#before anyone says oh you could have taken a day off you know - i technically can yes youre right

[dark-and-kawaii]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Tease ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: You aren’t sure when teasing your sensei over text became such a ritual, but honestly you wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else. You just never expected him to show up at your door.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: (Y/N) is aged up to 18 and is a third year!!! Please enjoy!!

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Sexting | Gojo Gives You Head | Masturbation | Jealous Gojo | Gojo Plays With His Beautiful Thick Cock

(Y/n): “I just want you to know how disappointed I am in you, Sensei."

You decided to tease him over text. 

(Y/n): “Ya know what you did is technically illegal, right?”

Ghoejo Sensei: “~Oh?”

(Y/n): “Mhmm.”

Ghoejo Sensei: “~It’s only illegal if you didn’t like it, but you liked it. Didn’t you?”

With a subtle twitch, you giggle at the memory from earlier… 

You and Itadori were training with the others while Gojo Sensei observed everyone from his spot on the school building. Exhausted, you had decided to grace him with your presence, joining him leaned back against the same wall.

“Aren’t you going to get in there and rough us up, Sensei?”

He could feel your beaming warm smile. Just being around you made his day.

Laughing, Gojo’s voice was filled with pure excitement as always when with you, “Nah, i like watching everyone get thrown around…” -his voice was low so only you could hear-, “…(y/n), you really shouldn’t wear such a short skirt during training.”

“Oh?! Why’s tha-“

“Some might try to sneak a peek.”

That damn smirk of his practically had you melting while your face felt like it was about to catch on fire. 

“S-Sensei? W-why would you say that!?”

Just as you were about to adjust your skirt, you heard the unmistakable snap of a camera shutter, indicating that a photo was being taken on a phone. Glancing down where the noise had come, you were shocked -not really- to discover your sensei positioning his phone under your skirt at an angle where he could see right between your legs…

Staring at the screen, you could see your black lace panties staring back at you as he tried to get another good shot.

He’s never been so bold like this in front of other students… Let alone out in the open on school property. If one of the others saw anything you- fuck, or the higher ups… you both would be kicked off the grounds and- and- oh god the reputation!

Gojo’s would be tarnished and you- … Okay you didn’t really have a reputation to worry about, but still! You damn well would after everyone finds out you’ve been sleeping with the famous sorcerer, also known as your Sensei!! This was far too risky of him-

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Gojo never once looked in your direction, “~Shhh… No one saw, (y/n). Go back to training though, before i puni-”

“Hey! (Y/n)! Are you coming back!” Itadori was waving for you to come back over to them, his foot on Megumi’s back. 

Now here you are, back in your room, lying on your bed with restless legs as you texted your beloved Sensei.

(Y/N): “I didn’t say I enjoyed it, Sensei 🥺.”

You tried to make the text sound innocent, but you knew how he liked to play games. So, why not play along?

(Y/n): “What did I gain by you snapping a photo? Perhaps I should tell the higher ups?”

GhoeJo Sensei: “~Oh ho, are you threatening me little girl?”

Chuckling to yourself, you could just picture the smug expression on Gojo's face. He wasn't intimidated by you at all, and you were well aware of it. Yet, you found the whole situation amusing.

(Y/n): “Noooo, never! …But… what if I confided in Itadori? Sukuna would hear what happened, and I don’t think he’d like that all too well, now would he?”

Although you couldn't see it, Gojo's playful smile vanished immediately as he read your latest text. He spent several minutes just looking at the screen. It was true, Sukuna had grown quite fond of you- to an extent that was hard to ignore. Sukuna had even managed to gain control over Yuji, solely to rescue you from a special grade curse. On another occasion, Sukuna took control of Itadori's arm, just to drape it around your waist according to what Yuji had told him… And there was that time the notorious king of curses forcibly broke down your room’s door...

Not even realizing how hard he was holding his phone, Gojo’s eyes snapped open fully to the sound of his delicate screen cracking… “tsk..”

Several minutes passed before his phone chimed. It took him a moment to register that you had sent him a photo, a close up shot at that, and it left little to the imagination. You were pulling up your thong so that the contours of your pussy lips could be seen through the thin fabric. Gojo took note of the small little damp spot… It was a simple yet effective tease, but before he could fully appreciate the image, another photo arrived.

In this one, the fabric was pulled taut, accentuating the details even more explicitly. This time, you were pulling up your panties high enough so that they were digging into your crotch, exposing those sweet little pussy lips he could lap at all day long.

(Y/n): “That’s what you wanted, right Sensei? You know if you just wanted photo’s all you had to do was ask 😉.”

After pressing the send button, you swiftly undressed shedding each layer of fabric from your body. As you stripped down the anticipation grew, wondering what your sensei might have in store for you. The silence that followed the Sukuna text left you questioning if it had truly affected him though…

Now completely naked, you position yourself on the bed, ready to capture one final enticing image. On your knees, your tongue playfully extended from your mouth, while your lips form a 'O' shape. With the camera angled just right, it captures the perfect view deep down your throat. Using your free hand, you do your best to mimic the imagery of holding a cock next to your plump lips mouth, your drool cascading down the corners of your lips…

(Y/n): *image*

Ghoejo Sensei: “You’re such a naughty girl for me. ~I’m gonna have to spank you the next time I see you.”

Taking a deep breath you press your face into your bed, raising your ass in the air. Your arm stretched back with your phone, positioning it so that your wet folds could be captured along with your ass.

(Y/n): *image*

Ghoejo Sensei: “Are you touching yourself to my texts, baby girl? Is that tight little pussy craving my attention?"

Your hips moved back and forth as the pad of your middle finger slowly rubbed your clothed clit. It was so sensitive that just the slightest touch would cause a small jolt through your body.

(Y/n): “wouldn’t you like to know.”

Ghoejo Sensei: voice message

Pressing play on the voice message, you can hear the rustling of sheets and clothes being thrown around. Your body shivers when his voice begins.

Ghoejo Sensei: “Don’t worry, daddy will come take care of you.”

A soft whimper leaves your lips. Closing your eyes, you imagine your tall, lean sensei standing in the doorway. His head tilted slightly downward, allowing the shadows to conceal his face except for that damn smug smile…

You could feel your face flush, this was so embarrassing… What if someone barged in your room… Especially Itadori, well Sukuna… Burying the thought deep within your head, you lift your phone above your ass again with the camera pointed down and with your other hand you did your best to spread open your delicate asshole. With a snap and a simple click, you send it…

(Y/n): “I’m ready and waiting.”

Gojo was lying on his bed, his pants undone, hand pumping his cock slowly. With each text he would read, his hand would increase its speed.

(Y/n): *image*

When he saw the last photo, his phone was practically crushed by his tight grip. He could feel his balls tighten as precum began to spill from the tip of his thick cock, the veins swollen around it giving it a nice texture. The sight of your tight hole had him biting his lip as the image replayed in his head, and the fact that you were spreading your asshole to reveal it just for him made him cum instantly.

He could barely breathe, his chest rising and falling as his cum spurted across his chest. His head was thrown back as he released a strangled groan, “such a naughty little tease”.

Of course he wasn’t tired quite yet, he had the stamina of a god and he became rock hard once again. He already looked at you differently from his other students and now after this he really wasn’t going to be able to look at you as just his student he’s having a fling with again. You were a sexual object to be desired now, someone he wished to keep forever, but at this very moment he would give anything to be the reason your asshole was gapping in this picture or why you were drooling in your first photo.

Ghoejoe: “You should come sneak in my room, again.”

You didn’t obliged, instead you sent a string of photos detailing you fingering your ass and probing your slick pussy with two fingers after. Playing with your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers, you even captured yourself throwing your head back as you tugged on one of your nipples, as if you were a cow ready to be milked.

You had to admit to yourself that you loved doing this, spreading your legs like some whore for her sensei… The thought alone sent shivers of pleasure throughout your entire body.

Gojo: *image*

It was a photo of his beautiful cock, the head still a deep red and swollen. His thick shaft was covered in his own cum and a bit of precum. You could feel the juices leaking from your pussy as you stared at the photo.

Grabbing your pink vibrator from your dresser you pressed it into your welcoming pussy, your eyes glued to the photo the entire time. Turning the dial to its max setting, the buzzing could be heard as you slid the toy in and out. Pulling the toy out, you quickly placed the head to your sensitive clit, rolling it around your nub. The thought of his large hands on you again was turning you into a moaning mess, you could feel your juices slip past your toy and onto the sheets, could feel yourself cream around the base of it. Fuck, why couldn’t he be here with you now, you needed your sensei, needed your Satoru to come take care of you.

