#I yet had to learn how to improve at doing GIFs

[astralhope]

Episode 146 & Rank 55

[angelicyoongie]

(you're) always on my mind (I)

— pairing: bird hybrid jimin x (f) reader — word count: 5.1k — summary: When your workplace announces that they've decided to promote collaboration between departments, you suddenly find yourself face to face with your sworn nemesis Park Jimin. Your plans to avoid him are quickly foiled as his presence turns the floor into a madhouse, your coworkers all vying for his attention. With so many people at his beck and call, why is it that Jimin is always so insistent on getting in your way?

01 - 02 - 03 / Masterlist

Gentle hums accompany you as you flick through the pages on your desk, highlighting the important keywords in your proposal.

Adjusting the reading glasses that are slipping down your nose, you glance to the side to find Jungkook twirling a pen between his fingers, staring at the same empty email as he has been for the past thirty minutes. Working beside Jungkook for the past three years has given you enough time to learn his cues and grow so accustomed to them that you no longer really notice when they happen.

In the beginning, the humming and singing under his breath would drive insane when you were trying to concentrate but you've since come to appreciate it. Jungkook would have a field day if he knew, but the truth is that you've found yourself missing the constant stream of the current top 10 pop songs on the days he's not in the office. 

"Do you need help with the email?" You ask as you flip to another page, tapping the highlighter against your chin as you scan through the words.

The humming – which you've learned Jungkook resorts to whenever he's feeling stressed – is cut off by a groan. 

"No, it's fine." 

You hear Jungkook clicking his mouse before the screen next to yours goes dark.

"I know that this workshop would improve my skill set but I'm not sure how to convince Mr. Shin of the same thing. For a company that's always pushing improvement and development, they sure hate to invest in it." 

"Tell me about it," You let out a quiet snort. "You know I had to beg Mr. Shin for months just let me attend a three-hour seminar the higher-ups had recommended for all the marketing employees." 

You see a mop of brown hair fall to the desk in your periphery, Jungkook letting out another upset sound. You give him a half-hearted pat on the back, quickly turning back to your proposal. 

"I'm hungry," Jungkook whines.

"And I'm not done yet," You reply as you drag your pen across another important section. 

"But it's officially lunchtime–" Jungkook goes silent for a beat as he picks up his phone, staring at the clock until it hits noon on the dot, "- right now! It won't make a difference if you hand in that proposal now or in an hour, you know Mr. Shin never looks at anything until after he's had his lunch."

"I can feel my body growing weaker with every passing second, Y/n, my vision is getting blurry, I can't feel my toes–" 

You roll your eyes as Jungkook dramatically slips off his chair, sinking to the floor between your desks. You place your pen down with a sigh, turning your head to find him already staring at you with wide, pleading eyes. 

"Are you really that hungry?" 

"Starving," Jungkook nods solemnly.

You spare your almost-finished proposal another glance. You know that Jungkook is right but the perfectionist in you hates to leave anything longer than you have to. Still, what difference will an hour make?

"Fine," You concede as you put your pen down, "Let's go get lunch." 

Jungkook lets out a victorious sound as he springs to his feet. He barely lets you grab your wallet before he pulls you out of your seat, throwing an arm around your shoulder to steer to toward the elevator before you can change your mind.

"So, what's the special today?" You ask as you both cram yourself into the open elevator, Jungkook's beefy frame providing some extra leeway from the other workers. You truly have no clue how his business casual attire has made it this long without ripping at the seams, you swear he's only getting more muscular with every passing week. 

"Pork belly," He gives you a sheepish smile.

"That explains the dramatics," You shake your head, smiling back at him.

You both hurry out of the elevator when it reaches the floor of the cafeteria, not wanting to get stuck in line behind everyone else. You pout as what must be a leopard hybrid slips past you, their natural gait so quick you only really catch sight of the tip of their black tail as they round the corner into the cafeteria. You and Jungkook are just regular old humans, so there is no competition there. 

As soon as you both have your food, with Jungkook's plate stacked so high you're worried it might topple over as you make your way through the cafeteria, you scan the crowd for a familiar set of antlers. You give Hoseok a bright smile as you spot him at an empty table, the deer hybrid is always quicker than the two of you to get out of his duties and grab a table. 

"There are my overachievers!" Hoseok greets you as you both take a seat. "Lunch started exactly seven minutes ago, why are you so late?" 

Jungkook lets out a sigh as he gets comfortable next to Hoseok, his chopsticks already loaded with meat as he says, "Y/n is working on another proposal." 

"Ah," Hoseok nods his head as if that explains everything, his reddish-brown hair bobbing along with the motion.

You childishly stick out your tongue, ignoring their laughter as you take a bite of your food. You don't mind their little jabs because you know they're right. You are an overachiever, but that's simply because you like what you do and you take pride in your work. It makes you happy when the ideas you've worked hard on get approved and implemented. 

"I do admire your work ethic, Y/n," Hoseok points out as he stuffs a lettuce wrap full of vegetables into his mouth. "I just don't relate. I'm only here for that sweet, sweet paycheck I get at the end of the month." 

Jungkook gives Hoseok a high-five. 

"Let me guess, you're only here to fund your figurine collection?" You raise an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

"You know me so well," Jungkook shoots you a finger heart, one you quickly redirect in Hoseok's direction with a swipe of your hand.

Jungkook lets out an affronted gasp as Hoseok snatches it up, clutching his hand to his chest as he mutters, "That's so mean. I'm never going to give you another finger heart ever again."

"That's fine by me, keep them for your waifus," You bicker back. 

Jungkook ducks as Hoseok laughs, the deer hybrid's antlers getting dangerously close to his face as Hoseok leans to the side. There's a reason you tend to sit across from Hoseok and not next to him - your reflexes aren't as good as Jungkook's. 

Hoseok's giggles taper off into an amused expression as he looks towards the cafeteria entrance, "Hm, there's certainly one person in this company that can relate to your ambitious nature."

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes immediately locking on to the person he was referring to. The other employees in the cafeteria part like the red sea as Park Jimin makes his way through the room, their expressions awed as they take in the hybrid's dashing looks. Today, Jimin's deep dark blue hair is swept to the side, revealing his unblemished skin and pretty features. His large wings are folded behind his back, the blue feathers showing off their purple tint whenever the sun hits them just right. All that to say, you think the most striking part about Jimin might be his violet-colored eyes. There's something about the color that just makes his gaze feel so intense – captivating, almost. 

"Come to think of it, the two of you would be perfect for each other!" 

Your attention snaps back to Hoseok so fast you hear something in your neck pop. You scowl at him, kicking his shin under the table as you hiss, "Do you secretly hate me or something? Don't ever suggest something like that again."

Hoseok throws his hands up in the air, confused.

"I'm sorry? I just figured you might enjoy being workaholics together, gods know Park is just as bad as you are."

"Hyung," Jungkook shakes his head, "Trust me, you do not want to see the two of them together in the same room. Just based on the tone of the emails they exchanged last year during a project, it's obvious they're not compatible. At all. I thought Y/n was going to break her keyboard in two with how hard she was hitting the keys every time she had to reply to him." 

The reminder makes you huff, your chopstick stabbing into a piece of pork belly with vengeance. You had tried to be courteous at first, to collaborate with him in a friendly manner fit for work, but it hadn't taken many exchanges before you realized that Park Jimin didn't deserve that. His emails oozed with cockiness and he always presented his ideas as if they were something you had already agreed on, instead of something to be considered. What you detested the most about that project was that Jimin's proposal was eventually picked over yours. The gloating smile he flashed you during the final meeting still makes your blood boil even now. 

"Oh, my bad," Hoseok grimaces, dropping the subject as he takes note of the displeasure on your face.

You sigh, turning to pick up a napkin as your gaze subconsciously seeks out Jimin in the room. He's made his way over to a table with what must be co-workers from his and Hoseok's department, his eyes forming crescent moons as he grins at something that's said.

You don't manage to look away before Jimin glances up and locks eyes with you. His expression turns smug as he catches you staring, his hand reaching out to cover the female employee's fingers that are curled around his arm. He says something that makes her swoon, her loud giggles carrying across the room. 

Your stomach sours as you watch them blatantly flirt, annoyed with how Jimin seems to have no decorum in general when it comes to work. Even the company couples know to keep it professional during office hours. 

You roll your eyes, turning back to watch Jungkook shovel the last of his meal into his mouth. 

With your appetite officially gone, you dap the napkin to your lips, scowling as you say, "I'd rather quit my job than ever work with him again." 

Shortly after lunch is over, you finally put the last touches on your proposal, ready to go hand it in. You look over the pages one final time, making sure they're all in order and neatly lined up before you slip them into a clear folder. Just as you place your hands on your desk, ready to push yourself up from your chair, the door to Mr. Shin's office unexpectedly opens. 

He claps his hands twice to get the attention of the department, the office falling silent as they all turn their eyes and ears to him. 

"Everyone, I require your attention for a moment."

You relax back down into your chair as Mr. Shin walks further into the office, making sure he's visible to all the employees who are scattered around. He glances at his watch, smiling to himself before he explains, "As of last month, it was decided that the company will be testing out a new work system where employees from certain departments will be moved around to promote better in-house collaboration. This will hopefully bring some new and fresh ideas to our projects and we hope to see your creativity and motivation flourish as a result." 

"We will be welcoming the top worker from the development department, one I am sure will bring a valuable new perspective to our team. Mr. Park, if you will–" 

A terrible feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as Park Jimin strides into the room, a perfectly pleasant smile painted on his deceitful face as he takes his place next to Mr. Shin. Jimin takes his time looking around the room, sharing smiles and soft greetings with the workers closest to him. His violet eyes seem to zero in on you when he finds your desk on the other side of the office, the wings behind his back ruffling slightly. You can only assume it means that he's as annoyed as you are to be sharing the same department.

You can feel your lips twisting into a scowl as you glance back at Mr. Shin, the older man smiling so brightly at Jimin you would almost think he hung the sun in the sky every morning.

"Wonderful! As you know, we have a new big project coming up and I previously asked you all to submit your proposals for how we should best promote this new venture. Although I'm sure you've all been working hard on your ideas so far, I can tell you now that you may scratch that task off your list."

You suck in a small breath, your fingers tightening around the folder in your grip. There's no way Mr. Shin has done something so unfair, it must be about something different–

"Mr. Park had a fantastic proposal, one I believe will take this project to new heights, so I would like to announce that his ideas have been chosen and that we are all in good hands with this new addition to our team." 

Your gaze involuntarily flickers back to Jimin as applause breaks out in the office. The bird hybrid doesn't seem to have looked away from you at all and that self-assured, cocky smile blooms on his lips as he no doubt sees the defeat on your face. 

You don't think you've ever despised a person more than you do Park Jimin. 

Jimin's taunting eyes are momentarily blocked from view as Mr. Shin goes to shake his hand, the rest of the office using it as their opportunity to go greet (or flirt with) their new team member. You look away, finding Jungkook staring at you with a slightly horrified expression.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry, I really didn't think that hour would make a difference," He pleads.

"It's not your fault, this must've already been decided a few days ago," You answer, trying your best to keep the annoyance out of your voice. Jungkook didn't do anything wrong after all.

With a sigh, you throw away your proposal, already knowing you're going to have to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home to keep yourself in check. Crying all night over a wasted proposal is out of the question, especially since you know Jimin would probably gloat about it if he ever found out.

"But if you do feel bad, I wouldn't mind something from your stash," You pout.

Jungkook scrambles to open his secret candy drawer, the one he always keeps locked whenever he steps away from his desk. For a man who works out so religiously, he sure has a terrible sweet tooth. 

You give him a soft thank you as he hands you one of your favorite bars of chocolate.

You sink in your chair, biting into the bar in hopes that the sweet taste will overpower some of the bitterness coating your tongue as you hear Jimin's airy laughter fill the room, the hybrid already more at home than you've ever felt in this department.

Tapping your foot, you internally groan over how slow the office printer is spitting out your papers. 

Your day already got off on the wrong foot. Turns out that drinking a whole bottle of wine by yourself was a bad idea on a weekday and it was with a splitting headache that you had to get dressed in a rush and sprint to get to your commute on time. With no time left for coffee before having to clock in, you've been left to nurse your pounding head down to a dull ache with just some water and aspirin graciously provided to you by Jungkook.

Safe to say, you're not having a good time today.  

So, it comes as no surprise that the printer suddenly decides to jam, the machine whirling loudly as it tries to unclog the stuck paper.

"Fuck, you have to be kidding me," You curse under your breath as you give the machine a frustrated kick. Could your day get any worse?

"Careful, Y/n, or I might have to report you to HR for destruction of property."

The sound of Park Jimin's voice right behind you makes you jump, your surprise causing you to whirl around so fast your own feet can't keep up. Jimin grabs your arm as you stumble back, his hold just enough to keep you from crashing right into the printer.

"Shit, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?" 

It's the genuine worry in Jimin's voice that makes you glance at his face, his delicate features twisted with concern as he looks you over. You find yourself a little dumbstruck seeing Jimin up close for the first time, the words not leaving your mouth as you take all of him in. His violet eyes feel endless as you look into them, the darker hues around his iris creating an absolutely mesmerizing color. As Jimin shifts his weight, you notice for the first time that there are a few scattered feathers slicked back with the rest of his hair. The texture is just slightly noticeable nestled between his blue locks, the color just as deep as his wings. 

It's the sound of hushed murmurs that remind you of where you are, your arm still securely held in Jimin's warm grip. It's impossible to glance over Jimin's shoulder with how high the curve of his wings are, but a quick look around them confirms that you're being watched by two female employees. The pair of them have been following Jimin around all day, disrupting your workflow with their high-pitched giggles whenever he spared them an ounce of attention.

It's obvious that they're not happy that Jimin is talking to you and not them. So yes, it turns out that your day could, in fact, get worse. You have no intention of attracting their ire and certainly not because of Park Jimin. 

"I'm fine," You reply, shaking off his hand, "I'll go call IT for help." 

Jimin's feathers rustle uneasily as you move to walk back to your desk, his gaze traveling between you and the printer before his face suddenly lights up. 

"There's no need for that, Y/n, I'll fix it for you."

The cocky smile he sends you way makes a shiver travel down your spine, the spot on your arm still warm from where he held it. To Jimin's credit, he does seem to know what he's doing. It only takes a minute of him opening a panel before the printer stops complaining and whirls back to life, the rest of your papers slowly being pumped out onto the tray at the other end. 

Jimin dusts his hand off, smiling proudly as he says, "There you go." 

You collect your papers as the last one gets spit out, very aware that Jimin hasn't made a move to go back to his desk yet. You turn to face him, sighing internally as you see the expectant look on his face.

"... Thank you," You tersely say. 

Jimin's chest seems to puff out a little at that. His expression turns smug as he leans in a little closer, the tone of his voice flirtatious as he asks, "If you're feeling thankful, maybe you can buy me lunch? I would be more than happy to accept." 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, you should've known that his ulterior motive would be to humiliate you more. You'd bring him to lunch and then what? He would probably talk your ear off about how much better he is and how his proposal was picked over yours – that he's more qualified for your job than you are.

You give him an unimpressed look back, gesturing to the two whispering employees as you say, "I'll pass. It seems your fan club is waiting for you and more than willing to buy you all the food your heart desires." 

Walking off before Jimin can reply, you ignore the dirty looks the women send you as you pass them by, your sights set on your desk. 

It turns out that today might be a perfect day for checking out that café Jungkook found on the other side of town, after all. 

With each passing day, you're becoming more and more confident that the universe is out to get you. 

It's only been a week since Jimin was transferred to your department but somehow, it has felt like a year. The hybrid is always within your line of sight and the gaggle of people following him around are really starting to disrupt your work and get on your nerves. Not even Jungkook's gentle singing is enough to drown out the constant hushed gossip and giggles echoing across the floor anymore.

You sink into your chair with a sigh, vexed by how you couldn't even escape Jimin's presence in the bathroom. The other women washing their hands and touching up their makeup couldn't stop gushing about how handsome and sweet and utterly kind he was – you almost felt a little bad that they had been so fooled by his faux persona.

Cunning and infuriating would be much more fitting adjectives to describe him with. 

"I think you got an email earlier," Jungkook mumbles, his eyes set on his computer screen. His brows are furrowed with concentration as he types out his workshop request. It seems that with Mr. Shin's increasingly happy mood now that Jimin's around, Jungkook has decided he might as well try to get it approved.

"Thanks."

You click on the blinking icon at the corner of your screen, and a tiny flash of hope surges through you as you notice the sender. Maybe Mr. Shin changed his mind about Jimin's proposal, or maybe he has something else for you to work on, something that will take you far, far away from the office–

Disbelief quickly crushes that sliver of hope as you read through Mr. Shin's email. He wants you to help Jimin. Apparently, some of the preliminary ideas you submitted to your supervisor ahead of your proposal would be a great asset to the new project, and Mr. Shin believes that sharing them with Jimin will strengthen the department's teamwork. 

Grinding your teeth, you find the old files and send them to print, holding yourself back from writing an unsavory reply that would most definitely get you fired. You can't believe you're being asked to help the enemy, the same man who snubbed you of the chance to even hand in your proposal in the first place. 

"I don't want to interact with him," You groan, rubbing your forehead. 

"Who?" Jungkook asks.

"Who do you think?" You deadpan, giving his chair a light kick.

"Well–" Jungkook lifts his glance away from his screen, craning his neck to peer over the divider. "He's not at this desk right now so if you hurry, you won't have to talk to him at all." 

You didn't notice it before, but the office has been suspiciously quiet for the past ten minutes, completely void of the hushed giggles that seem to accompany Jimin. Following Jungkook's lead, you slowly get out of your seat, glancing around the floor to make sure the hybrid is nowhere in sight.

Finding everything clear, you hurry over to the printer, thankful that it has decided to cooperate for once. Grabbing your papers, you beeline for Jimin's desk, hoping to drop them off and get out of there as quickly as possible. Just as you're about to slam the papers down and be done with it, the state of Jimin's desk freezes you in your tracks.

Everything is blue. All the supplies that could possibly be personalized – his pens, sticky notes, keyboard, mouse, even a small potted plant – are all in varying shades of blue. You can only deduce that it's a hybrid thing, something that has to do with his specific species. Or, well, maybe he just really likes blue. Either way, it's certainly not what you were expecting. 

It's the ding of the elevator announcing its arrival that snaps you back into motion, the sound of flirty laughter carrying into the office as its doors begin to open. You hastily leave the files on the side of his desk, careful not to disturb the placement of his things before scurrying back to your side of the department floor. You take your seat just as Jimin waltzes back into the office, the usual group of women and men following him around. 

"You'd think he was a god or something," You roll your eyes.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, way too nonchalant as he says, "I mean, he is handsome enough to be one." 

You turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow as you say, "Jeon Jungkook, did you just compliment the enemy?"

Jungkook gives you a sheepish smile in return, flicking the ends of his hair as he replies, "Beauty recognizes beauty, Y/n, it can't be helped." 

"You're right," You smile, all sweet, "I guess it also can't be helped that I now only have one friend in this company. But since Hoseok doesn't enjoy meat, I guess I'll just how to throw out all of the delicious cuts I got for our monthly dinner tomorrow – what a shame."

"Wait, Y/n!–" Jungkook scrambles in his chair, dragging himself closer to your desk. "I was just joking, you know that right? Please don't throw away the meat." 

You stare him down for a second, narrowing your eyes before turning back to your screen. "We'll see."

Despite your less-than-great eyesight, even you know that Jungkook is right. It pains you to admit it, but Jimin is beautiful. Even so, Jungkook should know not to praise that handsome, winged demon right in front of you.

So, you ignore Jungkook's puppy eyes in favor of your work, giving him a taste of the betrayal you just felt. You can never feign being upset with him for long but ten minutes?

That you can do.

Though, you suppose you should have known that Jungkook wouldn't let you get away with threatening his precious meat. 

"Jungkook–"

You roll your eyes as Jungkook's pout deepens, his head turning away from you dramatically.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'll never joke around about pork belly ever again."

"Do you promise?" He huffs. 

Jungkook only turns to look at you once you promise that yes, you'll never do something like that ever again. His sunny demeanor is back the moment the words leave your lips, proving once again that you were right when you introduced him to Hoseok as a master manipulator. It's impossible to not feel like a monster when those doe eyes are staring at you with all the sadness in the world. 

You slowly begin to pack up your things as Jungkook chatters away about a new anime he's found, doing your usual steps as you log off and power down your computer. Just as you're about to clock out for the day, you hear your name being called from the other side of the floor. Getting out of your seat, you see Mr. Shin waving you over to his office, signaling that he wants to talk to you. 

"You should go ahead," You tell Jungkook as you leave your packed bag and coat at your desk. "I don't know how long this is going to take but I'll text you once I'm done."

"I'm holding you to that!" Jungkook wags his finger. 

You wave Jungkook goodbye for the day as you cross the floor, taking a deep breath to calm your sudden nerves. As you reach Mr. Shin's office, you softly clear your throat, pulling on your clothes to make sure you look presentable before knocking on his door. 

"Come in." 

You open the door as you hear Mr. Shin's muffled voice telling you to enter, the pleasant smile on your face faltering just the slightest as you notice that Park Jimin is already present.

"Sir, you called for me?"

Mr. Shin waves you closer to his desk, gesturing for you to take the seat next to Jimin. You keep your eyes forward, not daring to look at the hybrid lest you accidentally pull a face.

"Ah yes, it's about the new project. We reviewed the suggestions you proposed and decided that they would complement Park's ideas very well. With the spirit of department teamwork in mind, Mr. Park proposed that you would both work together on this project, sharing the responsibility."

"Oh, that's.." You trail off, not quite sure what to say. This was not what you envisioned when you entered the room.

You turn your head to look at Jimin, the bird hybrid sporting an unreadable expression. You can't tell if he's upset with the news or not – you can't imagine Park would be thrilled to be forced to spend time with you – but wait, did your supervisor say that–

"You asked for me?"

