and was enjoying the open bar, as he always did whenever he came with you to an event. When the crowd began to vacate, you had a moment to yourself. That’s when you spotted your boyfriend. 

Congratulations, he said as he pulled you into his arms. 

Congratulations to you too, you said giddily. You were amazing on stage ! 

As were you, he replied with a smile. Great speech, by the way… 

Oh my God, I am so sorry, you said. I forgot my speech, and I-I… Are you mad ? 

It’s fine, he chuckled. You’re way too adorable for me to be mad. 

Really ? You asked nervously. I know how you are about privacy… 

Really, he said reassuringly. And with you looking like this… ? I am glad everyone knows you’re spoken for. 

I think they got the idea when they saw you matching with me, you said with excitement. 

You like it ? He asked with a smile. I had to ask your brother and harass the dressmakers. They hate me. 

He told me, you said giddily. And I know you have another one to match my dress for the afterparty, too… 

If you still want me as your date, that is, he pointed out. 

I do, you giggled. But I’m going to need your help to get out of this dress and into the other… 

Let’s go, then. 

He grabbed your hand and you walked out of the theater, holding your awards, while an army of journalists were screaming to get your attention. You half-expected Marshall to let go of your hand, knowing how guarded he was when it came to the press, but he only squeezed it tighter before grabbing you by the waist as you made your way to a car. 

Em, how are you feeling tonight ? A journalist asked. 

Have you seen my date ? I’m great, man, he grinned as he looked at you lovingly. 

VIDEO : WATCH AS EMINEM GUSHES OVER Y/N AFTER THE OSCARS

Eminem & Y/N have officially confirmed their relationship ! The couple did not walk the red carpet together but they certainly made a memorable exit, as Eminem gushed over his date to journalists while not letting go of her. This happened after Y/N hinted at Em taking her Alaïa dress off her in her acceptance speech. While the Rap God did not mention his girlfriend in his own speech, he certainly appeared in love. While known for his stoic face, he was seen smiling all evening, especially when they made their way to the Vanity Fair afterparty (almost an hour late, mind you…)  in matching outfits. And if he does not seem like one to kiss and tell, no one missed Y/N’s lipstick all over his mouth, nor the hickies in his neck. 

That night was a big one for the rapper and the movie star, as they both took home statues, respectively for Best Original Song and Best Actress. And from the looks of it, they certainly celebrated. 

[we-are-maladaptive]

tags: pining (theres a bonus at the end tho), author proofread and put their heart and soul into this writing words: 1.2k

Loud and brash, never goes unnoticed.

Messy blonde hair and piercing eyes of blood, they could slice through someone’s soul.

You wished he’d look at you, and slice through yours.

 He’s come here ever since he was  young, and you’ve been here ever since you were  young, watching him from afar. You were so familiar with the place, that when you got older, you decided to take a job at the fair. It paid well, and you had good relations with the owner.

Katsuki Bakugou. He comes to the fair every year with his friends, and you watch him, every year. So high and mighty he is compared to you, chest toned and carved to perfection, and hair always puffed and pointed in every direction. Sometimes he’ll even crack a small smile when he can’t contain his joy anymore, but it’s short lived, as his lips form back into a straight line.

His eyes always fail him, not being able to hide the emotion swirling in them, in contrast to his emotionless face. His face..lips thin, but the feeling of them pressed against you must be hotter than any explosion could ever make, the feeling of his body against yours, even if it’s just a brush, could destroy far more than anything he thought he was capable of destroying.

This love was painful, Katsuki Bakugou was painful.

Watching him on TV, watching his life flash before his eyes time and time again. Watching him with his friends, oh how you wished you could be one of them, any of them. Anything, if it meant being by him, for him to acknowledge you.

He’s so much better than you that it hurts.

But what hurts the most, is that each year he comes to the fair, it’s one year closer to the year when he won’t show up. Maybe he’s busy with hero work, or he had something that came up, it didn’t matter what it was- you knew that when that day came, the childhood memories of this fair would be gone, and he’d never come back.

You could never have him, his body pressed against yours, his lips pressed against your own. You could never feel him, his chest that’s toned and carved to perfection, or his hair that’s always puffed and pointed in every direction. You couldn’t be on the other end of his small smile, when he can’t contain his joy anymore, even if it’s short lived, as his lips form back into a straight line.

The ache in your heart felt almost physical, but it quickly was discarded as there was now- a very real ache in your shoulder and head.. You must have not looked where you were going, stuck in your own thoughts. Whatever you bumped into, it was strong enough to knock you on the ground- or maybe your knees were weak with the daze you’d been in earlier.

You looked up, your vision still blurry. The sunset looked pretty, swirls of red emotion coursing through the sky, but as your blur subsided, you realized what you were looking at, or who you were looking at, he wasn’t a sky.

“You a fuckin’ zombie? If it ain’t that, then are you blind? You’re lucky you didn’t knock over my drink, if you did I woulda’ ripped those eyes out your damn skull, since ya’ don’t use em’ anyway.”

Loud and brash, never goes unnoticed.

Messy blonde hair and piercing eyes of blood, they could slice through someone’s soul.

Today, this year, they finally sliced through yours.

His insults meant nothing, the scarred hand reaching out to your inferior one, contrasting his actions in every way.

You swallowed, and took his hand. His skin against yours, even if it's just a brush, just like you thought- it destroyed you.

“T-thank you, Ka- Bakugo.”

“You know my name? You watch me on television or some shit?”

“..Okay then, stalker.”

A shout of Katsuki’s name had him turning his attention away from you. Finally breaking away from his eyes, you realized that it was late. The sunset is not in red hues, but blue and pink. You wished it was red though. Maybe when next year comes around, the sunset will match his eyes, and you can tell him what you thought about him all these years. If there was a next year- wait…

“..-WAIT!!” You shouted at him, he had slowly begun to walk away from you, as you daydreamed about him under a red sunset. It came out more as a strangled cry, a disheveled plea. It caused him to whip his head back around, you could almost see a hint of concern on his face.