Your hand was trembling making it hard to hold onto your phone yet you still managed to capture a photo of you mid orgasm. There was a stream of clear liquid in the frame, your face full of shock at having squirted was apparent. You couldn’t believe how dirty you felt, it was intoxicating.

“~Oh baby girl, you’re so filthy! Look at you, you’ve gone and made quite the mess.”

Your phone flung across the room while you made the cutest little yip noise, your legs shutting together at the surprise voice. Gojo appeared in your room, his heavenly blue eyes peering at your from behind his sunglasses. His large hands come to your knees and parted your legs so he can rub between your pussy lips with his thumb…

“S-Sensei… I- Why are you h-here…?” Your voice was so cute to him, you could barely even speak as he rubs your slick entrance. “You know why i’m here, (y/n). Now, why don’t you tell me what a dirty little girl you are, and maybe I won't have to punish you so hard this time, hm? Tell your sensei how much you were enjoying yourself and maybe I'll let you suck on this cock.”

He leaned down, his head between your legs. Goosebumps forming whenever his snowy hair tickles your soft thighs. With no hesitation he sticks his tongue out to licks up your folds, lapping up your arousal from before.

“Mmm… Sensei~♡! I-i'm a dirty girl- A dirty little whore for you~!” His tongue was licking all over, teasing your clit with each swipe. He had one hand keeping your legs apart and the other was gripping the sheets.

“Tell me what you're a whore for, baby girl~.” His hot breath against your wet pussy, the way his nose nudges against your sensitive nub.

“I-I'm a dirty- A dirty little cockwhore, S-sensei~. I want you- Need your cock in my- ah~! in my mou-mouth, in my pus- pussy, my ass~~~♡!!”

The way your hips bucked with every swipe of his tongue, the way your breathing was uneven and shaky. Oh the sounds you were making, the moans, the whimpers. His eyes almost rolled back at the feeling of your juices against his tongue, his lips, “That’s my girl.”

Before you could scream his name you bit down on your lip to silence yourself. You can’t afford to have someone hear this… Not when these walls were so thin… You were finally getting what you wanted tonight, attention from your sensei, Gojo Satoru, and you wanted nothing more than to scream his name… But with Sukuna around, quite literally on the other side of these walls, the price you’d pay would be far greater if he heard you and Gojo going at it…

As your back arches, he moves his hand to press it firmly down on your lower abdomen, a way of trying to pin you down as his tongue delves deeper. You were so close to coming undone, your body was trembling.

Gojo knows he’ll drag this out since it was his favorite form of punishment. And he also knows you hold back your noises so that Sukuna wouldn’t hear, and he knows its for your own safety… However, you had him to protect you, he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to you.

Pulling back from between your legs, you both make eye contact, your chest rising with every heavy breath you take…

“(y/n), don’t hold it back… Say my name tonight. Let him hear it, let him know who you belong to tonight.”

A blush forms as you realize what he said.

Gojo wants him to hear you tonight, to hear how good you were for him. To know that he had a claim on his favorite little student…

“B-but…”

“Tut tut, no buts my sweet little cinnamon swirl. The only buts i’m allowing is this one.” He squeezes your ass, earning another cute little noise from you.

“Goj-Satoru… You- I.. We ca-can’t get caught by anyone though.” There’s tears in your eyes, he can see you’re genuinely afraid for him, not for you…

“(y/n). Let me handle the higher ups and everyone else.” Looking down, he watches as your pussy glistens with his saliva… His thumb brushing over your skin, “I’ve always wanted a good excuse to piss off the higher ups,” -His features soft- “You’re a good reason to fight them, so let’s just enjoy ourselves tonight, and don’t worry about Sukuna.”

His lips came down onto yours tenderly, as if you had both been lovers for years. Your eyes shut tight as his tongue glides across your bottom lip, requesting permission to enter. Opening your mouth, his tongue delves into the warm cavern and his cock twitches.

“I’m stronger after all.” He sticks his tongue out at you with a wink before thrusting his cock inside of your waiting pussy. You cry out his name, arching your back so far that it hurt, but the pain was forgotten as soon as you felt his hot cock buried deep within your needy pussy.

“Tonight, let me hear you scream my name.”

[moeblob]

[formosusiniquis]

Lineage

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington WC: 2173 | G | Day 4: Middle Names | AO3

“What are middle names for?” The question bubbles out of Steve as he takes in the picture of Michael J. Fox in Tiger Beat.

It’s the kind of question he thinks of a lot. The kind he’d normally bury in the back of his brain to ponder over on his own when sleep is a far off concept. But Robin is different. They’re so much a part of one another that Steve has stopped holding those questions in his own brain, realizing she likes to puzzle them out and tear them apart like he does.

Only Robin’s base of smarts is a little different, sometimes these questions he has actually get real answers. 

He can feel Robin go still beneath him, his head on her shoulder just like hers is on his. With anyone else the position they’d found themselves in this afternoon would probably be uncomfortable. Sprawled out on his bed, technically back to back, Steve is using the bony knob of Robin’s shoulder to raise his head just enough that he doesn’t have to hold the magazine he’s reading up in the air. Robin has taken the top of the bed, her legs make an L where she has them stretched out against his bedroom wall, toes pointed toward the ceiling. Whatever book she’s been reading is propped up against her thighs, too far to actually read without using the binoculars Dustin left behind last week.

He flips another page in the magazine, content the way he always is with Robin, knowing that when she has finished puzzling out the order that she wants to respond to him in that she’ll speak. Steve thinks it’s probably to tell the difference between people. There are so many in the world, eventually you’re going to have two Tommy H.’s in a room and have to use that middle name.

Tommy Allen, the thought of spending two years of junior high and two and a half in high school calling Tommy that in public drags a little giggle from Steve. That would have made them losers of the highest order. Robin makes a noise that reminds Steve of Mrs. Johnson’s cat whenever he’d feed it for her when she was out of town, inquiring but also a little annoyed that you disturbed whatever it was doing before.

He shimmies his arm just enough that she knows he’ll explain it later. Once he figures out a good way to explain how much of being popular is being good at being perceived the right way. Tommy H’s can be popular, Tommy Allen’s get their slightly bucked teeth and bad laughs noticed. She isn’t going to like that, but Steve learned pretty quickly Robin doesn’t like a lot of things about how popularity actually works.

“I think,” Robin says slowly, she’s talking a little funny and Steve wonders now if she’s let the binoculars rest against her chin instead of just putting them down like a normal person. He could turn and look but figures all he’d actually see is the blurry, too close suggestion of Robin’s face. It’s better in his imagination. 

“I think,” she repeats, in his head the binoculars wiggle down her chest a little further every time her mouth moves, “it's to continue the family line. That used to be a big thing you know, it’s why men didn’t want daughters because then the family name would die out. So you’d give your kid a middle name to help continue one of the old names from the family that was just going to die if you didn’t keep making your wife have more and more babies that she probably didn’t even want.”

“Oh like JR.”

“JR?”

“Yeah, you know JR. He’s that football player that graduated two years ago. His ears stuck out weird and he always seemed to have, like, a Rudolph zit on his nose.”

“You mean Mark Williams?” She shouts, incredulous.

“Sure, I think it was Mark. His dad was definitely Mr. Williams, but they had the same name so whenever they went anywhere he always called him JR. ‘Hey JR wouldja get that for me.’ ‘If you ever wanna go pro, JR, you’re going to have to learn how to take a tackle.’”

Robin is in fits beside him, the impression is terrible but it’s also exactly what the guy used to sound like gruff but also whistley somehow.

“Wait, wait,” the bed shakes as she adjusts herself, he can feel the weird shape of her ear and the uncomfortable poke of her earrings in the cradle of his arm. “What’s your middle name?”

“You mean you didn’t see it when you rifled through my employee file to find my birthday and social security number?”

“I was looking for important information.”

“So you could steal my identity.”

“So I could make fun of you less on your birthday if it was in the summer or maybe just take the whole day off so I didn’t have to deal with the cavalcade of pretty blondes coming in to fawn over Steve Harrington, real adult man.”

“Ew, the worst way anyone has ever described me. You make it sound like I’m some kind of pervert.”

“They would want you to be,” Robin agrees, “I think it would be part of the appeal.”

“Richard.”

