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losinnato · 9 months

Photo

Recipe for Easter Lemon Drop Mousse This refreshing frozen dessert is made with a vanilla wafer crust, fresh lemons, and whipped cream. It's sprinkled with a crushed lemon drop-sugar topping.

#springform pan #lemon drop sugar #dessert pie #filling #lemon drop mousse recipe #lemon drops #whipping cream

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dante-mightdie · 17 days

Note

Viking!Soap who goes off pillaging, as one does in their free time, and comes back to Price with the squealing, kicking daughter of their (now dead) enemy clan’s chief.

Basically, “Look what I caught,” he says as reader kicks at him to let her go, to no avail, as she calls him a brute. He looks at Price like a dog bringing its master a bird.

god I woke up and hour ago to check my inbox and you guys sent in so many good ass requests i’m so proud of all of you

c/w: basically kidnapping, anal, stripping, dub-con/non-con, mentions of alcohol and pillaging, I can’t write in a scottish accent leave me alone

price had already settled down for the evening, his heavy cloak was slung over the chair in the corner of the room. his long hair had been taken out of the same bun he puts it in everyday, mousse brown hair falling in waves all the way down to his shoulders

he had planned on relaxing in front of the fireplace, nursing a bottle of mead but those plans seem unlikely now judging by the sounds of chaos approaching his tent. loud boisterous footsteps and laughter combined with high-pitched shrieks and cries

john knows that it’s johnny before he even sees him, that scottish brogue is unmistakable. he lets out a deep sigh when he finally sees the warrior burst into his home, a wound-up girl slung over his shoulder. price narrows his eyes as he watches johnny manhandle you, your back to his chest as he holds you down with his arms around your waist

“look what a’ found for ye, chief.” johnny says, a big grin spreading across his face as you kick and thrash in his arms, screaming your head off about what a brute he is, “stop yer whingin’, hen.”

“found?” price grunts out, taking a sip of the honeyed alcohol with a seemingly unfazed look on his face. your aggravated thrashes have calmed down to quiet sobs as you plead for these big, horrible men to let you go

“Anno ye said tae leave that clan alone, chief but ah caught this one bathing in the stream and knew ye would like her.” you can practically hear johnnys tail wagging when the apparent chief stands up and walks over to you, gripping your chin to examine your face before letting out a pleased grunt

“ye like her?” johnny all but whines, dropping you to the floor when the chief jerks his head to signal to out you down. you scramble to your feet, taking a few steps back and backing yourself into a corner

price lets out a small amused huff at your fight, downing the rest of his drink in a few big gulps. he walks over to you, your attempts to push him away are pitiful as his hands grip the hem of your dishevelled dress and tears the fabric in two

you squeal and weakly punch at his chest as he strips you down with what seems like no effort at all. your hands only stopping to cover your completely exposed body. johnny takes this as his cue to leave, turning on his heel with a defeated look on his face

“get over here, boy. I’ll let you have a taste after i’m finished with her.” price says, not even turning to look at johnny. instead keeping his animal gaze on your tits as he gropes them with his rough hand, “need you to tire her out so she doesn’t keep me up all night.”

johnny doesn’t need to be told twice as he takes his spot next to the bed, hand sliding up his kilt to stroke at his cock which had been hard since he snatched you up from your burning home

john grabs your upper arm and manhandles you over to the bed, bending you over the mattress and pinning your wrists to your lower back with just one of his monstrous hands

“please.” you plead, “i’m already promised to someone!”

price lets out a proper laugh at that one, lifting his spare hand and bringing it down on your ass with a thundering crack that echoes throughout the room. you squeal out in bed, pushing back your hips when his hand soothes over sore skin

“then I guess i’ll just have to kill him.” he grunts with a weak shrug of his shoulders as he shamelessly gropes your ass. this does little to soothe you as you soon start up your useless kicking and thrashing again. price only responds to this with another hard slap to your ass, “settle down. I’m not gonna fuck your cunt tonight. I know a lady when I see one. I’ll treat you proper on our wedding night, yeah?”

john uses his grip on your ass to spread your cheeks, spitting a fat glob of salvia at the right rim of muscle above your pussy. two of his thick fingers prodding at your ass before slipping inside. you squirm in his tight hold, let out a loud whine

he lets you adjust for a little while, waiting until your cries had settled down to soft sniffles before beginning to fuck your ass with his fingers. johnny makes himself known with his soft grunts and the slick sounds of his cock being stroked under his kilt

your soft pleads for him to stop are coated with cracked moans as he stretches your ass out. ha scissors his fingers inside, pulling them out when he feels little resistance. he fishes his cock out from his trousers and pressing the tip to the entrance of you

you whine and wiggle your hips slightly, your pathetic attempts at trying to get away do nothing to help as he grabs his cock and pushes himself inside you. his fingers couldn’t compare to this burn of being stretched like this on his cock

johnny lets a choked moan, throwing his head back as precum dribbles from his tip

“quit your whining, mutt. you’ll get your turn.” john grunts, grabbing your legs and putting them over his shoulders as he begins to fuck into your ass relentlessly

his face is inches away from yours, the animalistic glint in his eyes is a sharp contrast to the glossy, subdued look in yours

“he wouldn’t know what to do with a wiley little brat like you, girlie.” he grunts in your ear, one hand coming down to rub your clit with his thumb. he lets out a loud groan when he feels your ass clamp down around his thick cock, “don’t worry, I’ll take all that fight outta ya.”

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

Hey love!

Was wondering if you could write a poly!maurader x fem!reader fic where (boys being boys) they had a bet who could go longer without sex and about a week reader decided to tease them a lil bit where she would flirt or like bend over to pick up smtg.

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: mature themes

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s so boy of them to discount you like this. Like, the bet had been funny at first, each of your boyfriends doing whatever they could to put the others in hot and heavy situations with you and each other, but after you and Sirius had gotten locked in a closet for the better part of an afternoon, they’d decided to take things down a notch. And as far as you’re concerned, that was when the fun part came to an end.

The thing is, they’re guys. While they’re having their little stint of celibacy, they can at least still get themselves off. Multiple times a day, if they feel like it. It’s not that easy for you. So for you to not even have been involved in the bet, and yet be the one feeling its consequences most acutely…well, it’s beginning to grate on your nerves.

So you decide to make it fun again.

“Oh, shit.” You say, getting James’ attention from where he’s going through the closet, trying to find a pair of pants to wear. “I dropped my wand under the bed.”

He moves towards you. “I’ll get it for you, lovie.”

“No, no, that’s alright.” You say, getting down on your hands and knees. “I’ve got it.”

James falls silent as you arch your back under the pretense of reaching under the bed, letting your short skirt slip up to show the pretty, barely-there panties you’d picked out this morning. You linger for a bit longer than necessary, letting James take in the view from where he stands across from the bed.

“Got it.” You emerge with the wand, sitting back on your legs and turning to James with a smile.

His mouth is slightly open. He blinks, eyes dazed and pupils blown behind his lenses. “That’s, uh…” He blinks a few more times, faster. “That’s great, sweetheart. Glad you found it.”

♡ ♡ ♡

“Gods.” Sirius nearly chokes when he sees you in the kitchen. “You’re looking nice today, angel.”

You almost roll your eyes. You’re only wearing a tank top and underwear, but apparently that’s all it takes when your boyfriend’s been so long without any of you. Instead, you plaster on a coy smile.

“Thanks,” you say, as though you hadn’t noticed. “You look nice, too.”

Sirius is making eyes at you as he leans his elbows on the counter. Like you’re the one who needs to worry. “Whatcha making, sweet thing?”

“Chocolate mousse. I’m just working on melting the chocolate right now.” You dip your forefinger into the warm, gooey liquid, bringing it to your mouth and sucking the chocolate off. You keep your eyes on Sirius’, so you can see the exact moment when his darken. “Mmm, want to try?”

Sirius swallows. “Huh?”

You don’t bother looking innocuous, letting your eyes go droopy and suggestive in the way you know how. “I said, do you want some?”

He’s silent for so long you think he might ask you to repeat yourself again, but then he clears his throat and stammers, “Uh, no—no thanks, doll. I’m good.”

You pout. “It’s really good, though. Here, have a taste.” You cross the few steps between you and kiss him.

Sirius takes a second to kiss you back, but when he does it’s so wanting that you don’t even have to be sneaky about winding one of your hands into his hair while using the other to bring his to your ass. He squeezes, and you moan into his mouth, grinding your hips into his just slightly.

Sirius gasps, breaking away. He takes one step back, then another, putting distance between you as he tries to blink the glaze from his eyes. “Minx,” he whispers accusingly, and flees the kitchen.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Thanks, baby.” You bat your eyelashes up at Remus as he brings you a glass of water from the kitchen.

He lets out a low chuckle. “I know what you’re doing.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you hum.

Remus gives you a deadpan look, but there’s a glint of amusement in his amber eyes. “Earlier this morning, I went into our bedroom to find James, pantsless, with a hard-on.” It takes every ounce of control you have not to grin, but Remus quirks a brow like you have anyway. “And then a little while ago, Sirius came running out of the kitchen like something was chasing him, and he could barely speak. You didn’t have anything to do with that, dovey?”

You let your eyes go wide and innocent as you shake your head. “Maybe they’re just getting sick of your competition.”

“Mm, unlikely,” Remus hums, and his surety of his own willpower only worsens your determination to make him falter. “But if that’s the story you want to stick with, that’s fine.”

You frown at him, the glass of water slippery with condensation in your palm. “Well, I—oh, damn!” you tip the glass of water into Remus’ lap, soaking his pants. He freezes, gasping at the cold. “I’m so sorry, honey. Here, let me help.” Luckily for you, you’d (completely coincidentally, of course) left a tea towel nearby earlier. You take it, blotting at Remus’ crotch with touches that start urgent but become lingering as you go on. After a minute, there’s really nothing left to sop up, and Remus hands are laid flat on the couch, every inch of him tense as you dab at his bulge with slow, tantalizing touches.

When he speaks, his voice is low, gravelly. “You’re a lot more conniving than we give you credit for, you know that?”

You let your lips curl into a smile, leaving your hand to rest on his crotch. “I know.”

Remus tips his head back, letting his eyes slip closed as he takes a slow, deep breath. “Fuck it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

In the next second, Remus is gripping your hips and hoisting you up against him, your chest pressed to his. You inhale sharply as he stands, wrapping your legs around his waist, and he’s kissing at your throat, master of multitasking while he carries you into the bedroom.

He nips at your jaw, and you giggle deliriously. “I won?” you ask, hardly believing it. Of all your boyfriends, you thought Remus had the least chance of breaking down before the others.

His chuckle reverberates through you, and warmth flares in your core in response. “Sure you did, sweetheart. Though I think by the time we’re done here, who exactly won will be a bit more debatable.”

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symp4nat · 3 months

Note

clarisse x reader where the reader is undergoing hair transition? as if she wanted her curls back and Clarisse helped her keep her self-esteem high (God knows how much support is needed)

Luscious Curls

clarisse la rue x reader

Clarisse's hands ran through your straight hair and her eyebrows furrowed. "You're upset, what's making you upset," you asked. She mumbled against your hair, "Why straighten your hair?"

You tilted your head back so it laid in your girlfriend's lap. "You know it's hard to manage curls." Clarisse put some water on your head and you whined as your hair curled back up. "C, please, no!"

"You need product, please, baby," your girlfriend pouted. "You know your curls are pretty."

Your eyebrows furrowed and then you nodded. "Whatever, make it fast."

Clarisse grabbed her handful of product. "This is shampoo, conditioner, refresher, detangler, mousse-"

"Risse, this is stupid," a groan slipped from your mouth. "Hell no, please," Clarisse pleaded. You complied and she dragged you into the bathroom. "So you add shampoo normally and then conditioner. Leave it in for 3 minutes and scrunch it like this and wash," you mimicked her actions as she spoke.

She squeezed your arm proudly. "Then you use this detangling milk sorta thing to... detangle. Then this refresher to look cute, then mousse to style and frizz cream!"

After an hour and her showing you how to use a diffuser, your hair looked amazing. You walked out of the cabin after lots of convincing from Clarisse and everyone's jaw was dropped. "How'd you get your hair curly," some kid form another cabin asked.

Clarisse proudly said, "She has curly hair... naturally."

"Your hair, Y/N/N," your friend Marissa told you.

"Is it bad?" You played with Clarisse's rings.

"It's really... really pretty, love," your friend hummed.

"Like you, baby," Clarisse said with heart eyes toward you.

#percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo fandom #clarisse la rue fluff #pjo #clarisse la rue #dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #dior #dior goodjohn imagine #dior pjo

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silencesscreams · 4 months

Text

santa doesn’t know you like i do

james potter x f!reader (smut)

summary: you and james had been distant for a month, until you saw him at a christmas reunion. you thought he didn’t see you the way you wanted him, until he couldn’t help but bringing you over to his apartment next door.

a/n: did this in a rush but i needed to do a christmas james fic, also stream fruitcake (i love you sabrina carpenter) happy holidays!! didn’t really check for mistakes so just tell me if you see any (please), also keep in mind english isn’t my first language so sorry about any errors.

warnings: smut with plot, muggle + modern day au, afab!reader, she/her pronouns referring to reader, reader knows how to bake, james is taller than reader, wolfstar, friends to lovers, petnames (love, darling, sugar), casual drinking, use of y/n once, kissing, hickeys, swearing, praise, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight dom!james and sub!reader dynamic, james loves biting, orgasm denial?, a bit of a size kink, unprotected (sorry) penetration

you loved the winter time, specially christmas.

gifts, snow, hot chocolate, good food, what could be top that?

you and your friends had planned a christmas reunion, you were so excited you felt stupid. sirius and remus were hosting the party in their apartment, which was right next to james’, so you assumed he’d be there.

even though you and james were very close friends, since you had developed a crush on him you both had been a bit distant, specially because he was in a situationship with a girl you barely knew and you didn’t want to get in the way. even if you were attracted to him, you wanted what has best for him, though you couldn’t handle being around him while he was obsessing over her.

you told your roommate, lily, about it and she said that you were acting silly distancing yourself from him like that and that you should try and talk to him normally at the party. you guessed she was right, you just wondered if he was going to bring the girl there, you would absolutely hate it.

you and lily went separately, which you realized was a bad idea once you stood in an elevator with a very heavy glass tray filled with chocolate mousse not being able to press the floor buttons without dropping the dessert on the floor or getting your dress dirty. and so you heard him.

shit.