“Promise..promise me you’ll come back next year?”

He rolled his eyes  “.....Next year? Please, I plan on bringing my kids to this place, if it’s still runnin’ by then.”

For the first time, you didn’t feel an ache anymore. It was instead replaced with something warm, something hopeful.

With this, he turned away again, fading into the crowd of useless people and the slowly darkening sky, until he was no longer to be seen.

The sky was pitch black now, nothing but you and your own thoughts as you lay sprawled out on the bed. Too lazy to make the sheets, limbs on either side of the mattress. Convincing yourself that the events that unfolded a few hours prior was nothing but a dream. You had to stay at the fair a little bit longer, since you worked there. At least they let you wear your own clothes and not some tacky uniform, you would have died if he saw you in something like that.

Sleeping was hard but you had to make do, since you had work again tomorrow.

                                                         BONUS:

“What took you so long, dude? Who were you talking to over there?” Cool and raspy voice, red spiky hair, not pointed in every direction, it was pointed downwards, not drowned in gel like whenever he was in his hero attire. Katsuki’s right hand man.

“Nothin’. Just bumped into someone is all.”

“That’s all? You were over there for a while, Kats.” A pink haired girl chirped in his direction.

“You finally see some eye candy at the fair?” A yellow haired boy, with a streak of black to the side, taunted him after the girl.

More people were in the car, listening to the conversation, like the green haired guy sitting next to Katsuki. He didn’t dare to taunt him, though.

“I can’t have a single fuckin’ conversation with anyone without you guys spewing some stupid bullshit.” He growled at them rather loudly, causing them to go silent, not without a few giggles though.

The remainder of the car ride stayed silent though, people putting in headphones when they couldn’t bear what was on the aux, Katsuki included.

It gave him time to think about things, his career, his plans for dinner, better insults to throw at people, and the “someone” that he bumped into earlier.

(“You come to this fair every year, with your friends. You guys seem really close- it’s nice to watch you- you guys.”)

(“Promise..promise me you’ll come back next year?”)

“You guys free tomorrow?” His voice rang out through the car.

“It’s Saturday Bakugou, everyone’s free.”

“... Does anyone have fucking plans tommorrow?”

Silence echoed throughout the car.

“Good. Cause’ I wanna go back tomorrow.”

[pentacentric]

I probably think way too much about how very little Sam knew about Mary. How John and Dean gave him almost nothing, to the point that she wasn't even really like a ghost shadowing his life, more like the story of one overheard in bits and pieces over the years. And yet, his whole life from when he can first remember—every bit of motivation or guilt, every point of pride or shame—is built around his mother, this person he isn't allowed to know.

I've written a lot of bits and pieces about it before, but never a standalone. This is actually an excerpt from a longer story, but I modified it some and I think it works on its own, hopefully (he knows about hunting already but that's really the only canon difference).

..........................

When Sam's in fourth grade, and has to write a page about his favorite memory, he asks for Dean's help. All he can seem to dredge up at the moment is just too weird or too farfetched. Things that say far too much about the way they live for a teacher to read.

So he asks Dean what he would write about.

After some teasing about his best memories being of all the times Sam's embarrassed himself (and a well-aimed pink rubber eraser hitting him between the eyes) Dean quiets down and turns thoughtful.

"Well, I dunno what my most favorite memory would be, really. I guess…" He bites his lip, chews on it for a second, gaze directed absently into the distance. "I think it would prob'ly be my first memories? It musta been, like, when I was three and four maybe. They're…of Mom."

"Oh." Sam's chest gets a little tight. He speaks quietly, cautiously. Dean—Dean and Dad both—they don't talk about her much. Sam's seen her picture, the one that Dad keeps in his journal, a few times, but he knows so little about her. Just that she was pretty (beautiful), with a smile that reminds of him of Dean's and wavy blonde hair. "What was she—what are they like?"

Dean smiles, maybe a little sad, but it's more than that. Warm, wistful; gaze still unfocused and distant. "Mostly…happy. Like…bright. She'd sing to me a lot, and, like, I didn't know the songs back then, but, when I hear 'em now, I can hear her voice singing them. Beatles, Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, um…Peter, Paul, and Mary, maybe…" Dean chuffs out a laugh. "I remember Puff the Magic Dragon, at least…I think I even remember Dad teasin' her about how she better sing me some real music, too, not just sissy crap, but, I dunno, maybe I made that up."

Dean pauses, that bittersweet expression on his face, still, and Sam doesn't want him to get lost in it. He also doesn't want to miss this opportunity, if he can help it.

"I dunno. He'd say somethin' like that." Dean spares him half a smile, still somewhere else in his head. "What…what else do you remember? What'd you guys do together?"

"Well, not a whole lot. I guess mostly just the normal stuff you do with a little kid. Like legos, I remember we'd build castles an' fortresses and stuff. I wanted her to build me a car but we didn't have enough black bricks, so she made me a little boat instead. Dad said it looked like a bathtub." He smiles. "Um, she'd dance with me, sometimes. To the radio. Make lunch—I mostly remember sandwiches and Mac n' Cheese. I'd sit in that little seat in the cart when she went to the grocery store, and she'd ask me what was on the list and I'd pretend I could read it and make up dumb stuff."

The silence is longer this time. Sam breathes out, carefully. "What kinda stuff?"

"I dunno. Just silly things, like 'elephant steaks!' Or 'a unicorn!' Or 'poop n' rhubarb pie!'"

"Gross." Sam wrinkles his nose.

Dean grins at that. "I think you're, like, the only kid ever who never found poop and fart jokes funny."

"'Cause they're not."