“Theodore.”

“No, dingus,” he relishes the moment that he gets to turn her favorite pet name against her, “my middle name is Richard.”

Robin takes that new information and digests it for at least thirty seconds, but that’s just a guess since she’s laying on the arm that has his watch on it. “Stephan Richard Harrington,” she tries out.

“The one and only.”

“It feels like there should be a number at the end. Stephan Richard Harrington the Sixth, best of his line.”

Maybe if he were a Sixth he’d like it a little better, he thinks. “No, it’s like what you said, continuing family names? Mom named me after her brother that died in the war, and Dad hated that or him or probably both knowing him so I got stuck with Richard so he could be included.”

“Robin Marie Buckley,” Robin offers in exchange.

“Ew.”

“I didn’t ew yours even though it makes you sound like a fancy little rich boy.”

“I am a fancy little rich boy,” Steve says, flipping the front of his hair with a half assed toss of his head, “you’re lying here in my ivory tower.”

“I think ivory towers have less blue plaid.”

“I like the blue plaid, it makes hanging things up easy. I’m sorry we can’t all have this season’s Laura Ashley-”

Robin is, unfortunately, at the perfect angle to punch him directly in the chest. “My parents did that to surprise me when I came back from bandcamp two years ago so I could have a more mature room as a high schooler.”

For all that it’s worth he tries not to sound mean when he snorts, the Buckleys are nice and mostly well meaning or at least they have been every time he’s visited. “And they somehow missed the dresser covered in spiky bracelets and the closet full of grandpa suspenders while they were in there.”

“They mean well,” Robin unintentionally echoes Steve’s own earlier thoughts. “They just don’t… really get me.” Her voice trails off, a little lost, and he hates himself for being the person who made Robin feel like that.

“We should change our names.”

“What and go on the lam?” Robin asks.

“We can, but I don’t think any lambs, sheep, or goats need to be involved.”

Steve sits up in bed, forcing Robin to do the same as he pulls his arm out from under her head. It only takes a quick spin before he’s facing her, grabs her arms so she can’t pull away from how totally and completely serious he’s being. “It’s like you said, it’s about family right?” He says, “You’re more family to me than my douchebag dad has ever been so why do I have to be stuck with his name when I could be Stephan Robert.”

“Not Robin?”

“Don’t wanna make it too obvious, and Robin Stephan probably wouldn’t fly at the name changing place.”

“Robin Stephanie,” she tries slowly.

“I mean obviously if I were a girl I’d go by Stevie,” he jokes.

“We can’t just change our names!” Robin says, she doesn’t sound like she believes it though so Steve is pretty sure he’s winning.

“Why can’t we, people do it all the time, I bet it’s super easy.”

“When they get married! Or like adopted. People don’t just change their names on a Tuesday because they feel like it!”

He tries to give that the thought that it deserves, but he mostly just feels like Robin is making excuses because she’s scared. Maybe it’s the leftover fear from Starcourt bubbling out in a place where she can control, or maybe she just likes her parents enough to be scared of hurting their feelings. One of those things he can relate to more than the other.

“Well Thursday would work better for my schedule.”

“Steve!”

“What! So we get married then, is that the problem? I mean I know I’m not your first choice romantically, but didn’t you say people do that so that they’re safe from people knowing they’re gay.”

Her arms are already out, ready to make a point that would probably be big and dramatic and a little long winded the way Robin likes to be when she’s all worked up like this. But he’s stopped her in her tracks. Face to face he can watch as the outrage melts into something sticky and wet like melted ice cream.

“You’d do that for me?”

“I would pretty much do everything including die for you, getting to be Stephan Robert Buckley would really be more like you doing me a favor.”

He’s getting pulled into a crushing hug before he can blink. He doesn’t mention how he can feel the wet fall of her crying against his neck, if it didn’t embarrass her, it might stop Robin from doing her best to climb inside him like she’s Luke and he’s that weird ice kangaroo. Mascara stains on the neck of his shirt are a small price to pay for a Robin Buckley embrace.

They hold each other for as long as it takes for Robin to feel regular again, and it’s nice. Steve thinks they’ll have to have a different conversation about how rarely he gets hugged just for the sake of it later. Right now this is about family and names and because Robin is family in every way that matters he doesn’t say anything when she wipes away those tears and a little snot with the back of her hand.

“You’ll have to wait until March,” she says, “I’m not getting married until I’m at least 18. I don’t want people thinking it’s some shotgun thing after working with you this summer.”

“As long as it’s before you get your dorm assignment for whatever fancy school you get into. If we’re married I’m pretty sure they have to let us live together.”

“Yeah? Even if I go somewhere like Bryn Mawr?”

He pretends like he’s giving that careful consideration, like he doesn’t already know she really wants to go to some big city where the schools might have a language program and she has a better chance of finding other people more like her.

“Well I guess we could live off campus then, if you really want to go to the lesbian school for lesbians.”

She punches him again. “It is not.”

“I wouldn't want the other lesbians to bully you for being married to a really hot guy.”

“One, I never said yes, dingus. Two, I have a whiteboard that questions how hot you are hotshot.’

“Pretty sure that got burned in the fire so you can’t use that as proof anymore you’re going to need more dates.”

“Data, you need to try to land dates.”

“Same difference.”

She pushes him until he’s laying down, grabs her book from his pillow and he takes that as his cue to go back to his magazine. It takes her a minute to decide how she wants to lay down again, he’s already back on his page about this month’s Hollywood Heartthrobs before she’s decided that his chest makes the best pillow and his arm can prop her book up for her. He isn’t sure what it is today, he wonders if she’s close enough to the beginning that he can get her to read it out loud to him, this month’s Tiger Beat really is lacking.

“Why does anyone think these guys are hot? The guys in Rolling Stone are usually better looking than Alex P. Keaton or the guy from Growing Pains. Johnny Depp is kinda okay, I guess.”

“Stephan Robert!” Robin sits upright again, and Steve thinks he might have accidentally started another capital C Conversation.

[mqverick]

Walking On Air || chapter 9

Take me to bed or lose me forever, was what Carole said to Goose every time they were together, having fun. Maverick never really understood what she meant by it until he started having feelings for you. It was exactly how he felt about you; he needed to just fuck everything and everyone, every obstacle in the way, and take you with him before he could lose you to someone else — which ironically enough, had already happened.

Or so he thought, until the other night.

He had been so fixated on the fact that you were taken so deeply inside of him, that he believed he could never fully have you, that part of your mind would always stay true to Iceman, even if the miracle happened and you broke up with him.

Hearing the drunken words come out of your mouth, so rushed and so painfully angsty, got him hoping you might be getting lost in the same path he’d been since the day you spoke to him for the first time. Drunken words were — in fact — sober thoughts, after all. Not to mention that it was the — what, third? — time he almost got to kiss you. Maverick was not the one to pine after someone, he was used to the exact opposite effect, never having to chase anyone.

He liked having to chase after you, though. He liked to dream up flawless scenarios of you, desperately wanting them to come to life. He liked how much of a dopamine rush he got from those breathless conversations and moments with you. It was hard to resist the urge to keep his feelings buried, opting to play them off as a charismatic, casual flirt — because that was what he’d been used to. That was all he knew.

You liked the way he yearned for you as well. He just made you feel so irresistibly wanted and loved, even if his cockiness never really helped his pure feelings come to light. You were very aware of them though, you were in the same page as him, never mind the fact that for you, it happened as an accident. Sure, a little flirting never hurt anyone — but oh, he was holding your hand (and for some reason you found yourself struggling to breathe steadily.)

In the morning, you woke up wanting to beat yourself to death. You’d been mindless; consuming all that alcohol, getting yourself hammered and ignoring the consequences.

Goose’s words were bloody when he said that Maverick technically had every right to hit on others. Goose’s words teared your heartstrings in pieces and made you conscious of how you’d been accusing everyone else to be a jerk, when in reality, you’d been the only twat in the story.

Maverick probably hated you.

Tom would probably hate you, too.

You tried. Gave it your all — good point to chuckle — to make your relationship with him work, but every time you closed your eyes, your mind betrayed you, unable of getting a certain someone out of the picture. The worst thing was the fact that you didn’t even really care whether Tom would want to cut you off once he found out about the situation you’d been dealing with.

You were frightened of the scenario where Pete stopped caring about you, mostly because it was impossible to imagine. Therefore, you did your best to turn yourself invisible by making up a rushed excuse of being too hungover to properly function at Top Gun, opting to stay home.