“remus, are you sure she’s not coming?” you heard james say from far away. “no, i just don’t want to-” he saw you. “listen, i’m getting on the elevator, see you soon” he stepped in, cheeks flushed looking at you. you knew he was talking about you in that phone call.

“hi, it been a while” he says, trying to look away from you.

“james, could you press the button please?” you request, signaling to the buttons on the elevator with your head.

“oh, yeah, of course. going to the party?” he asked, already knowing the answer. you nod a yes, hating how awkward the situation felt. the elevator doors close and you feel obliged to say something

“how’s anna?” you question, remembering the girl he had been with for the past month.

“alright, i think” he looks at you. “it didn’t work out between us, you know? we broke up one or two weeks ago”

“sorry to hear that” you weren’t sorry at all.

“it’s whatever, i’m not even sure if i really liked her, just felt like i was trying to get over someone” he stated, the doors open and he held up his arm, holding the door so you could get out before him.

“that sucks. thank you” you step out, staring at him as he got out. he looked pretty like this, his hair looked messy cute, just the way you liked it. he was wearing the black pants you bought him once and a sweater. he was probably freezing outside. sure, you weren’t wearing the best clothes to keep you warm, specially with the length of the dress, but you took an uber, he walked everywhere.

“hey, could you help me out with something?” he asked, opening the door to his apartment.

“sure” you follow him, closing the door behind you with a bump of your left shoulder, gently placing the tray you were holding on his entrance table. he looks at you, blank look on his face, he looked like his mind was fully empty. “so, what is it you want help with?"

“right, hm, could you help me pick out a sweater?” before you distanced yourself from him, he would always call you randomly and ask you to pick out his clothes. you loved it, it felt like playing with dolls again. you nodded a yes and he went to his room, you looked around his living room. it looked the exact same it did a month ago, except it had a small christmas tree in the corner between the tv and the framed mirror. you got on your knees to look at the ornaments. they all had pictures of him and his friends. once you saw a picture of you and him in one, you felt like crying, it was the cutest thing. you were smiling and his face was glued to the side of yours, pretending he was biting your cheek. you quickly took a photo and put your phone back in your cardigan's pocket.

“you like the tree?” he smiled, you turned your head and got up, straightening your dress. he had given you quite the fright.

“it’s cute” you smile back, he was shirtless, holding two options in his hands.

“did you see that photo of us from thanksgiving?”

“yeah, i did” you look away. he holds up two sweaters, a cream colored one with little blue patterns and an awfully ugly one that had christmas lights. you were sure he had worn the ugly one to last years holiday party, it was ugly sweater themed.

“i would go with the one that doesn’t have lights” you were sure he was joking when he brought that one. “also, that has to be some sort of fire risk.” you joke as he put son the cream one.

“good choice, thank you, love” he referred to you like that, you just didn’t expect he would feel okay with doing it now.

“you’re welcome, james” you smile, looking at him, but not directly into his eyes. he goes to the door and picks up the mousse effortlessly.

“i’ll get this for you, don’t worry” he said before you could question him. you follow him and open the door.

once he steps out, you close the door behind him and he looks at you that way again.

“we’re doing okay, right? we’re not fighting or anything like that?” he asked, your brows furrow, feeling bad for not treating him like you usually did this past month.

“of course we’re okay, aren’t we? i’m okay” except you weren’t okay with loving him, you weren’t okay at all, but it was better to love him and him not corresponding than not having him in your life at all.

“good, ‘cause i wouldn’t know what to do without you, darling” he said, smiling.

“i wouldn’t know what to do without you either” you smile back and ring the doorbell to the apartment next to james’. it takes him a while but remus opens the door, looking at you and james in shock.

“hey, guys” he said in an awkward tone, the one that his voice turned into when he was nervous. “come in” he said, opening the door wider and mouthing something to james as he held the door for you.

“i’ll take your dessert to the kitchen” james says to you as you head over to lily, who was talking to mary.

“okay, just put it in the refrigerator, alright?” he nods and sirius follows him as he goes to the kitchen.

“why’d you lie to me?” he interrogates remus as he opens the door of the refrigerator.

“listen, i knew you wouldn’t come if i told you she’d be here. i didn’t want you to spend christmas all alone in your apartment, plus, you guys weren’t even in a fight, you’re just distant” he explains himself nervously moving his hands.

“he saw her?” sirius questions, coming into the kitchen and seeing his boyfriend nervous.

“went up the elevator with her.” james stated and looked at remus again “she could’ve heard what i was telling you on the phone, you know?” james said almost whispering, scared you’d hear that too.

“please, everyone knows that you’re in love with her. don’t torture rem’ over it” sirius jokes, giving the man next to him a kiss on the cheek.

“listen, chill out, drink a bit. it’ll be fine” remus says, looking at james with empathetic eyes.

james was trying to not think about you. he had been trying for the past year. until he met anna a month ago, as time passed and he spent more time around anna, he realized that everything she did reminded him of you. it seemed like he had been falling to someone who was a bad copy of you and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he stayed with her. that month was by far the worst in his year, it was the one without you. you pulled away and he didn’t understand why, so when he saw you that night, he thought you hated him. he didn’t know what to do.

until you talked to him.

that was when he felt like everything good was happening to him, like somehow the universe had brought you back to him. and when he saw you taking a picture of his christmas tree his heart could’ve just melted. he knew you didn’t hate him and that was the biggest relief possible. so he stayed at the party.

“hi” you greeted him, sitting down next to him on the couch. everyone was doing their own thing. james would usually be around the boys joking and drinking, but that night he had spent most of his time sat on the couch across from you eyeing your every move. when mary, who had been talking to you for the past twenty minutes, saw him, she announced that she was going to get a drink and chat with peter for a bit. and so you were left making eye contact with james from across the room. after thirty seconds you got up and sat next to him.

“hey” he smiled, you took his drink from his hand and took a sip, not breaking eye contact once. the heat burned your throat in the best way possible, it was way stronger than what he usually had.

“changing it up for the holidays? you’re usually a beer guy, aren’t you?” you ask, putting his drink on the coffee table in front of you both.

“decided i needed something more for tonight, 'was feeling kind of tired, you know?” you nod in answer, your leg brushed against james’ and you immediately looked away from him, he casually put his right hand on your knee and lead it up to where your dress ended in the middle of your thighs. you were so incredibly close it was driving you insane, what was he even doing?

“have you baked those cookies recently?" he looks at you, like he wasn’t doing nothing at all. was he drunk?

“i haven’t, but i can bake some for you another day, i know you like them. how much did you drink?” you ask, his tolerance was high, the party had been going for about an hour and a half, he didn’t drink much, did he?

“almost nothing. two cups of that you drank” his hand there was driving you crazy, you tried to hide it but your nervousness was pretty noticeable. “i really like the cookies, what do you put in them that’s different?” “hm, usually i put more salt and vanilla extract than what’s recommended by recipes but that’s it” you felt a lump in your throat, he was making you so nervous. he looked so good and you felt like screaming because he had never touched you like that before. sure, very long hugs and sometimes cuddles, but not hands on thighs and whatever it was he was doing to you.

“are you alright, love? you seem a bit pale” he questioned, smiling at you, that damned smile.

“i’m fine. i’m going to the bathroom to freshen up, but i’ll be back soon” you got up and walked quicker than usual to the guest bathroom, locking the door behind you as you walked in. you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to calm down. no, he wasn’t flirting with you, you were just being delusional, it was all fine. plus, you both were really good friends. it was completely normal for friends to touch each other like that, you were just letting your feelings for him get in the way of some friendly physical touch. that was probably it. you checked your makeup and flushed the empty toilet, to at least fake you were actually in the bathroom.

as you opened the door, you were faced with james potter, in all his glory, staring at the door of the bathroom you were just in.

“sorry, did i take long? i-�� he interrupted you.

“listen, y/n, i have been trying to brush this off for about a year now but i can’t. i hope this doesn’t affect our friendship, but im interested in you. as more than a friend and i really like you. i think you’re pretty, funny, i think you smell great and have an amazing taste on basically everything. i want to take you out on dates and treat you better than anyone ever has, this past month i have felt so bad without you around me and when i saw you again today i just felt better. well, that was until i realized about half an hour ago that i hadn’t bought you a christmas gift, but just text me your wishlist and i’ll get you whatever you want because i just want to make you happy. that’s all i want this christmas. also, is this bad timing to point out the mistletoe on the doorframe?”

you couldn’t believe it. you loved everything he had just said, you wanted him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. you loved him.

“kiss me” you said simply like your heart wasn’t pounding crazy quick in your chest.

“what?” “kiss me. isn’t it bad luck not to kiss under mistletoe?” so he did. his lips crashed with yours, his right hand holding you by the back of your neck and his left on your hip, closer to your ass than it normally would be in any kiss. he spent a while like that, lips glued to yours, taking the situation in. he pulled away, looked at you from top to bottom and then went back to the kiss. his tongue entered your mouth smoothly, but the kiss was feral and hungry. he craved your taste, he kissed you like a starved man.

soon enough, the left hand was grabbing your ass for dear life. he pulled away again, leaving you craving the feeling of his mouth on yours.

“you’re not feeling well, can i take you home?” he asked, looking at your lips. it took you a while to understand what he was implying.

“please” you whisper, he takes your hand and leads you to the living room, grabbing your cardigan from the chair it was on.

“wait here” he said to you, going over to sirius and telling him you were feeling a bit sick. sirius waved to you and mouthed a get well soon, it was sweet he believed james, specially since his mouth looked pink from your tinted lipgloss.

as soon as you stepped out of the apartment you looked at james with a big smile on your face.

“this is so weird, i suddenly feel better” you joke.

“really, huh? should take you to my apartment just to be safe” he picked you up, holding you with one arm.

“james!” you shouted, laughing.

“don’t worry, darling. ‘gonna take good care of you” he opened the door to his apartment, closing it with his foot. he took you to his room, throwing you on the bed and jumping to lay down on the spot next to you. he took his shoes off lazily and took off your heels for you.

“you’re so stupid, you know that?” you comment, rolling your eyes at his gesture. you loved it.

“yeah, i am the one who’s stupid” he smiled, crawling over you, his legs between yours and his face right over yours, giving you a sweet smile. he kissed you again, that same starved way, this time he wouldn’t have to stop though.

his hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts through your dress. your hands went over to his hair, tugging on it lightly. he chuckled into your mouth when you did it the first time, but he liked it more than anything. he pulled away from your mouth, now kissing from your cheeks to your neck, biting it lightly, leaving marks. you gasped at the feeling of his teeth nipping on your skin, the wet patch on your underwear becoming absolutely undeniable.

his kisses turned sloppy once they reached your chest, he pulled down your dress to get a good look, you weren’t wearing a bra. your breasts looked absolutely perfect, your nipples perked up because of the cold.

“you look so fucking gorgeous” he whispered “hate to mess you up like this” no he didn’t. he was loving every second of it.

his lips sucked on your right nipple, his hand grabbing your left boob. you moaned at the warm feeling of his mouth on you. his tongue flicking your nipple before moving onto the other.

“james” you gasp, shivering under him. he’s loving the way you react to him. your hand goes down to palm him through his jeans, he can’t help but groan.

“needy, aren’t we?” he teases. he’s been waiting for this moment for so long, at the same time he wants to take it slow, he wants to absolutely wreck you.

“please” you beg, he wants something else first.

“not yet, princess. be patient” he slips his hand under the waistband of your underwear, feeling how wet you were. “all for me?”

“all yours” you tried not to stutter, holding back a moan once he pinched your clit.

“good girl” he says, putting one finger in you, using his thumb to stimulate your sensitive bud. you bring the back of your hand over your mouth to hold in a moan but he stops you.

“nonono, none of that. i wanna hear you, love” he puts another finger in and you moan, lightly arching your back. he smiles and trusts his fingers into you whilst stimulating your bud.

“you’re being so good, sugar. so pretty like this” he praised you, your walls clench around him and you moan loudly at his words. he smirks, already knowing how much you love being praised like that. being told you’re a good girl. he pulls out his fingers and you whine at the empty feeling. he pulls the sweater he was wearing from off of him, discarding the piece of clothing you had picked for him earlier that night. he takes your lacy underwear off and opens your legs, holding apart with his wrists and getting a perfect view of you.

he kisses the inside of your thighs upwards in the direction of your pussy, he was kissing you everywhere except where you most wanted him. until suddenly he kitten licked your hole, his thumb moved in circular motions on your clit. you groaned at the feeling of his mouth on you. he sucked on your clit and put two fingers in again, flicking over your sensitive bud with his tongue.

“fuck!” you moaned once he nipped at your clit with his teeth, you were so close. your hands tug on his hair and you can feel his cocky smile against you. he kept on thrusting his fingers into you, sucking onto your bud harder. you moaned loudly at the feeling, not being able to hold it in.

“shit, james, i’m gonna cum” you say in between moans and groans. you were almost reaching your high but he pulled his fingers out, giving your cunt a peck before pulling away, making you whine.