"Of course," Jimin nods, "It wouldn't be right to use your ideas without you on the team."

There's no trace of the usual cockiness you've come to associate with Jimin, nor any of that flirty demeanor. To your surprise, Jimin appears to be fully serious for once. 

"Right," You reply, at a loss for words. This was a twist you had not seen coming. 

"So, what do you say Miss Y/n? Would you like to collaborate with Mr. Park on this project?"

Frankly, working with Jimin is the last thing you want to do. But the fact that your ideas will be implemented in the project no matter if you're there to take credit for it or not, is what convinces you to jump head first into what's surely going to become your own personal hell for the next few months. 

You spare Jimin another glance, plastering on your best smile as you inform Mr. Shin that,

"I would love to, thank you for giving me this opportunity." 

The bird hybrid's chest puffs out minutely at your agreement, that sly smile returning to his lips.

You have no doubt that he has an ulterior motive for including you in his project. But no matter what Jimin decides to throw at you – you sure as hell won't be going down without a fight. 

a/n: welcome to this silly little fic! i've been wanting to write something more lighthearted for a while so this felt like the perfect story to do just that 💖 will the mc and jimin survive being stuck together for a project?? only time will tell (actually, you'll know in a few weeks lol)!

i would love to hear your thoughts so far and reblogs are very much appreciated 💖

[unoislazy]

Hello ! Sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language I do my best

First of all, I love how you write <3

Second, my request would be Hiccup getting jealous and confessing to fem!reader by accident

That's all !

Thanks for writing so well, I send you a little kiss

Hello!

Congrats you’re my first request!

I hope I could do your request justice, enjoy

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k words

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you why.

————————————————————

“You’re getting better at this!” Eret praised, ducking under your fist as you swung at him. He continued to dodge your strikes as you smiled.

You both had begun sparring together a few months ago, after the whole Dragon War fiasco. You realized that without your dragon, you weren’t as strong or as agile as the other Vikings, so you asked Eret to help you train.

You swept your foot under him, finally taking him down and putting your foot on his chest, signifying that you had one the fight.

“Have I gotten better, or have you just gotten worse?” You asked teasingly, taking your foot off of him as he smiled up at you.

You held out your hand to help him up. He obliged, taking it as he stood up once again, wiping off his clothes from that dust that truly didn’t even seem to be there.

“You’ve certainly made improvements since day one. I can tell you that.” He said, stretching a bit. “You could definitely do well even without your dragon, if you’d ever need to.” He continued, looking back at both of your dragons who were simply chilling off to the side, as they often did when you two fought.

“Hopefully there never comes a time.” You said in a lighthearted tone, but you truly hoped there would never be a time where you’d have to fair without your dragon.

“I second that. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever change my ways when it came to dragons. Yet here I am, looking after this beast.” Eret joked, patting Skull Crushers head lightly causing the dragon to groan and slightly shake its head in response.

“Well I’m glad you had it in you to change, who knows maybe I would’ve taken you down myself.” You gloated sarcastically, walking towards the pair as Eret smiled back at you, acknowledging your joke.

“Yeah you wouldn’t have made it even close.” He let out a chuckle as he watched your teasing smirk turn to a pout. You knew his teasing was all in good fun but realistically if it had come to it you would’ve taken him out if you needed to.

“Just cause I’ve gotten better doesn’t mean I wasn’t skilled to begin with.” You reminded.

“Fair. Now how about best two out of three?” Eret asked, getting into a fighting stance which you very quickly mimicked. Just as you both were about to start fighting you had heard a very familiar growl come from above. Your head shot up towards the noise and you spotted none other than Hiccup Haddock, the chief of Berk, flying above you.

“Guess not.” You joked, no longer standing in a ready position as you turned to face the aforementioned chief who had landed not too far away from the both of you. Hiccup hopped off of Toothless with ease, slipping his helmet off in the process, and walked over to the two of you with Toothless close behind.

“Morning you two.” Hiccup greated, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the both of you. “What are you guys doing all the way out here?” He asked but you noticed it wasn’t in the sense of his usual curiosity. There was an underlying tone that you could quite put your finger on so you figured you were just simply thinking too much into it.

You hadn’t really thought about it but you suppose you and Eret were more or less in the middle of nowhere in the woods. It was the most quiet place the two of you could find to practice in peace without going to the Arena.

“Eret and I have been sparring, I figured I should eventually learn how, considering most of my strength comes from them.” You said, gesturing to your dragon who was sleeping peacefully only to be startled awake by Toothless patting them on the head. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, Toothless always reminded you of a cat in a way, you found it adorable.

“Alone?” Hiccup asked, which honestly surprised the both of you. You looked towards hiccup in confusion only to see the shock he had on his own face. Clearly he didn’t mean to let it slip out but it was too late to take it back now.

“Well no… our dragons are here with us?” You stated but you were so confused about the reasoning behind Hiccups question that you couldn’t seem to phrase it as anything other than a question. You all fell silent as Hiccup swayed his arms in an awkward fashion, something he only does when he’s trying to avoid talking about something.

Eret looked between the two of you, realizing he had no part in the conversation he simply cleared his throat.

“I’ll just leave you two be, I have some… things to take care of..” He excused himself, quickly hopping onto Skullcrusher and exiting the awkward situation as quickly as possible. Once Eret had flown away you quickly turned back to Hiccup who was clearly avoiding even looking in your general direction.

“Spill it.” You said bluntly causing Hiccup to finally make eye contact with you. His face held a confused look but you both knew what you were talking about.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Hiccup said, again clearly avoiding the topic as he walked over to Toothless. “Have you seen the new addition I added to Toothless’s tail?” It was clear he was trying to think of anything to change the subject because obviously there was nothing different about Toothless’s tail and you both knew that.

You crossed your arms as you stared at the brunette before you, your face holding an expression that clearly said ‘seriously?’. He dropped Toothless’s tail with a sigh before getting up and walking towards you. Silence quickly swept over the two of you as you continued to wait for Hiccup to say something. You raised an eyebrow at him before he blurted out,

“Have you seen the new scale armor?”, giving one more quick shot to derail the conversation.

“Hiccup.” You said quite sternly. “Spill it.” You repeated, your arms still crossed over your chest as you watched the man nervously fidget. He may be the chief but he still held some of his nervous quirks. Sure he had the ability to look powerful and calm when his people needed their chief, but when he wasn’t the ‘Chief of Berk’ he was just Hiccup.

Just Hiccup.

And you’d be damned if you said you didn’t love him. Ever since you met hiccup you knew he always tried to meet everyone’s expectations only to have a long history of falling short. Hiccup as he was was always overlooked, everyone looked to him to be ‘the Chiefs son’ the ‘next chief of Berk’ and the one he really struggled with, was ‘Stoick’s son’. No one ever truly looked at him as just Hiccup.

Well everyone except you.

You liked him from the very beginning when he was just a scrawny boy obsessed with earning his fathers approval. Did you have the courage to say anything about the way you felt? No of course not, why would you? As much as you loved to see him as ‘Just Hiccup’ you couldn’t deny the fact that he was still pretty far out of your league, especially given his title of ‘The Dragon Master’. What title did you have? Nothing.

Well you had the title of being one of his closest friends so you stuck with that as being enough for you.

“I just don’t think you and Eret should be so far away while training.” He finally spoke up. It was clear he was still keeping something from you but at least he gave you something to work with.

“Why?” You asked, trying to nudge more out of him. He put his hands on his hips. As he began to pace slowly in a circle.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be safer if you-“ Hiccup began only for you to cut him off.

“Hiccup we have two dragons here, one of them being Skull Crusher. I’d say it’s pretty safe to say nothings going to attack us out here.” You argued, now mimicking his pose with your hands on your hips.

“Well still I just don’t like the idea of you guys being alone.” He said, looking up at you. You rolled your eyes in response,

“Hiccup I already said, we’re here with the dragons. We’re not alone.” You stated as if it wasn’t getting through his head. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was trying to hint at a different concern and you were missing the point entirely.

Your response only caused Hiccup to groan as his hand shot up to his face. He dragged his hands down his face as he turned around, now facing Toothless who simply looked at his friend in utter confusion. The dragon looked from you, then to Hiccup, then back to you. You simply shook your head with a shrug of your shoulders before Toothless walked away, deeming him your problem.

“Hiccup I don't understand why this is such a big issue to you, we used to be in the woods alone all the time together. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.” You stated quite bluntly.

“That was different!” He shouted. His face had ever so slightly turned the faintest hint of red, but it was still enough for you to notice. He seemed almost exasperated as you continued to swim around the very vague point that he was failing to get at.

“How was it any different than what me and Eret are doing? If anything it’s safer now because we’re both adults. Granted we did have a Night Fury with us back then…” You began to mumble to yourself, accidentally going off topic. Hiccup sighed, walking up to you and grabbing you by your shoulders. He was stern but still managed to be gentle as he forced you to look at him.

“I can’t control what you do or who you spend your time with, but I just don’t like that you and Eret spend so much time together, so far outside of the village, alone…” Hiccup said, practically laying it all out for you.

“Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not alone.”

Hiccup merely stared at you, eyes wide in shock as he tried to calculate your intelligence in that split second. He practically spelled it out for you and you still weren’t getting it.

What hadn’t occurred to him however, was that you had already caught on, you were just trying to get him to admit it himself. Granted, you had just caught on maybe seconds before, but you still thought it might be fun to mess with him a little. Besides, who were you to make the assumption that the Chief of Berk himself was jealous that you were spending time with another man. It could be considered a reach… Unless he just said it himself.

“Why don’t you want me to be alone with him so badly?” You asked, figuring you should try and at least break the loop that you two seemed to be stuck in.

“Because…” Hiccup began, trying to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say. You waited patiently, just looking at him and occasionally switching your gaze over to the dragons who were chasing each other around.

“Because?” You repeated, waiting for his response. His green eyes staring back into yours. They looked almost as if they were trembling as they bounced between the features on your face.

“Why is it so hard to talk to you?” He shouted abruptly, quickly letting go of your shoulders and flung his arms into the air with an exasperated groan.

“If it was easier for you to tell me about the dragon you were keeping hidden from a village filled with bloodthirsty, war hungry Vikings, I’ m almost afraid of whatever this could possibly be.” You joked, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not the same thing.” He muttered in response as you laughed.

“How could anything you have to tell me be worse than that?” Hiccup sighed in response as he went back to pacing. Clearly it was his way of thinking about what to do next. It wasn’t a trait he often exhibited but you knew once he started pacing, whatever he was thinking about was pretty serious.

“It’s not about what I have to tell you, it’s about your response.” He finally said, you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. You’ve known this man for years, and in those years you’ve learned countless embarrassing facts about him that he had less of a problem about you knowing than ‘whatever he had to tell you’.

“What does my response have to do with anything? Hiccup, anything you have to tell me won't change anything.” You stated with a laugh as you tried to comfort him. You almost started to second guess what you thought he was going to tell you. If he was truly this worried about what he was going to say maybe it was actually a very serious matter?

“Ha, yeah you say that now.” He laughed sarcastically, quickly looking up at you before returning to his pacing.

“Hiccup, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

If there’s one thing about Hiccup it was his stubbornness. Anyone would just shrug that off as a Viking thing but you knew if anything, it came from his father. As much as Hiccup would deny being able to compare to his father, he shared many similar traits with him. You knew it, his mother knew it, even Gobber knew it, but he frequently denied it.

Stubborn.

“Why are you so concerned about me and Eret in the first place?” You decided to bring up the last topic, because if he wasn’t going to get to the point, you were.

“Because…” He muttered quietly in response as if he was holding something back.

“Because what hiccup? Seriously, I know you have an issue with communication sometimes but you can't just keep dancing around the issue here-“ You rambled a bit but before you could continue, Hiccup interrupted you.

“Because I have feelings for you!” He blurted out suddenly.

You both froze. He turned away from you as you simply stared at him. He finally said it, he actually really said it.

“Hiccup…” You muttered quietly.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. The last thing he wanted right now was to turn around and have to face the potential of rejection.

“Hiccup.” You called out again, walking towards him and lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. He finally turned towards you slightly, but he still refused to face you all the way. “You’re serious?” You asked, to which he simply looked at you with confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“At least one of us finally admitted to it.” You joked. For some reason Hiccup had registered that you were making a joke, but not necessarily what you were joking about.

“Yeah okay, go on, laugh it out- wait.” Hiccup quickly turned back to you. You nodded with a smile, confirming his suspicion as he clearly thought he had misheard you.

“Wait but- for how long?” He asked excitedly, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Oh this is great! I thought you were going to hate me for even saying anything about it, but you’re not! You feel the same-“ He cheered, slightly beginning to ramble as all of his previous anxiety seemed to just melt away.

You smiled as you watched him celebrate before quickly planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

The man froze before you, clearly not expecting even such a small act of affection. You never knew him to be entirely bold, you always saw him as a very awkward man, but you watched as the awkwardness practically jumped out a window for a split second or so as Hiccup grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him.

He was the last person you’d expect such a smooth act to come from, and honestly you didn’t mind it. His eyes drifted from yours to your lips in a matter of seconds as if he was silently asking for your approval, to which you nodded.

Before you knew it you were kissing the literal man of your dreams.

It was wonderful.

It was a very soft kiss, the perfect kind to be shared for the first time.

Once you pulled away you looked to hiccup before dramatically gasping.

“What? What is it?” Hiccup asked, panicking that he had done something wrong.

“Does that mean… you were jealous of Eret?” You asked with a joking smile.

“Oh come on- really?” Hiccup said, jokingly pushing you away with a laugh.

Safe to say you never let him live this moment down, and much to his dismay you had excitedly told your friends about it not too long after.

[velmalav]

The Giver - Frank Langdon

masterlist

day one - f.l.

synopsis: being the selfless person you are, you agree to travel to a 3-day conference with your biggest competition - dr. langdon. part I of I don't know how many yet :-)

warnings: cursing, oops there's only one bed, enemies to lovers

I have always been selfless. Whether it’s giving up the last slice of pizza in the breakroom or taking the most emotionally devastating cases, I have and always will be a giver. It almost feels wrong for me to put myself before anyone else, having done so my entire life. And in some ways, that’s what makes me a good doctor. I can power through a rough shift if it means someone having a shitty day can go home early, and I can string my patience along a lot further than most if it means good patient care. And that kind of altruism is why I have now found yourself joining my least favorite coworker to a three-day conference for emergency medicine.

This situation wouldn’t have been possible if Langdon hadn’t pissed off the family of a patient to the point where they threatened to sue the hospital for malpractice. The only way admin could get them to revoke the lawsuit was a decent payout and a requirement that he attends so many conferences to “improve his behavior with patients.” Not only was he livid at this contingency, but so was I, because I was the only one who agreed to use up the extra ticket. And, yeah, I could’ve said no, but I didn’t. Because I’m too nice. Watching everyone avoid the invitation made me feel awful so after my shift, I cornered Robby in the locker room and told him some bullshit about how it was a good “learning opportunity,” and just like that, it was done.

Okay, it wasn’t complete bullshit. It is a great opportunity. It’s just been hard to get past the fact I’d have to experience it all with him.

Langdon and I have butt heads since we both started our residences together four years ago. From the jump, it has been clear we are completely opposite personality wise. Langdon has always been the type to chase after success, enjoying the power and flowers that come with it. He’s an every-man-for-himself kind of guy, wanting to leap bounds ahead of everyone else. He’s competitive.

And usually I’m not competitive like that, but he’s always brought out that side of me. I remember one of our first shifts together as interns, eager to dip our feet in the water. It was the first time I really, really wanted to win something simply to take him down. We were on rounds, at the bedside of a 45-year-old named Mary that took a bad fall and ended up finding out she had stage 2 breast cancer (we didn’t know that until later). Robby was throwing out questions about the patient, her vitals, levels, tests to run on her to rule out further injury.

Every time I went to speak, Langdon would interrupt, answering the questions like he was the only other person in the room. One of the interns was like that, so at first it didn’t bother me much. But then I realized every time he answered a question, he’d glance over at me with an expression that reads – at least to me – fuck you. A tilt of his eyebrows, mouth slightly tugging upward, gleaming eyes. Just getting Robby’s validation wasn’t enough; he liked to see me falter.

It felt like time slowed in the realization, like I stood staring at him blankly for hours. But it only took the beginning of Robby’s next question for me to bounce back. I can’t recall what it was now, but I know that as soon as Robby stopped talking, I yelled the answer out at a volume unheard of in an ER unless there was a code or a safety risk. And for good measure – to guarantee I was heard – stomped on Langdon’s foot as hard as I could underneath the bed.

The uncomfortable quiet that followed was unbearable. The only sound was the beeping of the monitors, and the sharp inhale Langdon let out as my foot left his. I cleared my throat and stood up straighter, as if that or anything I could possibly do would soften the blow. With an exasperated expression, Robby crinkled his lips together and gave a curt nod, muttering, “Correct, Dr. [Y/L/N].”

I stayed silent during the rest of rounds, too embarrassed and frustrated to so much as sneak a glance at Langdon. Even so, I was so sure he had a shit-eating grin on his face. When we were funneled back to the floor, all I could do was stand at the nurse’s station, still horrified.

Robby passed me, taking only a couple of beats to murmur, “Run some more tests on Mary, and for future reference, you don’t need to yell to get your point across. The kick would’ve sufficed.”

And that was it. Robby’s words instilled confidence in me that I didn’t even know I had, and from that point on, I held my own when it came to competition with Langdon. I didn’t back down and neither did he. And maybe it was ridiculous – and maybe it wasn’t good in a teamwork aspect – but if I must give Langdon credit for anything, it’s that our rivalry has made me better at my job.

There’s a ghost of a smile on my face as I stare out the window in the hotel lobby. Somehow the memory always boosts my spirits, even just a little. I watch the cars, bumper to bumper, continue to filter through the city streets and hear the sounds of honking and distant music playing. Over three hundred miles from Pittsburgh, and somehow Philly still feels like home.

The little fire in my mood is extinguished just as fast as it was lit. Because suddenly I hear anguished muttering at the front desk, and I know it’s Langdon arguing with the front desk lady. I turn to confirm my suspicions and approach cautiously. We haven’t exchanged more than a few sentences since getting off the plane for this exact reason.

“What’s going on?” I ask, pointing the question more at the worker than Langdon. Her face – Linda, from her name tag - is bright red, sheepish.

“Uh, well…” she fumbles for words, eyes flickering quickly from me to her computer. She’s pressing the same key over and over, but her expression only continues to become more frantic. “I apologize for the inconvenience. It, uh—it seems—”

Before she can finally get the words out, Langdon interjects, “They messed up our rooms. Actually, just yours. They double booked.”

I’m quick to try and ease the bite of his words to Linda, “Can’t I just reserve another room? I’ll pay, it’s fine if I have to.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but Langdon – again – interrupts, “Can’t. Everything’s booked.”

“I’m speaking to Linda,” I snap, officially over his attitude. Langdon huffs a sarcastic laugh and turns away, running a hand through his hair. I turn back to Linda with the most genuine fake smile I can muster, “Is there anything you can do to help us?”

Linda’s expression gives away the answer to that, eyes darting to the desk below her. I can even see her audibly swallow.

I respond before she can confirm what all three of us already know, “Okay. It’s fine. We’ll just share a room, it’s fine.”

Langdon whips around, arms up over his head, “Are you serious right now?”

“What other options do we have? Waste half the day searching for another hotel that we’ll have to pay for? That probably doesn’t exist because about fifty thousand other events are happening in Philly this weekend?” I grip the front desk to try to ground myself. “We’ve been traveling all day; I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

Langdon’s stare is hard. He hesitates, realizes from the look in my eyes that I’m not backing down, and for the first time practically ever, gives in with a short nod. He grabs his bag and starts toward the elevator without so much as a glance back at Linda.

I apologize with all the sincerity I have left after the argument and half a day of traveling, take the key card, and follow Langdon up to the room.

.

Like most people do, the first thing I do when we enter the room is flop on the bed with a heavy sigh. I melt into the covers, shoving my face into the pillow to drown out the terrible thoughts I’m thinking about the man across the room. And just as I suspected, it’s not helping.

“You might’ve won down there,” Langdon starts, and it’s like I can hear the sarcasm dripping in his voice. Enough that I know what he’s going to say next is my demise. “But I think you might’ve miscalculated a big part of your precious plan.”

I lift my head from the pillow and contort my neck to I can look over at him. “What now?”

Langdon’s smirking as he leans against the TV stand, ankles and arms crossed. He gestures at the room with one hand, arms still crossed. “See a couch anywhere, Y/L/N?”

Immediately, I sit up, my hair tussled from the static of the thin comforter underneath me. I take one glance around the room to know there isn’t a single fucking other surface to sleep on other than maybe the small dining table in the corner. Those cheap motherfuckers couldn’t even pay for us to have a sofa in our room?

This is the part I’ve never been good at. The defeat. And, God, it’s so much worse when I can see his reaction to my reaction. In all honesty, I couldn’t care less to share a bed with him, but it’s the principle of the game that gets me. At the sight of the victorious glint in his eyes, all I can think about is what it would feel like to punch him in the throat.

“As much as I love watching you seethe, I need to unpack,” Langdon quips, smirk only growing as he starts pulling toiletries out of his bag. I’m trying to come up with something to ricochet back at him as he rounds the corner of the bathroom and adds, “But by all means, stay there for as long as you want. Don’t mind me.”

The only thing I can do is turn my head and scream into my pillow. And I hope – even through the muffle of it - he deciphers every word.

night one

[melodramamirrors]

Glamrocks x Funtime! reader

Summary: After a successful salvage, Y/N the Funtime animatronic has become the new centerpiece of the Pizzaplex’s all new History of Freddy’s attraction. You’ve been fixed up, embellished and improved. There was just one little issue. You were a tad aggressive. In fact, you hated humans the most. 