Tom respected your decision, wishing you to get well soon as he gave you a sweet kiss goodbye.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you fell back on the couch with a plop. You felt as if hours had passed when a thud on the door startled you. You fumbled to get up, standing unblinking as you opened the door to see Maverick holding a paper bag with both of his hands as he fiddled the heel of his shoe around the floor while chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Heard Ice say you felt poorly and got you something,” he spoke lowly, reaching his hand out for you to take the item he held. Your lips parted in silent surprise as you hesitantly invited him in. “Look, I know you don’t want to see me, but you might as well say a word, because it’s getting sort of weird.”

“Maverick, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d bring you a little something to eat.”

You honestly despised the man. How did he still care about you after you you’d been unable to seal your mouth shut the night before, yammering about mistreating you (mind the irony), you didn’t know. Still, that did not constitute an obstacle for you to lunge forward and fling yourself into his arms, your head hitting against his chest as you encircled his waist tightly. You moved your head a little, stopping dead in your tracks as your ear picked up the sound of his heartbeat violently increasing.

He still had to reach for you, taken aback by your sudden affection and not being sure how to react. Maverick’s brain short-circuited, until everything finally clicked and he was holding you so close to his body, he thought he was squishing the life out of you — but he never heard you complain.

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” you whispered, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. You wanted to say more, apologize for being so ridiculously indecisive and not giving him the chance to move on, instead having him wait until you could grow a pair and end things with Tom, but the words died down in your throat when you felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his palm now cupping the back of your head. He knew you could hear his heartbeat and he also knew it was giving him away.

When you pulled away, your knees buckled and you almost melted into a puddle. His hands had somehow traveled down to your smaller ones, holding them delicately.

Take me to bed or lose me forever.

“It’s a grilled cheese, in case you were wondering, by the way,” Maverick blurted, looking over to the paper bag with the food you’d left on a counter.

“I love it.” I love you.

“I need to get going.”

“No,” you argued, grabbing his hand in yours the moment he reached for the door handle. “Stay here with me. I’m sure Viper’s more than happy that you’re not there to wreck the planes. Goose might be missing you, but he can cry about it to Carole when the day is over.”

Maverick let an amused chuckle escape from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around your wrists, gently rubbing on the skin with his thumbs.

“You want me to stay with you?” he asked in disbelief. It was adorable how flustered he was.

“I’m not repeating anything, Mitchell.”

With a little smirk and a smudge look on his face, he moved toward you, leaning in closer to your lips, which was a scenario you’d accepted, hadn’t he had a sudden change of heart and went for your forehead instead, pressing a long, warm kiss against it that made you shudder under his touch.

“You want me to stay with you,” he chimed, sounding more as if he was bragging to himself.

You tried to stifle a smile as you placed your ear over his drumming heartbeat, already forgetting you had the whole ‘sick from the booze’ act to keep up, but then again, when had you ever been able to hide what you really felt around Maverick?

“We can’t be here though,” you suddenly mouthed, the image of Tom unlocking the door to you and the man he hated snuggling comfortably up on the couch causing sweat to form on the back of your neck as you pushed Maverick away from you and fixed your fingers through your hair.

“Why not?” You gave him a knowing look that made him sigh. “We can’t hide forever, you know.”

Deciding to ignore his comment, you dragged him outside by the hand, nodding where he’d parked his motorcycle. “Cliff tops,” you silently explained and saw the corners of his lips turn upward as he helped you onto the seat.

It seemed to startle him when you wrapped your arms around his middle, laying your face against the fabric of the leather jacket that covered his back, turning his head ever so slightly to look at you with that charming Maverick smirk of his.

Your heart hammered against your chest as he began driving, hair flying carelessly through the wind, leaning further into him and clutching your intertwined hands firmly against his stomach.

Your brain felt as if it was fogged by the light fragrance he was wearing, head nuzzling on his shoulder now, lips moving dangerously close to his cheek. You let them carefully graze his skin, feeling him shudder — or was it just your mind playing tricks on you?

After having arrived at the tops, Maverick got off his motorcycle, lending you his hand to take as he helped you get off as well, shaky, nervous fingers testing the waters as he gently let them linger around yours, waiting for your hand to pull away. Instead, your knuckles tightened, grasp sinking into his, not daring to look up at him for capturing his reaction.

He sat next to you on the hill, so close that the warmth radiating from his outer thigh gave you goosebumps. You shifted just a little, so that your leg could be touching his, eyes darting down on your lap as you crossed your arms.

“It’s beautiful up here. I like how I can consider it our spot now,” you heard Maverick mutter.

“Our spot?”

His head turned to look at you. “Yeah. Ideally, the first time I would’ve liked to bring you here would be a date, but I can settle for the late sneak-out after your fight with Kazansky.”

Your heart clenched as you hesitantly met his cherishing gaze. You hadn’t wanted anyone like that in really long time and it felt like something was sucking the soul out of you. “Maverick?”

“Hm?”

“When you’re flying, you might lose power. It’s a fatal risk, but it doesn’t stop you from enlisting in the Navy. Flying at up to 700 mph, the smallest mistake can be deadly, your plane could plunge out of the sky, break apart on impact. The cockpit is too small, so you’ll feel like your losing your breath even though you might not have died just yet — and it’s all terrifying and out of control.”

Maverick stared blankly at you, waiting for you to make a point. “What are you trying to say?”

“This is exactly how I feel whenever you look at me,” you finally mustered the courage to confess, seeing your lip starting to quiver. Unsure of how to properly weave the complexity of your feelings, you opted to let your pinky softly wrap around his.

Maverick stared at you, jaw slightly hung, eyes gleaming. “You feel that way about me?”

His question came out so shaky and gentle that it worsened your situation of trying not to break down right there in front of him. “Of course I do. You’re so ridiculously insufferable, I hate you.”

He cocked his head to the side with the tiniest hint of a smirk. “But you love flying.”

“I love flying,” you confirmed, letting the rest of your fingers wrap around his hand as you brought it over to your lap, holding it firmly enough to believe that what was happening in that moment was not just a figment of your imagination.

“I love flying, too.”

With hope written all over your face, your mouth stretched into a grin, holding back a giggle. God, when had you turned fourteen all over again?

Right when you were about to say something, you felt his lips ghost above your forehead before he was leaning down just a bit and kissing the bridge of your nose as tenderly as he could, making you dizzy and unable to think straight. Kiss me, kiss me before I regret it, before I start thinking again. He stalled against you, foreheads now touching as he realized that you hadn’t moved away from him yet.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

“What?”

“It’s what Carole says to Goose. Said. I don’t know if she still tells him that. I never got it, to be honest, but all I know is that I don’t want to lose you, Maverick. Never,” you explained breathily.

“You’re not losing me, not even if you want to,” Maverick chuckled, letting a warm puff hit your already very reddened cheeks. You smiled at him, head now moving forward, so that you could nudge the top of his nose with your own.

“Pete,” you whispered, the words coming out as a ghost tugging at his heart. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, bringing you oh so impossibly close to him that if you squinted hard enough, your lips would be touching. And there it was again; that look he’d been giving you ever since the day you met, lovestruck eyes melting into yours. “Drop looking at me like that, Pete.”

“I can’t,” he spoke, voice weary as if he was on the verge of tears. “You walked in the room the first time Viper came in and the breath was knocked out of my lungs the very same second. So, no, I don’t think I can look at you in a way that’s not giving away how deeply head over heels I—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, stunned by his words. “Don’t continue the sentence, Mav. Don’t continue it, because if you do, I’m going to lose every last ounce of self control I have in my body right now and I should warn you, there’s not much remaining.”

Maverick nodded slowly in acceptance before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, then deciding to be brave, ducking down just the right direction to kiss the corner of your lips. His palms were still holding onto your cheeks, applying more pressure now as he let his mouth linger, heads connecting. You were about to lose it; all the sanity in your system, all the thoughts of do’s and dont’s. With a slight angle twist, he could be kissing you properly, on the lips, but every cell in your body was sweating to prevent that from happening. It was killing you.

“I love flying so much, Roger. So much that I don’t care if it costs me my life, I’m going to keep pursuing breaking the typical rules and fly on my own. It makes me feel alive,” Maverick confessed.

“You should,” you replied breathlessly. “It’ll get you places, Pete. You can hold your own.”

“Take me to bed,” he whispered, loud enough so that you heard him, a small smirk creeping up against the — now flushed from the kiss — corners of your lips.