When Dean laughs, muttering little weirdo, Sam looks around for something harmless to throw at him, pouts.

"Don't worry, Sammy, if anyone wonders why you're so weird I'll just tell them it's 'cause you still poop your pants, and you're kinda sensitive about it an' all."

"Dean."

Sam decides that his pencil is perfectly fine to throw after all and, as a concession, doesn't aim it at his head. Dean grins, not seeming too annoyed by the assault, so Sam decides to push his luck.

"Did Mom think it was funny? Your lists?"

Dean's melancholy little smile is back. "Yeah…yeah, I think she did. She'd always laugh, anyways. An' she had the best laugh. I'd make up stuff that just got more and more ridiculous just so I could keep watchin' her laugh." He sighs, shrugs. "Anyways, yeah…that's Mom. That's what I remember."

It gets quiet after that, and Sam can see Dean's face starting to shutter over as he withdraws. It's rare for Sam to get to see his brother so open and unguarded any more. Over the last few years, Dean's started to change; Sam can tell. Still fun, still charming, still affectionate, at least with Sam (mostly when there's no one else around to catch him being so uncool). But, even though they're not always alike—Dean doesn't usually brood, rarely explodes, and he never gets that kind of burning cold John does when he's focused on something—sometimes now he kinda reminds Sam of Dad. He's been more closed off, the way Dad can be, his deeper emotions pushed farther away, out of Sam's reach. Doesn't show when things get to him, like he used to.

It's actually kind of lonely, sometimes.

"So, what are you gonna write about, Sammy?"

When Sam shrugs, Dean suggests the time they ran out of gas on a back road in central Florida. They'd only walked two miles before an Oscar Myer Wienermobile came barreling down the road, seemingly out of nowhere, and gave them a lift to and from the closest gas station (still a good eight miles away). Sam counters with the night in Montana that Dad got so drunk he started fighting with the motel owner about yetis (Dad coming down hard on the side of 'hoax'). They ended up getting kicked out at two am after Dad had cut down the guy’s “Bigfoot Crossing” sign with an axe. They toss back and forth increasingly ridiculous ideas until they're both laughing so hard they're in literal tears. When John comes back, they can't even stop long enough to answer what's so funny. Dad just smiles, bemused and fond, and shakes his head before heading off to shower.

Sam thinks maybe he can add this afternoon to his Good Memories pile.

In the end, he waits until that evening, before bed, and easily fills up a page-and-a-half about the time, last summer, when Dad was on a hunt out west and he and Dean had spent all afternoon exploring tidal pools in Yaquina Head, Oregon, marveling at the tiny little aquatic worlds they found. He invents an older teenage cousin that tagged along so the teacher won't question why two young kids spent the day alone in a national park.

He gets an A.

From then on, Sam keeps his eyes out in thrift stores for cassettes from the bands Dean mentioned; pockets them when he can to listen to later on the beat-up Walkman knock-off Dean stole for him for his sixth birthday. He likes a lot of it, but he's careful about what he keeps; only his favorites. He stashes them in the bottom of his school bag, in the hollowed-out book that Bobby showed him how to make last year, on a rainy day when Sam got bored with watching old Westerns.

For some reason, he doesn't want Dean to know about them. Doesn't want him to feel like Sam's trying to take something away from him. So he slips them in when he's sitting in the back of the Impala alone, on long trips, and closes his eyes. Lets the albums pour into his ears over the headphones; shuts the rest of the world out. Sgt Pepper's. Pet Sounds. Bookends. He tries to imagine his mom, Mary, singing the songs to him, in a sunny kitchen.

But he can never really pull together a complete image of her; just bits and pieces, blurred-together impressions: yellow hair, the smiling face from the picture (looking kind of flat, like a mask), a flowered dress he'd seen in a shop window. And he doesn't know what her voice sounded like, so it kind of just ends up being a composite of the voices of some of his favorite teachers (along with the mother of a classmate back in Indiana who drove him home once when she spotted him waiting for the rain to stop under the playground slide).

So he gives up on trying to picture her, and, instead, just tries to sink into the music, sees if he can feel what she was feeling when she listened to it. Imagines the conversations they might have: which songs would be her favorites, why she would have liked them, where she was the first time she heard them playing.

When he hears those songs on the radio now, or over the speakers in a restaurant, it makes him feel kind of happy and sad at the same time.

They remind him of her.

(Except for America—for some reason, that one makes him think of Dean.)

[laguezze]

PAC: Summer Predictions

it's almost June and I feel like summer tends to be an exciting time for a lot of people! In case you are wondering what are some things summer will bring to you here's a Mamma Mia! Themed PAC for ya.

Minors DNI as one of the piles is a little PG. Please don't. Listen to me. Don't interact!

Here are the piles!

Pile I

Pile II

Pile III

Pile IV

Ready? Let's go!

Pile I

Song channeled: Waterloo

"I was defeated you won the war." "Finally facing my Waterloo."

There's an energy of waiting and release. I'll explain. You've been waiting for something to happen, you've been making moves in the past and nothing came out of it. So now I'm sensing you're just defeated and decided to let go of it. You have learned you can live without this thing happening. And it's when you let go that it happens. Or for some of you, something better comes out of it.

Letting go is a powerful thing, it can bring new things, it gives you peace of mind. And although it's painful sometimes, the sense of release is better than anything else.

So basically, this summer I see you becoming more chill with others and with yourself. You're done waiting and expecting things from people and opportunities, you're done. So you're letting go, learning how to breathe and that will be rewarded.

Things I'm seeing could happen: meeting a promising connection, learning a new skill, getting a job offer, learning how to love yourself.

Hope it resonates! 💕

Pile II

Song channeled: Dancing Queen

"you are the dancing queen, young and sweet"

"you're a teaser you turn em on"

I'm seeing you wanna have fun this summer. I mean, you chose this dancing pile, so it makes sense.