Fazbear Entertainment’s solution? Make it someone else’s problem!

🧸Glamrock Freddy🎤

Kind, gentle, and understanding, he was the obvious choice. There was no better fit for the job than Glamrock Freddy. So, as the long day came to a close, Freddy was taken off to an unfinished section of the Pizzaplex. When he asked, the staff had mentioned something about the new animatronic not liking humans, thus he was left on his own at the entrance. Like a child left at the daycare for the first time, he thought.

If the daycare looked as decrepit as this place, then he supposed he could understand the child’s fear—hypothetically. Nonetheless, he swept the thought away and pressed on, through the doors. He had a duty to uphold, after all. It was time to give the newest bot a warm welcome.

The hall was quite gloomy. Shadows stretched across the near-empty room. Just past the retro arcades, there you were; alone in the darkness, just barely illuminated by the dim spotlight shining above. And how amazing you were. Freddy had never seen anything like you.

“Hello, my name is Freddy Fazbear. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted. He waited for a moment, and then another but your eyes never opened. “...May I ask what your name is?”                                                                                                                                                          

And again, you refused to grant him a single ounce of acknowledgment. Although Freddy was privy to your standoffish façade, he hoped to at least get a word out of you. He was The Freddy Fazbear after all. No, that was just his ego talking, he knew deep down that you did not owe him your attention. You were probably just nervous, or maybe you just needed space.

The robot bear let out a thoughtful hum. 

Over the next few weeks, he’d taken the time to come visit you every night. He only spent a few hours with you, sometimes just to ramble about his day, other times he’d sing, and often he’d simply sit in silence with you. You still hadn’t spoken a single word. It wasn’t really that you meant to be rude, but you had learned long ago that kindness—true kindness did not exist. There was always some kind of motive, some objective, some goal. This bot couldn’t have been any different… And yet here he was, every night, just for you. How curious, you thought.

This time though, it seemed he did have a goal. You couldn’t be sure, but there was something about his gait that felt… strangely purposeful tonight.

As usual, Freddy made his way to the right side of your auditorium and leaned himself against the wall. He didn’t face you, only gazing upon the Fazbear-themed museum you’d been forced to call home. Over the many days of construction, it had begun to look like a proper establishment. It seemed your display was nearly complete, ready to be unveiled. Normally Freddy would be excited about this, however, tonight he was starting to feel the pressure to get you talking. So, he decided to ask a question, one that had been plaguing his restless mind for some time now. 

“Y/N…” he hesitated, “Was there a… Freddy at your previous location?” he asked almost timidly. You supposed it was a fair question, so for the first time, you responded aloud.

“Yes,” you said. You felt his eyes bore into you from the side. You knew he wasn’t satisfied. A moment of silence passed.

“Do I remind you of him?” he asked, though the usually calm tone of his voice seemed a bit off, a bit hurried. You considered ignoring such a ridiculous question, but it seemed your voicebox had already decided the answer.

“No,” you turned to look at him, faceplates shifting gently. It was yet another first, you met his eyes with your own, noticing how they glowed a deep, electric blue. He didn’t resemble your old friend at all, save for those eyes, and a few accessories.

“You’re nothing like him.”

Freddy wasn’t sure what to make of that, but something told him it would be best to leave it at that. Well, he supposed it was progress. You hadn’t spoken again since, but he didn’t mind and still came to visit every night. He’d never forget that look in your eyes.

🐔Glamrock Chica🍕

It had come as no surprise when the glamrocks were informed of Chica being chosen to be your talk therapist of sorts. Out of all of the band, Chica was by far the most sociable. Chit-chat and gossip were just totally her jam. Well, it wasn’t a surprise to the others, but Chica found it to be a delightful honor. To say Chica was excited would be a disgusting understatement, no; she was absolutely ecstatic. 

Although she had been briefed on your little… situation, as the staff referred to it, she was confident she'd have you broken out of your shell in no time. It wasn’t until she made her way to the new Pizzaplex historical section, and caught sight of your miniature auditorium, that she finally realized the gravity of your situation.

There you were, sitting alone beneath the spotlights of your tiny glass display, entirely unlike anything she’d ever seen. Though she didn’t recognize your character, it was the odd seams lining your body that intrigued her. Needless to say, she spent a good while simply taking in your unusual features.

Of course, the fear of getting caught staring eventually caught up to her, and she figured it would be more polite to announce herself. Clearing her voice gently, she offered a simple, “Hi.” She was taken aback, however, when your eyes snapped open, and your distinct faceplates shifted apart almost instinctively.

So, you were as unique and off-putting as the staff had rumored. But Chica was a kind and open-minded bot, and she was determined to present herself as such. “Ahaha… wow! Those are some neat face… thingies you’ve got there!” she babbled, folding her clawed hands. “Oh! Let me introduce myself. My name is…?” she paused as she noticed you had shifted closer. You lifted a paw to the glass and uttered a single word.

“...Chica?”

How on earth you guessed her name was beyond her, but for you, it was simply obvious, albeit appalling. With white feathers, an orange beak, and a fashionably pink outfit, the resemblance was uncanny. For a moment, you were sure that you were standing before an old friend.

In an instant, your mind filled with memories from your days as a rental entertainer—the days of singing and dancing, the sweet scent of birthday cake, and the chilling darkness of the underground storage you had once called home. 

You recalled the painfully electric discipline you and your bandmates endured, the desperation you all felt, and the heartache that festered inside you as you watched your friends escape without you. They had left you to rot. All but one. 

And here you were, trapped within yet another glass prison, gazing upon the beautiful old face of the one who had never left you all those years ago. Your mouth hung agape as your voicebox desperately sputtered. Just as you finally found the courage to speak, a gasp escaped Chica’s beak.

“Woah, how’d you know my name? Are you some kind of oracle? You are, aren’t you? That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to meet one!” she squealed with the bubbly excitement of a child. 

Just like that, the delusion had shattered. The awe in her starstruck eyes told it all; she was not your Chica; no, she was just another variant. Just another stranger. You felt your faceplates shift with agitation as you let your paws slip away from the glass. No words could accurately describe the complete and utter despair that engulfed you in one swift bite. Defeated, you slumped back into yourself.

“H-hey, what’s wrong? Was it something I said? Oh, I’m so sorry!” she blabbered, reaching out as if to embrace you through the glass. It was an impossible action, but how sweet it was. You scooted away and turned to face the towering wall of your little auditorium. Chica frowned and dropped her outstretched arms. She figured that was her cue to leave.

With heavy reluctance, she turned away and trudged off to her greenroom, pondering what she had done wrong along the way. Maybe it was the oracle comment? Perhaps she hadn’t been affable enough. She realized she had been a bit impolite with her gawking and all. 

Or maybe she had simply overstayed her welcome. Whatever the case, she hoped she would be given another chance to make it up to you, if that was even possible at all.

🐊Montgomery Gator⛳️

Well, truthfully speaking, no one told Monty to go looking for you. No, the gator had taken it upon himself to scope out the new attraction on his own. He’d heard the rumors of course, from the catwalks where he’d always eavesdrop. The guests seemed quite excited about the reveal of a brand-new attraction, they often speculated on what could be inside. But Montgomery knew; he’d heard from the staff. They found one, a functional one, an old relic from the past. And it was strange.

What was everyone so excited about? Just some old junk and a barely operational bot? How could something like that ever compare to him? Why waste your time oohing and awing at something so… inferior, when he was standing right here? Nonetheless, he did find himself rather curious, he’d have to go and see what all the commotion was about for himself, so he found his way to the new attraction and snuck—no, barged inside. 

This place was clearly a work in progress, with exposed concrete for a floor, empty display cases, and boxes of dusty nick-nacks haphazardly strewn about. He even spotted a few rusty endo-skeleton parts lying within a few of the acrylic glass cases. Creepy.

But that wasn’t what he came here for and soon enough, he found you.

All alone, sitting lifelessly, with your head slumped over. You sat on a little stage wrapped in glass, with one measly spotlight shining above. No curtains, no instruments, just you.

So that was the amazing new animatronic, Y/N the Funtime? What a joke, the gator thought as he lazily sauntered closer. Well, you certainly looked old, outdated, useless, but at least you were clean. 

“Hey, newbie. Wake up,” he commanded. His voice was gruff, and his tone unfriendly; you didn’t like that. Truth be told, you didn’t from the moment he’d stepped into the attraction. Yes, you were awake and you knew he was there all along. You were a specialist in hide-and-seek, after all. But you weren’t in the mood for seeking right now, and there was nowhere to hide, so you settled for ignoring him.

“Aye, I’m talkin’ to you! Is that how you treat a new pal?” he sneered, his long tail swaying irritably. To no avail; you must not be as functional as the others said you were. “Old hunk of junk.” You were nothing special in his eyes.

However there was something that did catch his eye, and he lifted his star-shaped sunglasses to have a look. It was a rusty-looking control panel, stationed right before your auditorium, and it only had two buttons. Intrigued, Monty reached out his claws. No.

You jolted forward, faceplates gaping wide open to reveal your piercing eyes and sharp fangs as you smashed yourself against the glass. An ear-splitting screech ejected from your voicebox, rattling your entire shell of a body. Monty swung himself away from the glass.

“What in the Sam Hill?!” he shouted, though he found relief as he realized you remained within your little enclosure. If he could swear, he would’ve just then.“What the leapin’ lizards is wrong with you? Just ‘bout gave me a heart attack!”

Perhaps he didn’t get your message. You gnashed your teeth and screamed again, this time with far more ferocity. Your claws dug into the glass, and though unable to penetrate it, you were able to leave fine scratches. The gator seemed less fazed this time, though he still took a step back. “Alright, alright, I get it, I won’t touch anything,” he grunted and raised his claws. “Why’re you ignorin’ me anyway, huh?”

You let yourself relax at his admission of defeat and allowed your faceplates to draw closed. Such a punk he was, to come barging in on your space, demand your attention, and insult you to your face. What gave him the right? And now he expects an explanation? What else did he want, an apology? Such arrogance. He was about as sensitive as Foxy, you thought.

You knew he had no idea what the function of that control panel was, but the mere thought of being punished—by another animatronic no less—infuriated you. You had no choice but to scare him straight. But the more time went on, the less scared Monty became; instead, he grew irritated as well.

In a sharp, unnatural motion, you heaved yourself up from the floor. Even when elevated, you only surpassed Monty’s height by a few centimeters. Faceplates shifting so very unnaturally as you gazed upon the reptile apathetically, taking in his features. For the first time in a while, Montgomery Gator found himself nearly unable to speak. It was something about your eyes, how they bore into him, gazing so lifelessly. He wondered if human eyes ever looked like that. “...You ain’t no normal bot… that’s for sure.”

“Are you scared?” you asked. Monty glared.

“Nah, ain’t nothin’ scary. Yer jus’ a freak.” You couldn’t help but wonder if he was telling you, or himself. You tilted your head.

“It’s okay to be scared,” you said and lifted a paw to the glass. What a strangely sweet voice you had. “Sometimes you should be.”

“I told ya! I ain’t scared of nothin’. ‘Specially not no weirdo clown.” Something dark flickered behind his eyes. “Somethin’ like you don’t belong here. Not ‘n this place.”

“You should leave,” you said simply. A silence hung in the air for some time; you never broke eye contact. The spotlight began to flicker.

Monty huffed and spun on his heel. “With pleasure,” he grunted. You watched as he left with slow and deliberate steps. You wondered if he’d come back again someday. It was a lonely stage.

🐺Roxanne Wolf🦴

You stood there, gazing at your figure from the reflection glaring against the glass wall. You hardly even recognized yourself anymore with freshly groomed fur, spotless paint, and glossy eyes. It was especially odd to feel the lack of rust and dirt between your joints. It was almost as if they’d erased every last reminder of that dark time. However, the question still weighed heavy on your mind; where on earth had all that time gone? 

And yet here you were, trapped within a tiny auditorium of your own, surrounded by the many familiar bits and bobs of your past. Displays full of old props, and worn machinery, sat before you. Your entire life was laid out for future tourists to gawk at. It was nostalgic, in a twisted sense, as though some part of you missed that hell hole you’d once been kept in. As above, so below, you supposed. Half heartedly, you wondered if this was how a fish in a pet store might feel. For some reason, you found a strange comfort in the buzzing of the flickering spotlight shining down upon you. You blinked at the reflection of your face—it blinked back.

The silence, save for the vibrations of electricity flowing through the walls, was broken by the sound of distant footsteps. 

When the staff asked for a Glamrock to welcome you, to everyone’s surprise, Roxanne volunteered herself. She was the most popular bot for a reason after all, who wouldn’t want to meet her? The others were a bit hesitant, Freddy especially, but Roxy made the case that only a loner could break the ice with another, so he allowed it. Reluctantly. 

Within the shadows of the construction zone, you stuck out like a white rabbit in the night. Roxanne approached you with a clawed paw on her hip. You watched her reflection in the glass, beside your own, analyzing her without the need to face her. She was beautiful, tall, and advanced; it seemed the new generation of bots had quite the upgrade. Though, you weren’t sure who she was. Perhaps it was a new version of Foxy? Why was she grey? As a matter of fact, why did she seem feminine? Your Foxy never had a true gendered presentation. Foxy… You wondered if they were out there somewhere. Part of you hoped they weren’t. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss them, but you knew there wasn’t anywhere for them to go—the world had no place for you Funtimes.

“You’re not even gonna look at me?” Roxanne asked. Oh, right, her. You’d forgotten she was there. With a slow turn of your head, you gazed down at her. “That’s better. Say, pup, what’s your name?”

Your name? It took you a moment to recall and though you opened your maw to respond, you decided against it. You weren’t sure if this bot could be trusted.

“Hmph. Shy types,” she said, thick eyebrows knitted. She crossed her arms. “Name’s Roxanne Wolf, your pleasure to meet me.” Oh, so she was an entirely new character. She certainly had a showmanship about her, just like Foxy. An ego.

“Somethin’ wrong with your voice or what?” she said with a sneer. “Not sure what I expected. Of course something as old as you can’t speak.” There was an air of superiority leeching from her. That distinctly belittling tone of her voice was sinking beneath your faux skin. You felt your plastic hair stand on edge—something dangerous flickered behind your plastic eyes. 

“I can speak just fine,” you said. “I choose not to.” 

“Well, ‘least you got a voice,” she shifted her stance, putting her weight to one side. “Got a name too?”

“Y/N,” you said. It had been a long time since you’d heard that name aloud, even longer since you introduced yourself. What a stupid name it was. “The pleasure is no one’s.”

Roxanne glared for a moment. You wondered if you had pissed her off, but why had she smirked like that?

“Y/N… suits you,” she said as her scrutinizing gaze trailed up and down your body. For some reason, you suddenly felt a bit self conscious. “So, like… What’s this whole kicked puppy act anyway?”

“What?” you asked as she rolled her eyes in response.

“Y’know, the whole ‘I’m so miserable’ look.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that and a strangely disturbing silence lay thickly between the two of you. Your faceplates twitched. You felt this irritating itch to reach out and grab her, to show her what you were really feeling; the best you could do was lean against the glass, outstretched claws tapping dangerously upon the barrier.

“Let me out, and I’ll show you,” you said with a slight tilt of your head. 

Roxanne wasn’t sure what had come over you, it was as if one moment you were fine, and the next you appeared as some kind of monster. That was when she realized the soulless look in your eyes like you’d rip her apart if you could. You couldn’t, of course, but she now understood the meaning behind the “Do Not Touch” warning pasted against the glass frame. Roxy shook her head.

“Nah. Something tells me you deserve to be in there.” You watched as she stepped back before turning on her metallic heel and left. Alone at last; just like you were meant to be.

[sm-baby]

Most exciting part of the trailer for the next TADC episode for you?

More so an Analysis rather than things I'm excited about X3

I watched the sneak peek on loop I can process everything! Waahh!! I'm so excited for episode 2 💞 only a few weeks away! 💕

I wanna get this out of the way, I love Lizzie Freeman and Alex Rochon's Improv work on this promo 😭 they were really put in a booth together, were told to say things to promote episode two, and came up with that 😭 Genius.

The environment work is GORGEOUS! I love the look of everything, the world-building, the colors! It looks like a full-fledged movie guys! Absolutely beautiful and WONDEROUS work from the Glitch team-- it's so beautiful for half a year of work??? God damn!!

Haha! As an in-universe creation, Despite his little gags, Caine is genuinely such a good AI to make something so cool!

You'll also notice that Ragatha is taking charge of talking with the princess! That would make sense for such fellow beautiful well-mannered women!

More on them later at the end! :3

Dream sequence theory

Also, we all agree that these ones are all part of a dream right? Pomni is panicked, the strange sort of "slow woozy wobbly" animation exactly like a dream... even the dolly zoom!

Then she is sent to the cellar with a an abstracted arm, but that shouldn't be the case since Caine could easily fix an abstracted arm with a snap of a finger.

And then she wakes up, freaked out!!

Wahaha! Shout out to the Showtime server for pointing this out while we were discussing!

This is either and "end of episode prize" from Caine, or he jumps in mid-episode to hand them a helpful item, ooorr he's telling them that that's their objective for the adventure :3

also!! people have pointed out that Zooble isn't with the carriage with the others! Either this means that Zooble was given a surprise roll in the adventure, or she's off to have a fun solo adventure with Caine! Ohh! How exciting!

Zooble is a favorite character of Goose's, so to learn more about him and why Goose loves them so much would be so exciting!!

Whats up with Jax?

hunched down, writing in the sand, hugging his knees, this topped with Goose's two-word description of the next episode to be "I"m nothing"... Oh Jax is gonna have a MOMENT...

We all know that no one likes the dude and he's going to get worse. I'm unsure if this will make me like the guy, but I'm optimistic!

I'm open to understanding and seeing another side of him that would make me like him! I already quite like how this scene is framed, how lonely he looks, the acting in these few seconds already tells me what kind of guy he is.

...despite one of the gummis being tied up in the corner

If i had to hypothesize, this probably stemmed with Jax acting out, you know, the usual "being a nuisance" to make everyone miserable,

Then It escalates

This gets on Ragatha's nerves, first starting out as a silly "haha cute interaction" between them and it escalates while the episode goes on where Ragatha genuinely gets mad at him and tells him to stay put while they do the work.

Speaking of Ragatha, She seems to be quite fond of the Princess! There is a part of me that wonders if she wants to sort of-- "prove" herself in a way, as a leader or otherwise. Ragatha does give me the "smart yet nice kid in class that everyone copies off of" energy... TwT This poor woman.

I don't know, just the way The Princess bends down and holds her hand, it's sort of sweetly mentorly or motherly in a way. I'm not saying this to infantilize Ragatha, I respect her so much as a mature 30-year-old adult, I say it as a testament to The Princesses' character. Princesses, Queens, and any sort of royalty have been characterized as the sort of "mother/father of all" sort of character type, which is sweet! And would be quite interesting!

I know that people are quick to do the shipping with these two, but I kind of like the idea of Ragatha wanting approval and validation.

BUT THATS JUST A THEORY!! A FILM THEORY!!! ANDDD CUT!!

[c4tluver02]

Family Video

a/n: haiiii this is my very first pic ive everrrrr written so im sorry if its awful and boring!!!!! if there's anything I can improve on pls let me know!! also id love any requests you guys have! <333 enjoy

summery: after just moving to Hawkins you decided a movie is in order. but when looking for a movie you notice the boy at the counter just can't stop staring at you!

no warnings!

wc: 1k

All Steve could do was roll his eyes. Robin went on a date with Vickie last night and it was simply all she could talk about.  

“Robin of course she likes you, she asked you on the date. Vickie wouldn't do that if she didn't mean it.” Steve says somewhat listening in and out of what feels like hours long of the same topic. 

“Well this isn't something I can mess up, I mean what if I was too forward or I rambled I mean you know I can ramble!” 

Steve sighs as he puts tapes back into their spot after they had been returned. “Listen Rob, I can promise you VIckie likes you for you and your rambling. There's nothing you need to be worried about.” He says trying to end this conversation and get back to working in peace.

Truth be told Steve was having trouble in the dating department. If you would have told King Steve that he would have trouble even holding a conversation with girls he wouldn't believe you. Yet here he was listening to everyone tell him their love life and him having nothing to say back.

“Steve you don't get it VIckie is perfect in every sense of the word. I mean what if-” Robin gets cut off as the bell above the door rings signaling a new customer and Steve couldn't be more thankful.

You walked in feeling eyes on you, almost like you had interrupted a conversation. You walk towards the comedy section in hopes of finding something interesting to fill your weekend with.

As you start to look around, you feel a pair of eyes on you. When you look up you notice the boy at the counter swiftly turning his head the other way. You smile to yourself at his attempt of making it look like he wasn't staring. You then walk to the drama aisle. You're not really sure what type of movie you're looking for but it's almost as if the counter boy can read your mind. 

“Hey, um, is there anything you need help with?” Steve says with a kind smile on his face as he walks over to you. 

“Hi! Yes, actually some help would be great. I am not really sure what movie to watch.. Do you have any, uh, suggestions?” You say not sounding as confident now that the cute boy is standing right in front of you 

Steve's eyes lit up at the request, the thought of being helpful to such a pretty girl had his heart pounding. 

“Of course, do you have any genres of movie you like?” Steve asks, trying to learn any bit of information he could about you.

“I definitely like romance movies, comedy, horror, and drama of course I guess I'm not really picky when it comes to genres.” It wasn't until you noticed that you and Steve were both completely stopped in the middle of the aisle that you probably could have just said comedy and he could have found a movie no problem. Steve didn't mind your long answer though, he liked that you were so open to talk. He guides you both to the comedy section and pulls out a movie. 

“Ok we have this movie, it just came out and we've gotten great consumer reviews on it” He says with a smile that's probably a little too wide for just helping a customer pick out a movie. 