“not yet” he took off his pants hurriedly, he was wearing white underwear and you could see his hard cock pressed against the fabric. he was bigger than what you thought was. james took himself from out of his underwear, he was on his knees towering over you, not breaking eye contact as he stroked himself before penetrating you. it was probably the hottest thing you had ever seen. he gave you a quick kiss before lining himself up against your entrance, the tip against your aching hole.

“tell me if you want to stop, alright?” he asks, looking into your eyes as you nod. you close your eyes as he begins to put it in.

“no, look at me, love” he demands, you open your eyes and look at him over you. holy shit. once he’s fully in he groans, not moving an inch. “you’re so fucking tight, feels so good” he whispers, pulling out almost fully and then trusting back in. you moaned at the exciting new feeling.

it took him a few thrusts, but once he finally picked up his pace he didn’t hold back, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every thrust. he made you a moaning and shivering mess beneath him, scratching harshly his back. you were sure it would leave marks.

his head was in the crook of your neck, biting the soft skin beneath him. it felt better than anything, it didn’t take long for you to start feel your orgasm coming onto you. he thrusted deeply, hitting the perfect spot even harder.

you moaned loudly, your walls clenched around him, he groaned at the feeling.

“are you alright?” he teased you, voice sounding strained as his thrusts hit deep inside of you. he lifts your hips, thrusting harder and hitting everywhere you needed him to. you threw your head back, completely taken by the pleasure he was causing over you, your eyes fluttering shut.

“shit, james. ‘m gonna cum” you state, scratching his back roughly.

“do it, be a good girl and cum for me” he said, groaning as your walls tightened around him. your climax hits you hard and you're moaning and arching your back as he holds you against him. his thrusts don’t stop once you’ve finished.

“gonna cum in you, is that alright?” you nod in answer, not being able to form a coherent sentence because of how fucked out you were. the sound of his hips slapping against yours filling up the room along with your moans and his swearing. after a few thrusts you felt his cock twitch inside of you, his hot juices mixing with yours.

once he’s finished he collapses over you, not pulling out. he leaves a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your mouth, kissing you firmly once he gets to the end.

“i think i should take you out on a date sometime” he says, grinning. he was so stupid.

“you really should” you kiss him softly and you knew what it was. he was also in love.

#lila writes #james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter smut #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #silencesscreams

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Grays II

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays - Part I | Grays Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, matchmaking elements, meddlesome mother, lots of teasing, not-quite-friends to lovers dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, oral sex (F and M receiving), protected sex, dirty talk.

Word count: 8.5k

Notes: It's here - 4 months later! First of all, thank you so much for the love for Grays Part I. I still can't quite believe the reaction to Frankie and Shiv, you guys sure know how to make a writer feel special 🥰 This one was so much fun to write, and nervous as I am posting this follow-up, I'm telling myself to let go of my insecurities and just enjoy it because that's what it's all about. I hope y'all will have a good time at this wedding with the gang 😘

Francisco Morales likes to think of himself as a reasonably competent man.

He can pilot a helicopter under intense enemy fire. He can take out a target from miles away in the tightest of spots.

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

He glares at himself in the mirror. He can’t put his finger on it, it just doesn’t look like how you did it. He’s already washed it out and started over twice, and for a second, he considers driving to your salon. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s far too late for that now.

Leaning over the sink, he says to his reflection, ‘Focus, pendejo. You can do it.’

He’s a pilot for fuck’s sake. He’s a man of procedure, he can follow steps. He just needs to break it down.

Hair half-dry - check.

Hair mousse applied - check.

Now he just needs to dry his hair all the way and style it - but the how is where it gets hazy.

Frankie closes his eyes and casts his mind back to your salon. He’s sitting in the chair and you’re standing behind him. He wills himself to recall what you were doing with your hands, but all he remembers is the scrape of your of your fingertips on his scalp, the ghost of your breath on the back of his neck, and then -

Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.

He scrubs a frustrated palm down his face when his cock twitches in his haphazardly ironed dress pants, not for the first time… hell, not even the fourth time since he left your salon on Wednesday afternoon.

‘Goddamnit,’ he bites out, dropping the hairdryer with a clunk and grips the porcelain sink. He needs to calm the fuck down.

He didn’t ask for - this, whatever this is. You’re you. You’re Shiv. The loudmouth with the wild hair he’s known since fifth grade. The fourth wheel at guys’ drinks when Will can’t make it. A relentless tease on a good day, and downright insufferable when you get enough tequila in you.

And quite possibly, the only person who’s ever driven him to the brink of unconsciousness with just the touch of their bare hands.

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe you’re right. It has been a while since he’s been with a woman. He just needs to get laid at the wedding, get this weird tension out of his system. And then hopefully, he’ll be able to go to sleep without being kept up by you telling him to go harder, deeper -

By the time he gets his head out of his ass, it’s too late for second-guessing. He rakes his fingers through his hair, sets it with hairspray, and quickly rubs the beard oil he bought in town yesterday into his whiskers. He takes a moment to look himself over while he clumsily does up the tie he borrowed from Pope.

This is as good as it’s gonna get.

He’s the designated driver tonight. By some miracle, he’s only five minutes late when he cruises into Pope’s driveway, where all three of the boys are waiting and sipping on beers.

‘Damn Fish, you look good,’ crows Santi as he climbs into the passenger seat, patting him on the shoulder. ‘You should get your hair cut at Shiv’s from now on.’

‘Only if you keep paying for it,’ retorts Frankie while he backs out of the driveway. He pauses as he changes gears, and adds in a grumble. ‘She’s making me use shampoo and conditioner.’

Pope barks in laughter, twisting in his seat to give Benny a knowing grin. ‘Someone had to, you caveman.’

The younger Miller brother ribs good-naturedly, ‘You ready for some action tonight, Fish? I brought some extra rubbers just in case.’

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Frankie rips into him mercilessly. ‘You know your small ass condoms don’t fit me, Benjamin.’

The car erupts with playful jeers, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile as he palms the steering wheel.

‘That’s some fighting talk, Fish!’ goads Santi, punching him on the arm.

Will joins in the banter. ‘You better watch out, little bro. Big Dick Morales came out swinging tonight.’

Benny grins. ‘Ok, I see how it is. Let’s make it interesting, Fish. Whoever picks up a one night stand first wins a hundred bucks.’

Frankie shrugs in mock nonchalance and quips, ‘I mean, I can use the cash. Shampoo ain’t cheap.’

Benny chuckles and clasps his shoulder. ‘You’re on, man.’

It’s eight on the dot when you lock up the salon. While you did RSVP for wedding drinks - opting out of the sit-down dinner earlier in the evening - you hadn’t planned on actually going. But it seems like the whole town did, you’ve barely had two customers walk through the door all afternoon.

So you let Ashton go home early, and after a quick snack, you take your time getting ready. Might as well have a Saturday night out - your first in many months.

The hotel is just a short Uber ride away. When you climb out of the car, you bite your bottom lip at the unfamiliar tension humming under your skin.

Nerves.

You’re nervous.

And worse, you know exactly what you’re nervous about.

Or more precisely - who.

‘Pull it together, Shiv,’ you mutter under your breath. Steeling yourself, you stride into the hotel.

From his vantage point at the bar, Benny watches in amusement as Frankie glances towards the doors of the reception hall yet again. He doubts the pilot even knows he’s doing it, or at the very least, he doesn’t think that anyone would notice.

Grabbing his beer, Benny sidles up to his friend. ‘Looking for something, Fish?’

Frankie takes a sip of his Coke and feigns nonchalance. ‘Yeah, looking to win that hundred bucks from you.’

‘Dunno ‘bout that. I don’t see you trying very hard.’

‘Biding my time, Miller. Just make sure you have enough cash to -’

When Frankie breaks off in the middle of his sentence, Benny doesn’t need to look to wager a guess what caught his attention.

Turning around as you approach, he flings his arms out to give you a hug, eyeing you up and down appreciatively. ‘Babe, look at you all dressed up! Doesn’t she look nice, Fish?’

In lieu of an answer, Frankie stares intently at some invisible spot over your shoulder until Benny elbows him right in his stomach, jerking him out of his trance. ‘Fish?’

Frankie clears his throat and stutters. ‘Um. I - I don’t know.’

You arch an eyebrow at him. ‘You don’t know if I look nice?’

Benny has to stopper his mouth with beer so he doesn’t laugh out loud at the panic on Frankie’s face as he fumbles for a response. ‘I mean. Um, nice… pants?’

‘It’s a jumpsuit, Morales. Try to keep up,’ you reply and take two steps towards him, which has him backpedalling so fast that he upsets the table behind him, sending half-empty glasses spilling wine all over the white tablecloth.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he growls at you like a cornered stray.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pull him upright by his tie. ‘Is he ok, Ben? He’s even jumpier than usual.’

‘Well, it’s a funny night for him. Watching his ex get married and all.’

‘I swear to God, Benjamin Miller, if you don’t shut the fuck up -’

‘Pipe down, Morales, we’re just messing with you,’ you shush him, tugging on his slightly skewed shirt collar to set it straight. ‘Can’t believe you own a tie.’

‘Borrowed it from Pope,’ he grunts without making eye contact.

Smoothing the lapels of his slightly crumpled suit jacket, you probe, ‘You’ve been using shampoo and conditioner like I asked?’

Frankie huffs a dry laugh. ‘I don’t remember you asking.’

‘Someone’s mouthy tonight,’ you tease. ‘And the beard oil?’

He concedes with a sigh. ‘Yes, Shiv.’

‘You look good, Francisco,’ you grin and reach up to push his curls back from his eyes.

He looks away as he admits, ‘Took three fucking tries.’

At least he holds still when you make small adjustments to his hair, shoulders stiff with hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You catch yourself missing the way he leaned into your touch in your salon, and you have to forcefully push that thought away as you push your fingers through the roots to boost the volume. His curls feel softer already than you remember them, with a noticeably healthier sheen.

After a final rustle to loosen up his fringe, you wink at him. ‘Mark my words, the bride will rue the day she dumped your ass when she sees you.’

A voice from behind you interrupts. ‘It’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?’

Trading a look with Frankie, who gives you a sarcastic thumbs up, you put on a smile and turn on your heels. ‘Mrs. Morales, it’s been too long!’

‘I see you haven’t dyed my son’s hair like I requested,’ she says by way of a greeting, drawing you into an embrace.

Frankie’s taunt is so quiet that you nearly miss it. ‘Told you she’d come after you.’

Without skipping a beat, you elbow him in the ribs, ignoring his pained oomph from behind you. ‘You look wonderful tonight, ma’am.’

‘You can’t sweet talk your way out of my question, young lady.’

You cross your arms with a sigh. ‘I didn’t dye it because he looks good with the grays.’

‘Well, I don’t think so.’

‘In my professional opinion, he does,’ you retort pointedly.

‘If he looks so good, why is he still single?’

Frankie throws his hands up in exasperation. ‘Gee, thanks a lot ma.’

You turn to Benny, who has been silently watching you two spar. ‘What do you think, Miller?’

He dithers, eyes darting around in desperation until he spots Santi and his older brother coming back from the bar. ‘Look! Here are the guys, let’s ask them!’

‘Ask us what?’ asks Santi, giving you a kiss on the cheek and a glass of bubbly.

‘Do you think my son looks good with the grays?’

Your eyebrow twitches when Mrs. Morales carelessly ruffles his hair to emphasise her point. To your surprise, Frankie bats her away with an irritated ma!, before hastily rearranging it.

‘Your honest opinion, if you please,’ you add.

The boys hum and haw, sipping their beers and shooting uncertain looks between you and Mrs. Morales, clearly uncomfortable being caught in the middle. Upping the heat, you narrow your eyes at them, and Will folds first.

‘Yeah, I mean - he looks good,’ he mumbles, avoiding the Morales matriarch's glare.

‘Pope?’ you prompt.

‘Cabrón rocking those grays,’ he nods supportively.

‘Ben?’

‘Uh huh,’ he replies vaguely, but at your menacing glare, clarifies, ‘Yes, I meant - yes, ma’am.’

Mrs. Morales scoffs. ‘They’re men, what do they know! I don’t see him catching any girls’ attention.’

Ah, that’s the easy part. You look around, scanning the crowds - and bingo, you see a brunette staring openly from across the dance floor. You hold up a finger for dramatic effect. ‘Excuse me for one second.’

Frankie looks ready for the earth to swallow him whole by the time you return with the said woman in tow. Pointing straight at him, you ask, ‘Lucy, this is Frankie. Do you think he’s hot with the grays?’

To her credit, she’s a good sport, and plays along with a cheeky wink. ‘Yeah, he is. You wanna dance, handsome?’

‘Yes, he absolutely does!’ you answer quickly before he can get a word in.

‘What the fuck, Shiv?’ Frankie seethes through clenched teeth, literally digging his heels in, but to his despair, his shoes skid uselessly on the tiled surface as you push him towards the dancefloor with this complete stranger.

Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

‘Have fun, Fish!’ calls out Pope impishly, which earns him an emphatic middle finger.

You beam at Mrs. Morales smugly. ‘And that’s how it’s done.’

‘You better keep it up, young lady,’ she says over her shoulder as she turns to leave.

You raise your drink. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs M. I promise you - he’ll be leaving with his future wife tonight!’

Santi is minding his own business, sipping on his beer as he stakes out the ladies, when a hand shoots out from nowhere and snatches the bottle from him.

‘What the fuck, man?!’ he bristles indignantly.

Frankie polishes off the drink in one mouthful, before slamming it onto the table and demanding, ‘Where’s Shiv? I’m done. I’m not fucking dancing with anyone else.’

Pope jerks his thumb to the other side of the room. ‘She’s arguing with your mother.’