And I'm not here to blow your fun away. But i am.

So you want to go out and meet new people, get into that hot girl summer mindset. Maybe you've had a boring year or your experiences with summer have always been dull and not special.

I'm seeing someone scrolling on social media, looking at all the fun things people are doing on vacation, wishing that was them.

Well, I'm here to tell you that may not be you. And that's ok.

You're not at that point yet and that's fine. You can't expect to go out and meet people in a place where you know everyone. And if you can't afford to leave that place then it's going to be very difficult doing that.

It's alright to have a chill moment at home, you don't need to be out and about everyday in order for your summer to be exciting. You can meet people other ways, and you can get to know the people you already know better. Deepen some existing connections. Your deep desire of getting everything new is putting you back. You need to appreciate the things in your life before you get new ones. Including people.

Things I'm seeing could happen: finding a good friend, shadow work, journaling, exploring and finding new places in your city, picnic dates, taking care of animals.

Hope it resonates! 💕

Pile III

Song I channeled: I've been waiting for you.

"You're something I'd been pleading for"

"And finally it seems to me, my lonely days are through"

Great energy here, pile 3. A lot of you have done the work and been introspective and learned how to love yourselves. I'm so proud of that. Some of you spent hours wondering why your FS wasn't here yet and used that to solve some issues within you. Some of you wondered why you didn't seem good enough for this new position, and you did the work and got where you needed to be.

Whatever this thing you wanted was, you've done the work in order to get it. So you will get it. This summer it seems like the universe is giving you a break and granting you a wish. I'm so happy for you guys!

Things I see could happen: meeting a soulmate, getting a new job, getting a pet, buying a new house, leaving home, traveling somewhere you were dreaming of.

Hope it resonates! 💕

Pile IV

Song I channeled: Our last summer

"Walk around the Seine, laughing in the rain"

"Memories that remain"

You guys will probably travel somewhere small, like a town no one has ever heard of. This might be home for some of you and you'll be going back after a while. I'm seeing this summer will be quite transformative. I'm seeing it will be peaceful and quiet, but that's exactly what you need. Although not uneventful. I'm seeing some drama might happen with old friends. But nothing major. Maybe you'll get a crush on someone or see your old crush again and remember.

This summer is full of nostalgia and old memories. You'll rethink a lot of your goals and values and discover yourself a little more.

Things I'm seeing could happen: meeting a new crush, making a song, fighting with friends, rekindling a romance, losing the v (iykyk), lots of firsts... (Iykyk), flower picking, reading, writing a novel.

If you're a minor reading this why would you do this to me, i told you to leave at the beginning like get off the internet and live your life.

Hope it resonates! 💕

The End

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 12

Hello! I managed to get this finished before bed. So tada!

Steve and Eddie aren’t on the same page yet, and Eddie fucks up.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11

***

As he drove Robin and Erica back to her apartment, (Robin refused to be in the same room as them because of how absolutely gooey they were around each other) Steve’s anticipation for tonight was ramping up. He had stopped by the store to get all the ingredients for tonight.

He pulled out his best wok and washed the rice, getting it started cooking before he did anything else. He cleaned and chopped the vegetables, getting them in the wok first. Once they were about half way done, he pulled them out and set them to the side.

He then cut up the chicken and started cooking it up. Then he made the sauce in the wok with the chicken pushed to the one side and then he mixed them together. He added the vegetables last, warming them through so that they had a crisp but not hard bite to them. He was tossing the mixture in the sesame seeds when the doorbell rang.

He dashed over to the door and opened it.

Eddie stood on the other side, hands shoved into his pockets and big smile on his face. “Hey-ya, Stevie!”

Steve blushed. “Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way. “You’re right on time. I just finished making dinner.”

Eddie slipped past Steve and into the apartment. “Smells great. I can’t wait. I’ve been telling the guys about it all weekend. They are insanely jealous by the way.”

Steve smiled. “What? Can none of them cook?” He led Eddie over to the table where he started to plate up the chicken.

Eddie grinned. “Sadly, their talents lie in music and not cooking.” He sat down. “Gethin, Gareth’s twin can bake, but that’s really not the same thing as cooking.”

Steve chuckled. “No. Cooking once you know the basic rules can be tweaked in all sorts of ways. Don’t eat pork, dark meat of fowl like chicken or turkey will work. Or tofu if you’re vegetarian or vegan. Baking though? Gluten intolerant? Fuck you then, because you have to replace more than just the one ingredient you have to find three things to replace it so it acts the same way.”

Eddie nodded. “I call baking alchemy and cooking art.”

Steve smiled. “That sounds about right. Chopsticks or forks?”

“Chopsticks if you have ‘em,” Eddie said.

Steve went to the drawer and pulled out four black chopsticks with a silver band on top. He handed two to Eddie and kept two for himself.

“These are nice,” Eddie said, immediately digging into his food. “Wow. Shit, dude. So good.”

Steve blushed and took a bite of his food. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Where did you learn to cook so good?” Eddie asked around a bit of food.

Steve flushed. “It was either learn how to cook or eat take out every night when my parents were gone.”

Eddie looked up through his lashes. “Yeah, how often were they gone?”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I think a better question would be when weren’t they gone?”

Eddie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Steve set down his chopsticks and sighed. “Look, you went to high school with me, you know I was famous for the ragers I threw. Do you know why I could throw those parties?”

Eddie half shrugged. “I never really thought about it. I was never on the guest list.”

Steve snorted. “Like I had any control of the guest list. That was all Tommy and Carol. Seriously. After my second concussion in two years that had me benched in every sport I was in except swimming, I realized they didn’t care about me. They only cared that I had absent parents, a cleaner that came every other day, and a huge house with swimming pool in the back.”