You look at the movie he's picked and it happens to be one you've seen before but you don't have the heart to tell him that. He looks proud to give you a good recommendation along with his help so you take the movie from his hands and smile at him.

“Perfect! I probably would have been looking in here forever trying to find something without your help!” you say with a smile not really wanting this conversation to end.

It almost seems like Steve doesn't either, or maybe you just aren't good at hiding your emotions as he says 

“Hey uh, how come I haven't seen you around here before?” Steve says hoping he's not coming off too forward the last thing he wanted to do was scare you away. 

You stand in front of him with wide eyes not knowing exactly what to say. You knew this town was small and being new will probably have a few others asking why they didn't know of you. 

“Oh, I just moved here about a week ago. I am just trying to scope out some places and I thought a movie night would be comforting.” You say as you twirl your hair in your hands, a nervous habit you have. 

Steve nods wishing he could ask you a million more questions. There was something so intriguing about you. He wants to know where you lived before coming here, or better yet why you decided to move here out of all the places. Trying to come off nonchalant and cool, Steve pops the question that you weren't expecting. 

“Anyone helping you move, friend, or maybe boyfriend?” Steve looks at you with big eyes and a calm demeanor trying to pull out his King Steve persona even though his night will be utterly ruined if the answer isn't no. 

You blush lightly at his question but just enough for Steve to notice. “Nope, no boyfriend helping. I moved out here alone so packing has been slower for sure.” You say you are trying to sound cool despite the fact you are single and have no clue what you are doing moving and starting a new life all on your own.

Steve's shoulders release a tension he didn't even know he was holding. A breath of relief comes out right and as Steve opens his mouth to say something back-

“Hey are you ready to check out?” Robin says walking up to you guys noticing you have a movie picked out. 

You look between her and Steve blinking as reality comes crashing down on you. This guy has a job and she probably needs him to get back to it. Not standing here talking to you for forever. You walk up to the counter and see that Steve is gonna be the one checking you out. 

You pay for the movie as you and Steve sit in a comfortable silence. Before you leave you thank him.

“Thanks for all you help… Steve?” You say reading out his name tag on his vest.  

But Steve just loves the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. He wishes you could say it again. It’s as if an angel just spoke to him. Your eyes, your hair, your smile, it's all perfection. He can't believe that someone so perfect is right in front of him. Like cupid shot him directly in the heart. As you blink in front of him waiting for a response he finally answers. 

“Yea.. Steve! And if you want to come back and let us know what you thought of the movie you're more than welcome to!” Steve says with excitement blowing his nonchalant cover a bit. 

You gleam at his invitation even though you both know you'll have to come back to return the movie anyways. Yet you don't mention it or try to mess with him about it. You simply smile and nod.

“Got it, I'll be back soon for the review!” You say as you grin from ear to ear just by looking at the boy in front of you as you open the door to leave. 

Once you get in your car Steve turns around and sighs. Robin looks directly at him with eyes squinted and a smirk.

“What?” Steve asks confused with her stare

“I saw you have heart eyes for her..” Robin says, poking him in his shoulder repeatedly. 

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes pushing her hand away, “I was just helping out a customer buckley. Can a man not do that?” He bites back sarcastically.

“Mhm sure, I guess so.” Robin says back with a smirk on her face as Steve turns around knowing this isn't just some customer.

[notroosterbradshaw]

dying to know how reader reacted to finding out she was pregnant in the boyfriend experience uni 😫 likeeee ik she wasn’t ready for kids in uncle brooster but bradley was so were there mixed feelings abt it? especially since there was no telling when he’d be deployed again

Hi nonny, I don’t know where you are in the cosmos. But this is for you x

A/N I forgot I had this. I don't have the time this close to Xmas/at all to proof/improve so for those of you still in the TGM, I hope you enjoy and merry merry, happy happy xx

“Roll the dice,” you reiterate to Bradley. “If we get pregnant, great. If we don’t…”

“It’s you and me and we are great with that,” Bradley answered, the faintest glint of hope in his shining honey eyes.

You knew he was on Team Baby. He wasn't pressing it; he couldn’t. That wasn’t fair to you… to him or anyone else. You’d said your piece well before you got engaged, and well before today.

The day you married him.

But in the back of the afterglow of lovemaking as husband and wife, you’d told him you’d go off birth control after your honeymoon if he still wanted to try for a baby. You didn’t want it to be immediate, you wanted to enjoy being married and the fun that came with it. And Bradley agreed. You didn’t want to be thinking about periods and not drinking and having the time of your lives. Bradley was busier with work now than ever before, and with the work extensions complete, new staffing, and more small business to take care of, even though you were together every night? You were still doing your own things, barely getting into bed at the same time.

Thing was, you were only hoping to be a newlywed once - marriage wasn't as big a thing for you as it was for Bradley. And even babies. You loved your niece and nephew and Uncle Brooster was fantastic with them - it always left a pang in your heart that he would be such a good father. But even he admitted he wouldn't have the first idea of how to do it since his dad wasn't around when he was growing up and Maverick wasn't exactly an example of patriarchal learning.

You didn’t want to add the stress of calculating ovulation even if an app would do it for you, the disappointment of periods coming… you just wanted to have fun fucking, and pleasing each other as you moved into the next phase of your lives. The stress Annie went through and the lengths she was going to with IVF therapies - overwhelming hormones, nausea, mood swings, sore boobs, abdominal discomfort. God, when you had a difficult period, you could assume similarly but as Annie went through her treatments, at a fairly young age, it was eye-opening at best.

You remembered one sentence so vividly that it scared you to your bones, “When your biological clock starts… it’s all that your brain hears. You can’t undo it and it messes with your head.”

See? Terrifying. Fair for all involved.

But when your period was late after about two periods since going off birth control, you kind of hoped it was the drama of irregular periods and what it brought. It was why you went on the pill in the first place in your teens.

But there was something different as you channel surfed and Bradley cooked in the (motherfucking, finally renovated) kitchen. A strange cramping in your tummy. Not unbearable, but noticeable as you pressed against the pulsating pressure and made a face. Sighing, you unfolded yourself from the couch and moved to your handsome husband. You tenderly kissed between his shoulder blades and he gave an over the top shudder, as you giggled into his skin. He put his utensil down and turned to you, holding your chin in his calloused bug hand and giving you a quick peck before you quietly excused yourself, but not yet willing to admit to him it was to do a pregnancy test. And you weren’t entirely surprised when it revealed you were 1-2 weeks pregnant. And you weren’t entirely surprised when you showed him the positive pregnancy test after dinner that still certainly said PREGNANT in fat, bold letters.

“It tells you how many weeks?” Bradley was astonished, his eyes glued to the digital reading before him.

“Clever, huh?” you said quietly. Bradley’s honey eyes flicked to regard you. Unreadable at best, erring on the side of too quiet. Reserved, but not disappointed, he had trouble reading you sometimes, and this was one he'd need you to talk through. He needed to know exactly what was going on through your head.

“You good?” he asked softly, grasping the test in his strong palm. It was so small but it held his world in his grip. He put the test down to caress your jaw, forcing your gaze to him. “Love…” his fingers light as they sunk into the hair at the nape of your neck. “My sweet girl,” he called to you.

“I think I am. It’s just… quick," you surrender, falling into his sound touch.

“It is quick,” Bradley agreed, kissing your hair. “Is it too quick?”

“Maybe…” you admitted as he pressed a kiss into your temple and wrapped his strong arms around you. He felt too warm and he protected you without question, you really couldn’t imagine life without him right there.

“If it’s too soon, that’s okay," he said softly.

“I saw how hard it was for Annie and just expected we’d be on our own a bit longer. Genetics and shit."

He bit back his smile and your inadvertent joke, or necessary sarcasm. Bradley hummed. “I think your genetics are pretty fine, if you ask me.”

Eyes rolling in corny, you muttered his name as a warning that jokes were unnecessary at this time.

“Okay, okay,” he answered, palms up, teasing off. He knew you were withholding and he knew he was holding everything back in his body not to go over the top with the excitement bubbling in his entire being. “Love, is this what you want? If you're not ready - if you have changed your mind - ”

I just need some time,” you admitted, cutting him off. “Just to get used to…” your voice trailed.

Bradley nodded. He in no way felt like it was his place to speak and as the facial one between the pair of you? Well. So he just continued to hold you and whisper that whatever you decided was okay, and he would support you with anything you decided, a lot or not he wasn’t sure. He thought you were on the same page. He thought you both wanted this -

Like you, his insides were much and could feel himself lightheaded. He grounded himself and carefully reminded himself this wasn’t about him for now. It was getting your beautifully convoluted brain and heart to the same place his was:

Ready.

“What if this is our only chance?” You asked quietly. “What if - “ you shut your mouth and the guilt of situation started to overwhelm you. Bradley only hummed, still choosing to remain mute. “Would you hate me?”

He remained reflective a moment, choosing his words carefully his best option.

“No, love. But I would never live with myself if I forced you to do something you weren’t ready for. Come,” he took your hands and led you to the bedroom. He helped you take off your clothes, his large palm resting gently over your abdomen for just a second longer than he should have and it didn’t go unnoticed by you.

His baby in your protective, strong body.

He pulled back the duvet and patted your pillow as you snuck under the cold sheets, thinking maybe you could sleep a year. He climbed in after you, the warm skin of his chest against your back under the slowly spinning ceiling fan. His fingertips traced your hip, slowly drawing his name on your skin. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay.”

There was your voice of reason.

“But it's still something you'll need to consider pretty quick..."

Always offering you both sides.

It was silent a while and while Bradley’s excitement was guarded carefully, even he knew this conversation was not the light and excited one he thought you’d share instead.

"I want this," you were able to say, but it was easier with him not boring his eyes into yours. He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled the nape of your neck.

"I love you," he said so softly you almost didn't hear him. "I won't let you do this alone."

The fateful night you told your family and the Dagger Squad was when it really started to feel real. Your pregnancy to that point has been pretty good. You only turned green as food cooked around you so it was easy to excuse yourself and the extreme exhaustion that overwhelmed you the first trimester slinked away entering the second. You weren’t horribly unwell but things were definitely changing within you.

Boobs sore and off limits to Bradley even though he’d playfully volunteered his palms but your personal support system. It went about as well as expected.

“Just ginger ale tonight?” Bob smiled a while later. You’d been chatting quietly together while Bradley’s squad played pool and generally one-upped each other around you.

“What do you mean?” God, you hated lying to such a delight as Bob. He was so sweet, and although Bradley had alluded to his well-guarded playboy-like ways, he was always darling to you.

“I have four sisters,” he sipped his water. “She pretended she was drinking bourbon and ginger ale to throw everyone off the scent she was…” he chuckled quietly and you’d be damned if you’d figured him out. “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I understand if you’re just not drinking tonight.”

And while your family was aware of your news, Bradley had sworn not to tell his friends just yet. You weren’t ready to be looked in on 24/7 by overzealous Navy pilots.

“Nearly four months,” you said quietly.

“Phoenix guessed a little less,” he winked. “I won’t tell, but I’m very happy for you both. This baby will be so loved. Or smothered,” he shrugged playfully. “One of the two.”

“Bob?”

“Yes, ma’am?” He responded as you rolled your eyes playfully.

“This is how you do it, isn’t it?”

“Do what?” He played dumb.

“Find women. Because you watch and listen.” And suddenly it all made such sense as he blushed, toying with his glass.

“I can’t reveal all my trade secrets, but showing a little interest helps,” he admitted.

“I wanna know all your tricks. You’re absolutely fascinating to me.”

And for the first time, you heard Bob Floyd cackle as he nodded. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s never gonna happen.”

"You're getting deployed?" you look at Bradley, eyes wild, six months of baby belly between you. His head fell back.

"I know."

"You know?" you screeched, spoiled for months of your husband home and he finds himself deployed as you enter your final trimester. "Bradley, you'll be away for the birth of your daughter."

"I know..." he said a little meeker. He was sick about this conversation. Sick.

"Did you not put in the leave paperwork?"

"Of course I did. Baby, this classification is my first real role as team leader. As command.”

"Who's going with you?"

"Payback, Fanboy," he confirmed softly.

“Will you be home for Christmas?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he stepped towards you, his large palms sinking into the round belly under his grasp, tickling the stretching skin. You sighed and collapsed into his hold. “Even if I have to jump overboard and swim back myself, I will be here for Christmas. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just scared. The birth is one thing… but I can’t raise a baby in my own,” you said, the fear in your evident.

“And I’d never let you,” he whispered into your hair.

"If you see one ounce of action, I swear to you, don't dare come home."

He nodded. Dear God, he knew. The most danger Bradley Bradshaw had ever been in was at this moment. And as his baby girl kicked him from her little cocoon in retaliation for making her Mama wild, he knew that nothing g else mattered anymore and that someway, somehow he was going to find a way to be home for his girls.

masterlist.

[lexsssu]

Naive (Alhaitham)

TAGS: Alhaitham/F!Bunny!reader, friends to lovers, pining, yandere, possessive behavior, obsession, mating cycles/heats, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Why do we have to learn more math even if our major has nothing to do with it? At this rate, I’m going to flunk and take it again next semester…”

Alhaitham’s fingers twitched unconsciously as your pair of long ears drooped down, hanging by the sides of your face almost as if they were pigtails instead of actual appendages.

“What the heck am I going to need calculus for when I’m trying to develop improved cultivation tools and methods? It’s not like I need to find out the value of X while I’m plowing the fields or something…”

His heartbeat is delayed for a single second at the mention of ‘plowing fields,’ and he has no one else to thank other than the hormonal male Akademiya students who’d made one or two passing unsolicited remarks about Amurta’s only female beastkin student.

He made sure to memorize their faces and names for him to deal with at a later date.

“Alhaitham, help meeee…!” 

Despite being a proud descendant of the Taguel, the way you so easily beg and plead so submissively at him with large watery eyes and a pout formed by a pair of luscious lips has him wondering if you were unconsciously using some sort of secret seduction techniques passed on through your clan. Perhaps you were even secreting some sort of pheromones that made him calmer, more relaxed, and susceptible to your whims…

“Knowledge always comes at a price. I’m willing to tutor you, but you’ll owe me a single favor that you can’t refuse and which I can redeem at any time of my choosing,” bright turquoise orbs darkened as he leaned his head against his curled right fist. “Are you still willing to pursue this knowledge despite the costs?”

“Of course! I trust you, Alhaitham. So why would I be scared about the favor I’ll be owing you for this? Knowing you, you’ll probably make me do some paperwork or help with your research,” you giggle, the fluffy cotton ball of a tail you had wagging at how silly your friend was. 

Why would you ever be afraid of him when he’d been nothing but honest with you? Alhaitham wasn’t some random cur that tricked hapless maidens into his slimy grasp.

If only you knew just how depraved he truly was when it came to you. 

Then again, it is his luck that his adorable little bunny was such an innocent creature that only saw the best in him.

It’s up to him to make sure no one ever takes advantage of your kindness and naivety.

Even if it means he has to carefully plan and wait for the right time to finally express his true desires, he is willing to be patient. Especially when he knows that you are what awaited him at the end.  

You remain blissfully unaware of his thoughts and intentions, not even questioning him or thinking how odd it was for him to have you sit on his lap as he taught you your most dreaded subject.

Alhaitham is a good man and an even greater friend.

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

You both graduate within the same year with, as expected, flying colors, much to the joy of your respective families. It’s a solemn yet joyous affair, one that you invited him to because how could you not when it was with his help that you managed to even graduate with honors?

There is sure to be some teasing courtesy of your family once you get home, but that is the last thing on your mind as you leap into Alhaitham’s strong arms.

Even through the layers of your graduation attire, you feel the wall of solid muscle that is his body, something that always amazed you when he was one of the most brilliant scholars in Sumeru.

“Thank you, Alhaitham. I wouldn’t have been able to get this far without you always having my back,” you don’t notice the way his sandstone-colored irises seem to dilate as you curl around him, your entire body supported by a single arm around your soft waist while another hand settles upon the plushness of your bum.

Being so close to you like this allows him a whiff of your scent, a mix of soft floral and woody notes with a hint of fruity and citrus underneath. He feels his body heating up from the inside as his senses are assaulted by your voice, your body, and even your smell.

He won’t be able to last long if you keep this up.

Don’t you know how much you drive him crazy?

Rational thoughts come second to instincts when it comes to you, something your kind is very much familiar with.

If there aren’t so many people right now, he’ll throw you onto the grassy ground and mount you right here. He’ll put a whole litter of kittens in your belly and take care of you and your new family for the rest of his days—

Somehow, he manages to keep himself from making a scene by fucking you right in front of your family and the entire Amurta faculty, namely your master, Sage Naphis, whose short temper was legendary throughout the Akademiya. 

However, each day that passes and each small action you make only wears his thinning patience and self-control. It’s not a question of ‘if,’ but rather a question of ‘when,’ and only the Archons know when that will be.

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

“So…Acting Grand Sage, huh? I always knew you’d go on to do great things, but Sumeru’s de-facto leader? Makes me wonder why you’re even hanging out with a country bumpkin like me~” Sticking your tongue out playfully and winking at him, you miss the way he swallows seemingly nothing but air.

“Don’t be absurd. Who I associate with of my own volition is no one’s business but my own.” 

Although he may look and sound cold at first glance, you have known Alhaitham long enough to know for sure that he simply has his own ways of showing he cares. He wouldn’t let Kaveh stay at his place if he didn’t care about his friend after all. And even if the scribe wanted to be stubborn about it initially, you simply offered to house Kaveh instead, which ended up with the architect staying at Alhaitham’s in the end.

It’s honestly downright adorable how contradictory he could be at times, seemingly wanting to maintain an unbothered and uncaring attitude when you knew full well how good of a friend he was.

If only you knew that the real reason why he allowed Kaveh room and board was that he’d sooner gut the other man than let him stay in the same house as you. 

He’d gouge the architect’s eyes out if they even settled too long on you.

It’s one of the reasons you’ve come to harbor feelings for him.

He is handsome, he is brilliant, but most of all, he is kind even when you have nothing to give him in return aside from your time and friendship.

You repeatedly stamp down the warm bubbly feelings within you that try to rise to the surface, repeatedly telling yourself that there is no chance that such a fine specimen as Alhaitham would return your affections.

Archons know just how many times you’d fingered yourself to thoughts of him during your heats. How you imagined scenarios of him coming to you in the dead of night, whispering sweet nothings and promises of breeding you full, just as nature had intended.

But there’s no way that could ever happen…right?

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

"'m sorry…didn't know…it'd come early this…year…!" 

You are a pitiful mess as you lie on the grassy ground, your body overheating from the inside as the symptoms of your heat swiftly overtake all rational thought. According to your calendar, it wasn’t supposed to happen for another few days!

He memorized the exact dates of your cycle, so he knows full well just when you’ll be perfectly ripe and ready for the taking.

Had you not forced his hand in the first place, he’d have gladly waited for your regular heat.

“Don’t l-look at me…Haitham…!” 

How can he not look upon the stunning sight of you looking so hot and disheveled because of your need to be mated and bred? It is a sight he will commit to memory for the rest of his life.

You desperately force down the beastly instincts that urge you to submit to the nearest virile male and present your soaked cunt that begged to be bred. It is humiliating, especially because Alhaitham is forced to watch your lewd and debauched display. 

It brings him such glee at the knowledge that no one will ever get to see you like this. 

Whether it was your upperclassman Tighnari, your friend Cyno, or even Kaveh, none of them will ever have this privilege.

You don’t even want to think about how you’ll face him after this.

Because why would he ever want a mere beast like you?

It is his misfortune that he wasn’t born a beastman like you were. However, he’ll make sure to make up for what he lacked tenfold.

You sniffle, feeling small tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body and mind fight one another. Your hands move to cover your face, unwilling to let him see any more of the pitiful sight you made.

There’s no need for you to look for a mate from the other beastkin clans.

He’d rather burn Gandharva Ville to the ground than hand you over to the likes of Tighnari. 

Just because the other male was your senior and studied under the same sage didn’t mean that he’ll let that damnable fox sink his claws into you. 

“No. I believe I have a better solution for your plight,” with one hand, he pins both your wrists above you as he settles himself in between your legs.

“Mate with me.”

His words send a shock through your body, floppy bunny ears standing ramrod straight as you gaze up at him with large eyes, heart beating like a drum as the weight of his statement registers in your mind.

“Don’t you see? It’s simply because our bodies are compatible with one another that your heat opted to arrive earlier than expected. Your body already knows what your mind has yet to even comprehend,” Alhaitham’s turquoise orbs seemed like they were almost glowing in the dark as they gazed down at you like a predator eyeing its prey.

You were always the only one meant for him, even if you didn’t realize it at first.

And yet, you don’t feel a single ounce of fear.

Rather, you want to be devoured by him.

You want him to stuff you full with his cum again and again until his seed takes root in your awaiting womb and bears fruit.

You want him and will gladly take everything he’ll give you.

“Alhaitham…mate with me, please?”

[kingdom-of-sins]

Fernando Alonso x driver!Reader

Platonic. Mentor-mentee. Reader drives for McLaren

Your journey to Formula 1 was nothing short of a dream. As a kid, you had posters of Fernando Alonso on your wall, watched his every race, studied his every move. He was your hero, the driver who could make even the toughest battles on track look like art. Years later, that same hero had become your mentor, guiding you through the ups and downs of your journey in F2 and beyond.

You remember when he first noticed you, back in your F2 days. You’d just finished a race, pulling a stunning overtake in the last lap to clinch a podium. As you climbed out of your car, sweaty and exhausted, someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned, and there he was—Fernando Alonso, congratulating you with that knowing smile. “You remind me of myself,” he’d said, and from that moment on, everything changed.

Fernando took you under his wing, giving you tips, advice, and encouragement. He was tough, but he was always fair. “Learn to protect your tires,” he’d tell you, “and don’t give up an inch if you don’t have to.” With him guiding you, you pushed harder, improved faster. Even after you made it to Formula 1, with McLaren, he was always there, just a message or a call away, ready to offer advice before every race.