Frankie flops into a chair, the dress shoes that he never wears are pinching his feet and he fights the urge to kick them off. He folds his arms across his chest petulantly, one palm over his mouth as his eyes wander across the hall to you, where you’re gesturing madly at his ma, embroiled in an impassioned discussion, probably still about his damn hair.

You’re all dressed up tonight, which is new to him - he’s only ever seen you in jeans when you go out drinking with them, and he’s certainly never seen so much of you. The ‘jumpsuit’ (he learns something new every day) is black and cut low both front and back, and fuck, all he sees is soft skin and the dip of your curves and red lipstick -

Pope must have nipped to the bar while he wasn’t looking, and a fresh bottle of beer appears under his nose. Glancing up at his best friend, Frankie mutters, ‘Thanks.’

‘You can’t marry her, Fish.’

He chokes violently at the casual non-sequitur, spraying beer everywhere. ‘What the fuck, Pope.’

Santi beams. ‘You got that look on your face, man. I’ve seen that look before.’

‘I don’t have a look on my face.’

He chuckles, mostly to himself. 'Damn, I really should've seen this coming.'

‘What are you even on about -’ Looking up, Frankie spots you making your way over and panics. ‘Shut the fuck up, pendejo.’

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

Santi chortles and takes his leave, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, Fish.’

You sink into the empty seat next to him and he deliberately twists his body away from you, drinking deeply from his bottle to drown out Santi’s words ringing in his ears.

‘So, I heard you have a bet going on with Benny. I want splitsies if you win.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, staring resolutely anywhere but at the swell of your cleavage. ‘No.’

‘40/60.’

‘Fuck off, Shiv.’

‘30/70?’ you counter-offer.

He sighs. ‘You’re impossible.’

Ignoring him, you jump up with a happy squeak when someone Frankie vaguely recognises as a girl who used to be in your class approaches with a shy smile. You pull her close by the crook of her arm and ask, ‘Morales, you remember Sadie?’

He tries not to scowl too openly as he too gets on his feet. ‘Sure, hi Sadie.’

Herding them towards the dancefloor, you grin, ‘Go dance, get reacquainted.’

As he passes by you, Frankie grits his teeth and curls his fingers into the meat of his palms to crush the urge to reach out and touch you.

But it’s easier to fall into your well-rehearsed roles, to toe the line that has been drawn in the sand since you were teenagers. And easier is certainly the safer option when it comes to you.

So he throws you a deliberate glare over his shoulder, with a deadpanned, ‘I hate you.’

You blow him a kiss and grin wider.

Frankie can’t hold back a relieved sigh when the interminably long song finally ends, and the woman he’s dancing with - he won’t even pretend he remembers her name - tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jacket after tapping in her number. ‘Call me, gorgeous.’

He stopped counting after the eighth woman you shepherded his way. This is it. He’s not above hiding in the toilets if that’s what it takes to make this stop.

Except he’s not quick enough. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, marching straight towards him with a fresh glass of water and a look of purpose on your face.

He doesn’t exactly know what came over him. He could probably blame it on the one and a half beers that he downed, or being pushed to the end of his tether. Whatever it is, there’s something he has to say to you, and it can’t wait.

You push the glass into his grasp. ‘Here, hydrate.’

‘Shiv -’

You’ve already swivelled around, your focus somewhere else. ‘Where is she? She was literally just behind me -’

‘Shiv -’

‘Mind you, she’s a sweet girl, but clearly not the brightest tool in the -’

His patience snaps, and he barks, ‘Shiv!’

You spin around, brow furrowed in confusion, and snarl back, ‘What?’

Frankie pauses, and you blink as his warm eyes hold yours. On an exhale, he says, ‘You look nice tonight.’

You’re vaguely aware that your jaw has gone slack, but only because his eyes follow the movement, dropping to your mouth. He considers you for a moment, head tipping just slightly to the side as he watches you. Then, satisfied that he has your attention, he brings the glass of water to his lips, throwing his head back as he drinks.

Your breath catches in your throat when his Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow, before he leisurely swipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

In a perfectly mirrored imitation of what transpired between you earlier in the evening, he takes two measured steps forward, prompting you to back up against the table behind you. The tinkle of glasses falling over hardly registers in the back of your mind.

The fabric of his suit is cool on your skin, brushing your bare arm as he looms over you, so broad and warm. Though his front barely makes contact, your peripheral vision gives and all you can see is him.

‘What are you doing?’ you croak the same words back at him, hating the way your voice shakes.

Frankie smiles - really smiles at you, with no colour of the usual irony or sarcasm. Warmth settles into the creases in the corners of his eyes as he holds up the empty glass. ‘Just putting my glass away,’ he says coolly, an edge of cockiness at your tragically obvious reaction to him.

You feel your cheeks heat up as he does just that - the back of his hand bumping into your forearm as he moves, the breadth of him pinning you against the table. He doesn’t pull away, clearly basking in the way the tables have well and truly turned -

‘Hi! You must be Frankie, I’m Jan.’

Frankie squeezes his eyes shut in irritation at the voice behind him, nostrils flaring as he collects himself. A resigned smile tugs at his lips, and he tips forward, his words grazing your ear. ‘Catch you later, Shiv.’

You only let your knees buckle when he’s safely out of sight.

You’ve barely stepped back into the reception hall from a much needed bathroom break to clear your head when someone grabs you by the arm, tugging you onto the dancefloor.

‘Benny!’ You reprimand, stumbling over your feet. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Relax, Shiv. Frankie can survive on his own for a second.’

‘You’re just jealous that he’s hogging all the ladies’ attention.’

He scoffs, palms on your waist as he sways to the music. ‘He has an unfair advantage, ok? How do I compete with the bride’s ex?’

Clasping your hands around Benny’s neck, you catch Frankie’s eye over his shoulder. You wink at him casually, having somewhat recovered your bravado - it’s easier to pretend from a distance anyway. He rolls his eyes at you over Jan’s head, but he doesn’t look away, watching you with a hint of something you can’t quite make out.

Glancing up at Benny, you ask a tad bashfully, ‘I know we give Frankie a hard time about all this, but is he - ok?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’

You hesitate. ‘Well, we’re not exactly that kind of friends.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, the kind who sit around having heart-to-hearts and painting their nails.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘What kind of friends are you, then?’

‘I don’t know, he probably doesn’t even count me as one,’ you admit. ‘He barely tolerates me on a good day.’

Benny shoots you a cryptic look, but before you can quiz him on it, he changes the subject abruptly. ‘Can I swing by the salon tomorrow morning? I have a promotional shoot at half past eleven.’

‘As long as you bring donuts and coffee.’

He twirls you around. ‘Deal.’

Frankie slinks out of the hotel, somehow managing to dodge both you and his mother on his way out, which he takes as a win.

It’s cold outside. He inhales deeply and feels it burn down his throat. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watches his breath mist in front of his face, savouring the quiet.

‘Hey.’

His shoulders stiffen. He knows he should’ve been the bigger man. Should’ve sought her out first, to congratulate her.

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.

When he turns around eventually, she smiles brightly at him, her engagement ring catching the lights.

Closing the space between them, he presses a kiss to her cheek. ‘Congratulations. You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she replies. ‘I’m glad you came. Your mum too - it was a long way to travel.’

His gaze falls to his shoes. ‘Yeah, well. You know she loves you.’

‘How are you?’ she presses on, always one for polite conversation. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

Frankie shrugs but doesn’t answer.

‘Just because it didn’t work between us doesn’t mean I want you to be happy.’

He nods slowly. ‘I appreciate that.’

She points behind her. ‘Well, I should go back inside.’

‘Of course. I’m happy for you,’ he says. And he means it.

The hotel doors swing open, and Frankie looks up at the sharp clack of heels on the concrete. You pause at the sight of them by the curb.

‘Are you leaving, Shiv?’ the bride laments as you walk over to give her a hug.

‘I am, I’m afraid, gotta open up shop early tomorrow,’ you pull back. ‘Come by the salon any time, my treat.’

Once the bride is out of earshot, you turn to Frankie, hands on hips. ‘Alright, no more shirking, Morales. Get your ass back in there, your mother is on my case again.’

He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Oh no, I’m not going back in there without you.’

You sigh dramatically. ‘Am I the only one in this town who’s not scared of your mother?’

‘You should be,’ he snorts, then nods towards the parking lot. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

Taken aback by his offer, you hesitate. ‘Um - I thought you were the designated driver for the guys tonight.’

He brushes off your concerns with an easy shrug. ‘I’ll come back to get them after I drop you off.’

Typical Frankie - he walks off without even glancing back to see if you’re coming with him.

You smile to yourself and follow.

You must be drunker than you realised, because you’re staring. Again. For what must be the fifth time in the ten-minute drive.

It’s a lot of staring, even for you.

His jacket lies abandoned in the backseat, his tie jostled loose and the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, sleeves bunched up to his elbows. You watch from the corner of your eye as his left hand grips the top of the steering wheel steady, fingers flexing every now and then on straight stretches of road.

As if you’re not already discreetly squeezing your thighs together, he’s also rubbing his right palm idly on his leg, the innocent rustle of fabric against skin getting you far too hot and bothered under the metaphorical collar.

And then - your eyes trail higher - settling on the heavy bulge at the top of his spread thighs.

Fuck. You’re definitely drunk.

You mull silently to yourself that you actually prefer him in his beat-up jeans and threadbare t-shirts before catching yourself. You weren’t aware you had any preferences when it comes to Frankie Morales. And you have no business doing so.

Clearing your throat, you break the tense silence. Well, tense for you, anyway. He seems completely oblivious to your inner strife.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t win the bet.’

His lips quirk, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

‘I had another five girls lined up for you, you know.’

He scoffs. ‘No, thank you.’

You reach over to punch him on the arm playfully. ‘C’mon, you know you enjoyed the attention, Morales.’

‘You don’t know me very well, do you?’ he peers at you.

You make a face of disbelief. ‘If you hated it that much, why did you go along with it?’

Cruising into your street, his truck rolls to a smooth stop outside your salon. Frankie kills the ignition, then turns towards you. His answer is simple, and hits you right between the ribs.

‘Because you wanted me to.’

You force a chuckle in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Since when did you care about what I wanted?’

He smooths his palm over the steering wheel and holds your gaze. ‘Sometime when I wasn’t looking.’

It would be simpler to pretend you didn’t understand what he means. To brush off this pull between you as a champagne-induced episode that you could sleep off. If you did, you could still show up at Tuesday nights drinks next week as if nothing has changed, and carry on.

It would be simpler. So you ask -

‘Do you want to come in for a nightcap?’

Frankie follows two steps behind you as you grapple with the keys on the doorstep. Once inside, the salon is quiet, and you strategically turn on the lights by the backwash, the semi-darkness making it more homey than it would have been if fully lit up.

‘I would invite you upstairs -’ you pause and add hastily, ‘I don’t mean upstairs like, upstairs in that way - it’s just that my apartment is tiny, and the backwash is the closest thing I have to a couch. Are you okay with beer?’

‘Beer’s good, thanks,’ he answers. ‘Need a hand?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘Oh god, please no - it’s a disaster upstairs. I’ll be right back.’

The rickety stairs creak loudly under your heels, and once you let yourself into your studio, you fall back heavily on the door, taking a second to catch your breath.

You invited him inside.

He said yes.

You leap into action, shoving all your dirty laundry into the already full hamper. You try not to think too hard about why you’re cleaning up, you just hope you’re not making too much of a ruckus while you’re at it - because you have a boy waiting for you downstairs.

Francisco Morales, of all people.

Despite having been in each other’s lives since high school, you’re pretty sure you’ve never been alone with him. Not even once. There’s always a buffer with Pope on his side, Benny on yours, and Will in the middle. And while some find Frankie hard to read, you’ve always known exactly how to act around him. You have an unwritten playbook - you bait him with cheap jokes, more often than not joining forces with Benny to gang up on him. He rolls his eyes and snaps at you to shut up. It’s the longest running show in town.

But this? Alone, after his ex’s wedding, in your salon? You’re going off-script and off-piste. Dangerous enough on a good day; outright stupid after a night of drinking.

Frankie is quick to help when you reappear, armed with beer and a bag of ice, using the backwash sink as a makeshift cooler. Your shoes clatter onto the floor as you settle in the chair next to his. Hugging your knees, you hold out your bottle, which he clinks with his.

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ you ask, rather mundanely.

‘As much fun as one is expected to have at an ex’s wedding,’ he answers with a sardonic smile. Taking a sip of beer, he adds, ‘Gotta admit, you winding up my ma pretty much made up for it.’

‘That never gets old,’ you smirk. ‘Although, I promised your mother you’d leave with your future wife tonight - so that’s a bust.’

You startle when Frankie chokes on his beer, his eyes visibly watering as he thumps a fist on his chest. When you ask if he’s ok, he won’t meet your gaze, downing more of his beer.

Not thinking anything of it, you move on. ‘You know, she sent a bunch of customers my way when I first opened up the salon.’

His voice is still a bit tight from his coughing fit. ‘And I’m sure she’ll deny it till the day she dies.’

‘I can’t figure her out,’ you admit. ‘I can’t decide if she hates me or not.’

‘She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t understand you.’

You hum, unconvinced.

He nudges your knee with his. ‘She was really proud of you when you opened the salon, you know.’

You toss him a sidelong glance. ‘You talk to your mum about me?’

He’s ambiguous in his answer. ‘She asks after you sometimes.’

‘And how would you have anything to say to her? We’re not exactly bosom buddies.’

Frankie concedes with a wry smile, ‘Benny talks.’

‘Ha!’ you laugh, echoing his words from a few days ago back at him. ‘Benjamin fucking Miller.’

He goes quiet for a second, looking around your salon as if taking stock. ‘It’s pretty amazing that you’ve built all this.’

The unexpected compliment catches you blindsided. You reply diplomatically, ‘Ashton helps me loads.’