“Or lose me forever.”

tags:

@holishol

@honeymvnt

[ghostofskywalker]

Little White Lies

Wanda Maximoff/Reader

Words: 2,232

Summary: You're beside yourself when Wanda is shot on a mission, and to make matters worse, the hospital isn't letting anyone see her. Desperate to make sure she's okay, you stretch the truth a little and tell the receptionist that she's your girlfriend.

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist • Main Masterlist

You were sitting on the couch in the common area of the compound when Sam and Natasha walked in, looking tired and slightly dirty, both with small scrapes on their face and their suits slightly torn. “Oh, you’re back, we didn’t think you guys would be back for another day or two,” you said with a smile. “I’m guessing the mission went well then.”

Sam looked slightly pained when you said the mission must have gone well, and Natasha’s eyes shifted. “Actually-”

You spoke at the same time Natasha did, but trailed off as you heard her. “Where are Steve and-”

“That’s what we were coming to tell you,” Sam said gently. “Wanda got shot while we were shutting down that HYDRA base.”

If Sam was still speaking, you didn’t hear it, because it was like your brain had stopped you from taking in any more information. Everything seemed to blur in and out of focus, and you felt like you wanted to cry. “What? Is she okay?”

“She’s been taken to the hospital, so we really won’t know how she’s doing until they call us.”

“Why is she at the hospital and not in the med bay?” You had stood up at this point, almost ready to walk out of the room and find her yourself, even though you didn’t even know which hospital she had been taken to.

“She was bleeding too much for us to make it all the way here,” Natasha said. “So FRIDAY flew us to the nearest hospital and Steve went in with her.”

“Take me there,” you said, your voice certain and even. You didn’t even care what either of them thought of your reaction, because you and Wanda weren’t technically anything more than friends and teammates. But even if you never said anything to her, your feelings continued to grow, and you didn’t want her to wake up in the bright, harsh light of the hospital room without you there. Maybe it was a little selfish, because you didn’t know if you could stay here and do nothing while knowing where she was.

Natasha and Sam both nodded and you followed them out to the garage, where your journey to see Wanda began.

The car ride was almost completely silent, with the only sounds being of the car’s turn signal and the few times Sam flipped through the radio but found nothing of interest. You stared out the window, not sure what would be waiting for you when you got to the hospital, and if you would even be allowed to see her.

When you walked into the lobby with Sam and Natasha, Steve was sitting in one of the chairs, and he looked completely tired and dejected. “Where’s Wanda?” you asked, rushing ahead of Sam and Natasha.

Steve looked up at you with an apologetic look on his face. “No one is allowed to see her right now,” he said. “They won’t even tell me if she’s woken up.”

“What?” you didn’t even stop to hear if Steve had anything else to say, turning on your heels and marching over to the desk. “Can you tell me which room Wanda Maximoff is in?” you asked the woman sitting there.

After typing for a second on her computer, she turned to you. “No one is allowed to see her right now that isn’t a VIP visitor, I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean by VIP visitor? She’s my girlfriend!” That last part couldn’t have been further from the truth, but you said it and now it was too late to take back.

The woman stopped for a moment before picking up the phone, the look on her face changing slightly. “Since you’re not married I can’t say for sure if they’ll let you see her, but I can ask, okay?”

You nodded, hoping desperately that they believed you and let you see Wanda. Although you were pretty sure lying in a situation like this was probably wildly illegal, you didn’t care about the consequences. All you wanted was to see her, and you didn’t care how many laws you had to break to do it.

After what felt like forever, the woman finally hung up the phone and turned to you again. “The doctor says that you can come up, but you have to be quiet and you can’t bring anyone else.”

You nodded and turned back to where Steve, Sam, and Natasha were sitting. They nodded at you as if to tell you to go, and you smiled at them in response. They had obviously heard your (fake) outburst about being Wanda’s girlfriend, which meant one of two things: they genuinely believed you two were together and that’s why you were acting like that, or they knew you had always been full of shit when you denied having any type of feelings for her. “Where should I go?” you asked the woman at the desk.

“Wait here for one moment, and someone will come to escort you.”

Another nurse was there in seconds, and you followed her through the winding halls of the hospital, stopping to let stretchers by you and swerving to avoid carts with vials of bodily fluids lining the shelves. It was too loud to hear yourself think, with the constant beeping of a million different machines, background noise from every television set (that was playing a completely different channel), and the squeak of doctors and nurses’ shoes on the polished white floors. After taking an elevator up to the second floor of the building, the nurse stopped in front of one of the rooms. “She’s still in a medical coma right now,” she said to you. “She’ll wake up within the next two hours, but you should be quiet around her, even after she opens her eyes.”

You nodded, and within seconds you were walking into the room. The first descriptor you could think of when you saw it was ‘prison,’ because it was tiny and dark. Machines were hooked up to her arm and provided a steady chorus of beeping, and she looked much paler than usual. After gently moving a chair to sit by her bedside, you sat down next to her. “Wake up Wanda,” was all you could think to say, in a choked whisper that didn’t even sound like your voice. “Please.”

Her hand was close enough for you to reach out and grab it, so you did. The skin felt cold, and you almost let go right away, because this didn’t feel like the person you had come to fall in love with. But at the same time you couldn’t bring yourself to move your hand, and you just sat there, staring at her.

***

You must have fallen asleep right there, because you opened your eyes and the room was even darker than it was when you had first walked in. You picked your head up, only to see Wanda looking at you with a confused look on her face, probably because your hand was still holding hers. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Now, faced with the person you wanted to see more than anything else, you couldn’t get your words out. “I- I came to see you,” you said quietly.

“Where are the others?” she asked softly. “Did they take you here?”

“They only let me up to see you,” you said, hoping she didn’t press the subject so you wouldn’t have to admit that you lied your way to visiting her. As much as you had told yourself that you would tell Wanda how you felt the next time you saw her, this was definitely not the right time.

“Why you?”

Silence. You really didn’t want to answer that, but you knew you were going to have to face the music eventually. “Itoldthemyouweremygirlfriend,” you said, so quickly even you had a hard time understanding what you had just said.

“What?”

A sheepish look on your face, you took a deep breath before speaking again. “I told them you were my girlfriend,” you said. “Because they wouldn’t let anyone up to see you and I really wanted to make sure you were okay and then next thing you know the words came out and-”

But you didn’t get a chance to finish your thought, because the doctor stepped into the room, and upon seeing Wanda’s eyes open, brought others in as well. You were soon shoved out of the way as the parade of nurses and specialists checked over the machines and asked Wanda how she was feeling, so you just walked out of the room. It didn’t seem like she felt the same way about you, and she definitely seem confused about your little ruse, so the only thing left for you to do was to go home and cry about unrequited love, eat ice cream, and listen to the most heartbreaking music you can think of.

When you got back down to the lobby, only Steve was there, obviously waiting for you. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Wanda woke up,” you said with a smile. “But right now the room is swarmed with doctors and nurses so I have a feeling she won’t be able to come home today. Why are you still here?”

“I volunteered to wait for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that!”

“It’s okay, I would rather know you’re safe and be able to take you back to the compound than have you freak out because we left you here without saying anything.”

He got up from where he was sitting, and you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a hug. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

“I know this is hard for you,” he said. “And it’ll be okay.” When you let go of him, he smiled. “Come on, we’ll get something to eat on the way back home.”

***

Wanda was able to come back to the compound the next day, but you stayed away from her as she healed more, as she was still confined to a bed. It was an embarrassment, how you thought she might have felt the same way about you, and you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Not once did the thought ever cross your mind that maybe she would have told you that she had feelings for you too if she hadn’t been interrupted by the doctors.

About a week later, you were in the kitchen getting a glass of water when Wanda walked in, and the two of you stopped and looked at each other. After what felt like forever, it was Wanda who broke the silence. “Why are you avoiding me?” she asked softly.

“I’m not-” you started to say, but she raised her eyebrows and you trailed off. “I guess I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable while you were healing,” you eventually said.

She looked surprised at your words. “Why would you ever think you would make me uncomfortable?”

“When I said that I had told the staff you were my girlfriend, I got the feeling you didn’t like that, so I figured I should back off.”

Walking up to you, she grabbed your hands. “Y/N, the doctors came storming in too quickly for me to respond, and if you had stayed a little longer, you would have heard me tell them how I have the most wonderful partner in the entire world. I was just shocked, because I was sure I was dreaming when I woke up to see you holding my hand.”