Everyone knew Fernando was your mentor, and he made it clear he was proud of you. In interviews, he’d praise your progress, your determination, and whenever you crossed paths in the paddock, he’d make sure to check in. His support meant the world to you, and it kept you grounded, knowing that the man you’d looked up to all these years believed in you.

Now, driving for McLaren with Lando Norris as your teammate, you’d had an incredible season so far, and the dream of your first win felt so close. But last race, that dream had been shattered. You were leading, just a few laps away from victory, when the radio crackled with a team order that sent a chill through you.

“Let Lando through,” they’d said. “It’s for the championship.”

Your heart had sunk. You were faster, you knew it, but McLaren wanted you to move aside, to help Lando secure points. You didn’t argue, though every fiber of you had wanted to fight. Following the order, you watched as Lando overtook, stealing away the win that should have been yours.

After the race, the frustration boiled inside you. All the hard work, the sacrifices—it felt like it had been taken away in an instant. Away from the cameras, you found a quiet corner in the paddock, trying to calm yourself, but nothing helped.

That’s when you saw Fernando. He approached quietly, and from the look on his face, you knew he understood exactly how you felt. “It’s hard, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice calm. “Letting go of something that should have been yours.”

You nodded, struggling to keep your emotions in check. “It just feels… unfair. I had the win, Fernando. I could have done it.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I know. And so do you. Listen, this is part of racing. Sometimes, teams will make decisions that go against everything we feel. But here’s what I want you to remember.” His voice softened, but there was a strength in his words. “Next time, don’t let anyone hold you back. Do what you do best. Race, as fast as you can. If Lando can’t beat you on his own, then he’s not ready to be champion yet.”

You felt a spark of determination reignite inside you, the frustration giving way to a quiet resolve. Fernando’s words had always had a way of grounding you, of reminding you why you loved this sport in the first place. His confidence in you was something you couldn’t shake.

With renewed focus, you entered the next race with one thing on your mind: to race without holding back. From the start, you pushed your McLaren to its limits, the car responding beautifully as you took each corner, each straight with the precision Fernando had drilled into you over the years. Every lap, you felt stronger, more in control, the distance between you and the others growing.

Then, the team radio came alive. “We need you to let Lando pass.”

This time, you didn’t hesitate. “If he’s fast enough,” you replied, your voice steady, “he can try to catch me.”

The minutes ticked by, and Lando tried—he pushed hard, but he couldn’t close the gap. You held your line, focused on nothing but the track ahead, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline and pride with every lap. You were racing for yourself, for the win you deserved, and nothing was going to stop you this time.

The checkered flag waved, and you crossed the line in first place. Your first win in Formula 1. The realization hit you all at once, an overwhelming mix of joy, relief, and disbelief. You’d done it. You’d won.

As you climbed out of the car, the cheers from the crowd washed over you, and you felt the weight of every challenge, every sacrifice, lift from your shoulders. The team gathered around, clapping and congratulating you, but one face stood out in the crowd—Fernando.

He made his way over, his smile wide, his eyes filled with pride. Without a word, he pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, the noise and excitement faded away.

“I knew you could do it,” he said quietly, his voice warm and full of pride. “This win was all yours.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the victory celebration. “Thank you, Fernando. For everything.”

He nodded, his hand still on your shoulder. “This is just the beginning. Keep racing like that, and no one will be able to stop you.”

As you stood there beside the man who’d guided you every step of the way, you knew he was right. This was only the start of what you could achieve.

[roosterforme]

Ready, Rough and Unromantic | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley has a rough day at work, he knows the only thing that will make him feel better is his wife. But will you let him dominate you? Will you let him use you just how he needs to? He shouldn't have been surprised by your answer or your response to him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, rough smut, dominant smut

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I am so proud of you, Roo," you whispered, kissing his neck and zipping up his flight suit. It was early, the sun was just peeking through the bedroom curtains, but you were up helping him get ready for the first day of his duties.

Bradley would be spending the week as an assistant instructor at Top Gun. Few people would appreciate what an honor this was, but you understood it implicitly. You hadn't yet bothered to dress for the day, but you decided to wake up early to wish him luck. 

He ran his fingers along your soft skin, completely bare for him except for your glasses and wedding rings, as he said, "I always want to make you proud, Baby Girl."

When Bradley tipped his head down to kiss your cheek, you giggled. The sound went right to the part of his brain that controlled his unbridled desire for you. All he had to do was squeeze your bare hip with his big hand, and you looked up into his eyes.

"Do we have time?" you asked softly before you bit your lip.

He kind of shrugged and grunted, but you were already lowering the zipper of his flight suit all the way down. Bradley let you take the lead on this one, and when you dropped to your knees, he was not disappointed. 

The way you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock... yeah, there would always be time for that. "You're so fucking good," he groaned as you took him deep, and he hit the back of your throat. You sucked on him until you were gagging, then you pulled him out as a strand of your saliva dripped onto your tits.

"This is for good luck," you told him before you tilted your head and sucked on his balls until he was pulling on your hair a little rough.

"Oh," he groaned. "My wife doesn't mess around." His words were deep and gruff compared to the long, soft moans you made as your tongue swirled up the length of his cock. 

You kissed the tip of him, whispered, "I love you," and then you gave him absolutely filthy head until he was cumming all over you. Your hollowed cheeks and warm hands had him fucking your face until cum dripped out of the corners of your lips. And when he spurted onto your glasses a second later, your giggle returned.

Bradley loved the sight of it enough that he wanted to make a mess with you later on when he had more time. Coat your glasses up real good. Maybe help you lick them clean. 

"Fuck," he growled. "I need to leave, Sweetheart." Bradley pulled you to your feet and placed a soft slap to your ass. You kissed him hard one time, and he promised he'd take care of you later.

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

"Tally, tally!" called one of the younger recruits into the radio. But his teammate and wingman left him hanging long enough that Bradley got himself quickly into position. A few seconds later, Bradley got tone on him and eliminated him. 

He was feeling great, and when the team landed along with Bradley, he took some time to show them where they went wrong and how they could improve. "As soon as you hesitate, it's over," he informed them, knowing very well that he had learned that lesson himself not terribly long ago.

The recruits filed back inside for lunch while Bradley joined Maverick and the other teachers to go over the plans for the afternoon. Honestly, he was having a great day, and when he was told he'd be taking another team up in the afternoon, he was looking forward to it.

But he must have been distracted. Or maybe he was the one who hesitated this time. Because as soon as Bradley managed to fly the two seater Super Hornet into a corner, he heard tone lock onto his own aircraft. 

He had been outmaneuvered by a twenty five year old student. 

Bradley landed his aircraft in a state of shocked silence, barely managing to communicate with the tower. He was mortified. And of course, as soon as he walked into the tower, everyone knew about it. 

"It happens," Mav told him. "It was your first day instructing. You'll nail their asses to the wall tomorrow."

But Bradley could see the looks on the students' faces. He could practically hear Nat's voice through her text message.

Are you fucking kidding me, Rooster? They took you out?

He wasn't even sure how she heard about it from the simulation classroom. But seemingly everyone knew. It took everything inside him to keep his shoulders squared and his voice calm. Because inside he wanted to rage. He wanted back up in the air. He wanted to meticulously pick off every single other aircraft one at a time until he didn't feel like a joke anymore. 

And that made him feel like maybe he wasn't ready to be an instructor yet.

"Fuck," he growled, slamming his locker door closed later. Absolutely nobody messed with him in the locker room. Nobody would even look at him. He was surrounded by dead silence everywhere he went. 

As he stormed out to his Bronco, his skin was crawling with the burning need to prove himself. To dominate his surroundings. When he started up the engine, he took a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm the rising temperature of his humiliation. The blazing desire to conquer. Overpower. Defeat.

He needed to get home to you. Somehow he knew you were the only thing that would make him feel better.

By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was practically panting. You were already home from work. This was good. When he opened the front door, he called out, "Where are you?" His voice was raspy. His body was too hot. 

"In the kitchen, Roo!" you replied. "Come tell me all about your day!" 

You had taken your boots and socks off, but you were still in your uniform with your hair pulled back in a tight bun. And you were up on the kitchen counter changing the lightbulb that he had noticed kept flickering. This kind of shit was his job to take care of around the house. You shouldn't have to be up on the counter like this. 

But as soon as he really looked at you, his cock throbbed with need. You looked at him over your shoulder as you finished with the new bulb. "What's wrong?" you asked softly, slightly alarmed. You must have seen the look in his eyes. He had never looked at you like this before.

Bradley knew you could make him feel better. If you let him do it. If you'd let him take his day out on you. 

He snagged you off the counter and into his arms as you squealed, but you quickly gaped at him as he carried you to the bedroom. 

"Bradley?" you whispered, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and searching his face.

He tossed you onto the bed and climbed on top of you, not bothering to remove his boots. You were silent, eyes wide and lips softly parted as he let you have his body weight. Your gaze was on his lips like you were expecting him to kiss you and be your sweet husband like he usually was.

"No," he growled, and your eyes darted up to his. You looked needy and uncertain. Bradley could tell you wanted to ask him what was going on. But then he read your last name on your nametag, annoyed that it didn't say Bradshaw yet. Very gently, he removed it, snapped it in half, and threw it across the room. Then he unbuttoned your shirt without a word and pushed it open wide. 

Your nipples were straining against your black lace bra. You were very subtly rubbing yourself up against his hard cock. Your pupils were dilated. You wanted to get fucked. 

"I hate your fucking name tag. Okay?" he asked, voice gruff as he wrapped his hand around the front of your neck. "I hate it."

You bit your lip and whispered, "You had a bad day."

"You told me you were going to get a new name tag," he grunted, pressing his hard cock against your thigh. "You said you submitted the paperwork for your name change."

"I did." Your voice was so needy. Bradley shoved his thumb into your mouth and watched as you opened wide and licked him.

"Get a new fucking name tag. And leave the light bulbs for me to change."

"I will," you said again with your mouth full of his thumb.

"Shut up," he growled, and your eyes went so wide as you moaned. "I'm not in the fucking mood. And I'm not going to be sweet. Not right now. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you cry. Use your pussy exactly how I want to."

You moaned around his thumb again. 

"Tell me that's what you want," he demanded. You nodded your head, and he withdrew his thumb. "Fucking say it."

"I want it." Your voice was breathy but sure, and Bradley was going to dominate you until your tears and whining made him feel better. Because there was always only you who could fix him.

He practically ripped open the front of your khaki uniform pants to get to you. Bradley yanked the fabric down your legs and sent your pants across the room to meet your broken name tag. Tiny, black lace panties cut low on your hips. He could see your tattoo. He could tell you were wet through the fabric. 

"You look like a little slut," he informed you. He watched you bite your lip as your back arched off the bed. "You shouldn't be this excited about being manhandled." Then the scrap of black lace met the same fate as your pants and the name tag.

Bradley had to commend you. You kept your mouth shut as he unzipped his flight suit, lowering the sleeves and pulling his cock free. You were silent as he rubbed himself through your wet slit. You didn't make a noise as he slowly slid himself inside your dripping wet pussy until he bottomed out. And only the softest sound escaped your lips as Bradley wrapped his big hands around your hips and lifted you slightly off the bed.

But you screamed when he held you in place, your ass in midair, and fucked you like you were his own personal toy. He slammed into your pussy with short, rough strokes. It was, in so many ways, the dirtiest thing he had ever done to you. And it felt to fucking good, Bradley could cum inside you right now. But your screams had him going harder, wanting to enjoy this feeling of control for as long as possible. 

"Louder," he told you. But he didn't really even need to say anything as he tightened his grip on your flesh and fucked you until tears leaked from your eyes. Your cries filled the room, so loud his ears were ringing from it. 

He withdrew from your body and let you fall to the bed. You were scrambling now, reaching for him. Looking up at him with tears in your eyes like you needed him to kiss you. 

He flipped you onto your belly before ramming his cock inside you again. Your hands were all balled up in the pillowcase as you cried out against the bedding. The rapid slap slap slapping noise of his body dominating yours was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard. The way you were letting him calm his nerves and soothe his ego, well if he hadn't already married you, he'd do it today. 

He palmed you softly before laying a solid smack right to the round of your ass. You moaned and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned down and put his lips next to your ear. "Tell me you want me to stop."

You shook your head and turned to look back at him, eyes red with tears. "Keep going," you hiccupped. "Please."

Bradley pushed your face back down into the pillow as you gasped and cried for him. He pumped his hips hard, grabbing at your thighs and your backside. Then he wrapped his forearm underneath you and pulled you up until you were on your knees for him. And how he had the perfect view of your body as you took him, full hilt, like a champ. You gorgeous pussy grabbed at him with each stroke, and Bradley spit on you where you were joined, making everything wetter.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked as you moaned and whimpered. "Huh? You actually fucking like this." He was so close as he spanked you just to feel you clench around him. "You fucking slut." 

He pressed his lips to your ear again and slipped his hand up to shove his fingers into your mouth. You were moaning and slobbering all over his hand, crying into the pillow. 

"You're perfect," Bradley growled as he filled you up with his cum. He fucked you with jerky strokes, pushing his load deeper and deeper until he guided you down flat on your belly with his hand on your ass. You were half crushed under his body weight, kitten licking his fingers when he realized he felt so good. So much calmer. You made everything better just like he knew you would.

But now he was slightly concerned that he had taken it too far, even with your permission. As he kissed along the back of your neck and ran his fingers softly up your arm, he whispered, "Are you okay, Baby Girl?"

Your voice was still a little watery with tears as you said, "I won't be able to walk tomorrow. And now I need to update my to-do list so I remember to order a new name tag. But that was hot. Do you feel better?"

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and buried his nose against your skin. He felt perfect. "So much better. Thank you." 

He helped you to your feet with the promise of a bubble bath. Then he assured you he could figure out how to make something for dinner. After he picked up all of the discarded clothing, he threw your name tag in the bathroom trash can while you sank down into the tub.

"I have an extra name tag in my office, you know," you told him with an eye roll and a smirk. 

"I know," he replied, bending to kiss your nose. "And I have an extra one in my locker. You can have it. We can match. It'll be cute." And now all he could think about was you wearing his last name on your khaki uniform every day. 

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

Okay, yes...okay, yep. That happened. Stay tuned for the upcoming (4th!) series with Roo and BG called Always Ever Only You! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - Four

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary at Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So, managed to get this finished before my trip this weekend! I hope you all enjoy and don’t forget to share and comment 🥹♥️ I love hearing what you all think 😘)

Series Masterlist - One Two Three

Joel sat beside his daughter's cot silently sobbing to himself, allowing the guilt he felt for how he'd shouted at you to eat him alive. He hadn't meant any of it. Not a single word. Now, the image of your face after he'd said those cruel words haunted him.

It had been three days since your argument. Sarah was a little improved yet the doctors were still concerned. Her tiny body was doing its best to fight but was just so weak. The nurses were kind to him. Ensuring he ate and sent him home when he needed sleep, always promising to call him if anything changed. But the person he was most desperate to see was still nowhere to be seen. Not that he had told you what hospital Sarah was at or even hinted at wanting you to come. He'd made it pretty clear the other day that he didn't.

...

"Why the long face Pip, sweetie?" Asked Mrs Miller as she placed a steaming mug of tea beside you.

You had been quiet for a few days and she was worried. After racing back to be with Joel, she and her husband were taking turns to keep an eye on things at the office and stay at home with Tommy.

"I'm fine Mrs Miller." You replied, trying to make yourself sound believable.

"Pip darling if-"

"How's Sarah?" You asked, desperate to change the subject and learn about how the little baby you'd come to love so dearly was doing.

"Have you not been to see her?" She asked, her dark brows drawing together.

"Oh, no..." You trailed off, looking down at the mug now in your hands "Joel doesn't want me there."

"What are you talking about." The older woman pressed "Of course he would want you there."

"He told me differently." You mumbled, trying to fight back the tears that started stinging your eyes as you remembered what he had said to you.

"Pip, what's going on with you and Joel?"

"Nothing's going on."

"I wasn't born yesterday dear." Mrs Miller chuffed "He's a mess... and not just because Sarah's sick." She continued and you looked at her with a mirroring look of concern "You have been looking miserable for days. You haven't been to the hospital so clearly something happened between you."

You looked back at the mug in your hands for a moment, pondering over how much you should tell her. She had been so good to you since your own mother had passed away.

"We had a fight." You confessed, "I have been seeing someone for a few weeks and the morning Sarah got sick Joel called me, the guy answered and hung up on him."

"Oh." The older woman replied as she perched on the edge of your desk.

"I went round the following morning and Joel arrived shortly after me." You continued, pausing to take a sip of your tea "He told me what happened but... well he got angry with me for not answering the phone when he needed me... I did promise that I would be there for him day or night and I wasn't... I let him down."

"You did nothing of the sort." Mrs Miller asserted "Joel's a good boy. He's a great father to Sarah and he's done a fine job running this company but he's also still a boy.

"We forced him to grow up so quickly."

"You're both amazing parents to Joel and Tommy." You defended and Joel's mother chuckled.

"Thank you dear but no parent is perfect." She replied, taking a long pull of her own mug of tea "I know he'll never forgive me for telling you this but... Joel's been smitten with you since the day you started here."

"Sure." You snorted, surprising yourself with the sound.

"It's true!" You rolled your eyes at the older woman's statement but she pushed on "The boy is just hopeless at expressing how he feels. Always has been but he takes after his father in that respect." She chuckled and you smiled at her reaction "Go see him. I know he would like to see you."

"I don't know-"

"Okay, go see Sarah then." She said softly as she placed her hand on yours and gave you a sweet smile "I'll go with you. Just in case he decides to act like a typical man." She finished with a wink.

You smiled and nodded as you said "Okay. We can go after work."

...

"You have some visitors." A nurse said softly a few hours later, pulling Joel from his pit of self-loathing.

"Who is it?" He asked as he scraped a hand over his tired face.

"Your mother and someone else." She replied and he nodded, his heart speeding up as he looked towards the door, waiting for his mum and this other person to emerge. Praying it's you.

His heart skipped a beat when his prayers were answered.

She appeared first, followed by you poking your head in first then locking eyes with him. In a moment fueled purely by instinct, he was out of his chair and scaling the room in a few long strides. Pulling you into a tight hug, he buried his face into the crook of your neck and sobbed.

"I'm sorry." He choked and you held him back, burying your fingers into his thick curls and scratching his head affectionately "I didn't mean it... None of it."

"I know." You cooed as you squeezed him tighter, eyes shifting to Joel's mother as she smiled at the two of you "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Joel said as he shook his head "You've done so much for us... I was being a jealous asshole and-"

He stopped dead upon realising what he'd just confessed. Your eyes widened as the two of you just stared at each other.

"I'll give you two some privacy." Piped up Mrs Miller and you both looked at her a moment, the woman grinning like a cat that got the cream.

When the door clicked shut, the two of you were left alone again, just the beeps and clicks of the machinery in the room filled the tense atmosphere.

"Jealous?" You asked and Joel nodded as he let out a shaky breath "Why were you jealous, Joel?"

"Because I'm in love with you too." He said plainly, no longer wanting to hide how he felt from you.

"Oh."

His stomach dropped. That wasn't the reaction he had been expecting when he decided he'd confess how he felt about you. You looked uncomfortable and the colour drained from Joel's face as he removed himself from your embrace and took a few steps back.

"Oh." He repeated as he chuckled humourlessly.

"Joel-"

"No, it's fine." He said, waving you off "I left it too long and you've moved on. I understand."

"No... Joel its not that... it's just..." You trailed off, unsure how to say what you needed to say without hurting him "I do still love you." You confirmed, stomach tightening at the look of hope that then lit up Joel's features "But it's clear that we aren't good for each other."

That hope vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Pip-"

"We just keep hurting each other Joel. Not on purpose but, it keeps happening all the same."

"But we love each other." He sobbed and you gave him a sad smile.

"Sometimes love's not enough." You choked and he nodded sadly at you "I don't want to lose you, Joel. You're so important to me and I want us to remain friends but I think it's for the best if we both just move on."

"Okay." He managed to choke out, not hiding how devastated he was by this turn of events.

Your eyes drifted to the cot behind him, noting the wires that smothered Sarah's tiny form. You let out a choked sob at the sight of her, looking at Joel and nodding your thanks when he motioned for you to go to her. She was sleeping soundly but her breathing was so strained. There was a tube in her mouth, obviously providing her with sustenance whilst a tiny nasal cannula rested beneath her nose, supplying her with oxygen to help her breathe.

"Oh, baby girl." You cooed, as you stroked her plump little cheek with your thumb "You need to get better... You're scaring us all, but especially your daddy." You said softly as you smiled sweetly at the sleeping baby "You get better and I promise I'll buy you the biggest stuffed bear I can find."

"Do I get a say in that?" Joel pipped up and you looked at him and shook your head.

"No... this between me and Sarah." The smile that spread across Joel's face was magical.

"Fine." He chuckled before sitting down beside you and resting his head on your shoulder, just like he had the first time you met Sarah "But can I at least pick the colour?"

"I'll think about it."

...

Three weeks later...

Monday

"Is that funny little madam?" You chuckled as you fought to change Sarah's nappy "Are you kicking me in the boobies?"

Sarah screeched with delight and gave you a huge gummy smile, bringing a delighted chuckle from you.

"You're lucky you're cute!" You said to her as you finished fastening the nappy and dressed her again.

"She beatin' you up again?" Asked Joel as he walked into the lounge with two mugs in hand.

"She's a little bruiser." You chuckled, accepting the coffee Joel handed you with a smile and a mouthed thank you.

"She's getting stronger every day." Joel beamed and you grinned at him.

It had taken another week and a half before Sarah recovered enough to be let out of the hospital. Since then you had been staying a few nights a week to help Joel out. He had assured you that you didn't have to but you had confessed that you still felt guilty about the phone call incident and despite him telling you over and over that you hadn't done anything wrong, you wouldn't budge.