Frankie’s eyes widen in feigned surprise. ‘Are you going humble on me now? What have you done to Shiv?’

‘Shut up,’ you grumble good-naturedly, adding, ‘Ben tells me you’re doing really well yourself.’

‘Yeah. I got promoted at work last month, and I’m saving up for a house,’ he replies, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘Things are looking up.’

‘You’re actually acknowledging your achievements?’ you gasp in mock outrage. ‘What have you done to Francisco Morales?’

With a shrug, he leans forward to put his empty beer bottle in the sink, but he doesn’t sit back. Instead, he sways even closer, one palm landing on the leather of your seat next to your knee, eyes darting to your lips. His voice is deep as he rasps, ‘Can I kiss you?’

It would be so easy to say yes, but when have you ever made things easy for yourself?

Instead, you blurt out, ‘Why?’

Frankie looks amused, like he expected this from you. Slowly, not wanting to spook you, he gently plucks the beer that you’ve barely drunk from your grasp.

‘Because all fucking night, while you were throwing woman after woman at me, I just wanted to have a drink with you.’

He leans in close.

You stop breathing.

‘Because since Wednesday, every time I wash my hair, I get hard thinking of you touching me.’

Closer still.

Your lungs ache.

‘And because when you told me to go harder, deeper - I nearly lost my fucking mind.’

He’s hovering over you now, and you can almost taste the bitter sweetness of the beer on his breath. He smirks at you, but there’s only warmth and mischief in it when he teases, ‘Speechless for once?’

‘Shut up, Morales,’ you breathe and grab him by the collar of his shirt.

And then you’re kissing him. You’re kissing Frankie, and he’s kissing you back.

It’s messy, and disorientating, and you clumsily fumble over each other until he’s sitting up in one of the chairs, with your thighs on either side of his narrow hips as you straddle him. He’s licking up into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, his hands gripping your sides almost painfully hard.

‘Is this really happening?’ you garble into his lips, ripping off his tie and undoing his shirt buttons as fast as your shaking fingers allow you to.

‘If you want it,’ he mumbles back, loath to pull back from you even for a second to shuck off his shirt. ‘If you want me.’

He kisses you wet and insistent, but he doesn’t push you, waiting for you to make up your mind. Reaching behind you, you tug on the tie that holds your jumpsuit together with a decisive pull, letting the fabric ripple down your bare front and pool around your waist.

Frankie bites his bottom lip so hard it goes white. ‘Fuck,’ he cusses, his grip on your hips twitching as he stares at your tits. ‘Can I, please -?’

‘Touch me, Francisco.’

Your poor second-hand Ikea bed that Benny helped set up when you moved in was not made for this.

This being the way Frankie effortlessly tosses you onto the mattress, his arms flexing with an easy strength that goes straight to your head, as you stare giddily up at him.

His hair - your handiwork - has been well and truly undone, errant strands falling over his eyes as he watches you, his broad frame looming over the foot of the bed. He pulls at his belt, which falls open with a careless clink, and he makes quick work of his now crumpled trousers, kicking them off impatiently.

Your head is swimming, yet somehow, you muster the strength to shuffle towards the edge of the bed, rearranging yourself to sit on your haunches, knees folded neatly beneath you. Boldly, you reach out to slide his dark boxers down his hips, and they fall around his knees and onto the floor. His cock springs free, half-hard and heavy, and Frankie swallows thickly as you tilt your face towards him.

‘I want to suck your cock.’

His eyes close as if he’s in pain, nostrils flaring at your words. Taking advantage of his distraction, you wrap one careful hand around his length, and he jerks violently at the first velvety slide of your palm against him.

‘Fuck, Shiv -’ he chokes, eyes flying open at the contact, pupils completely blown. He protests weakly, ‘No, stop, need to get you off first -’

You shoot him a lopsided smile, pumping him slowly, your pulse racing at the way you feel him swell in your grasp. ‘Can we not argue this one time?’

You lean forward and, holding his gaze, flatten your tongue and lick your way up the underside of his cock. His breath stutters, one big hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his eyes wide and almost frantic as you press open-mouthed kisses on his sensitive flesh.

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

He whimpers, and you know you have him.

His size is obvious by sight, but you really feel it in the pressure bearing down on the hinge of your jaw as you sink down on his cock, fighting to squeeze the girth of him into your mouth. The guttural groan from Frankie makes your pussy clench, and he tastes like he looks - clean, and all man.

There’s no way you can take all of him, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. He’s hot under your touch, muscles pulled taut with tension that you can feel thrumming under his skin as you take your time with him. Focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, you bob patiently up and down on him, slicking up his length with your spit, working him slightly deeper with every stroke - until you’re so full of him that you gag, hard.

Frankie is slack-jawed when you release him with an obscenely wet pop, spit trailing from your lips to the swollen tip of his cock, eyes wild as swipes his thumb across your puffy bottom lip.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he declares, almost solemnly.

Slinking down his front, one hand securely around the base of his cock, you take him between your lips again, moaning at the salty taste of his precum, which makes him quake above you. As you swallow his length and pump your fist in tandem, your spit wetting your fingers, you peer up at him through your lashes - nothing could’ve prepared you for the utter wreckage that you find on his face.

His lips are pulled back, baring his tidy teeth into a snarl as he very clearly struggles to hold himself back from fucking your mouth. You feel every bump and vein in his cock with each descent, the wet squelches filling in the gaps of his low grunts and moans. His grip in your hair stings as he starts panting in earnest above you, and somehow he gets even harder on your tongue, making it harder to breathe -

‘Stop, stop,’ he wheezes suddenly, pulling back in a hasty retreat that has you whining at the sudden loss of him. ‘C’mere.’

He practically hauls you up against him, kissing you deeply, delving into your mouth to taste the bitterness of himself on your tongue. The world tilts on its axis when he tips you back onto the bed, and holding himself above you, he peels the jumpsuit off, leaving you in just your panties.

‘Gonna eat you out, baby,’ he drawls by your ear, trailing one palm up your body, which stops at your tits and squeezes. ‘Get you good and ready to take my big cock. How does that sound?’

‘Fuck, yes, Frankie, please,’ you beg.

There’s no shyness when he pushes your legs up and apart, and instead of taking your panties off, he hooks a finger under the thin fabric and pulls it to the side, his eyes darkening as he stares down at you.

‘So pretty,’ he praises you lowly. Holding your breath as he sinks onto his front, you breathe heavily in anticipation as his shoulders slot neatly underneath your legs. ‘Look at how wet you are for me. All this from sucking my cock?’

You nod frantically. ‘Frankie -’

Straight to the point as always, he ducks his dark head and drags the broad of his tongue over your clit - and you’re gone.

Admittedly, you have not had the best experiences with your exes. There was always too much gratuitous moaning and too little finesse, and afterwards, they always act like they deserve a medal for failing to get you off. But even if your past lovers had been more adequate in the field, you’re sure it still wouldn’t have prepared you for this.

Frankie goes about it with a quiet focus that veers on reverential, the intensity in his dark eyes watching you makes your knees weak. He’s obviously picking up signs and reactions from you and adjusting his game plan accordingly, the pilot in him clearly in the driver’s seat.

Not that he’s silent - far from it, you feel the reverberation in your core with every satisfied hum deep in his chest, and the occasional, muttered fuck, so wet, want more in between licks and groans. But there’s nothing performative or showy about it, just a forthright competency that has you hurtling towards a toe-curling orgasm.

‘Frankie,’ you whine when you feel it about to hit. ‘Frankie Frankie Frankie -’

‘Eyes on me,’ he slurs against your sopping folds, and you listen - for once - watching him watch you fall apart on his tongue, thrashing in his hold as he grips you harder to keep you in place while he laps you up, until the burn of his patchy beard on your inner thighs makes you arch away from him from overstimulation.

Your pussy is still fluttering when he sinks two thick fingers into you, and he hisses at the way it clenches around him as he fucks you, leaving his digits slicked and slippery.

‘So tight, baby,’ he declares through gritted teeth, working you open for him. ‘Gonna feel so fucking good on my cock.’

You point towards the nightstand. ‘First drawer,’ you pant.

Needing no further prompting, Frankie yanks your panties off and flings the soaked scrap of fabric over his shoulder, then lunges at the cupboard where the condoms are. You scrape your nails over his thighs as he kneels over you, his usually steady hands visibly trembling as he tears into the wrapper and rolls the rubber over his heavy cock. He watches you with hooded eyes and settles between your legs, kissing you desperately as the swollen tip of him nudges at your entrance.

‘Ready?’ he asks, nose skimming yours sweetly.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him close. ‘Fuck me, Frankie.’

The first push is a tight squeeze, and you can’t help the wince at the slight pinch as he sinks into you slowly. With a grunt of effort, he buries face into the slope of your neck and breathes, ‘Fuuuuck. You ok?’

‘Give me a second,’ you gasp, feeling your walls throb tightly around his length. ‘You’re so big, Frankie.’

He tangles his tongue with yours lazily in a deep kiss, before brushing his way down your throat and sucking on one nipple, making you cry out. He murmurs against your skin, ‘I know, but you’re doing so well for me, baby.’

Shifting your hips, Frankie groans when you slide him in deeper, the friction making you quiver beneath him. ‘Move, Frankie, please.’

He starts carefully, his strokes measured and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch of him as he draws back then sinks back in, exhaling shakily. ‘You feel so fucking good.’

‘Harder,’ you demand when you feel your pussy relax around him. ‘Fuck me harder.’

‘Shit,’ he growls and snaps his hips, drawing a squeal from you as he hits somewhere deep inside. You wrap your legs around his waist, bracing yourself as he drives into you again and again and again, the bedframe hitting the wall with each thrust.

‘So good, Frankie,’ you plead in between hard pants. ‘Keep going. Don’t stop -’

Looking up at him, you admire the way his hair falls over his eyes, swaying with his movement. Absent-mindedly, your fingers wander into his curls and his reaction is instant - he cries out, arching into your touch, his hips faltering as he seems to lose his rhythm. ‘Oh fuck, baby, been thinking about those hands all fucking week, just wanted to feel you touch me again -’

As wrecked as you are on his cock, you smile at his confession and slide your hands languidly in his locks, dragging your nails on his scalp, your chest swelling with pride when you watch his face - dazed and completely wrecked - fucking you so hard that you’re sure the bed is about to break.

When he finds his voice again, it’s your real name that slips past his lips. ‘Gonna cum so hard, oh fuck - I’m gonna -’

Frankie’s thrusting frantically into you, eyes screwed shut until his hips stutter and then - after one perfect moment of stillness suspended in time - shudder after shudder thunder through his body, your name a broken record as he spills into the condom, his scratchy baritone moaning into your neck as the frenzied energy bleeds out of him.

His weight pins you to the bed as he catches his breath, and you play with his curls gently, basking in the rumbling purr in his chest as you run the strands between your fingers. Eventually, gathering himself, he rolls off you to let you breathe, tying the condom neatly and tossing it into the trash can.

For a second, Frankie lies on his side, watching you quietly. You watch him back, casting your gaze over the curls stuck to his sweaty forehead and his broad outline backlit by your nightstand light. Before self-consciousness can settle into the small distance between you, he cracks a smile and quips, ‘You did say I’d get laid even if it killed you.’

You laugh, which makes him grin. One strong arm reaches out to tuck you into his side, securely beneath the duvet. You hum at the tickle of his beard on the back of your neck and the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

Right on the cusp of sleep, you sass, ‘Guess you’ll have to split the winnings with me after all.’

Any other day, you would’ve woken up if you heard someone on the stairwell. Hell, you’d hear if they were knocking on the salon door downstairs.

When you’re rudely shaken awake by frantic knocking on the studio door, you realise it’s because your hearing has been impaired by the side of a very warm body smooshed into your ear.

‘Shiv! Open up! I need to leave in fifteen minutes for my photoshoot!’

‘Shit,’ you croak, throat dry, limbs flailing as you try to sit up. ‘I forgot about Benny.’

‘Fuck him’, grouses Frankie, pulling you back into his arms, eyes still closed.

‘I can’t, I promised to help him with his hair. Fuck, do we need to hide you, or -’

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

Frankie lets you go with a grumbled Benjamin fucking Miller under his breath, but he visibly perks up when you stumble out of bed naked.

You half-jokingly shield your boobs from his view. ‘Are you perving on me, Morales?’

He smirks, leaning back into the pillows with his hands folded behind his head while he eyes you appreciatively. It’s not fair how his triceps flex deliciously with the movement. ‘Why bother covering up? I’ve seen everything already.’

Trying - and failing - to shoot him a stern scowl, you pull on a robe and yank the door open, nearly careening backwards at the sight of Benny’s grinning face right in the doorway.

‘Since when did you bang paying customers?’ he demands in lieu of a good morning.

You roll your eyes and usher him downstairs. ‘He’s not a paying customer. He’s on Pope’s tab.’

Benny flops into his usual chair, making it squeak, one eyebrow up as he does the air quotes. ‘Well, I guess we now know what kind of friends you guys are.’

‘Shut up, Miller,’ you gripe, but your mouth twists into a grin, giving you away as you set up.

‘Damn, that good, huh?’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Fish does have a rep, but I've never had insider confirmation.’

You point your styling scissors at him menacingly. ‘Shut up, or I won’t be held responsible if my hands slip by accident.’

Benny feeds you a sugar donut while you work quickly, trimming the ends before styling it, going for a tousled bed head look. You hear the water pipes run upstairs and the carpeted floors creak when Frankie gets up. Trying to play it cool, you only briefly glance up, catching a glimpse of him in the mirror as he makes his way down the stairs in his rumpled shirt and trousers, zipping up the fly when he reaches the bottom.

‘Morning, stud,’ sing-songs Benny, which earns him a slap on the head. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Shiv!’