Eddie winced. “Is that why the parties stopped that last part of your senior year?”

Steve nodded. “So yeah, I learned how to cook to prevent myself from getting into bad eating habits and I just kept it up. I enjoy it. Not like tattooing but it’s fun.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmured. “I sometimes forget that high school was almost a decade ago. You look so much like you did back then that I forget that all that shit is just water under the bridge. But I’m trying.”

Steve smiled softly. “And I appreciate it. I really do. Actually, one of my apprentices actually went to high school with us, too.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, would I know them?”

“Would you know head cheerleader,” Steve said with a smirk, “and then girlfriend of the captain of the basketball team you final senior year?”

Eddie leaned his head forward. “Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham? Are you shitting me right now?”

Steve shook his head.

“Hell yeah,” Eddie said with a grin. “Of course I remember her. Great girl. Glad she broke it off with that Carver kid though. He was one of those Christians that forgot the main principle the dude taught was to love everyone.”

Steve nodded. “I hear he’s one of those wackos that go around to public streets and harass poor people about religion for YouTube views.”

“Fuck, really?” Eddie hissed. “I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. Lucky dodge for Chrissy then. You thinking of snapping up that girl?”

Steve felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped right over his head. He thought that this was a date. He had done it again. Presumed too much.

“No,” he said softly. “Robin has a better chance with her then I do. Apparently she is a lesbian.”

Eddie furrowed his brow a little, wondering about the sudden mood switch.

“Good for her,” is all he said.

The night got awkward and stayed that way until Eddie got up to go home.

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asked trying to at least salvage some part of the evening.

Steve cocked his head to the side. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you’re starting on the sword tomorrow, right?” Eddie asked, heart in his throat.

Steve confusion clears. “Of course! I can’t wait. I’m really excited to start working on it.” He gives Eddie’s wrist a squeeze. “I thought we made plans that I had forgotten about. No. Of course I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eddie relaxed a little bit and nodded.

Steve closed the door gently behind him.

*

Jeff was brushing his teeth to get ready for bed when there was a pounding on his door. He looked over at Mandy and frowned.

“You expecting anyone, babe?” she asked, after spitting into the sink.

Jeff shook his head. He rinsed out his mouth and padded to the door. He opened it to reveal a jumpy Eddie.

Jeff rolled his head from side to side. “You do know Mandy’s got work in the morning, right?”

Eddie nodded. “I fucked up with Stevie and I don’t know what I did but I really need my best friend right now.”

“Come on in,” Mandy said from behind Jeff. “I’ll get you two a beer.”

Eddie sat on their ratty sofa, his knee jiggling with restless energy. Mandy handed them the beers and kissed Jeff’s cheek.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

Jeff watched as she walked back to their bedroom. Once the door was closed he turned to Eddie. “Right start at the top. What do you mean you fucked things up with Steve?”

“I don’t know, man!” Eddie said after downing half of the bottle in one go. “Things were going great, dinner was amazing. It got a little awkward when he said he learned how to cook because his parents were never home and then bam! The bottom opened up and I left earlier then I expected because the air was so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife.”

Jeff closed his eyes and then opened them again. “Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. Knowing you like I do, you probably said something you didn’t think was important, but really, really was.”

Eddie sighed and went through the whole conversation.

Jeff buried his head in his hands and groaned. “Dude, tell me you really didn’t ask Steve if he was going bang one of his apprentices, you know one of the people that work for him?”

Eddie scoffed, waving his hand. “I was joking.”

“Did Steve know that?” Jeff prodded.

Eddie opened his mouth and then closed it. He opened it again, but no sound would come out. He snapped it shut and frowned. “Maybe not?”

Jeff waved his hand at him. “Also seriously, dude. What kind of messed up fucker asks his crush if he wants to bang some chick?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Oh shit.”

“Look I don’t know this guy,” Jeff said. “Not well enough anyway. If this was Gareth or Brian, I could tell exactly what he was thinking. But I don’t and you don’t either. Which means you didn’t just fuck up, Eddie. You fucked up bad. So you’re going to have to grovel. And I do mean grovel. Flowers, dinner, the works.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said breathing out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah, man. Fuck. What if I messed things up with for good?”

Jeff shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess endure the most awkward thirty hours of your life?”

“Shit.”

*

The first thing Eddie did that morning was call the shop.

“Royal Pain, this is Robin, how can I help you today?”

“Birdie,” Eddie greeted. “Is Steve around?”

Robin sighed heavily. “He’s working with Chrissy at the moment, I can take a message?”

Eddie sighed. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s actually you I wanted to speak to anyway.”

“Is this about last night?” she asked.

Eddie blinked away the tears that formed at the thought that Steve had told her about it. “I’m trying to grovel and need a list of his faves so that I make it up to him for being an absolute ass.”

Eddie could feel Robin’s grin through the phone. “Right. Where do you want me to start?”

They talked for a good twenty minutes before she said, “Look, I’ve got another call coming in. That should be enough to start with. Hop to it, doofus. I want to see it, capeesh?”

“I read you loud and clear,” Eddie said.

“Good.”

***

Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21   Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25 Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Epilogue

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

[defschoice]

Jay Halstead x daughter

Heyyy this is my first time in a while writing a story and I feel like my writing isn’t as good as it used to be, that’s also why this one shot is so short <3

Words: 580

Warnings: not proof read, mentions of blood and hospitalization

Summary: Jay’s daughter has her first period and is a bit unsure of how to handle it, so he calls his brother Will for help.

Raising a teenage daughter on your own wasn't always easy and Jay Halstead knew that better than anyone, cuz he had a 14 year old daughter named Emily. Despite all the ups and downs and sometimes quite heavy fights and disagreements, hear and Jay were close and Emily was also close to her uncle Will and few others from both Firehouse 51, Intelligence and Med.