“You went along with my lie?”

She nodded. “I didn’t know how long they were going to keep my in the hospital, and if I was going to be stuck there for a while, I wanted you to be able to visit. So when I got back to the compound and you never came to see me again, it hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I didn’t know you felt like that.”

“Y/N I have been so obviously in love with you for the past year and you’re telling me you never noticed?” her voice was incredulous, and you were starting to get a little embarrassed. When you shook your head, she laughed. “Well, that explains why Natasha kept telling me I needed to be more obvious.”

“Is that why she kept telling me to tell you how I felt?”

Wanda laughed. “I think she was trying to help, but I guess it never worked.”

“I think I owe her an apology then,” you said. “I kept telling her I didn’t like you like that, though I’m sure she knew it was a lie.”

Before you could say anything else, Wanda leaned in and kissed you. You kissed back immediately, smiling into the kiss. Now, you were sure you were dreaming, and you even kicked yourself to check, but this was 100% real.

When you broke apart, there were mile wide smiles on both of your faces. “Guess you didn’t lie after all,” Wanda said.

A short laugh escaped your lips. “And I guess you didn’t lie either, unless we’re not together.”

“Good thing we are together then, right?” she asked, waiting tensely for an answer.

You leaned in and kissed her again. “You bet we’re together. We can’t lie to the good medical professionals of the hospital can we?”

“Oh, of course not.”

- the end -

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

TEMPORARY THINGS, chapter 2

More pounding on the door. You blink a few times--fuck, had you been asleep this whole time? 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You shout groggily, pulling yourself off of the cozy, white duvet. You wipe under your eyes and smooth over the crown of your head as you approach the source of noise. “Oh,” you sigh when you find Maggie on the other side. “It’s just you.”

“What a cheerful greeting,” she makes a face but steps inside. She shrugs off her coat and pulls off her hat, from the look of her and the fading daylight outside your window, a gloomy London day was about to become a rainy London night. “We got out late, I haven’t even been home yet because…”

You glance at her over your shoulder when you move towards the kitchen, burying the lead. Typical Maggie. You’d already spotted a tea kettle on the stove, a cup would definitely help you wake up.

“Because?” You prompt, moving to fill the kettle. 

“Because…we should go out tonight.”

You glance out the window quickly. Did Maggie forget that your day technically started…yesterday, in New York?

“...Out tonight?”

“Who are these from?” She sees the flowers on the kitchen counter but you’d already put the card atop your dresser. 

“Oh--Jason, actually.” You say it when your back is to her, thank god. You didn’t think you could hide the heat you felt on your cheeks or the curious look in your eye.

Jet lag, you decide. Deliriously tired and completely out of sorts. Your brain had interpreted his smiles as flirtatious when really, he was being polite and professional and you were just jet lagged. 

“What a sweetie!” she coos when you turn around, hands on the island. “You’re going to love him.”

“Yeah, he seems nice.”

“So sweet--he’ll be out tonight, too.”

“Right,” you remember her evening proposition. “I don’t know, Mag, I’m exhausted and I don’t think my brain is fully with it anymore.”

“Everyone from the show is coming,” she pouts. “Not everyone, but like, everyone I like.”

You turn the burner off when the kettle starts to whistle, taking the bait: “Who’s everyone you like?” 

“Poppy and some of the girls from hair and makeup, a bunch of the guys from the cast--the team, they’re a blast. Jason, Brett, Juno, Greg and Briony, I think, too.”

You find cups in the cupboard, pull two out when she offers her best puppy eyes. “Will I look like an asshole to everyone if I say no?”

She lets her head flop from side to side in uncertainty. “No--I mean, you just got here today so I think people understand that you’re jet lagged. But,” she holds up a finger. “Our cast and crew is notorious for rowdy Friday nights, and it is when most of the bonding happens.”

You watch her and let out another deflated sigh, she knows you’re a sucker for team bonding and making a good impression, and she’d never be too proud to use it against you.

Which is exactly how you wound up in the back room of a pub in Notting Hill. You’d already met Briony--a 23-year-old London native who landed the job of a lifetime when she applied to be an Assistant II, the spot right beneath yours. 

Maggie had taken a liking to a Briony, which wasn’t shocking when you watched the two of them down a beer and bicker about the ranking of a local football club. Maggie loved seeing herself in other people, and anyone who looked up to her? Game over.

Briony was young and impressionable but smart and determined, a bit wide eyed at the entertainment lifestyle, still, but that always took a few years to wear off. 

You’d met Hannah right when you walked in, she greeted you with excitement and you pretended she wasn’t intimidatingly beautiful and tall. She’s fucking hilarious, Briony smiled. 

Now you take reprieve in a corner and listen to Phil and Maggie catch up. In a way, being here is work. Existing in the circle, getting to know your surroundings. Especially at this stage in the game.

At some point right before 9pm, Jason strolls in with someone you don’t recognize, a hoodie and sneakers and you wonder if you should have told Maggie about the flowers and the card.

He makes his way into your tiny group and lets an arm slump around her shoulders when he smiles down at you. “You didn’t give a color, so I hope I did okay—you know, seeing as I was left to my own devices.”

Maggie and Phil are too wrapped up in their conversation, so you laugh and decide you’ll match his demeanor. Jet lag plus alcohol? The professional side of your brain recognizes the risk, but your mouth ticks into a smirk involuntarily.

“Next time I’ll arrive early and buy my own,” you tease him, a playful roll of your eyes to let him know how apologetic you were for his trouble.

His eyes scan your face a little now, the pub is loud and you wonder how many hours a person can be awake before they’re deemed clinically insane. 

“Maggie said you worked for a Real Housewife?”

You nod, take a sip of the cocktail that was shoved your way when you showed up. “Kyle Richards—she’s very sweet and she was the best boss I’ve ever had, so—"

“Big shoes to fill,” he comments, a quick pause before he corrects: “high heels?”

“Either way,” you smile.

“I guess, though…” he reaches up and lets a finger comb over his mustache. Did he keep it year round? What did it feel like when—

“I guess since it’s a temporary position, your contract does outline that I am not actually your boss. Your work for your agency, not me.” He lets his eyes meet yours when you smile up at him, a tiny shrug of his left shoulder. 

“Kyle will be very happy she gets to keep her first place ranking, then.” 

“Poppy!” Maggie’s excited shriek makes both you and Jason turn to see her. She dances in place, opening her arms when a petite brunette slams into her.

A big hug--Jason gets pulled aside by Brendan--and you’re introduced to the woman who makes us all look fit as fuck, as Juno puts it when she excitedly trails behind her. 

Poppy's chic—leather flare pants and a blouse that accentuates her waist. Sure, you hadn’t been here long, but there were a few obvious things so far:

Maggie is close with Poppy and Briony. In fact, it would appear that they are some of her favorite people on set. 

Maggie is also friends with Juno and Hannah--two of the stars on the show and the exact type of strong women Maggie is a magnet to. You trusted, for now, that one day you’d be less intimidated by them.

There was an overall sense of unity, specifically between the women (which was dope), and among the entire cast and crew.

All good things, you decide. So you have another gin and juice and then trail behind them when someone suggests a relocation, somewhere more private and less likely to result in hey, aren’t you those people on that show?

So, on your first night in London, you end up sitting on the floor of Jason’s living room when Poppy and Juno ask you a million questions. 

“America--alright, whereabout?” Juno asks with an eager smile and a red solo cup in hand. She's cross legged on the carpet, you swallow another gulp of your drink and realize that the alcohol is likely solely responsible for your consciousness at this point.

Total waking time: going on 22 hours.

“New York,” you nod. “Born and raised, but I’ve been living in LA for the last few years.”

Poppy’s a bit wide eyed, probably from the vodka. “New York, like New York City, New York?”

“Maggie and I grew up in a small town called Peekskill--right north of the city,” you say this and see Maggie glance over at the sound of her name. “Maggie is Peekskill’s biggest fan.”

She rolls her eyes theatrically at this, groans in protest when you giggle at the drama. 

“Oh come on,” you laugh. “If it wasn’t for that town we wouldn’t be FRIENDS!”

“And if you weren’t friends, I wouldn’t have an assistant right now,” Jason says with a smile when he comes in from the kitchen—a glass of wine in hand that he soon offers to Hannah.

“Right, Maggie,” Hannah looks over and points a finger at your friend. “Don’t ruin this for all of us, we need her! Jason won’t be sane without her.”