Frankie loiters behind you for a second, scratching the back of his neck, before pulling you to one side. Not that it affords you much privacy anyway, with Benny wriggling his eyebrows impertinently at the two of you in the mirror.

‘I - uh -,’ he starts haltingly, one hand rubbing at the silver patch in his beard sheepishly. ‘I had a really good time last night.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ you smile.

His voice dipping lower, he asks, ‘Can I take you out to dinner sometime?’

Benny, being the shithead that he is, interjects loudly. ‘Hey lovebirds, I’m kind of on the clock here, if you don’t mind -’

‘She’ll get to you when she gets to you, Benjamin,’ snaps Frankie, one hand on his hip and the other pointing a stern finger at him.

Something about him being so assertive sends heat running up and down your spine. Stepping into his space - beaming when he doesn’t back away - you smooth a palm over the front of his shirt, unintentionally catching the rabbiting of his heart underneath.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug nonchalantly. ‘Do you intend to come back as a cash-paying customer?’

His eyes flash with want, one hand closing around your hip and he leans down to let his heated words brush by your ear. ‘Not if I can keep paying in other ways.’

Reaching up, you run a hand through his curls, preening at the way he closes his eyes at your touch. ‘Alright then, take me to dinner, Francisco.’

Peering around you, Frankie barks, ‘Miller, I’m cashing in on our bet.’

‘Fuck’s sake. I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,’ he gripes, digging into his wallet reluctantly.

Swiping the bill from Benny, Frankie winks at you before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth - chaste, but charged with meaning. ‘Looks like you paid for your own dinner, Shiv.’

With a roll of your eyes, you shake your head and playfully push him towards the door. ‘Get outta here before I change my mind!’

‘Yeah right - as if you would now that you know what you’ll be missing.’

You’re not sure which makes your jaw drop - his cocksure declaration or the roguish confidence with which he walks out the door. In either case, Benny howls with laughter as you struggle to stay on your feet, your kneecaps having been rendered completely useless.

Just as Frankie climbs into his truck, Ashton whistles to a stop outside the salon on his wheels. Jaw dropping at the sight of the disheveled pilot nodding at him through the windscreen, he abandons his bike right on the curb and dashes into the salon, the door banging against the wall as he rushes in.

‘Excuse me - what the fuck did I just miss?’ he demands frantically.

You roll your eyes. ‘Calm down, Ashton, it’s not what it looks like -’

‘It’s exactly what it looks like,’ interrupts Benny as he starts singing. ‘Shiv and Frankie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-’

He breaks off with a yelp when you stuff a donut into his mouth to shut him up, sugar flying everywhere as Ashton picks you up and spins you around, squealing like a banshee the entire time.

‘You guys are the fucking worst,’ you laugh, out of breath by the time Ashton lets you go.

Glancing outside, where Frankie is still parked watching the whole embarrassing episode, he gives you one last wink and an amused grin before he pulls away from the curb.

In an almost exact repeat of the scene from a few days ago, Ashton joins you at the window, and the two of you watch, shoulder to shoulder, as Frankie smoothly steers his truck out of your street.

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

You grin. You know you are - and luckily, it’s not a spot of bother that you’ll be in a hurry getting out of anytime soon.

Notes: I'm so excited to have finally completed this little two-shot. The two of them have been hanging out in my head all these months, it feels amazing to finally yeet this part into the world! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you had as much fun as I did with these two 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ❤️

Now that I've got you here, if you want more of Shiv, I wrote some silly little drabbles of her hair appointments with our handsome Pedro boys for a recent milestone celebration. There are also some fun thoughts that came out of an impromptu Grays sleepover we had last week 🤍

I'm sure we'll see more of Shiv and Frankie somewhere down the line. For now, thank you again, I love you all so much ❤️

#fuckyeahgrays2 #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales twoshot #frankie catfish morales fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie friday

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 days

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fairest city food culture

This is a supplementary post to continue off of this larger TWST food culture compilation post (as that one is getting super long as is). Here, I'll cover all the new food-related lore dropped about the Shaftlands and specifically about Fairest City, which features in the Tapis Rouge event.

Shaftlands

Macarons are one of the Shaftlands' signature sweets. Cream and raspberry, as well as lychee, are the popular flavors at the moment.

Macarons can be frozen so recipients can eat them fresh.

There are people who collect the stylish boxes that macarons come in.

According to Vil, mixing flavored syrups with carbonated liquids is common in the Shaftlands.

Stewed foods are the Shaftlands' specialty. This is because there are many stories about the Fairest Queen preparing many foods in a pot.

Apples are the most popular fruit in the Shaftlands. They are used for drinks, desserts, jams, and even savory meal items.

Fairest City

There are few food stands in Fairest City. This is because eating on the streets is seen as bad manners.

There is a strong cafe culture.

Fairest City is famous for its cuisine and sweets. Their sweets in particular are well developed due to the city's cafe culture.

Sweets with a pleasant appearance are popular. The most famous of patisseries make sweets which are like pieces of art.

Some sweets featured in famous patisseries include tarts, chocolate, mousse, macarons, brioche, roll cakes, financiers, mille-feuilles, and cakes shaped like apples with apple sauce inside, caramel apples, etc.

A specialty of Fairest City is "cream puff rings", which are cream puffs in ring shapes. They are meant to resemble wheels on rail cars, since Fairest City is located near mines. It is said that the cream puff rings (which is filled with a thick, high-calorie cream) were originally given to hard-working miners to restore their energy.

Luxury stores may offer amenities in addition to providing their services or helping customers shop. For example, staff may offer VIP clients drinks or chocolates.

Fairest City’s hotels have swanky restaurants built into them for guests to dine in. The fanciest of eating establishments are five star restaurants that have full sets of cutlery and napkins which you unfold and place in your lap.

Fancy dining establishments offer food à la carte (ordered by the plate) and prix fixe style (picking your courses from a predetermined selection).

There is a drink called “Diabolo Menthe” served in Fairest City. It is a spearmint flavored syrup mixed with a slightly carbonated liquid. Very refreshing! (This is most likely a reference to the potion that the Evil Queen drinks to transform into an old woman.)

Eric Venue, Vil’s famous movie star father, uses a five-star restaurant to cater buffets for his movie shoots for every 6 hours of work. They also have snacks and drinks on demand (“craft services”), which includes coffee, milk, tea, juice, chocolate, fruits, and pancakes and waffles. Lots of light foods!

Many dishes at high-class eateries are French. For example, hors d’oeuvres might include escargot (snails), foie gras de canard (duck foie gras), and terrine a la campagne (country-style terrine). Courses are also named in French (viande and poisson courses, etc.).

Some dishes served include boeuf bourguignon (a beef and red wine stew) filet mignon de porc aux pruneaux (a pork filet with dried plum; it is made with pig heart, bouillon, and sauce), and flounder poêlé (flounder with an herb sauce). The beef bourguignon is a favorite dish in the five-star hotel restaurant that caters for Eric Venue.

Pork, especially the heart, is prized meat in Fairest City. Many of its dishes are pork-based. There is a story about how the Fairest Queen needed a heart for one of her potions and had her huntsman hunt as a tribute to her; the filet mignon de porc aux pruneaux dish was born from this legend.

The restaurant that caters for Eric Venue has a specialty dessert called tart fine pomme. It is a thin tart with slices apples. The restaurant uses the highest quality of apples (from Harveston), which are grown in a special soil, for their dishes and drinks.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst resource #twisted wonderland resource #notes from the writing raven #tapis rouge in the shaftlands spoilers

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luveline · 11 months

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JADEEEE I love roan so much can we please have a mother daughter day??? And Roan tells everything they did to Eddie as soon as they get home and he’s just so happy that you love roan so much !!!!!

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly step)mom!reader

"What is it called again?" Roan asks.

You smile down at her little beatific grin, knowing that she knows and knowing that she wants you to say it again. "It's called a mother-daughter day. Where moms and their daughters spend the whole day doing mom and daughter stuff, like manicures and haircuts and coffee. Or, cake. No coffee for you, princess."

Eddie's blow dried Roan's hair so that almost all of her curls agave been straightened, and the dark length of it fans over her shoulders, soft as spun silk. He dropped you and Roan off in the centre of Hawkins town to spend a day with Wayne (that you called a father-son day, and he called chores day —Wayne's not taking me out for shopping and treats, sweetheart, he's gonna break my back in the yard).

The very first port of call, you decide, is hair. You take Roan into a quiet hair stylist's where you'd made two appointments, her smaller hand swinging in yours. The room is cool but inviting, and it doesn't take much convincing to get her into one of the chairs.

"What do we want?" the hairdresser asks, bending down on Roan's left and meeting her eyes in the mirror.

You do the same to her right. "We don't want much cut off, do we, Ro?"

You'd already talked about it with her yesterday, wanting to make sure she doesn't have anything done that she doesn't want, or anything Eddie doesn’t approve of.

"No, just the little bit," Roan says.

"Can she have a wash and blow dry, too?" you ask. "She has the most beautiful curls when it's dry. We only did it like this today so she could see how much was being cut off."

The hairdresser agrees with gusto. A second hairdresser comes along to do your hair, and it's a good thing you'd wanted Roan to have the full treatment, because you almost mess your own up constantly by turning in your chair to speak with Roan's hairdresser about what it is their doing.

When you're finished, you're not shy about standing watch. The hairdresser is a sweetheart, fawning over Roan's pleased face as she rubs shampoo into her scalp over the sink. "Hey, Ro," you greet, "you look like you're enjoying yourself."

"Hi, mom."

"She's as good as gold," the hairdresser praises, "she's so polite."

Roan shies away at the praise, worse when you agree. "She's my greatest love," you confess, "that's why I'm spoiling her today, because she deserves it for being so good all the time."

Roan absolutely still tantrums. She misbehaves as every kid does, she hates vegetables, she makes those silly potions in the bathroom and she breaks things on purpose. But she's still a great kid. She deserves more than a special day. You'd treat her to this stuff all the time if you could.

When Roan's hair has been dried and moussed with a diffuser, you pay your (unfortunately large) debts and compliment her all the way to the cafe.

"Sweetheart, you look so beautiful, I wish I could show your dad right now, your curls haven't looked this bouncy and shiny in ages," you say, stroking a rogue one from her cheek.

"I think you look beautiful, too," she says, almost walking into a woman coming from the cafe door.

You pull her into your legs to avoid collisions and lead her through the door. "Thanks, baby," you say. If you were at home you'd grab her up, kiss her chubby cheeks, and maybe cry a little bit, but instead you take her to a nice table and buy her two different slices of over-expensive cake. One slice of triple chocolate fudge cake, and one slice of toffee cake with caramel buttercream. You tuck napkins into the collar of her nice dress and tie her hair back, fingertips sliding gently against her scalp as you pull it away from her face. She's extremely enthusiastic, spoon to her mouth before you've managed two loops of her scrunchie.

"Eat up, princess," you say, stroking her shoulders clean of lint and stray hairs. "We have a super busy day still waiting for us."

And the day is super, super long. It's night time by the time you and Roan get home via Hawkins lone taxi cab. Poor Eddie's literally waiting on the porch swing.

"Holy crap, girls, I thought you were gonna call me," he says, rushing down the path to help with your shopping bags.

"Dad, you're not supposed to see how much money mom spended," Roan declares, running around him on the path with a couple of bags in her clutches. "Don't worry, I'll hide them!"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, waiting until you've thanked the driver and started up the path before asking, "I'm not supposed to see how much money you spent?"

"That's a joke," you say. "You know, it happens on TV. I thought it was part of the mommy-daughter experience."

"Oh, gotcha." He sidles in close to you as you take the few steps up to your door, not-so-subtly taking the shopping bags out of your left hand. "You look fucking beautiful, in case you don't know. Your hair is so pretty."

"They barely did anything to my hair." You're not disparaging your stylist, she did exactly as you asked. It looks the same as always, but freshened up.

"And yet."

You step into the house and shut the door behind you. Eddie places your bags off to the side and turns to you for a hug rather than a kiss. He's maddeningly sweet like that. He hugs you so tightly that your back crunches.

"Missed you… Thank you for taking her out today. I love how much you love her," he says against your cheek, punctuating with a quick kiss. "I thought you'd be home hours ago."

"How was Wayne?" you ask through laughter.

"Healthy enough to put me to work."

You cup his cheek. "And how are you?"

"Tired. Please tell me you bought me a present."

"We bought you lots of presents," you say. "You might want to sit down."

Eddie grins like a kid at Christmas, sweeping the bags into one arm and all but yanking your wrist from its socket as he pulls you to the living room with the other. You laugh as the two of you collapse into the couch, Eddie shouting, "Roan, come back, sweetheart! You don't have to hide anything you've got, just let me see your hair!" He rubs your arm. "She went off so fast I didn't see it. Have they scalped my girl?"

Roan tramples back down the stairs like a stampede all by herself. She races around the couch and onto the armrest on Eddie's side, a struggle but one she manages with enthusiasm.

"Okay, daddy, lookit. Mom told them to give me the sparkles and stuff," —she holds up her hands to showcase her painted nails— "aren't they the prettiest ever? Ever ever?"

Her nails are small, and every inch has been decorated. Black polish at her own insistence encrusted with pink-white gems that sparkle when she wiggles them. Eddie likes her nails, but he loves her hair, combing her hair with two gentle hands at once. "Aw, sweetheart," he murmurs, "you look so pretty, they've given you your curls back." He looks at you. "How did they do that? I swear her curls don't bounce up like that even when I try my hardest anymore."

You lift a bag into his lap. "I got some stuff on the hairdresser's recommendation. We can do it at home."

He holds her little face carefully. "It's like when she was a baby."

"Dad," Roan says severely, pulling his hands from her face, "we don't have time for crying. You haven't seen my new dresses."