It was an early morning in Chicago when Emily woke because of some stomach cramps. She rolled up on her side and curled into fetal position and just laid like that for a minutes until her dad came in to wake her up before he left for work. But concern spreader over Jay's face as he saw the distressed state his daughter was in, he gently approached her and sat down in the edge of her bed pulling some of her out of her face behind her ear as he caressed her arm lightly.

"What's wrong pumpkin?" He asked in a gentle tone as Emily could barely move due to the pain in her stomach who kept intensifying.

"It's my stomach. It really hurts. Can we call uncle Will?" Emily asked her brother curling up even more as Jay felt her forehead which was burning up a bit.

"Oh sweetie, you're burning up. Let's get you checked up" Jay said as he pulled the covers of Emily to carry her down to his truck when he saw the blood on the bed as he started panicking and took out his phone to call Will.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Will, it's Emily. She woke up with severe stomach pain and when I removed her covers there was a lot of blood on the sheets and she can barely move. She's just laying in her all curled up, I'm bringing her in"

"Okay, based on your description it sounds like experience her first period. I'll be ready for you when you get here"

"Okay thank you Will"

Jay said as he hung up the phone and went back over to his daughter as he gently he shamed her arm but she didn't react to it, he tried again a little harder this time as she slowly opened her eyes and immediately felt the pain again as Jay gently picked her up trying to not move her too much as he carried her down to his truck and got her buckled up as he wrapped her in her favorite blanket calling Hailey while driving off towards Med telling her he wouldn't be in today.

Arriving at Med Jay picked up Emily who was still wrapped in the blanket as she clung to her dad when Will came over with a gurney as Jay placed his daughter on it but she refused to let go of him.

“Come on, Ems. You gotta let go so Will can take a look at you just like you asked for earlier” Jay said in a calm tone as Emily loosened her grip on Jay and Will wheeled her into a treatment room.

“Emily” Will said calmly getting the attention of his niece as she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“I’m gonna give you some pain relievers and April is gonna come in and give you some fluid. So now I suggest you get some rest princess and I’ll be back to check on later” Will said kissing the top of his nieces head as he went out and closed the door

[yupstep]

-Legal Name: Aina Calland (No longer goes by that name)

-Call Sign: Zona (picked that name because she saw half a Arizona green tea can that only read ‘Zona’ and thought it was cool)

-Age: 26 8/18/1997

-Nationality: Norwegian

(She speaks Bokmål dialect, her English is a little broken and sometimes she’ll get words mixed up. Fork and f*ck are often an issue when pronouncing)

-Height: 5’8” / 68”

-Weight: 145lbs

-Body type: Toned | Abs | buff thighs | itty bitty titty committee | slightly toned arms | Strong endurance but horrible balance.

Body Notes: Chest tattoo is the Troll Cross which is believed to offer protection. Her back has the Valknut triangles for the loss of her father and wings to guide her.

-Family:

Mother passed when she was 5 in a drunk driving accident. Father passed when she was 17 from CVD caused by unhealthy smoking and drinking habits. She was close with her father, he took care of her and her sister well. Older sister is alive(more info on her later)

-Personality:

Zona is pretty easy going, her mind thinks before she acts during most situations. She is politely aggressive, will often be heard saying please or thank you while cussing someone out. She has dad humor as well as a little bit of dark humor when she thinks no one is listening. Zona has a mild case of Tourette’s, she mainly will whisper small noises as she works or repeat sounds that catch her attention. It’s not very noticeable unless looking for it to happen. She gets awkward around large groups of people she doesn’t know and prefers to stick around a familiar face. The poor girl is an introvert that wants to be an extrovert. She thinks in pictures so visuals are a lot better than verbal instructions or making her read.

Zona started her career to be EMS after finishing high school at the age of 17. She wanted the adrenaline rush of having to think fast to save lives while being physically active. She got a head start in high school and studied for 2 years to get her bachelor degree in Paramedic Science then began her Vocational school right after.

BACKSTORY: (In the works will probably mess with this along the way)

Zona often volunteered her time to help with disaster relief and emergency assistance with the Red Cross in Norway. After a terrorist attack in France, Zona and a few others at her work offered to assist with NATO to help with humanitarian needs in France. It was volunteer based and had an unknown time line. While she was there another attack took place, Zona along with other volunteers and civilians were taken hostage by the terrorists group. She was transported to an unknown location(we still figuring that out) where most hostages were killed or used for ransom. They used Zona as a POW and forced her to tend to their wounded due to her medical background. She was captive for 5 months before Chimera infiltrated the hidden base.

MORE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED NEXT WILL COME : D I gotta draw more art cuz the plot thickens. I also suck at writing so please forgive me if things don’t make sense…

[kenny-the-ken]

Planet Love

ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS!!! Warnings!!: NSFW, drugs, alcohol, night club setting, fingering, head f!receiving, intercourse, cum eating, no protection.

Hey guys!! Sorry there hasn't been much smut on my blog for a few days, a few years ago I went through a really traumatic S.A. and I never really ever dealt with it properly, I didn't tell a single person till 2 years after the event, so I'm only starting therapy now, so sorry if this ever happens again, sometimes sex abd thinking about sexual things can freak me out!!

You were good looking, and you knew it, and Kenny could feel the pure sex appeal dripping from your body, his eyes had been focused on you from you hit the dance floor with your friends.

"Dude, go fuckin' talk to her!" Kyle shouted to his friend, the music loud enough to deafen you if you stood close enough to the thumping speakers.

"Dude, she's with her friends! She's not gonna ditch 'em for some guy she doesn't know!" Kenny shouted back, and Stan pushed his shoulder, gaining his attention.

"And who said we weren't eyeing up her friends?" He shouted, him and Kyle smirking at each other.