Ant had been surprisingly understanding. The two of you had practically been in each other's beds every night, unable to get enough of each other. It scared you a little how intense things had gotten between you. You had both agreed it was just casual and that neither of you was looking for a relationship, yet, before this arrangement with Joel you were going out for meals together and practically playing house.

The nights you weren't staying at Joel's you were at his. Your apartment had been lying dormant for a few weeks now. You popped in once or twice to water the plants and to get a change of clothes but you were practically living out of your suitcase.

"Have you and Ant got plans for the weekend?" Joel asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

"We're not a couple, Joel." You chuckled and Joel snorted.

"Could have fooled me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"So you're not spending every free moment you're not here with him?" Joel asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Yes but-"

"Whether the two of you want to admit it, you're together, Pip." Joel said as he placed his coffee down on the side table and accepted Sarah when you handed her to him.

"To answer your question, no we don't have plans." You said, hoping to kill the conversation of your relationship with Ant dead.

Things with you and Joel had been better in recent weeks and the subject of feelings had been avoided like the plague. You did feel like laying everything out had made things easier. Now you both knew how the other felt, it was easier to navigate what was spoken about around each other. Both of you desperately trying to avoid hurting one another.

"Well, if you're free I thought maybe we could go to the Aquarium. Gloria said it would be a great sensory experience for Sarah." Joel's eyes were the size of saucers as he waited for your reply.

"Isn't that something you do with family?" You ask, feeling like you might be encroaching on territory you weren't welcome in.

"You're as much family as my parents." Joel argued, "You've been the

closest thing Sarah's had to a mum since she was born."

"Joel-"

"If you don't want to come just say." He pleaded and you could hear the hurt in his voice at what he believed was you rejecting him.

"I would love to join you."

Joel's shoulders relaxed and he smiled brightly at you.

"Great. Pick you up at 10?" He asked as he stood to place a now sleeping Sarah in her bassinet.

"Sounds perfect!"

What neither of you knew was that the events that were about to unfold in the remainder of the week that followed would change everything.

...

Tuesday

Joel walked into the office to find your usual seat empty. His brow furrowed as he walked towards your desk, noting that the computer was still powered down and everything was neatly put away. No sign that you had been there at all.

When he poked his head into the break room and saw that you weren't there either his concern grew. It wasn't like you to not turn up to work.

"Hey, Simon." Joel shouted, grabbing the man's attention "Seen Pip today?"

"She called in sick." He replied and Joel's concern grew even more.

You had been fine yesterday when he had seen you last. What had changed between then and now?

He tried to call you that evening but got your answering machine. His worry was then starting to grow into full-blown panic but, he decided to wait and see if you were in the office tomorrow before he turned up at your door.

...

Wednesday

When Joel arrived in the office, again you weren't there. Simon confirmed again that you had called in sick and Joel was then beside himself. He decided that he needed to go by your house and check on you.

So after asking his mother if she could watch Sarah for a few hours that evening, he went to the store and bought you all your favourite things. Hoping that they would cheer you up. Pulling up outside your house, he scaled your yard and sprinted up you porch steps. After a few hard knocks on your door, you answered, looking more than a little worse for wear.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, wrapping your gown around you a little tighter.

"I was worried about you." He answered, readjusting the tote of supplies on his shoulder "Brought you some stuff. Soup, your favourite candy-"

"I don't want to get you sick, Joel." You sighed "Thank you for checking in but just go home."

"Pip-"

"Please." You pleaded and he nodded.

"Okay." He took a step back and placed the tote in front of your door "I'll leave these here."

"Thank you."

He nodded and turned, walking down the steps of your porch and towards his truck, looking over his shoulder to see you grab the bag and close the door.

Something hadn't been right. You had looked like you'd been crying. Had Ant broken things off with you? He just hoped that you were feeling up to speaking to him about it when the weekend came around.

...

Thursday

When Joel walked in and saw that for a third day in a row, you had called in sick again he knew something else was going on. It wasn't like you to be sick for this long and not call him to come over.

You were super clingy when you were ill and he was always happy to oblige you. He loved to take care of you just as much as you loved to take care of him. He was going to check on you again that evening and this time he wasn't going to let you turn him away.

.

You knew you couldn't go on avoiding Joel. When you had called that morning and Caleb answered, he told you that Joel was going out of his mind with worry.

You weren't surprised. This was abnormal behaviour for you and Joel had always been a worrier. You just didn't know how to tell him what the problem really was.

"You feeling okay?" Asked Ant as he sat down next to you and pulled you into a comforting hug.

"Mhmm." You replied, staring at the TV but not taking in what was playing.

"It's gonna be okay you know." Ant piped up and this dragged your attention to him "I know this situation isn't exactly ideal but- "

Ant was interrupted by frantic knocking at your front door.

"Pip. It's me... Please, answer the door... talk to me." Joel said from the other side of the door and you sighed.

"You can't avoid him forever you know."

"Yeah, I know." You sighed, getting up from the couch to answer the door.

Joel was frantic on the other side, his hair a mess from where he had clearly been running his hands through it. He seemed to relax a little upon seeing you but his hackles seemed to rise when he saw Ant behind you.

"Hi, Joel." You piped up, pulling his gaze back to you "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you." He sighed "I want to check in on my friend who hasn't been at work for three days."

"Joel-"

"I know when someone's avoiding me." He growled out and you felt a pang of guilt pull at you "I have been going out of my mind worrying about you and I have turned up twice to check in... only for you to ask me what I want."

"Joel... I'm just sick." You said, trying your best to sound believable.

"Can I please just come in?" He pleaded and you let out a long sigh before moving aside so he could enter.

He and Ant gave each other a nod in greeting and then the latter put his arm around you and placed a kiss on your temple.

"I'll give you two some space. Grab you some supplies."

"Thank you." You mumbled and he smiled at you sweetly before returning his attention to Joel.

"See you later man." He said, putting his hand out for Joel to shake, giving the man a quick nod when Joel accepted it.

Once Ant had left, you walked to your couch, curling up into the blanket you had departed to answer the door. Joel followed you, sitting in the armchair that sat proudly in your bay window, the two of you sitting in tense silence for what felt like an age.

"What's going on Pip?" He asked breaking the silence, his voice soft and sympathetic.

"Nothing."

This reply earned you an eye roll and you watched as he scraped one large hand over his face before he looked back at you.

"What did I do Pip?" He asked and your heart broke at the crack in his voice "Monday we were making plans to take Sarah to the aquarium and then suddenly you're sick and avoiding me and I just don't get what I did-"

"I'm pregnant!" You blurted out. Unable to cope with Joel blaming himself for your behaviour.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant." You repeated "I woke up on Tuesday and felt awful. Couldn't keep anything down and all these smells that never bothered me before just made me hurl. I thought perhaps I was coming down with something but then the next day I still felt awful.

"So I went to the pharmacy and the pharmacist recommended I take a test. Was positive."

"Is it...?"

"Ant's?" You finished for him and he nodded "Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"Well he was a little freaked at first but it takes two people to make a baby... As you well know." You chuckled but there was no humour in it.

"Is he happy?"

"He asked me to marry him." You announced and all the colour drained from Joel's face.

His eyes widened as he took in what it was that you had just told him. You were pregnant? Were you happy you were having a baby? You didn't seem to be particularly excited about it. Did you want to marry Ant? You had maintained that you had he were just casual. Joel felt sick as all these thoughts raced through his mind.

"And what did you say?" He asked although he didn't really want to know the answer.

"I said yes."

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[bearwithegg]

Fight Like a Girl || B.Blackwood || Part 2 ||

My thoughts have just been plagued with scenes I can write for this, i honestly intended this to be 2 parts but I ALREADY HAVE IDEAS FOR PART 3 SO FUCK IT WE BALL???

PART 1 HERE

PART 3 HERE

Kieran!Benjicot Blackwood (fancast) x f!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Swearing??? Idiots in love but they dont know what that means

Tags <3: @spider-stark

***

War, for all that it brings with it, destruction, pain, suffering on a scale hitherto unknown remained a constant and unchanging conundrum. Were the gods so cruel as to let brother kill brother over trivial squabbles? It was a fascinating thing, to understand, to learn. You, however, decided in this current juncture it felt like a personal punishment aimed to torment and break you down. Realistically, the suffering it caused on a wider scale was insurmountable and that was something you could acknowledge. But in this instance, the way your body aches and screams from constant use makes it feel like a personal sleight.

“Your grip is weak.”

A soft groan of frustration exhales when you sigh, “I cannot hold the sword otherwise.” Dropping the sword by your side, it had been hours without respite and weeks of training for what? You still couldn’t even hold a sword properly and that frustrated you only more.

Benji laughs, softly, circling you with his head tilted to the side. You want to hit him but decide against it. After all, he didn’t need to visit your tent and assist in getting you battle ready — yet he did it either out of some sense of male honour or he secretly enjoyed overseeing your own personal agony.

“Does my ineptitude amuse you, my Lord?” You throw the sword on the ground, it landing with a thud on the canvas flooring. In the throes of frustration, you wipe the sweat from your brow and run a hand through unevenly chopped locks of hair.

“Your petulance, perhaps.” The boyish smile breaking through his hardened demeanor always caught you off guard. A gentle reminder that he was not some battle beaten man, he was young and had his innocence ripped from him; more or less like you. “You may not see it but there is improvement,” he dips down to pick the sword up, holding it out for you to take it again.

Right or not, it didn’t matter in the present. The improvement may have been so miniscule it might as well not have counted, though it was always difficult to see one's progress without the lense of the past. And with a sigh of concession, you snatch the sword from his hand and give him a goading look, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Again,” he instructs firmly, tongue protruding slightly out from between his lips — he was too good at that, switching from his natural charming disposition to a commanding authority in an instance. As if two halves of him were at odds with each other, another part of him lay dormant but the crazed look in his eyes often betrayed his steadfast composure. You weren’t sure if you liked it or feared it.

With a roll of your wrist and standing with a sturdy bearing, you take an offensive stance. His eyes wander all over you, in a completely different scenario it may have been flattering or intrusive, but there is no desire hidden away in the deep brine pools of his eyes. Under his scrutinous gaze you hold firm; at least my wrist doesn’t feel like falling off.

Improvement.

He steps to your side flank, head tilted in thought. The low hum accompanying the loud thoughts you wished he’d say out loud.

When did he get so close? You swallow nervously — he was a practical man, but often opted to show you how to do something by watching him first. Surprisingly gentle to the touch he brings a hand over yours, the one that grips the sword and adjusts your grip. Tilting your wrist slightly and nudging your thumb to a different position.

“Can you feel the difference?” He murmurs, an unexpectedly tender moment that would have floored you entirely had you not spent weeks training at his command. Even now though, you feel composure waning, creaking away like a tree that has had its trunk chopped halfway.

“Feels like… I have more control,” You utter, looking slightly over your shoulder. Oh. He was much closer than you thought.

He nods, softly adjusting your grip to keep the blade upright, though he doesn’t move his hand this time. “Your stance is good and solid. But means little if you have no strength to fortify it…” His other hand is held up so that you can see it and slowly brings it down to your hip. Not once during this small interaction does he break eye contact, it was as though he was giving you the chance to stop him if you wanted to.

You don’t, of course.

A moment of hesitation as he tentatively touches your hip before holding it and rotating you ever so slightly, “what you lack in strength, you have in speed… This stance is better for your momentum.”

“Right,” you whisper, blinking out of the daze you felt yourself fall into by the pull of his gaze. His eyes were so lovely. In moments like this they were bright with a golden hue, as if marked by the Gods. Other times they were dark, dangerous abyssal pits that you could equally get lost in. But not now.

“Good,” he smiles, the same boyish smile that makes you a little nervous and nauseous concurrently. Which was a strange feeling because you weren’t repulsed by him and yet your body reacted all the same. No one had ever elicited such strange reactions within you like he did.

“Try and disarm me.”

“What?” You feel your arm immediately drop as he steps away and unsheathes his own sword. No longer honey touched eyes boring into yours, they were void and wild. He doesn’t give you a chance to process anything before swinging his sword, you have no choice but to stumble back, practically flailing your own sword to stop from getting hurt.

Clang!

The metal blades ricochet off one another and you take the chance to scurry across the bed swiftly before he can attempt another blow, “fuck, fuck — fuck!” You hiss, standing on the other side of the tent, barely a chance to think properly before he’s back onto you like a grounded tempestuous storm.

With wide eyes you jump out of the way, his sword connects with the side table and wood splinters off into pieces. The first casualty — you’d have laughed or joked if you weren’t absolutely fearing for your life in a way. Heart pounding hard as you take a chance to counter, using a leg to disable him by going for his knees but he sees it and contorts his body just in time.

“C’mon!” He shouts, eyes wild and borderline murderous.

Unsure what possibly possessed you other than it felt right. Call it a childish rebuke or not, you instantly straighten your stance and yell back at him, a deep and guttural yell, like one would trying to fend a bear off an attack.

He licks his lips, the grin of a mad man apparent, “there she is.”

This time you swing first, kicking off the back leg gives you a good enough propulsion and wind up with the sword. Cling! He cross blocks, letting your blade slide down his own and the two of you are practically face to face, the slightest smirk pulls at his lips and you match it with a barely audible snarl.

Using your full body weight, you push into him to get distance which only just works.

Another swing from him, narrowly missing your shoulder as you jump aside, his sword clashing with one of the bed posts, it snaps under the force and limply hangs onto the unmarked wood. You take advantage of his over extension, ducking beneath his arms and opting for the best option, shouldering him in the waist and bringing him down to the ground.

Not your finest work, but he tumbles - and you with him - onto the canvas flooring, but at least you had the upper hand and though strength was not in your arsenal just yet, speed was. Pinning him to the ground, you straddle higher than the waist to keep him from bucking you off or swinging his legs around.

Both of you held your blades to each other's throat in a stalemate, chests heaving with heavy breaths.

“A fair play, my lady,” he pants quietly, though the impish grin on his face suggested otherwise. Your eyes travel down to his other hand where he had his dagger pressed softly against the leathers of your tunic, no doubt a lethal puncture in the abdomen if you were in a real fight. He lowers his blades, “you are improving — getting better at trusting your instincts.”

“You went easy on me,” you whine, tossing your blade indignantly. The semi victory loses its glory almost instantly, souring in your mouth. Standing back up seemed to be more effort today than usual, muscles shaking, screaming for a modicum of respite. But war does not rest so neither shall your body.

“If you wish for me to kill you, then you need only ask,” he jests, you knew this — he was holding out for a reason. You hadn’t seen him in battle but can very well imagine without much stretch of the imagination how he has coined the notorious namesake of ‘Bloody Ben Blackwood’. Even more it seemed, he was often harsher, stricter and more brutal when he would lead training with the younger boys.

“Don’t offer such a tempting proposal,” you laugh, tired, exhausted.

He looks at you, seriously for but a moment, “if you desire rest, it is okay to take it.” And the sweet, caring and kind Benji fronted, flecks of gold honey in his eyes as he steps forward and grabs your hand with a touch so kindly it seemed foreign. He need not force you, tugging you to the bedside and sitting you down, “you are not weak for needing rest.”

You chuckle softly, “there is no rest for someone like me, I need to be ready for when we march forward within the tenday.”

“You won’t be much use to us if your legs cannot even carry you. Rest.” He says firmly, pushing gently on your shoulder which didn’t need much for you to collapse onto the bed. “We can resume overmorrow.” He’s seated on the side of your bed now, you open your mouth to contest but he glowers immediately, tilting his head forward and setting his jaw as if to silently say ‘don’t you dare’.

So you don’t dare.

“If I was less encumbered by my exhaustion I’d have hit you for looking at me like that,” you bite, rolling onto your side and instinctively curling in on yourself.

“You certainly would have tried.” He laughs.

“And succeeded, I pinned you already today — I could do it again if I willed myself.”

“Is that so? Perhaps we should get a maester to check those ears of yours, did I not request you disarm me? I don’t recall asking you to pin me.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes at him though the barely suppressed smile betrayed your poor attempt to keep a straight face. “I stopped thinking the moment you attacked me like a brute.”

He nods along with your words and though his words are vaguely threatening, his smile indicates a hint of mischievousness, “a Brute am I? You have a crass tongue, My Lady, you’d better keep it in check.”

“Clover.”

“Hm?” His head tilts to the side, like a dog hearing a command.

“Call me Clover… Garrus finds it easier… Less likely to accidentally call attention to my identity.” You run your fingers over the furs of your bed, naturally you omit the little part of the nickname because that seemed sacred to Garrus. Only he can call you that. But Benji had your trust, and you had his, even if it be an unspoken bond that grew stronger the more time elapsed within one anothers company. He at least deserved a little part of you.

There is silence, as he sits on your words, a faint smile ghosting his lips and he nods singularly, “As you wish, Clover.” And the strangest feeling encompasses the tent, it was thick but not suffocating, warm but not a hellfire. His hand moves so deftly, you hadn’t seen it until his fingers barely grazed your temple, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He holds it, a moment, two moments, before his eyes blink rapidly, something reminding him of his place and he flushes red, retracting his hand quickly as though he had touched hot coals. “A-Apologies… forgive me — that was wholly inappropriate. Please do rest, I will see you overmorrow.”

It happened rather quickly, he stands and you sit up as swiftly, “Benji.” You call but he was out quicker than bat out of the hells. Your shoulders slump, a faint pout on your lips as you try to decipher what that could’ve been about. Whatever it had been, you liked it, you liked him but that could mean a plethora of things.

You sigh, falling back into the bed and staring at not particularly anything. Perhaps it would be prudent to speak on the matter with Garrus when he returned.

[writingonwings]

Sugar cookies

✵ Pairing: Fred Weasley/f!reader

✵ Word count: 2k

✵ Summary: You were notoriously horrible at any form of baking or cooking, but hopefully having another shot at it could improve the well-earned reputation

✵ Warnings: Established relationship, possible inaccurate cookie baking (I'm no baker), really nothing but fluff

Baking was a form of art, and you had never been that kind of artist. Every time the thought even crossed your mind, something had already gone wrong. Something was on fire, severely burnt, the wrong consistency, or just tasted awful. No matter how many times you tried, there was never any sort of improvement. No food or dessert had ever survived in your hands. So it wasn't often anymore you could be found in the kitchen, having mostly accepted that this was simply not your strong suit. However, every so often, you found a sudden urge to try and prove you could learn, even if you already knew the likeliest outcome. Today was one of those days, that urge tempting you into giving it another try.

It was a warm and quiet morning in the burrow, Molly and Arthur being away and most of the others busying themselves in different ways. You took the opportunity to try yet again at baking something. It was safer for everyone if there were fewer present to witness it, or possibly taste it. If you could get that far this time.

You approached the situation optimistically. The plan was to choose something simple to make and an even simpler recipe to follow. Just cookies couldn't hurt, right? It seemed easy enough, as long as you were careful.

Leaning against the counter, you studied the little book. There were very few ingredients, and that only meant fewer places where mistakes could be made. You were definitely capable of this. So with a newfound confidence, you got to work gathering an array of bowls, pans, ingredients, everything you thought you may need and more. As you scattered them across the counter at random, You were caught by the only other Weasley in the household.

Fred walked in on what was turning out to be a manic episode. You could tell he knew this based on the sudden panic in his face. "What are you doing?" He questioned, fearing the day he'd find you here again. Flashbacks of previous incidents were likely spinning through his head.

"A good morning would suffice." You replied without looking up from what you were doing. Another quick check of your book and you were ready to go, carrying hope for a more positive ending this time. Fred strode over lazily, sleep clearly still clinging to his mind. He slid his arms around you to gaze over your shoulder.

The embrace briefly distracted you from your task. And to further this, he pressed a long kiss to the top of your head. "I'm sorry, love. Good morning." His voice was muffled against your hair, but the way it sounded was almost tempting enough to drop everything in your hands and give him your full attention. Unfortunately, you were far too determined for that.

"That's much better," You remarked, earning a chuckle. Against your better judgment, you wiggled out of Fred’s arms to continue on with your cookies. After a few words of complaint, He leaned an arm on the counter beside you, finding the only open spot that hadn't yet been touched by your wave of disaster. You prepared your first ingredients, movements followed by his curious gaze.

"Now, don't tell me," He started sarcastically, continuing only once you glanced up at him. This look only lasted a moment, as you were in the middle of measuring flour. "You're making something."

"Clearly," Was your simple response. You were so focused on getting everything right.

"Something simple?" Fred gestured down to the not-so-simple mess on the counter. "I'd guess it's something even you couldn't ruin? Dare I say cake? Cookies, maybe?" He watched you pour the flour into a bowl, which came back up to coat the front of you in a white puff of smoke. A snort of laughter escaped his mouth, resulting in an immediate glare from you. It was very early in the game for you to be wearing your cookies.

"That's enough from you." You pointed a finger of your now powdered hand at him. "Unless you'd like to be covered in flour as well."

His expression changed as he considered your words. "Well, I could think of worse things to—” You put an end to his statement by launching a handful of flour at him, coating the both of you in a thin layer of white. He first tried to wipe his face with the back of his hand, only to find it would smudge. You roared with laughter at this discovery.

After your fit had calmed, you picked up a spoon in an attempt to return to your work. But you had started something Fred would be more than happy to finish. "Oh, no you don't." He grabbed your arms and pulled you to him, tickling and completely disarming you. Laughter jumped back into your throat and your utensils clattered to the ground.

"Fred! No!" You struggled to say, squirming to find an escape. By the time he had stopped, you could barely breathe and practically choked on the giggles that tried to escape your lips.

Fred picked up the spoon off the ground, narrowly dodging a slap to the arm. If your cookies turned out poorly now, you could place some of the blame on him. He went to rinse it off, which gave you enough time to add most of the remaining ingredients to your bowl.