“That’s gonna go straight to her head,” Maggie looks over at you, an unimpressed glare when you show a toothy grin. 

“Nobody told me I was saving the day,” you flutter your eyelashes in jest and Hannah cracks up.

“Big head already,” Maggie comments. 

“I don’t think I knew you were from New York, Maggie,” Jason looks over at her now, a cup in his own hand when he settles beside Hannah on the giant, modern sofa. 

His house is cool. Modern like the architecture in LA, but decorated with Brooklyn flair cool. You’d probably never admit it to anyone in the room, but you googled the shit out of him before your flight out here. 

When Maggie called and asked if you were even interested in a gig like this--someone less A-list than you previous clientele--you did your best to avoid the internet. If there was anything you’d learned after 8 years in the industry, it was that tabloids and headlines paid no mind to the truth. 

And, besides, you knew yourself well enough that googling Jason for weeks on end before moving across the ocean for a temporary job would only make your anxiety skyrocket. 

So you waited until your ass was firmly planted in the airport and through security. A glass of red wine from the business lounge and a sweatshirt made your internet reading less creepy and more cozy. 

“Oh, unfortunately,” Maggie sighs. “I’m more of an LA girl at heart.”

“That is true,” you back her up. “Which, personally, I won’t ever understand.”

“Me neither,” Jason agrees, his eyes on you when he spoke. “The people are weird, no privacy.”

“Something tells me Maggie loves the flashing lights,” Brett teases, a smile in her direction. Was there…something between them? Maggie rolls her eyes at Brett but lets Briony jump in. 

“Y/N, have you ever been to London before?”

“I have,” you nod with a smile, actually quite touched that the whole group seems to be interested enough to listen. “I’ve been for work a few times, but--never longer than a week or two. I’ve never spent a lot of time exploring.”

“Skip the London Eye,” Brett waves it off. “Gherkin’s much better.”

Another round of drinks and more teasing from Maggie until almost 2am--you smile at the way everyone says goodbye: hugs and cheek kisses and promises of see you Monday!

When you pull on your coat by the front door, Jason has a hand on the knob. “We should probably hang out tomorrow.”

“Yes,” you nod quickly, reaching for your phone to edit a calendar or set an alarm or something. “I can come here, bring coffee, what time?”

He laughs, a smile at your offer while Maggie and Juno giggle about something unintelligible in the doorway. “Yeah--sure, 10am?”

“You’ve got it,” another nod. Now Maggie reaches her hand for yours and looks up at Jason. 

“You’re welcome by the way. You’re going to love her.”

You catch the corner of his mouth pull up into a smirk, heat on your cheeks at Maggie’s choice of words. 

But Jason nods. “I believe you.”

**

The sun glitters through your shutters when you check your phone the next morning. 7:24am. You know within a few seconds that you’re awake for good: the time change and the still-packed suitcase on your floor demands it. 

So you walk to a corner cafe for your first cup, sit cross-legged on your hardwood floor and pull out sweaters and dresses and jeans. You swiped some mascara on and walked the two and a half blocks to Jason’s right before 9:45--your knuckles rapped on the door and you didn’t think, for a second, that being early might be a bad thing. 

Birds chirp in the morning sunlight, brisk and chilly at the start of spring. Steam billows up from the two hot coffees in hand--Briony texted you his order last night when she stumbled home.

“Hey, hi--I…overslept,” he blinks down at you a few times once the door swings open. His hair’s messy, a sweatshirt he must have tugged over at the sound of the doorbell. In a….hot way. 

“I can come back,” you blink up at him, a small smile in awkwardness when he shakes his head and steps aside. 

“No, no, no--it’s my fault, come in.”

You step into the foyer and clock the photos on the wall that you missed last night: family members, friends, moments he wanted a daily reminder of. He takes the coffees from you with an appreciate smile, walks over to the living room and sets them down on the circular table atop the plush rug. 

It’s different in the morning light, a tall plant in the corner and art on the walls, Hannah’s wine glass still sits on the end table where she left it. 

“Sorry that the only London sight you’ve seen so far is my living room,” he laughs a little, the first sip and a nod of recognition when he realizes you already know his order. 

“All good,” you shake your head and sit in the armchair across from him. “I’m happy to be here, excited for a change of scenery. S’only the first 48-hours, anyway.”

“The U.S. just get old, or somethin'?” He teases, another slow sip and a smile in your direction, this one, you can tell, has more curiosity behind it.

It's early. Early in the day, early in your relationship with Jason for you to be divulging the gritty details of how your life cracked open a mere six months ago.

So you give him the 30,000 foot view truth: “That and my whole life, apparently. Seeing as I agreed to this job with, like, two weeks notice.”

He nods now, eyes wide at your joke but still rolling with it. “Yeah,” he sighs when he relaxes on the sofa, “I can relate.”

A moment of awkward silence. He goes for another sip in the exact moments you realize it’s probably up to you to make the conversation start flowing--seeing as Jason’s eyes are still half closed when he takes his second sip. 

“So what made Jessie a great EA?” You sit back and watch as he lets your question sink in. His pointer finger traces along his mustache, like he’s a little caught off guard but still happy to answer. 

“She always laughs at my jokes,” he smiles, a quick glance up in your direction to see how it lands. 

“Okay, so…flattery,” you nod, throwing in a playful smirk. You curse yourself, silently, for the warmth beneath your ribcage at the sight of a dimple on his left cheek. 

“You can call it that if you must,” he rolls his eyes but then laughs and exhales, slowly. “She’s great, organized…which I am not always, by the way.”

You appreciate his honesty, watching when he glances out the window but keeps talking about your predecessor. “She’s very punctual, has a wicked memory--like, really good,” he nods.

You reach for your coffee and narrow your eyes. “That or calendar access, right?”

He laughs at your joke, “right. You had that meeting with her, yeah?”

The meeting that you agreed to even though it was at 6am your time because they were all over here in London. The meeting that you took alongside your morning cup of coffee and the meeting that had you, now, seated in Jason’s living room on the other side of the world. 

“Yes,” you nod, “and I’ve got your work and personal calendar, she gave me a whole binder to study.”

You pointed over to the tote you’d had on your shoulder upon arrival, remembered thumbing through pages before you tried to close your eyes on your flight. 

“If anyone handed me a binder and said, ‘go handle this man,’ I would have run for the hills.”

More melting of whatever anxiety sits in your chest. Levity in the room despite the fact that you still have a good impression to make and a lot to catch up on. You’ve been here only two days, but something tells you his cast and crew moved like a well-oiled machine. Or a friend group. A well-oiled friend group. 

“Yeah, well, Maggie loves coming to work. Which means you must be doing something right.”

He smiles in a way that shows your words mean something to him, like that’s a real compliment and not just your attempt at sucking up to the boss. Who you, under no circumstances, should think is attractive. 

“Can I show you around?” His eyebrows lift when he stands from the sofa, before gesturing over his shoulder to look into the backyard. 

Big glass panels--doors, you assume--that opened onto lush green grass despite the March cloud cover. First he leads you into the kitchen, slick counters and wood grain cabinetry before he shows you the fridge.

“This thing talks--but only sometimes, when it wants,” he presses the fridge. Drawings pinned up with magnets, a rainbow and a soccer ball, three stick figures with a dog. 

“I have two kids,” he says what you already know--it was in the binder. “Owen and Stella,” he smiles. “A lot of back and forth, between me and their mom--but that’s been…doable.”

Recent, you remember Maggie mentioning their split a few Christmases ago and the resulting headlines. Now, standing in his kitchen, you feel bad for the quiet house that was starting to feel more lonely than chic. 

“Onward?”

Another nod before you follow him down the hall to the main suite. A nice space—meant for two but he still left a mark on the otherwise empty room. Books on the bedside table, change beside a bottle of cologne on the dresser and a belt that didn’t quite make it into the closet is lifeless on the floor.

A bathroom with a fancy tub, said closet that was the size of your first apartment, an upstairs hallway with guest quarters and office space. 

“Make yourself at home,” he smiles once you land back on the ground floor. “You’ll have to, y’know, so let’s skip the awkward phase.”

“Skip?” You feel your eyebrows raise as you say it.

He walks towards the living room again, coffee still in hand when he returns to his spot on the sofa. 

“You tell me what I can do to make your life easy and I’ll tell you what you can do to make mine the same.”