He pulls himself together with the help of your comforting hand on his thigh. "I'm not crying, you just look so pretty, Roro. And forget dresses, I want presents."

"Y/N took me to Masy Daisy."

Eddie looks at you out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe I don't want to know how much you spent after all."

"It wasn't so bad, handsome," you say warmly, dropping your cheek into his shoulder. "They really were beautiful. Every one she tried on…"

"How many did she try on?" he asks, like he’s scared of the answer.

"Just a couple… with matching shoes. And cardigans.”

Eddie sighs and leans back. “Best get the fashion show started, Roanie. Sounds like we’re gonna be here a while.”

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miwsolovely · 2 months

Text

—ONLY FOR YOU

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: moose, mousse, basically the same thing, tastes so good, but so hard to make.. Carmy disagrees. apple donuts on the other hand, those were delicious. and conveniently easy.

contains: nothing but fluff, culinary inaccuracies, carmy teaching reader how to make apple donuts, aaaaandd reader is a bit of a perfectionist …

wc: 986

a/n: i literally pulled this shit outta my ass, lemme know your thoughts ! requested!

a/n 2: i thought this worked sososo well with carmy im so happy. i fucked up the end though zzz (requests r open !)

a/n 3: heres the link for the apple donut recipe !!

He made her feel alive. Made her think about how she should do her hair, what perfume to wear, how to smile, how to laugh, how to breathe.

It was random. Nobody intends to fall for someone so quick, however the only way out was to love. Or die crying.

[name] thinks its a universal problem. The need to be perfect for those you love, for those you want to love.

In doing so, making yourself perfect, you want everything to be perfect.

She became a chef because she loves food. Loves the simplicity of it, loves the complexity of it. Loves how feelings can be conveyed through it.

Which is what she is trying to do now: perfect the art of making a strawberry mousse.

It took a lot of tries, too many tries, and on the 8th [name] finally gave up.

She heaved out a sigh, placed her forearms on the kitchen counter and a bit harshly, dropped her head onto them.

She added everything. the egg whites, the yolk, the vanilla extract, the heavy cream, the—

“You alright chef?”

She opened her eyes but kept her head buried in her arms. But when she looked up, her face went blank for a second. Not knowing what to say.

“Yeah totally fine, just made a billion different flavored mousse for your birthday.”

“No, I wanted to confess to you using these stupid mousse, but it all went to shit.”

“No, I’m not okay; you don’t love me.”

“Yeah—I uhm, I’m fine I was just,” She finally stood up straight and was messing with her apron. “Messin’ with some stuff . . .”

Her head was lowered slightly. Picking at her lip with her nails as she tried to avoid his gaze.

She saw his feet carry his body to her. Was eye level with his chest when he was a foot away from her.

“Can I try em’?”

[name] paused. This is new.

For the past month or so, yes they’ve exchanged flirty conversations and teasing smiles and laughs, but not like this. Not so close, not so intimate.

She looked up and she felt as if the world was revolving around her for a moment.

“If you want to! I mean, it’s not really . . .” She paused. He was already reaching for a clean spoon, looking at her with those eyes.

“ . . . that good . . .” She finished. Right as he took, and ate, a spoonful of the strawberry mouse she made.

They both stood there. [name] was waiting for his reaction of the dish. And Carmy, he was trying to stop his mouth from watering.

“Not that good?” He said after recovering. “I—Chef this shit is amazing—”

He turned his head to the left away from her dish and suddenly they were eye to eye.

She could imagine, live in what his scent was. He’d smell of cigarettes and vanilla and cinnamon. A weird combination but [name] thought it’d smell good on him.

[name] opened her mouth about to say something then—

“Do you know how to make apple donuts?”

If she thought she was speechless now, [name] was more at a loss for words than she had ever been in her life.

“A—Apple donuts . . .?” She blinked. “Wh—huh?”

Carmen smiled.

***

They spent the past an hour finding, washing and cutting apples. They spent another hour prepping, and cutting flour to put into the apples.

“You’re telling me I have to cut a hole into this apple?”

“Well, that’s the idea, yeah,” Carmy confirmed. He took [name]’s hands in his and guided her. “Here, let me show you.”

Those were, the best hours of her life.

Sure there was sugar, cinnamon and flour everywhere, but it was fun. Refreshing even. To laugh and smile without a care in her heart.

***

The sun had set a long time ago, and it was just them, together in the kitchen. Them and kitchen filled with their smiles and longing touches.

Now, after hours of talking, they were cleaning the mess they made. [name] was doing the dishes and Carmen was cleaning the counter top.

She was rinsing the last dish when she heard Carmen clear his throat.

“Hey,” he said, “I was . . . thinking,”

[name] turned around from her place at the sink and met his eyes.

“Thats a first.” She smiled, teasing. “Thought you just do, not think.”

Carmen smiled and played with his knuckles, placing them on his lip.

“Okay, okay then uhm— would you like to go to dinner with me?” He questioned. Eyes never leaving hers.

“You know Bear,” She walked up to him and placed her hands behind her back. “I really thought you’d never ask.” She teased.

Carmy let out a chuckle and tried to hide his smile with his fist. “You—you’re really bold, you know that?”

[name] smiled and took his fist in his, uncurling his fingers and giving each its own kiss. “Only for you Berzatto.”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

#✿﹒the bear masterlist—📁﹒ ✧#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #x reader #fem!reader

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izvmimi · 6 months

Text

cw: mildly suggestive. todo and yuuji are besties, you and todo are besties. todo and reader are black-coded.

The doorbell to your apartment rings on a Sunday evening and you look up from where you’re parting the last section of Todo’s hair to the door. Todo hasn’t shifted his gaze for a second, eyes glued to the TV and you wonder if he’s even registered that someone’s at the door. Takada, once again, takes precedence over anything you can offer him.

“Hey,” you tap the end of your rat-tail comb at his forehead, considering knocking his shoulders with your knees as well if that doesn’t work. “Someone’s at the door.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” He murmurs. His hand dips into a bowl of popcorn settled on his crossed legs. You frown.

“You’re really gonna let me get jumped in my own apartment?” You ask. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“If semi-grade 1s are getting dropped by petty burglars, the problem is not something I can fix.”

You roll your eyes, and shift, moving your legs from where he sits to move towards the door, but you notice a text on your phone from Yuuji. Your pulse quickens just for a moment.

Hey, I was in the neighborhood, just wanted to swing by.

“It’s Yuuji,” you tell Todo, like he can do something that matters about it.

“Let bro in,” he replies, still making no move to get up himself, entranced by the sway of Takada’s hips in HD quality. You consider moving, then instead text him the code so you can continue working on Aoi’s kamikaze twists, and Yuuji lets himself in with the passcode. You’re watching the door when he comes in, applying pomade to Todo’s scalp and beginning to twist when Yuuji finds his way to the two of you.

For just a moment, he grimaces when he finds the two of you, but his look is quickly replaced by a nervous smile.

“Uh… am I interrupting something?”

You blink, confused. Todo finally looks up from the screen, stretching out his legs and leaning his body back on his hands, and as the back of his head finds itself dangerously close to your crotch you realize what Yuuji is talking about.

Braiding or twisting hair can be surprisingly intimate. A shift of your legs, and a turn of Aoi’s neck and he could be eating you out right now. It doesn’t help that you’re dressed in very little more than an oversized t-shirt and ridden up biker shorts, and buddy is allergic to shirts. Your face warms.

“What?! No!”

Your hands work quickly to finish a twist as Yuuji moves in closer, watching how your fingers glide through the sections of Aoi’s hair, his other hand effortlessly performing one of Todo’s complicated ass handshakes.

“Beer?” Todo asks, offering one as Yuuji sits on the floor too, next to Todo, still watching you carefully. Suddenly you’re embarrassed, fidgeting and murmuring for Todo to straighten his back so that you can close your legs shut. Todo argues that it’s uncomfortable and he has no idea why you’re moving so much while Yuuji cracks open the drink offered to him and sips quietly.

You bicker longer, especially after you intentionally pull a few strands, a little tighter than usual to prove a point, and Yuuji watches carefully, curiosity warming his brown eyes. Minutes later, Todo hands you a spray can and you rub mousse over your work.

“I can’t line you up,” you remind Todo, although you are proud of your work so far. He’s not too rusty with a pair of clippers himself, and has brought them with him.

“Not with those suddenly shaky ass hands,” he says, finally getting up after a pass of his hands, through his hair. Your cheeks warm again, and you look to Yuuji helplessly, hoping that he hasn’t picked up the implication that your crush makes you nervous. Yuuji is oblivious, after all, it’s not a secret that he likes you, only that it isn’t as one-sided as you seem to make it be.

Yuuji reaches for Aoi’s twists instinctively, and gets a gentle swat of his hand.

“Takada only.”

Yuuji rolls his eyes, then looks at you. You’ve finally relaxed your stance, and your legs now tucked under you on the couch. He thinks for a moment, then shifts into the space where Todo sat, settling into the comfortable cushion like a cat. You and Todo both look at him for a moment, and he grins.

“Me next.”

Todo pauses, then literally doubles over in a guffaw. “The hell you mean, you next?”

“What!? Why can’t I have dreads?”

Todo laughs even harder. “No, because you’re calling them dreads.”

Yuuji looks to you for support but you’re too torn between stifling a laugh and the idea of Yuuji sitting between your thighs as well, your fingers running delicately through his hair.

“Why him and not me?” He insists, pouting.

“Because you’d look ridiculous.”

“Okay,” he says. He turns to you again, and grins. “Do anything you wouldn’t think looks ridiculous.”

Your heart thumps.

“I don’t have any tools for your hair type,” you say softly. Todo rummages through his bag and tosses a container of gel at you, then walks away.

“Go crazy,” he teases, then disappears into your bathroom to clean up his hair, and you are left to give Yuuji what he wants, care and attention to his scalp, and some equal time close to you.

#yuji x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji x reader #daydreams: jjk #mimi’s notes

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merakicard · 6 months

Text

after he rejected you, you couldn’t bear to see him so you left the tokyo manji gang permanently.

now, you own a bakery but, you still loved him, truly.

the bell rang, and you greeted the customer while placing the display cakes in the display cabinet. “welcome! what would you-” you dropped the cake on the floor. it was…draken? but, there was rumors that he was in prison…how could be in front of you? you had to keep your composure. “what would you like?” you said shakily. “the chocolate mousse cake please, (n/n).” he said your nickname, which made you even more nervous. “please don’t call me that..” you whispered, and he smiled.

“what are you here for, draken?” you asked in a clearer tone than before. “I can’t come in your shop for a cake?” he asked with a little giggle. you swallowed your nervousness. “wait in the lounge, and your cake will be out in a second, may I get your name?” he raised an eyebrow, confused as to why you asked for his name. “ken ryuguji, but you already knew that.”

he waited in the lounge until you walked out with his cake, and placed it on the table in front of him. “have a nice day sir, come again!” you smiled, but he knew it was fake. “I’m not leaving until you say it, and I have all night.” you didn’t really have anything to say to him. “then stay here all night, I’m not coming back and I’m not listening to what you have to say.”

“me and emma broke up after you left, she cheated.” he stood up, and you looked away. “you don’t have to hide your emotions anymore, you’ve looked so empty these past years.” he said looking into your eyes, biting his lip. “can we go and talk outside? I need to have a smoke.” you nodded slowly, taking off your apron and walking outside with him. “you want a cigarette?” you shake your head no. “I…I don’t smoke anymore.” he made a surprised noise as he lit the cigarette. “how have things been with the gang?” he looks over at you, and back at the cigarette. “this isn’t about them, it’s about us.”

you hated when he said that, and he used to always say it. but it was true, you had always tried to change the subject. “is it because you thought me and emma would get married or shit knows whatever that you left?” you shook your head no. “I just couldn’t…face you after I got my heart broken.” you smiled with a sad laugh. he stared at you and all he could think was ‘i did fuck up bad, didn’t I?’ he dropped the cigarette, stepped on it and held your hand. ��can I tell you something?” you nodded, your hand shaking in his. “I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

you smiled but small, and replied. “kiss me then.”

don’t ask what happened to the cake that fell.

#anime and manga #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x reader #sub tokyo revengers #draken #draken x reader #ken ryuguji #ken ryuuguji x reader #ryuguji ken x reader #tokyoreven #tokyo rev headcanons #fluff #tr fluff #merakicard

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 2 months

Text

02/19/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew; Rhys Darby; Con O'Neil; Kristian Nairn; Samba Schutte; Wee John Wondays; LubeAsACrew; Stats/Trends; Fan Spotlight; Engagement Prompts; LoveNotes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

Hey All, today's been an off day for me, so please let me know if I've missed something. Hope you all had fun!

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

== Rhys Darby ==

Well, our goofball of a captain is back with more Red Dead Redemption II, check out Part 2 below:

youtube

Rhys also did comedy at Bourbon Room Hollywood last week, and = tmiddendorfphoto on IG captured quite a lot of photos of his set. Feel free to visit them:

== Con O ' Neill ==

Whoops! I had this prepped for yesterday then completely forgot, sorry Con! Con was out seeing BettyRules in NYC!

== Wee John Wonday ==

Kristian had Samba on WJW Today! Lots of cool stuff they chatted above! If you're unable to watch right now, there's a small breakdown of various high points below:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kristian Nairn (@kristiannairn)

instagram

Highlights/Things We Learned:

Samba baby's name is Ocean

Samba was kind enough to stand in for WJW when someone else had to drop off for work.