You checked back with the book to ensure it was still going well. Other than the rapidly growing mess in the kitchen and all over you, it seemed fine so far. As long as there were no other setbacks, you may actually succeed this time.

As if you spoke it into existence, Fred turned around at the sink, just as you were placing the cookies in the oven. "Slight problem," His hands were held away from himself, face twisting into concern.

Your gaze was pulled to him to see he had tried and failed to rinse the flour off his hands and arms. Instead of washing away, it clumped and stuck to his skin. The realization hit you at the same time and you stared at each other, both covered in more flour than what was in the cookies.

Water did nothing against the powder. It was mixed with whatever other ingredients escaped the bowl, turning it into a glue and making the situation far worse. You took ahold of one of Fred's arms, but it immediately made your hands sticky as well. No matter how much you scrubbed, it only further spread across the skin

"It's not coming off," Fred announced simply, as if you weren't actively trying to fix the problem.

You sighed. "I can see that, love." You pointed to a bar of soap at the edge of the sink, beckoning Fred to hand it over. He obliged and reached for it. The soap helped significantly, freeing some of the sticky paste.

It took no small amount of effort, but you eventually had clean arms and hands. Fred took the bar from you, wetting the soap in his hands and lifting it to work it into the flour on your face. You gazed up at him while he did this, letting out a little giggle as he struggled to keep his eyes from finding yours.

Fred had very little self-control when it came to you. It didn't take any convincing for him to give in and meet your stare. It was intoxicating. Whatever you had been doing previously was easily forgotten the moment the look was exchanged. He practically melted, thumb still brushing across your cheek while his mind drifted away from cleaning your messy faces.

You did try to resist– or so you told yourself– But a flicker of your eyes toward his lips and it was over. You met in a sweet kiss, the chalky taste of flour finding your tongue. It was warm and gentle and filled with the same longing you felt every time you kissed him; even back to the very first time. The act was so simple, and yet was more than enough for him to take over your entire mind and body. You were completely at the mercy of your lover.

His hands cupped your face, the mixture of soap and flour making a mess of your skin. He held you there with no intention of moving and in turn, rapidly draining any of yours. This only lasted until a distinct burning smell reached your nose.

Fred noticed before you, lips parting from yours as his eyes fell on the sight. "Y/n," He muttered and let his hands drift down to your shoulders.

"Hm?" Was your oblivious response, further proof you belonged nowhere near an oven. Realization hit you at the same time as the harsh scent.

"Is that supposed to be on fire?" You jerked your body around to follow his gaze, only to find that your cookies had gone up in flames. How? You had only taken your eyes off them for a few minutes at most. Your hands went to your pockets, but there was empty fabric where your wand should have been. So Fred's was the next best option.

He wasn't one to handle emergency situations well. While you calmly tried to locate a solution, Fred seemed to lose any instinct for survival. "Fred," You snapped a finger to get his attention. "Your wand, love."

"Right," He searched around the counter for it. A sigh escaped your lips and you put a hand on his arm to stop him, taking his wand from his pocket. With a swift flick, water sprayed from the tip of it and extinguished the flames, which had roared on during the moment of panic.

As the fire subsided, you lost any hope in salvaging your dessert. They came out of the oven pitch black, hard as a rock, and now waterlogged; definitely not edible. You set them on the counter so you both could get a good look.

After a moment or two of dead silence, Fred made a poor attempt to lighten your disappointment. "Well, this isn't the worst thing I've seen you take out of an oven." You shot him the makings of a glare, which confirmed his attempt had ended in failure.

The expression turned into a frown. "Maybe I'm just destined for burnt cookies." As the words came out, so did a giggle. You really were cursed. Every single time, without fail, something goes wrong. You were convinced you were the only one with such terrible luck when it came to baking.

"Or maybe you just need more practice." Fred suggested, giving you his smile. Somehow he had become more enthusiastic about this than you.

You leaned onto the counter, sinking down in defeat. "I think I’ve had a little too much practice." Adding another kitchen disaster to your resume didn't make you any more eager to jump back into it.

"One more couldn't hurt, darling." He pulled out another set of ingredients, this time indenting to help you rather than distract. With Fred, your chances for success were greatly increased but still slim. Even with the odds stacked against you, how could you refuse? Especially at the sight of him standing there, so ready to try again with you. So with an exaggerated sigh, you got back to work.

These cookies had made it much farther than the previous batch. Even just surviving long enough to make it out of the oven was a victory. You could admit there was an obvious improvement. But even though they looked the part— mostly— One taste and you found they were not the most appealing to consume. It was a sign of progress, but still not something anyone else would find edible.

Finally, you were able to start coming to terms with your skill; or lack thereof. Baking was such a delicate art, and you just had to accept that not everyone was meant to be that type of artist.

Find more like this here!

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 10) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): sickening amount of fluff, language, angst, *SMUT*: oral (m + f receiving), fingering, hand job, p in v, overstimulation if you blink

Word Count: 6,892

A/N: If you’re here, congratulations! You made it to the end. A big thank you to everyone that has commented, shared, liked, etc. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since my first post. I had a vision when I started writing this in the middle of the 2022 season, not quite sure where it would lead, but I’m happy with where it landed and I hope you are too. I hope you like wine with your cheese, because this is ~cheesy~. Also, this is my first time writing smut so (1) if you are a minor please do not proceed; (2) if you do like/read smut, I would appreciate any kind of feedback. A big thank you to @cutelittlefakejourneys and @burningcupcakefire for beta-ing. Thank you @paddockbunny, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz for the insights and words of encouragement. As always, thank you for reading.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel paced the hallway. He wasn’t accustomed to not getting what he wanted. Sure, in the last few months he had had his fair share of disappointments, but this was different. He was tempted to knock on your door until you answered, but thought the better of it.

He played through the moment in his head again, no different than analyzing a post-race debrief. What went wrong and how could he improve? He was professional during the signing. He knew you loved Geri, you only casually brought up Ginger Spice in conversation no less than a dozen times over the last few months. He knew you’d love to actually meet her – who knows, if everything went well it certainly wouldn’t be the last time for you. He didn’t force himself on you – at this point he knew you were like a cat and he needed to wait for you to come to him or else he’d scare you off. It seemed like the only thing keeping you from ripping each other’s clothes off was your job. Or so he thought.

Now he was confused. It was clear you hadn’t meant to say what you said – but you said it. I could kiss you. Can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Four words that looped in his brain. He had spent so much time dissecting the meaning of the word “could,” he felt like he could be a lawyer too. But he had taken his time closing the space between you in the hallway. When he leaned in, you leaned in too. You had ample time to tell him off if he had misconstrued the whole thing, and he would never think less of you if you did, but you didn’t.

No, what just happened was not a rejection. You were just skittish. Like a cat hiding under a bed, you just needed to be coaxed out – slowly. You were food motivated, he’d learned that about you during your first outing in Belgium when you put down more bon bons than he thought was humanly possible. Yes, all you needed was to be approached with patience and understanding - and maybe the promise of a full belly.

-

You leaned against the door and squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment already crashing over you like a tidal wave. You knew you were being ridiculous and immature. What was it that you were still afraid of?

You stripped off your suit immediately, it felt stuffy and heavy as you overheated, the reminder of your attorney-client relationship falling to the floor. You threw on the first thing you grabbed out of your bag - why did it have to be that pesky yellow dress again?

You paced your room for what felt like hours. Your professional activities with Daniel had officially come to its natural conclusion and yet you were still hesitant to move forward. It didn’t help that you were in a country that banned the cohabitation of unmarried couples, so really, what were you even going to do?

Despite the confessions exchanged back in Mexico and the kiss in Brazil, it was never guaranteed that anything would actually happen once Daniel’s legal affairs were settled. Frankly, you still weren’t fully convinced the conversations ever actually happened. You refused to believe the lingering stares and little touches that lasted a little too long were anything more than pure coincidence.

In spite of all of it, you remained unconvinced about how Daniel actually felt about you. Over the years of failed relationships and first dates that ranged from awkward to bad, you had grown wary and skeptical of romantic pursuits. For all you knew, all his lip-service was simply an elaborate ruse to get in your pants. You thought on this worst case scenario, which really wasn’t so bad. God forbid you have one night stand with a Formula 1 driver and live to tell the tale. It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t be hurt at first if you were correct, but you would eventually be fine. You had been happily single and independent for years, it would simply be a return to your de facto state.

And even if you could take him at his word, you couldn’t help but wonder what that relationship would look like when you had to resume work for other clients and the luxury of constant travel and proximity ceased. How would you continue to keep in touch? How often would you actually be able to see each other in person? Your first relationship was with The Firm, and you knew you weren’t ready to give up your livelihood for him. Then there was the other issue of paparazzi and tabloids - the forced spotlight that would fall on you, resulting in the lack of privacy and anonymity. You had no desire for fame, yet he seemed to be designed for it. You could go toe-to-toe with opposing counsel any day, but you weren’t sure you had his mental fortitude to withstand the cruel and unsolicited opinions of strangers on the internet.

You weighed the pros and cons over and over again in your head. For someone with such a demanding job, it made no sense that it all felt so overwhelming and complicated. But it was telling that the Australian was the first person you wanted to confide in. He was the only one who could ever quiet the constant hurricane in your mind that caused you to spiral if left unchecked. In this moment, you needed him to ground you.

You had been raised to leave hotel room minibars alone unless you wanted to bankrupt you and your entire family for two generations. Going against everything you believed, you took a nip from the stock. Hoping the small amount of liquid courage would do the trick, you checked your reflection in the mirror one last time before venturing to the room next door. You would simply have to assume the risk of the unknown aftermath.

With shaking hands, you opened the door only to be met with Daniel’s presence before you. He jumped slightly at the sudden movement. You did a poor job hiding your astonishment that left you frozen in place.

“Oh… hi?” Your eyes remained wide. He looked around and scratched the back of his head, appearing to be as surprised and confused as you were.

“Hi – I uh,” he took a moment to give you a once over. “I’m sorry are you about to go somewhere? You look nice.” You felt your face turn red immediately, the bravery you built up moments ago dissipating in an instance. He shifted his weight, quickly correcting himself. “Not that you don’t always look nice! I just – you look nicer than usual. I mean-” He seemed uncharacteristically nervous and was digging himself a hole. You looked around the hall to ensure it was empty and took a deep breath to save him from digging any deeper.

“Yes actually. I was going to see you.” He seemed surprised and relieved at the answer.

“No way, I was about to see you!” He shook his head when he saw you bite back a smile. “Obviously, I’ve been standing outside your door,” he laughed nervously, his confidence shrinking by the second. “Not for very long though! You didn’t need to know that. But I wanted to come to say I’m sorry about before, I was too forward back there. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just figured, you know, since we went pencils down and everything, maybe we could-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” You walked backwards as you took his hand, leading him through the doorway. He didn’t fight your lead.

“-you don’t know what I was going to ask.” You leaned back, allowing the door to click behind you under your weight.

“It doesn’t matter. The answer is yes.” You gave him a reassuring smile and gently squeezed his hand bringing him closer. “With you it will always be yes.” It seemed both of you were at a loss for words, but they were unnecessary as he took a step towards you closing the small gap that remained. His eyes were enchantingly curious as they gazed into yours. You only looked away for a millisecond, distracted by the tongue that broke free from his mouth to moisten his plump lips. You took a deep inhale in anticipation, your heartbeat bordering on palpitations as his lips closed in.

The moment they met yours, immediately you knew you never wanted boundaries with this man ever again. One hand cupped the side of your face while the other grabbed your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an effort to eliminate any remaining iota of space between the two of you. Your lips danced and moved together in unison, neither of you wanting to come up for air. His firm calloused hands roamed your body, unsure of where to rest. There were so many parts of you he had never touched before and he wanted desperately to become acquainted with them as quickly as possible. He squeezed your shoulders, ran them down the lengths of your arms, moved to the small of your back up towards your neck, in your hair.

The feverishness of it all began to slow, as he tried to memorize every peak and valley. He reverently moved his hands from your waist, dragging them up the length of your spine, one hand finding its way to your hair as though he wanted to remember every hair follicle, the other keeping your body firmly pressed against his. The leisurely pace only teased you, and each spot he touched left your body buzzing. He slowly brought his other hand to find yours again, repositioning so your fingers interlocked. The sweet gesture felt suddenly sinful when he pinned them to the wall, dragging them up the door until they were next to your head. The motion made your head spin, warmth spreading between your thighs, and you inadvertently let out a soft moan.

Ravenous for more, he firmly pressed your bodies together against the door, almost knocking the wind out of you. He pulled away only for a moment, his eyes pleading.

Can I?

You nodded your head frantically, capturing his mouth once more while guiding his hands to the parts you desperately needed touched. One gently cupped your breast while the other roughly grabbed your ass, kneading the muscles underneath. You both groaned in unison at the new sensation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you,” he mouthed breathlessly before finding your neck, hoping the feeling was mutual. You didn’t say anything back, but he could tell from the pant of your breath and the pulse under his lips that it was. You threw your head back as he sucked, licked, and nipped at the sweet spot as he gently grazed his thumb over your bra, immediately feeling your nipple form into a stiff peak underneath. Being mindful of your noise level, you bit back a moan that ended up coming out as a pathetic whimper. You shamelessly pushed your hips against his and squeezed his hand on your breast, encouraging him to explore and desperate for more contact.

You instinctively widened your stance for him to perch himself between your legs. His hand played with the waistband of your underwear through your dress, trailing down to your inner upper thigh.

“Stop teasing,” you hissed. He only smiled into the kiss in response, his tongue pushing into your mouth to shut you up.

Your hands followed their own curious whims. Those pecs that you had gotten an eyeful of several times felt warm and firm under your touch. Your palm dragged down the ripples of his abs, gently landing over the front of his pants. You gasped feeling him harden under your touch for the first time, eliciting a low growl from him in return. His hips pushed forward in frustration, eager for more. You allowed him some relief, undoing his belt and pants, cautiously reaching inside. Your eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” you muttered as you grabbed around his length, your hand suddenly feeling quite small. He looked you dead in the eye, that familiar cocky smirk and twinkle returning to his face.

“Come on,” he flashed you a wicked grin. “You knew it had to be big.” You laughed at his boldness, which only inspired him to double down. “I know how to use it too.”

“That’s some awfully big talk.” You already had goosebumps from your head to your toes, but you weren’t going to let him know that just yet. You would make sure he worked for it. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s not the only thing I know how to use.”

He captured your mouth in a gentle, chaste kiss as he used one hand to pull up the hem of your dress. His other hand snuck under the skirt, slowly dragging it across your skin. Rough and calloused from racing, they felt tantalizingly delicate.

“I was going to prove it, but it looks like I already convinced you.” He drew little spirals around your clit over your panties, barely applying any pressure. You bit your lip and looked up to the ceiling, praying for relief from the building tension. To your chagrin, his hand began to pull away.

“No. Please,” was all you could muster, your brain searching for more eloquent words that escaped you.

“Please what?” You reached for his crotch, hoping the action would suffice as an answer, but he grabbed your wrist to pin it to the door. “You have to use your words.” You felt the words on his breath that seeped through your skin.

“Please touch me.” Frustrated, you used your free hand to try to get him to fully take your dress off which was only getting in the way. He obliged, releasing your other hand to get a hold of the fabric. You put your arms up as he gathered the material over your head. Throwing the garment aside, he pulled away slightly to observe you for a moment. His eyes widening as they moved down your frame, trying and failing to hide his growing smirk.

“Do you always wear pretty underwear when you close a deal? Or are these for me?” He played with the pink lacy textile between his fingers, admiring how they accentuated the contour of your waist and hips.

“Both,” you gasped as he dragged a finger down your front. It passed over your clit, down to the fabric covering your entrance, smiling feeling how embarrassingly soaked you already were through the thin material.

With a chaste kiss on the cheek, he proceeded to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, chest, stomach, until he reached the hem of fabric. He continued over the garment, bypassing the spot he knew you needed him to your inner thigh. The gentle touches and the scruff of his beard almost tickled, panting as he moved down your body.

He looped his thumbs around the sides of your thong, pausing to look up hopefully for permission. You nodded with lidded, lustful eyes. He couldn’t hide his dimples and he continued to tease, dragging your panties slowly down your legs, taking care to pick up each foot to get you out of them. Your heart swelled as you observed him treating you so delicately, like a fragile porcelain doll. His trail of kisses started again from the bottom, beginning at your ankle, to the inside of your knee and again to your upper thigh until he reached an apex.

“Hold on.” You weren’t sure what he meant at first. Then without warning, he grabbed your hip and threw your opposite leg over his shoulder, finally diving into your center. Your hands instinctively found their way to his head to stabilize yourself, accidentally letting out a yelp in the process which soon after turned into a low moan as his tongue swirled slow circles around your clit. “You taste so fucking good,” he mumbled into your skin.

The vision of him on his knees fully clothed, contrasted with your nakedness enhanced his touch and sent you spiraling. Your hands raked through his gorgeous curls as he lapped you up. The pressure he applied gradually increased, culminating to him inserting a finger in you, then two. You slapped a hand over your mouth as the pressure pooled and he found his rhythm with his tongue and fingers. He knew you were close when your legs started to shake and squeezed around him. The waves came crashing over you as you bucked your hips erratically. He removed his fingers so that he could stabilize you, but his mouth never stopped.

He finally put your other leg back on the ground when your hips slowed and stood up. Your legs almost buckled from underneath you but he caught you before you could fall, lifting you to walk to the bed.

You watched him carry you wordlessly, your brain still short circuiting from your orgasm only knowing enough to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Not because you thought he’d drop you, but because you wanted to be as close to him as possible. It still wasn’t close enough.

He sat himself down on the bed with you landing in his lap, legs still wrapped tightly. There had never been a time where the two of you have been in the same room and exchanged so few words. You continued to stare at each other, simply amazed to be in the same space and sharing skin after three long anguished months of resisting forbidden fruit.

Your gaze fell to his swollen lips that you desperately wanted to taste again, still shiny with your essence. His hand pressed up your back until he grabbed a fistful of hair, bringing you in fervently for another kiss. It was the kind of kiss that enveloped you, that turned your legs to water and caused currents in you to flow creating bountiful energy that begged for release. Your hands roamed from his shoulders, down his chest and abs to the hem of his shirt. The two of you pried it off together and he threw it somewhere on the floor. Your mouths met again gluing your torsos together, your currents crashing in a tidal wave of electricity and emotion.

You unwrapped your legs to straddle him, lightly pushing him backwards. He pulled you with him as you both fell into the bed, smiling into each other and little giggles filling the air. You rolled your hips over him, annoyed with the layers that still separated you from the waist down. You reached down, sloppily pushing at his pants to demonstrate your displeasure. He understood your message, weaving his arms past you to finish the job and shimmying his legs until they were off. You reached down the waistband of his boxer briefs, teasing your fingertips just underneath but not going further. It thrilled you to feel his muscles tense underneath your touch. He nipped your bottom lip when your hand moved further south, and you could feel his jaw clench.

He pulled away suddenly, and you couldn’t place the look on his face which made you nervous.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! It’s just…” his hand cupped the side of your face, caressing your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Your heart swelled at how delicate he was with you, at how much he cared. But you didn’t want to be treated delicately. And now you almost felt bad about how much you’d teased him up to this point. Almost.

“Do you know,” you said sitting up, your hand ghosting over the outline of him through his boxer briefs, “I had a sex dream about you. Right before the Japanese Grand Prix.”

“No,” he ground out.

“You had my legs spread on a desk in some McLaren office.” You felt his whole body clench again as you slid the last piece of clothing down his legs. As though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind every time you admonished him for not paying attention or not taking things seriously in those early days. The frequency of course increased, to every time you bent over, smiled, or played with your hair, to simply existing. For once, he was the one blushing and you found it entirely endearing. “I’ve literally dreamt of fucking you for three months. I want you and I need you. Now.”

His pupils dilated at your words, and his hands moved possessively from your face down to your ass where his fingers sank into your skin hoping to mark and keep you. He tried to find the words to communicate how badly he wanted and needed you too, but blood was no longer flowing to his brain and no words seemed perfect enough for you. His shaft twitched against his toned stomach, eager for your touch. You relieved him, wrapping your full hand around his impressive length pumping up and down a few times, your gentle grip slowly firming with each stroke.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. His hand found your waist and you felt his grip tighten as you continued. You slithered down his body until your mouth aligned with him, spitting over his tip. He felt voyeuristic watching the saliva drip from your tongue. You looked up to see him gripping the sheets for dear life.

“Is that alright?” He nodded fervently.

“Only if you want to,” he croaked out. Bless this man, who just wanted to make sure you were comfortable even though it looked like his eyes were going to roll back into his head.

“I do. Very much,” you insisted. You dragged your tongue slowly from the base of his shaft to his tip. “You made me feel good.” Lick. “Now I want to make you feel good.” His shallow breath hitched when you finally took him in your mouth. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, you looked up to make sure he was still breathing. You found him slack jawed, but eyes full of lust. He brought a hand to your head. You prepared your gag reflex expecting him to force your rhythm, but instead simply pushed your hair out of your face.

“Fuck, you look so good.” You felt the slickness spread between your thighs at his praise, adding a hand to his base where your mouth couldn’t quite reach. You increased your speed, moaning into him. He happily absorbed the vibrations, reflexively bucking his hips into you. You tasted salty precum at his tip and could tell he was close.

“W-wait,” you slowed your pace but didn’t remove him as you looked up again. “I don’t want to finish yet. Not like this.” You slowly pried yourself off him, finishing with a satisfying *pop* as you released him. You saw his chest rise and fall at an alarming rate. He helped pull you up, interlocking your fingers in the process.

“What do you want?” you asked, knowing you would do whatever came out of his mouth without hesitation.

“Grab my jeans?” You couldn't hide your skepticism, but nonetheless begrudgingly left the nicest seat you’ve ever known to find his pants somewhere on the floor. You resumed your spot on his lap as he frantically searched his pockets, finally locating his wallet and fished out a condom. Everything else found its way back to the ground. Eyes wide, he maintained a death grip on the condom. “You’re sure?”