"We'll keep the friends distracted, we'll be your wingmen!" Kyle shouted, the three men fist bumping each other in a circle as they made their way through the crowded dance floor from the edge.

"That's them!" Kenny said to his friends, pointing at you, and god you looked even better close up, you'd noticed him watching you a few times now, and you'd also noticed that he was standing closer to you than before and you knew to dance a bit more provocatively now than before, cause he was hot!

You moved your hands along your body, moving your hips with the beat of the song, and Kenny approached, beginning to dance near you, and you were glad your little tactic had worked.

"Hey, I'm Kenny." He spoke, giving you a quick up and down glance, biting on his lower lip.

"I'm y/n." You replied, and Kenny held his hand out to you, before speaking once more.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Kenny asked, and you nodded, taking his hands, and Kyle and Stan were already chatting up your two friends, so he knew his plan had worked.

As you approached the bar, the music not as loud, Kenny ordered you a cocktail and himself a vodka and coke, and upon seeing him better and more up close, the more you were wanting to see where this led to.

"Sorry, I normally don't do this but, you were gorgeous and I knew if I didn't talk to you I'd have regretted it." Kenny spoke, and you felt your cheeks flush slightly, a smirk on your face.

"I normally don't accept drinks from guys, but you're cute. So, things are going well already." You flirted, and Kenny leaned his elbow on the edge of the bar, quirking his bro, taking a swig of his drink before replying.

"Hm, so what are the chances of me at least getting your number by the end of the night?" He asked, pressing to see if you'd meant what you'd just said.

"I'll give it to you now." You said, pulling your phone from your pocket, and Kenny did the same, punching his number into your phone, and you put yours into his, before returning your phones.

"Do you smoke?" Kenny asked, and you nodded in response, as you took his hand, beginning to drag him to the smoking area, and Kenny shot a quick thumbs up from his friends, Kyle returned the gesture, Stan didn't see or care that he'd missed it, he had his tongue down your friend Wendy's throat.

You pulled a cigarette from your purse, and you gave one to Kenny, him pulling his lighter from his back pocket, and lighting the cigarette that hung from your lips, before lighting his own.

"What attracted you to me then?" You asked, taking a few puffs from your cigarette as Kenny did the same, blowing his smoke out before he spoke.

"I seen you dancing, you looked stunning, like just everything about you, I couldn't pick just one!" Kenny replied, testing the waters by snaking his arm loosely around your waist, and you accepted his bold move, inching your body a bit closer to his.

"So, what are the chances that I can get you to ditch your friends and come back to my place for a more... private drink?" Kenny asked, his index finger tracing circles along your hip bone, your faces closer now than they were before.

His eyes were oceanic, a beautiful, shimmering blue, and his fluffy blonde hair complemented them perfectly. You were lost in his gaze, as he began to close the gap between you both.

And he'd done it, he pressed his lips to yours, and you swore it was like no kiss you'd ever experienced before, you could feel the butterflies spiralling in your stomach, your arms coming to reach around the taller man's neck, pulling you both closer together.

And Kenny had never been so thankful he'd went on a night out with his friends, because this was different, it was as if fate had brought you both together, knowing that powers above had crafted you both perfectly for each other. And as you both pulled away from the passionate kiss you'd both shared, your breaths heavy already.

"Did that kiss answer your question?" You flirted back, and Kenny's bottom lip caught in his teeth, having to control his urges.

"I don't know, baby. Maybe you should kiss me again so I understand better." Kenny spoke, one of his hands that were round your waist, making its way down to grip your ass, earning a gasp from yourself, and his lips were back on yours, not that you were complaining.

It was just as electric as the first time your lips had connected, maybe love at first sight did exist after all. Kenny felt his jeans start to become uncomfortably tight around his groin.

As you both pulled away again, gasping for breath, you downed the rest of your drink quickly, and Kenny followed your actions, doing the same himself, both of you puffing your cigarettes and stubbing them out in the ashtray in front of you.

"How about we get outta here?" You asked, and Kenny's smirk was firmly planted on his lips, taking your hand within his own.

"I thought you'd never ask, baby." Kenny answered, shooting you a playful wink, as he began to lead you back inside the nightclub, and on your way you spotted Kyle, still chatting with your friend Bebe, meanwhile Stan and Wendy were nowhere to be seen.

The cool night air hit you both as you walked outside, still hand in hand, both of you swaying from the alcohol you had been drinking, and you laughed and flirted the whole way to Kenny's apartment. He, Stan and Kyle had rented an apartment together, it had three bedrooms, so they could all have their own privacy, but they could split the rent.

"Welcome to my humble abode." Kenny said, holding the door open for you as you made your way inside, giggling the whole way up the staircase. You waited for Kenny on the landing, and he showed you to the living room.

"This is a really nice place, Kenny." You spoke, taking a seat on the couch, and Kenny made his way back from the kitchen, holding two glasses of red wine, handing one to you, and you took it gratefully.

"Thanks, Stan and Kyle are my roommates, so it isn't exclusively mine, y'know?" He laughed, taking a swig from the wine glass he held, sitting himself next to you, and you took a swig of your own drink before putting the glass on the table next to you.

"So, Kenny." You started, your hand reaching Kenny's upper thigh, dangerously close to his groin, and his bottom lip caught in his teeth.

"What's the real reason you brought me back to your apartment?" Your voice was sultry, and Kenny's eyes were focused solely on you, and when you delivered a soft squeeze to his thigh, he smirked at you.

"That's dangerous, baby. Do that again and I swear I'll have you stripped with my head buried between your legs faster than you can say my name." Kenny smirked, his arm finding it's way around your waist, as you shifted closer to him on the couch.

"And who said that wasn't what I wanted?" You replied, Kenny's resolve had worn out, and he crashed his lips roughly against yours, his calloused hands running through your thick locks of long h/c hair.