Samba loves giving Kristian middle names: Kristian Victoria Nairn / Kristian Alexander Nairn / Kristian Valaria Nairn, Kristian Venereal Disease Nairn / Kristian Damien Nairn / Kristian Nicholas Nairn / Kristian Tabitha Nairn

There were live doves that would shit on you on set, and they shat on Samson

Kristian was a professional Chef

Samba wants to do Cryptic Factor w/Rhys

Samba is big into ufo's and cryptids

Kristian is also into paranormal stuff

Kristian - In New Zealand saw weird things on the lawn of his rental place (weird creatures focused on the balcony of his room)

David Fane - ate all the cheese in Calypso's Birthday

They really appreciate all the fans trying to save OFMD and would LOVE to get a season 3, even if only for 2 hours.

Samba would like ot do a bts/blooper combo but has to get permission first

For the wrap party, the cast members got each other gifts:

Samson got everyone crocs

EDIT: David Fane gave them Samoan necklaces (ty @denizbevan)!

Kristian said his "Gifts got stolen"

Samba gave them pictures / BTS videos

Q: Who was most elusive in regards to BTS?

Joel - also Ewan

Q: Favorite Soup?

Sambas favorite Soup - Chicken Noodle (chicken soup)

Kristian's favorite Soup - Cream of Tomato

Q: Did anything change with Roach in S2?

Yes, he became softer / trusting

Q: Lots of great energy and hanging out between crew members and family, (not something often seen) what do you think led to that?

Casting director Alison Jones - awesome at casting

Energy on set was positive and acceptance from the get go that helped

Sailing training, stunt training, sword fighting together helped bonding

Everyone on the cast was odd, and people moved out together so lots of small found family situations

Long hours together

Note: Stede's story time everyone is actually asleep, cause they've been up for like 18 hrs

Q: What's your favourite dessert, that you could live off forever?

Roach - Chocolate Mousse, really fluffy and airy

Kristian - Black Forest Cake

Q: What was best part of working in New Zealand?

8 hr days instead of 18 hrs days

Nature was gorgeous

Maori Elders did a land blessing

Q: Roach played a lot of roles, what do you think was his main role?

Cook, Doctor, therapist in that order.

Q: Would Aamba release a cookbook?

If enough interest, Yes - OFMD Cast Favorite Cookbook

And Mac and cheese recipe

Cakes and desserts

Q: What's it like being a new dad?

Amazing , no time to catch breath, feeling a lot of protectiveness and excitement and energy to step up and take care of the kiddo So fulfilling, Sambas a great dad.

Original Script / Deleted Scene Stuff:

In original script: Roach was going to end up with the crew of revenge, but then changed the script cause Samba would look like a kid who stole his dads jacket, so Frenchie was cap

Originally Zheng called the crew "beta" instead of "tender" but they changed it.

Innkeeper deleted scenes:

Everyone's eating soup on deck, roach was supposed to be serving people soup, and Fang says "Ah, Leroy, I'm so glad you're alive?" and Lucius goes "I'm sorry do you think my name is Leroy?"

Oluwande was crying, Jim asks if he was, he says no he gets that thing when he's around grass, and Jim says "A yeah lots of grass around here"

Other deleted scene:

Kristian saying "its sizest" doing big guy stuff

And roach says he's stuck doing tall skinnhy guy stuff

Pete asks if he's stuck doing bald guy stuff

More Deleted scenes:

Ewan zip lines over first and yells: "I was born to fly"

Roach zip line screams quietly cause they tell him to be quiet, and then he lands and says, "why its so sticky I wanna go back", and he tries to get back on the rope but Frenchie flys in and knocks him over.

Another Delete scene:

Wee John was going to dress up as cupid, would have encouraged Stede and Ed, who would have danced to "At Last" and then when and boned.

== Samba BTS ==

In honor of Wee John Wonday's, Samba added some more BTS starring Kristian, and shared the video he talked about in WJW regarding Kristian's birthday.

== Lube As A Crew ==

Astroglide sent @Seven_Sugars a carepackage for a lovely review!

== Stats Stats Stats / Trends ==

Thank you @meowzawowza_ as usual for the awesome insight!

Trends! Thank you @merryfinches and @debphotog for catching these!

== Fan Spotlight ==

For those of you not on twitter, you may not have seen @wndrngnomad's collage's she's been doing each day for the cast members! They go back quite a while so I'll add them all to the repo, but they kind enough to give me permission to share them with the everyone outside of twitter!

== Engagement Prompts ==

Over on Instagram @saveofmdcrewmates have some engagement prompts for tomorrow: #CrossoverCruesday. Time to switch it up! What is your fantasy crossover beween another show and OFMD? Crossover AU anyone?

== Articles ==

Special thanks to @heide79728 on Twitter for sharing all these international headlines!

HBO MAX "praised the loyal audience that engaged with the series and contributed to building an interactive community around it." - Article in Arabic

"14 Recommended Series-fans are already deeply engaged in a massive campaign to encourage another network to buy the rights and produce another season to give the story the ending it deserves" - Article in Hebrew

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies.

Have you had any water lately? Did you get to go outside and take a walk? Please remember that you need breaks sometimes, even if they're only a few minutes here or there.

You deserve rest-- and when things get rough, your brain needs a couple minutes to reset. Remember to take care of yourself and practice some self-care.

Self care means fun too!

Do something you enjoy that makes you smile. I'm not a fan of sticker/sticky things-- but I know a lot of people who love googly-eyes so I figured this was appropriate.

Anyway, gnight/gday crew, have a lovely one.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

I think I've done this Darby one on these recaps before, but I needed to have a theme tonight, and the them is well, I think you know. Yes that is Taika in the stash, from "Boy".

#Instagram #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #our flag means death #adopt our crew #save ofmd #ofmd #taika waititi #samba schutte #con o'neill #david fane #joel fry #ewen bremner #rhys darby #ofmd bts

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milfsloverblog · 8 months

Note

could I ask for you to share a bit of the sugar mommy Larissa fic ? please 💛

Absolutely you can!! And since you asked so nicely, I’m giving you a bigger snippet! 🫶

The waiter looked down at you expectantly and you were about to place your order when the tall woman’s voice cut you off.

“She will have the seared foie gras as an entrée, followed by the filet mignon - medium rare - with grilled asparagus, and the passion fruit mousse for dessert.” Larissa said, her sapphire eyes looking at you over the menu. “We’ll share a bottle of Don Melchor.”

Your mouth dropped open on its own accord. First she had picked your whole outfit down to your panties, and now this. I want control, you remembered her telling you. You would never admit how turned on you were as you closed your menu and handed it back to the waiter.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #gwendoline christie

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

Text

Kryptonians and French Tarts // J. Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes! @afrolatinosuperfam

WARNINGS: mentions of injuries but nothing detailed

Summary: After being injured in a fight, you go to Wayne Manor to get some help watching Jon for the night. Luckily, a certain vigilante is also benched at home.

“Okay, you’re going to behave, right? No destroying priceless art. No antagonizing anyone. Respect Mr. Pennyworth,” your mother dictated as she led the procession of your family towards the towering manor before you.

“Yeah, yeah.” You adjusted your little brother on your hip and flashed your mom an innocent smile. “No letting Jon turn into Jack Jack from the Incredibles.”

Your mom let out a quiet “you’re going to be the death of me” as she climbed the stairs to the front door. It swung open before she could knock, revealing Mr. Pennyworth.

“Miss Lane, Mx. Y/N, young Mister Jon,” he greeted. “I trust the drive from Metropolis went well.”

“Yes, Alfred. Thank you so much for doing this.” By “this”, she meant giving you and Jon a place to stay in Gotham while she attended a journalism conference. Your dad and Uncle Bruce were off at the watchtower saving the world again while your other brother, Kon, was in San Francisco at Titans Tower, working on some case that Tim had found. Which left you and Jon all alone.

While this normally wouldn’t be a problem, you had experienced an unfortunate run in with some kryptonite on what would be a routine patrol of Metropolis. Lex Luthor had other plans, of course, and the kryptonite had knocked you through a building. Your father had appeared seconds later, dripping with righteous anger and rage, and Aunt Diana took care of the kryptonite. Unfortunately, your powers hadn’t fully developed yet so the healing process was taking longer than it would for Kon or your dad. Your parents didn’t want you and Jon to be alone in your apartment when he was still developing his powers and you were benched.

So, here you were at Wayne Manor with a superpowered baby brother who was currently squirming in an attempt to get out of your grasp. You sighed and leaned down to let Jon free, wincing at the ache in your ribs.

“Master Damian is in his room,” Alfred informed Jon. “I believe he mentioned something about introducing you to our new cow.”

“Sweet! Thanks, Alf!” Jon raced out of sight and you huffed out a laugh. That kid had boundless amounts of energy.

“Alright, I’m off. Be good. Behave. Don’t strain yourself,” your mom ordered. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and dropped a kiss to your forehead. “Thanks again, Alfred.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Lane.” The door shut behind your mother and Alfred turned to you. “I have a new recipe I’ve been working on if you would like to assist me in the kitchen.”

You followed after him into the depths of the manor. You had been here plenty of times over the years, but it never failed to surprise you at the sheer size and ostentatious beauty of the place. It felt like something out of Pride and Prejudice when Lizzie toured through Pemberley.

“I was finally able to convince Beverly to share her french tart recipe,” Alfred explained. “It was as if she were hiding the code to Fort Knox. For someone who can barely create a passable mousse, I must begrudgingly admit defeat against her tarts.”

“You’re an honest man, Alfred Pennyworth.” You snagged one of the strawberries from the bowl he had set up on the counter. “How are the ladies?”

He launched into a detailed explanation of his knitting club and their recent exploits as the two of you blended, stirred, and sliced up ingredients for the tart. Once it was in the fridge to chill, Alfred sent you upstairs to check on the boys. You peaked your head into Damian’s room and found your little brother floating cross legged in the air, playing video games and chatting with the youngest Wayne who answered with a few grunts and hums. Like father, like son.

Slipping back out, you headed towards the library. The Wayne library never ceased to amaze you. The large floor to ceiling windows let in the perfect amount of light and looked out onto the gardens below. Books lined the towering shelves that used rolling ladders to get to them.

But as you got closer, you could hear that the library wasn’t empty and it was a familiar heartbeat that resounded in your ears.

“Todd,” you greeted the sprawled out figure on the couch. He lifted his gaze from the book in his hands and smirked.

“Alien,” he shot back. “I didn’t realize you would be here today.”

“Kon’s in San Fran with Tim, Dad’s with Bruce in space, and Mom’s at a conference,” you explained. “Someone had to watch Jon and bruised ribs don’t make it easy.”

He grimaced and shifted his legs to make space on the couch. You sat on the empty space and stretched out so you were lying parallel to him. Jason rested the book open faced on his broad chest and nudged your knee with his elbow.

“How did you bruise your ribs? I thought you were invincible.” A furrow appeared between his brows as he frowned. Jason had been a witness to your invincibility many times. The two of you had fought side by side whenever the Justice League was called in, leaving Gotham and Metropolis down a hero. While Batman hated metas in his city and your father disagreed with Red Hood’s methods, they both relented with the knowledge that their children were safer with the other helping.

The two times that Jason had called your name in an emergency had been heart stopping. You had never flown so fast to get to someone and the fear that clutched your throat when you found him bleeding out in an alley…

You shoved the thought aside and nudged him back with your knee. “Why are you here?”

“Got shot,” he said bluntly. “Alfred doesn’t let you leave the manor until seventy-two hours have passed. You never answered my question.”

“Luthor got his hands on kryptonite again and I didn’t see it coming until I was crashing through the sixteenth floor of a skyscraper.”

His jaw flexed as he clenched it. “And your dad hasn’t killed him yet…why?”

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but it would be really bad publicity if Superman killed a millionaire of one of the leading companies in the nation,” you quipped. “And before you get any smart ideas, no, the Red Hood cannot go and kill Lex Luthor.”

“I could make it look like an accident.”

“I’m sure you could.” You shifted on the couch to grab a blanket off of the back and winced at the pull on your sides. Instantly, he sat up and reached for the hem of your shirt. Jason pushed it up to see the bruising on your skin and he ghosted a hand over the injured area.

“We should get you some ice,” he murmured. “Have you taken any painkillers?”

“I’ll be fine,” you protested. “Seriously, Jay.”

“No, it’s not fine, Y/N. It’s one thing for me to be injured because I’m human. You aren’t supposed to have bruises. You’re supposed to be safe.”

The glow of green crept into his irises and you cupped his cheeks between your hands. Jason shut his eyes and breathed in deep and slow in an attempt to calm the Pit.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m okay,” you assured him. You brushed his dark locks out of his face and ran the tips of your fingers along his forehead, temple, and then jaw. “Here.”

Taking his hand that rested over your bruised side, you raised it to rest against the steady beating of your heart. An almost imperceptible shudder ran through him at the feeling of your heartbeat and a smile curved at the corner of your lips.

“I’m fine.” You would have continued in your reassurances if he didn’t capture your lips in a searing kiss. You fisted a hand against his shirt and tangled your fingers in his short hair and deepened the kiss. He groaned into your touch and you could have sighed in relief. Finally, you thought. The two of you had been dancing around each other for months at this point.

Jason slowly lowered your back down against the couch, mindful of both of your injuries, and started to slide his hand up your shirt when your phone started ringing. The two of you broke apart just as the library doors flung open.

“Demon brat, go away,” Jason groaned. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as you snickered and answered your phone.

“Tell Todd that if he doesn’t get his hands off my child in the next five seconds, then he won’t have any hands,” your dad said in lieu of a greeting.

“What the hell were you doing to my sibling, Hood?” Kon’s voice sounded from down the hall.

“Were they making out? Ew, Kon, put me down before I puke,” Tim said. You groaned and raised your hands to cover your face. Sometimes, you hated your family, even if you loved them dearly.

“Next time, we do this at my place,” Jason growled. “After I line all the walls with lead.”

“I heard that!” All three Kents shouted.

#jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood fluff #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc imagine

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