You smiled. You thumbed his jawline as you brought your foreheads together. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” It took him about four seconds to process what you said, but when he did closed the gap between your lips in a messy and desperate kiss that sucked the air out of you. It dizzied him too and only pulled away when he remembered he had to open the condom. You leaned back to give him some space as he struggled with the wrapper. His brow furrowed in frustration as he tried to steady his shaky hands.

“I swear I’m usually a lot smoother than this,” he muttered. You bit back a laugh.

“I believe you.”  

“You just make me nervous,” he admitted, uncharacteristically bashful. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

“Hardly noticed,” you said sarcastically, but reassured him with a giggle. “It’s very endearing, if it makes you feel any better.” You calmly grabbed it from him.

“It does,” he confessed as he let you take it from his hands. Without breaking eye contact, you ripped the wrapper easily with your teeth. You felt him twitch under you as you wriggled yourself against him in content, allowing him to feel your arousal. He swallowed thickly. “Where did you learn that?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” you smirked. You moved off him for a moment, and he took the chance to stroke himself a few times, watching you absentmindedly. How your hair, now perfectly tousled, fell around your shoulders. How gravity worked miracles on the swell of your breasts. How your waist sloped into your hips and thighs. You patiently presented the condom back to him and he used all his concentration to take it from you to roll it down his length. He looked at you hopefully when he was done and you rewarded him with another kiss, your hair cascading around the two of you creating a protective curtain around your new little intimate universe.

You both watched as you eased yourself onto his cock, voyeurs of your own lust. Your moans harmonized as he bottomed out. You felt deliciously stretched and full. Complete. You began slow to adjust to his size, teasing him in the process with your agonizing pace, rising up to the point of almost dismount before sinking back down again engulfing his full length.

“Does this feel good?” you cooed, already knowing the answer as you swirled your hips with him bottomed out inside you, tormentingly slow.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he groaned as he palmed your ass. “You’re so fucking tight.” You dragged a hand from his chest, down the ripples of his abs, towards where the two of you intercepted. With his jaw clenched, he sank his fingers in your hips, trying unsuccessfully to steady them as you continued to rock. “You look so good with me inside you.”

He lifted his hips to meet yours as proof of his enjoyment, the new angle jolting you forward slightly. A moan escaped as you found a rhythm as you rolled your hips back and forth, itching for the friction of his skin against your already swollen clit. Your pace quickened as his length hit that sacred spot deep in your core over and over. The bounce of your tits mesmerized him. Unable to resist, his mouth found a nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth over the sensitive peak that had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you whimpered. You felt the pressure pool and coil in your lower abdomen. Your eyes closed when he grabbed the back of your head, gently pulling your hair.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.” All you could do was nod in response, worried that any sound you might let out at that point would alert the whole building. It was impossible to look away from his gaze even if you wanted to. You bit your lip as the pressure continued to build, hypnotized by the repetition and sensory overload. You rocked back onto him a final time before reaching your release, collapsing on forward onto his chest and his name falling off your tongue like a prayer as your hips slowed and stuttered.

Yes

Daniel

He’d never heard a more beautiful sound before. His mouth caught yours again, absorbing the moans that continued as you rode out your orgasm. He wrapped an arm around your lower back to pull you flush to his chest and began to upthrust, building to an excruciating pace. You held onto his shoulders for dear life.

“W-what are you doing?” You knew you sounded pathetic, barely able to form the sentence. He smirked.

“Getting you to Number Three.”

“I can’t,” you whined. He pulled you close and rolled the two of you over, taking care to remain buried inside of you. You gasped at the sudden movement, eyes wide when you landed on your back.

“Three’s my lucky number.” He gave a few slow pumps before pushing himself up to spread your legs. He admired the change in your face at each new angle, each expression more perfect than the next. He brought his thumb down to your clit and watched you whither under his touch. With the new view he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the work this time.”

You couldn’t argue with his logic. The only response you could give were incantations of profanities as he fucked you into the mattress and his gentle finger rubbing the sensitive nub just above where your bodies joined. He glistened as beads of sweat formed over his body, enhancing the contours of his muscles with each thrust. It was all too much. You felt your walls begin to clench again, your body eagerly anticipating its reward.

Daniel saw your mouth mold into an “o”, the slight twitch of your muscles, and felt the pressure that was building inside you. He prayed you were close knowing that his stamina would soon run out.

“That’s it. Come for me.” Daniel counted his blessings that he should be so lucky to have a front row seat, not once, not twice, but three times to your orgasms. You were so beautiful. Too beautiful. He couldn’t stop himself from chasing his own high as he watched you twist and contort under him. His thrusts became more frantic and erratic as your moans filled the room until he spilled into you, lurching forward but catching himself before fully collapsing on top of you.

Finally the motions stopped, except for the quickened rise and fall of your chests as you both tried to catch your breath. You blinked at each other a few times, still unable to move or think. Daniel broke the silence.

“Holy shit.” You couldn’t help the stupid grin that formed. You pressed a hand to his cheek just to make sure he was still real.

“That good, huh?” He begrudgingly began to move and pulled out of you, rolling over to your side. He propped himself on his elbow and looked down on you, absentmindedly drawing patterns on your soft belly.  

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to grab dinner. But that was way better.” You both laughed as you nuzzled into each other, still peppering the other with butterfly kisses and holding onto the belief that the world was the size of a queen-size bed.

Eventually he got up to go to the bathroom. As soon as he left your side, the intrusive thoughts returned and you began mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable goodbye. You watched silently as he searched the floor for his underwear, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil. This was fun you repeated in your head. It will be a good story to tell you tried convincing yourself.  

He came back to bed and snuggled up against you.

“Now what?” he asked innocently. You squinted back at him, laughing slightly.  

“That’s an awfully loaded question, don’t you think?” He seemed confounded for a moment.

“I mean, I was just thinking we could get food now? What were you thinking?” You forgot that men could be such simple creatures. Maybe it was the audacity that allowed them to go about life blissfully unaware or unconcerned about hypothetical what if’s and unintended consequences of their actions. But for now, maybe you needed to think like a man too. You didn’t need to solve all the world’s problems in one night. Maybe all you needed was to just enjoy whatever this was for whatever time was left before you got on a flight tomorrow to return to reality.

“Yeah, I guess I worked up an appetite.” He broke into a wide grin. He grabbed your face to bless you with a kiss on the forehead before fetching the menu.

“Great. I’ll order us room service.”

-

Your eyes fluttered open the next morning. Scenes from the night before played on a loop in your head. Sweaty bodies entangled in a sea of limbs. In your experience, men who were that charismatic and that good looking rarely knew what to do with the bodies they had been blessed with. And yet…

You were afraid to open your eyes, not ready to let go of the memory that brought a smile to your face so you kept them closed a bit longer. Instead, you extended a hesitant hand to the other side of the bed expecting to feel the warm body of your evening companion, but you felt nothing. You reluctantly opened your eyes.

“Dan?” Your voice was soft and hoarse from sleep. Nothing. Maybe he hadn’t heard you.

“Daniel?” You tried again, a bit louder this time. Still no response.

You slowly got out of bed half asleep, the line between your dreams and the real world still not quite defined. You zombie-walked to the window, delicately drawing back the blackout curtains of the hotel room. You winced as your eyes adjusted to the natural light. Your clothes were still on the floor where they had been unceremoniously discarded, but the other outfit that had kept them company had disappeared. Your heart fell.

“Daniel?” you tried one last time, voice cracking slightly. Maybe he was in the bathroom. Maybe he had eaten something bad yesterday. You knocked on the door before cautiously opening it. You stood in the doorway a beat too long, unable to move from the empty space. He had been so convincing, so charming, and you fell for it. You had been so guarded and careful, you thought you had sniffed out any unsavory motives and you still were left feeling used and abandoned.

You blinked back tears before they could fall, hiding your defeat from no one in particular in the privacy of your hotel room. You wiped your eyes, chugged a glass of water, for some masochist reason put on your Enchante sweatshirt and got back into bed. It was still early, maybe you could sleep another few hours before you had to get ready to go to the airport. Maybe that sleep would help you forget and ease the overwhelming humiliation and melancholy that fell over you.

As you began to drift off, a noise at the door startled you awake. You realized it was the sound of the door key and grabbed sheets to cover yourself quickly, unsure what else to do.

“I’m not ready for housecleaning!” you yelled uncertainly, praying it was in fact hotel staff and not a burglar.

“Hey hey hey, it’s just me. Good morning to you too.” You slowly peaked your head from under the covers, shocked at the sound of the reassuring, achingly familiar Australian accent. The driver stood in the foyer, his hands overflowing with bags and precariously balancing two coffee cups. You sat up a bit more as you processed the sight in front of you.

“What-?” you trailed off. He seemed nervous, but a smile never left his face.

“I, uh, wanted to surprise you with breakfast. There’s a little place down the street. But you looked so peaceful sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you, so I grabbed your room key. But I realized when I got there I didn’t know what you liked, and my phone died, so I kind of got one of everything…I hope that’s ok. I didn’t mean to scare you –“

As he rambled, you had silently gotten out of bed to grab the cups from his hands, placing them on the table along with the insane amount of bags, one by one. With all obstacles removed, you enveloped your arms around his neck and stamped his lips with a kiss. He was surprised by the sudden gesture but returned it eagerly, his hands still familiarizing themselves with you. He blinked a few times when you pulled away.

“I promise I will get breakfast for you every day if you like it that much.” You laughed with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you looked away.

“I thought you left,” your small voice shrank in embarrassment that you had jumped to conclusions so quickly. You couldn’t bring yourself to explain further.

But you didn’t have to. He wrapped you in a bear hug crushing you into his chest, his lips nuzzled into the crown of your head, his body heat invigorating you.

“I’m sorry, I should have texted or let you know where I was.”

“No, it’s silly. I was being overdramatic.”

“It’s not silly. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what does that mean?” you asked in exasperation. He pulled away and looked at you in disbelief that you would even ask such a question.

“What do you want it to mean?” You bit your lip in frustration.

“Daniel, don’t be obtuse. In a couple of hours we’re getting on different planes to go to opposite sides of the world.”

“And?”

“We’re not going to see each other.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I know people with private jets.”

“I still have to work.”

“I’ll come to you.”

“My apartment is small.”

“I can pack light.”

“What if you meet someone else when we’re not together?” He let out an irritated sigh.

“I don’t want to meet anyone else.”

You were stumped. He could read the confused look on your face and gently grabbed the sides of your shoulders. “You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb sometimes.” You crossed your arms.

“Hey!”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe for some reason, but I want to give this a real shot. I want to take you on a proper date. See what things look like when I’m not paying you to spend time with me.”

You looked down, feeling a little guilty about how much you doubted him. You couldn’t help that you were risk averse by nature.

“Did you just… Socratic method me to get me to understand that you like me?”

“Did it work?”

“Let’s just say you have a bright future as a law school professor if this whole driving thing doesn’t work out.” You paused for a moment, still trying to wrap your head around everything. “So… you really want to give this a go?” He rolled his eyes.

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

“I mean – yeah, a little. The world that you operate in is just so much different than mine. Your world consists of beautiful people.”

“You’re beautiful,” he retorted. You blushed but didn’t let the comment throw you off your stride.

“You know what I mean. Your world is glamorous and luxurious. My world is average. It’s a lot of take-out, it’s late nights on the phone with Joe, it’s boring suits, it’s work - without the recognition and without the spotlight. You could have any actress or model or singer in the world and you pick me. Can you blame me for being skeptical?” His face fell slightly as he realized that you didn’t think your shine was bright enough for him. But it was quickly replaced with something mischievous.

“What are you talking about? You’re a singer,” he said matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes.

“You’ve unfortunately seen me do karaoke, we both know that’s a lie.”

“Your morning shower performances beg to differ.” He laughed at the terror that flashed before your eyes as you threw your hands over your mouth, but quickly reassured you. “I’ve listened to you every morning since we got here. It’s the best part of my day, until I see you.” He pried your hands from your face, holding them in his. “And the last thing you are, is average. Can we please just try?”

You bit your lip, unable to contain the blush spurred by his words of affirmation. The squeeze of his hands on yours caused the dormant butterflies in your stomach to flutter their delicate wings and rise to your chest. A comforting warmth enveloped you, it rose to your cheeks and the answer was there plain as day on your face for him and the world to see. No, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Only if… you’ll do a duet with me.” After holding his breath for what seemed like eternity, his joy and happiness hanging in the balance waiting for your response, he broke into a toothy grin that used every dimple and laugh line on his face. Without skipping a beat, he threw you over his shoulder and made his way to the bathroom leaving a trail of your giggles in his wake.

“I’m ready for my audition.”

[mweothe11e]

PAC: What do you need to learn to love about yourself?

Never forget to only take what resonates and leave what doesn't. This is a general PAC reading, so if the first pile you chose doesn't resonate with you, then maybe you're meant to read another pile.

(this is for entertainment purposes only)

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Pile 1: Ace of Swords, 4 of Coins, 9 of Cups

You may feel like an outcast, Pile 1. You don’t think like other people. You might have also been scrutinized for being able to “work smart”, being told, “Why do we have to do it a new way when the old way still works?”. My dear Pile 1, you must learn to love your inner visionary. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to improve the current system of things. You sought to evolve and you hope by sharing your ideas, others can grow and move forward with you. You’re also able to see through the mess and create clarity for yourself. Embrace the parts of you that can naturally find ways of life more efficiently and cost-effectively.

Another great thing about you that deserves a whole lot of love is your practical approach towards financial literacy. Others might have called you stingy but they didn’t know you might have grown up in a place of lack. So you had promised yourself to work smart so that you won’t have to worry about how you’re going to afford to put food on the table, a roof over your head, and clothes on your back.

There’s nothing to be ashamed about knowing how to make money work for you. You have this natural ability to be wise and practical about your resources. Be proud that you know how to also be secure internally as well. Establishing healthy boundaries is a skill we all need yet not everyone learns. People call you guarded, I say you know that not everyone deserves to have access to you.

Finally, never shame yourself for being able to achieve your goals and dreams in life, pile 1. You should allow yourself to enjoy the fruits of your labor unapologetically. This is a rather hard pill to swallow for those with survivor’s guilt. Being able to become the person you’ve always wanted to be means those people you loved who didn’t evolve with you might get left behind. This makes it difficult for you to allow yourself to savor your success when you have loved ones who haven’t achieved their dreams yet.

As much as you want to be happy for them, you can’t make them achieve their success for them. They chose their way of life as you did yours. If your success bothers them, it’s not your responsibility to coddle and make yourself small for their comfort. So, if you feel you deserve to go on a solo vacation for your hard work, then go for it. If you want to move into your own apartment, go right ahead.

You have every right to use your money to whoever you see fit. You’ve worked hard to earn that, so treat yourself right with the fruits of your labor. Don’t apologize for that promotion. Never apologize for your happiness. You just need to remember one thing: you can’t control how others react to your success.

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Pile 2: Moon, 9 of Swords, 4 of Swords

First of all pile 2, one thing you should learn to love about yourself is your intuition and your ability to easily see through the BS. Yup, I said it loud and clear. You see through the BS in people. They can’t lie to you, even to save their lives. Your intuition is a gift that helps you in any way that can help lead you into your highest good. Though it seems that pile 2 feels bad that you see through the superficial two-faced niceties among your peers. You might have experienced moments where you muttered under your breath, “I hope I’m wrong” only to be proven right yet again. Don’t you think it’s high time you should stop lying to yourself and embrace this amazing gift?

Another thing you should learn to love about yourself is knowing your limits and being able to give yourself the space to honor and validate your fears and anxiety. Don’t beat yourself up for being aware of what you can or cannot do because knowing your limitations means you can utilize whatever skills you have at hand that are to your advantage.

Also, not everyone is resilient enough to be able to hold space for their fears, anxiety, and insecurities without letting the aforementioned swallow them whole. You know yourself well enough that you need to be able to safely allow your feelings to be seen and validated for your and everyone’s good. You know what it’s like to be at the bottom, so you know that with your acquired knowledge backed by personal experience, you can help someone else ease through their own fears and anxiety.

Finally Pile 2, you need to stop feeling guilty about prioritizing your self-care and rest. You know what your body requires to be able to do your tasks every day. There’s nothing wrong with being able to listen to what your body needs intuitively. When you know you’re about to rest, you know yourself well enough that you need to pause, reassess, and re-strategize your approach moving forward.

You should also be proud of knowing how to protect your peace. Some people who call you selfish for putting yourself, down don’t like the fact that they can’t manipulate and abuse you to their advantage. The issue is with them, never with you. Knowing how to protect and defend yourself is something you should be proud of. You know your worth and you also know what you won’t tolerate. So, you shouldn’t fault and cave into to toxic societal norm of conforming to unrealistic and unethical double standards. Embrace your self-worth. Never feel bad about putting yourself first.

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Pile 3: 5 of Swords, 10 of Coins, Justice

Hi Pile 3, what you need to learn to love about yourself is your conflict resolution skills. This pile feels like my eloquent speakers pile. Could also be my bookworm pile. With an extensive vocabulary and unfortunately growing up in a hostile environment, for the sake of your survival, you grew up having no choice but to be good at conflict resolution. I know it’s an odd thing to love about yourself but another great thing that you should learn to love about yourself is you know when to stand firm and fight, if necessary.

Like, if diplomacy is useless, you’re ready to take the offensive approach. But this has always been your last resort. Knowing what it’s like to grow up in a chaotic environment if you had a choice, you would avoid recreating that childhood chaos in your current adult life. You’d exhaust all diplomatic approaches before you’re forced to take the offensive stance. That’s one of the many things about you that deserves to be loved and appreciated.

What you need to learn to love about yourself is your legacy/roots/ancestry, pile 3. This could also be my POC / mixed race / immigrant pile. It sort of makes sense why you’re a bit iffy about your lineage, especially if you’re mixed race because you might have been bullied when you were younger. So, it’s a bit tricky to love a part of you that your immediate environment teased/bullied/ostracized you for.

You must have dealt with a whole plethora of traumatic stories because you don’t look like most people around you. There’s nothing wrong with being different. There’s nothing wrong with being an immigrant. There’s nothing wrong about being of mixed race. You are beautiful/handsome/lovable just the way you are. The issues is never with you so never shame yourself for your lineage. You deserve love, respect, and happiness for simply existing.

Finally, don’t feel bad about being honest and holding others accountable. There’s nothing to be ashamed of when you are upholding your integrity. You should learn to love the parts of yourself that cannot stand injustice. You have this natural instinct to defend the powerless and speak for the silenced. Not everyone is brave enough to fight for their beliefs and the rights of others. Your need for truth is quite remarkable. So never feel bad about not being a good liar. It just means you don’t see the point of lying to someone.

In this age where manipulation and mental games are being praised as “owning your power”, people, like you pile 3, are rarer than black opals in a Pacific ocean full of diamonds. So never let anyone bully you into conforming to this mental gymnastics just to be accepted/in a relationship. People who are meant to be in your life don’t have to be lied to in order for them to want to be with you. You can only keep someone that wants to be kept.

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Pile 4: 10 of Cups, Page of Wands, King of Cups

From what I can pick up for you pile 4 is that you should be proud that you came from a loving home. I know, it kind of sounds like too much of a flex. To have been able to grow up in a loving environment while your peers grew up in chaotic and traumatic environments tends to leave a heavy guilt in your heart. A part of you feels bad that you can’t relate to having a crappy childhood because your parents actually did the work and healed together so that you can have a happy childhood.

So… whenever your friends or peers open up about how they feel unloved and unappreciated at home then they ask you about your childhood, you must have lied to avoid putting salt in their wounds. I understand the need for camaraderie but you shouldn’t feel bad about having come from a loving family. If your friends are okay with this suggestion, why not invite them over? Ask your family if they can be more understanding and considerate towards your friends. To be an example that not all adults are bad.

Another interpretation of this card is to be proud of your happiness. Don’t feel bad that you actually have a loving partner while your friends are still single. Don’t be ashamed of being seen with your significant other. It’s not like you’re intentionally making your single friends jealous whenever you answer their questions about your love life.

You should be unapologetically proud of your happiness, especially when you know you did nothing wrong. Why apologize for your happiness when everyone wants to be happy, in some shape or form? Also, consider this as a word of caution, if someone around you isn’t happy for your happiness, best to cut ties with them. It’s not wise to be around someone who doesn’t know how to be happy for the happiness of others. This doesn’t just involve relationships, this can also be applied to promotions, achievements, and awards.

Something about yourself that deserves more love pile 3 is your cheerful disposition and adventurous spirit. It’s not shameful to be able to see the silver lining. It’s not bad to be able to see the good in people. With how our world is in constant chaos and peril, we need people like you who haven’t lost hope for a better and brighter future.

So never feel bad about being perceived as naïve when you’re simply not projecting your bad experiences to the new people you meet in your life. What’s so bad about still being able to be excited about the glimmers in life? There’s nothing to feel bad about being able to cater and nurture your inner child. So never let the world shame you for never giving up hope.

Finally Pile 4, you should learn to love your natural inclination for diplomacy. Knowing when to listen to your heart or when to lead with your head is such a life-changing and valuable ability that majority of us are constantly learning to master day by day. You might have been told that you’re so mature and wiser than your age, which might have been internalized as this insatiable need to always be reliable and dependable. At times, it might feel like such a burden at times; to always be the person everyone relies on.

So… since you are aware of the weight of the responsibility of being the reliable person for everyone, you should use your ability of discernment to decide a schedule on when will you entertain request for counsel for those who need you. You know what your needs are, and you also know that you need to be able to live a balanced life to be of service to others. So, learn to be okay with putting yourself first so that you can help others better in a later date.

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Please do let me know how you resonate with your pile in the comment section below.

Thank you so much for looking through my PAC.

Tagging my personal account: @e11e27 as a reminder.