And he broke the kiss momentarily, just to trail his lips down your jaw once more, pressing wet kisses along your neck, a smirk on his face, the grip he had on your waist tightening.

"You better get your ass into that bedroom and strip for me, I've wanted to get you outta these clothes from I first looked at you." Kenny whispered, your cheeks heating up, a dark blush spreading along your face.

"And what if I don't?" You pushed, causing Kenny's brow to quirk, he knew you were testing him, and his hand moved up your thigh, under your dress as he ran his index finger along your clothed cunt, making you gasp in shock.

"Based on how wet your panties are, baby. I'm gonna say you can't wait to get in there and for me to take you, hm?" Kenny hummed, his voice low as he scammed your body with his piercing blue eyes, and you were completely under his spell.

You rose to your feet, and Kenny copied you, taking your hand within his as he led you through to his bedroom.

The room was dark grey, a few tapestries hung on the walls, and a large kingside bed in the centre. He had built in wardrobes, and a beside table on either side of the bed, and you let out a light gasp as Kenny pushed you backwards, landing with a plop on the soft mattress, a smirk on his face, his eyes dripping with lust.

"You should strip for me, baby." Kenny said with a smirk, standing in front of you, taking his shirt off, throwing it aimlessly on the soft, carpeted floor.

And you did exactly as you were told. Pulling your lace bralette from your body, leaving your upper half completely exposed, and you swore Kenny was drooling, a low groan escaping his mouth.

"Fuck, your tits look even better than I imagined." And he couldn't hold back any longer, he moved onto the bed, pushing you backwards with him, his lips on yours and his free hand moving up to cup your breast, teasing your erect nipple with his thumb and forefinger, earning a moan from you, and that only spurred him on further, wanting to hear more of you, see more of you, touch more of you.

Your arms wrapped round his neck, a gasp leaning your swollen lips as Kenny bit down on your lower lip, snaking his tongue into your mouth, and exploring every inch he could reach, before pulling away to allow you both to catch your breaths. He licked a long stripe up your throat, moving his lips to focus on your other breast, his tongue circling your nipple, before sucking it into his mouth, causing your back to arch slightly, and Kenny groaned at the sight of you.

"Fuck, Kenny." You gasped, and he needed more, pulling your skirt from your body and down your legs, the only thing between him and your pussy bring your now extremely damp panties, your face flushed at the thoughts of Kenny touching you.

And you didn't have to imagine for long, because Kenny soon had your panties flung over his shoulder and his head buried between your thighs.

He traced his tongue between your folds, your back arching and a gasp leaving you as a result. That's when he spread your lips open, allowing him perfect access to lick circles on your clit, a string of moans leaving your mouth, your hands tangled in his messy blonde hair, tugging at the ends, making Kenny groan into your pussy, his tongue travelling down to your hole, pushing his tongue inside and you swore you'd died and went to heaven, because this was the best head you'd ever received, and it had only started.

It wasn't long before Kenny had you a mumbling, moaning mess and you were coming round his two digits, his tongue lapping up your taste before pulling his jeans and boxers down, his large cock springing free.

Kenny was now on top of you, kissing you passionately as he lined himself up with your tight entrance, pushing his cock in right to the hilt, earning a long moan from you and a deep guttural moan from Kenny too.

"Oh shit, you're tight, baby. Feel so good." Kenny panted, snapping his hips back and forth, earning a mantra of moans to escape your bruised lips, your back arched against his mattress.

"Kenny, fuck you're big!" You just about managed as the head of Kenny's cock hit off your g-spot, a long string of moans coming from you, causing Kenny to smirk in response.

"Yeah? You take my cock so well, Princess. Fuck yes!" Kenny groaned, his pace quickening as he threw both your legs over his shoulder, driving his cock deeper into you.

"K-Kenny!" Your moans were loud, and high pitched, and perfectly complimented Kenny's low, deep moans and grunts, god he hadn't had pussy this good in his entire life, and he swore this was better than heaven.

"Can feel you gettin' close, you gonna cum for me, slut?" He grunted, his pace quickening again, your breath caught in the back of your throat, nodding your head yes, unable to get any words out.

"Do it then, cum round my cock, baby." Kenny whispered, his thumb moving down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, and that was it for you, the knot in your stomach came undone for the second time of the evening, your back arching, eyes wide, and hands desperately gripping the bed sheets beneath you.

"K-Kenny!" Your pussy was pulsing around Kenny's cock, your orgasm even stronger than the last one, his last few thrusts becoming sloppier and deeper, and he pushed his cock in to the hilt for the final time.

"Fuck, Y/N, yes!" Kenny moaned, coming deep within you, both of you moaning at the feeling and the over sensitivity of both of you.

And after a few minutes trying to catch your breaths, Kenny pulled out of you, watching his cum drip from your pussy, and he bit his lower lip at the sight.

"I'll go get a towel and help you clean up." Kenny said, leaving the room and quickly returning with a towel, two bottles of water and your phone which was left on the couch.

He handed you a bottle of water and threw his own on the bed, and gave you your phone as he helped you to clean yourself up, and then he crawled into bed beside you, a content smile on his face, resting his head on your breast, and gazing up at you.

"That was the best sex I think I've ever had, Kenny." You spoke, and Kenny grinned at your comment, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he spoke.

"There's plenty more where that came from for you, Princess." Kenny said, as you leaned into the feeling of you running your hands through his blonde locks, a sigh of relaxation escaping his still red lips.

"You think maybe I can um... take you on a date some time?" Kenny asked, and you laughed at his slightly embarrassment in asking you, before placing a soft kiss on his lips once more.

"Of course, Kenny. And I'll stay the night too." And just like that, the two of you sat up for hours, chatting till the birds sang, smoking joints together, giggling and making out.

Whoever thought a night out could bring two soul mates together, huh?