“Only I’m getting paid,” you challenge, glad to feel comfortable enough to be yourself. A good sign, really. The same way you felt after you met Kyle.

“True, yes—that’s correct,” he laughs. 

You eye him for a second, the smirk on his face told you he liked whatever was happening between the two of you as much as you did. 

“So then, what should I know about this week?”

He thinks on it for a second, bites his lower lip before he makes eye contact. “You’re gonna get sick of me, fair warning.”

“I believe you,” you nod, borrowing his words from the night before, a twinkle in his eye when he catches it.

“I’m there every morning by 6:30am. Seven if I’m reaaaally draggin’.”

“Got it.”

“First mark’s at 8, usually, but I need that time to look, you know, put together.”

“Uh huh,” you open your phone and jot things down: 8am, 6:30am, 7am, the address of the studio that you’d already memorized. “I’ll need the code to the house and a probably business credit card, I think that’s all you haven’t given me.”

You glance up for a second and catch him looking at you, eyebrows raised, like your aura lit up the room or he wasn’t expecting your demands. Unreadable and you don't like it.

“Yes, yeah,” he clears his throat a little bit but still smiles. “I will get you both of those things.”

This is the moment you decide it’s best to leave, you know, not overstay your welcome since you showed up and he was still in pajamas. You stand and shoulder your tote bag, make small talk as he follows suit and soon you’re standing in the doorway just like you were last night. 

“I hope the first forty-eight have been okay.”

Your eyes narrow from momentary confusion, your head tilts. 

“Hours,” he clarifies. “In London.”

“They’ve been good,” you answer genuinely before adding a dose of sarcasm. “Been stuck in one guy’s living room, so I’m excited to see some sights today with Maggie, catch up on some sleep this weekend.”

He chuckles quietly and smiles, a wave of anticipation in your gut when you realize how good it feels to make him laugh. He’s got a hand on the knob and tugs it open, adding: “Brett was wrong, by the way.”

Your brow furrows when you step into the cool morning. 

“The Gherkin’s good, but my favorite view is this hotel--The Shard--they’ve got a great bar at the top.”

The corner of your mouth pulls into a smile, a feeling in your gut, again, that has you desperate to know more about Jason and the show and this world Maggie loved living in. But for now you have to leave. 

One last smile and wave in farewell, “good to know.”

**

Sunday morning had you at brunch with Maggie and Briony, mimosas poured in Notting Hill when you applied chapstick.

“Okay,” you cap it and smile between them both before you bring your drink to your lips, cool, calm, collected. 

They’re desperate for details, you can tell Briony wants to hear about your meeting with Jason and Maggie will take anything. 

She’s already certain you’d soon be thanking her for the gig of a lifetime. You tread lightly: “So, Jason’s pretty nice, seems cool so far.”

“Right,” Maggie narrowed her eyes for a second, looked over to Briony for back up before asking: “why do you sound so weird while saying that?”

You shrug and sip before redirecting, thankful for the sunglasses on your face due to sunny sidewalk seating. “Just settling in, Mag. I spent a solo hour with him yesterday.”

This tumbles out of your mouth before you realize you kept this from Maggie for hours. A whole afternoon of London by tube and dinner with Poppy last night and your morning at Jason’s didn’t come up.

Or maybe you didn’t bring it up because you walked home with a smile on your face and felt like an idiot for realizing that you had a very stupid schoolgirl crush on your new boss. Or, not boss?

A crush that would fade, no doubt. One that was sure to be chalked up to a rush of adrenaline that came with a new city and a new season and your newfound status: single. Or, super fucking single, as Maggie reminded you yesterday.

Briony leaned in, “he’s so cool, such a fun boss.”

“He seems fun,” you say with a nod. “I brought coffee.”

“You brought coffee?” Maggie leans in like you might as well have just told her you showed up naked on his doorstep.

“Yeah…” you eye her, aware that Briony’s head is on a constant swivel between the two of you. “Should I not have brought coffee?”

“No, no,” she shakes her head. “I’m just shocked to hear you’re such a kiss-ass for once. Especially with your new boss.”

“Technically,” you hold up a finger. “He’s not my boss.”

“What do you mean?” Briony asks. 

“I got this job through an agency,” you remind her. “And Maggie, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she takes a sip of her mimosa before leaning back in her chair. 

“So since it’s contracted out, I work for them, technically. Which makes Jason…”

Maggie understood, she’d worked long enough in Hollywood to fill in the blanks for Briony. “The guy you work with and the guy who’s orders you follow,” she giggles now.

“But not the guy who writes my check,” you smile. 

“Ugh,” Briony groans, jealous of the perks that come along with the EA title and the years of grunt work you’d already put in. “One day I’ll make it to the promiseland.”

“And until then you have Jason as your boss, so, I think we’re all doing okay,” Maggie teases. “Anyway,” she redirects. Leave it to Maggie to not give it up that easily. “What did you guys talk about yesterday?”

Her question feels casual, but you’re not sure how much to tip your hat. “Work,” you shrug. “And I’m not a kiss ass.”

“Y/N L/N?” her eyes go wide in jest. “Never!”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: CHAPPIE 2! Okay! A decent amount of you have requested a tag list simply because you're not checking tumblr every day. And you all know I love to give the people what they want, so, JOIN THE TAG LIST HERE. Very excited to get the ball rolling with this story, would love to hear any and ALL thoughts :) :) :)

[fanficfanattic]

Goal, Chance and/or Away (purely taking words from this football commentary rn lol)

I am once again impressed with the gems my recent word challenges have excavated. Six fic snippets under the cut.

Goal

1. From a fic where a newly returned Jamie sees a man drug a lady’s drink at a bar and intervenes. But without context it just looks like Jamie got in a bar fight.

He knows it plays into the idea that he is a prima donna, a moody little bitch, feels like its proof that he’s more trouble than he’s worth. But he can’t help laying in bed; with the team that can barely stand him downstairs watching a movie, while he’s been fucking grounded to his room like the child Roy always said he was, and feeling desperately alone.

He hadn’t cared about being alone, before Ted. During most of his time with Ted, even. His dad had always made him either actively drive people away or that was just the practical application of conforming to his demands. He’d been used to it. It was all he’d ever known.

And then Keeley said he should stop battling the people trying to help him. And he sacrificed the reminder he’d taken from home, of home, when he left it. And danced around a bonfire after Roy Kent said he was right about something. Dani had thrown his arm around him. He’d sung with the lads…

It was fun, and it made it hurt even more when the next day he’d gone back to how it had always been. He didn’t tell Ted how much time he’d spent fantasizing about what it would have been like to have gotten to stay. To develop those tiny first buds of friendships.

To have never relegated Richmond. To be playing in the now with his teammates but versions of them he’d grown alongside for months. Who never got extra pissed at him for shit talking them on tv, and destroying their Captain’s career, for sending them down.

To be trusted. Before, the only thing a team had cared about was wether they could trust him to score. Which was still technically true. But they hadn’t ever wanted more from him, and he certainly hadn’t been putting extra out there for free. Besides he hadn’t trusted anyone else much either. Maybe Man City to be good players and to work together towards a common goal. And Richmond to pass him the ball to score the first time around.

Now he trusted Dani to smile at him even when no one else would. He trusted Jeff to subtly nod, but not more than that, because he had greeted Jamie when he returned before realizing how mad everyone else was at him. Not that Jamie blamed him. He’d gone out of his way to message the man saying the small nod was probably better for both of them.

He hadn’t realized it until the moment Ted didn’t even let him talk that he’d trusted the man to be fair. He talked a good talk, but he had trouble walking the good walk, and was pretty lousy at both when it came to Jamie.

2. Now that the team has been gelling, and Roy understands how Jamie’s mind works more, he’s got a plan to run circles around West Ham.

“Kent, the fuck mate! You said you could keep in position!”

“Fuck you Tartt! Maybe if you weren’t-“

They had been yelling about the play in the heat of being pissed off at each other. Jamie had telegraphed the pass to Roy very clearly. And the defender who was supposed to be on the left, loosely marking Sam, tore off to be another line of defense between Roy Kent and their goal.

Unfortunately for them, even when Roy and him had been out for blood against each other, they’d have never been that stupid. Jamie doesn’t even twist his body fully the way it should be for the kick. It still rolls smoothly to Sam who buries it in the back of the net from his completely cleared lane.

Chance

1. From the Investigative Journalist epic.

“…for as long as I remember, when I heard people say things, I always thought they meant it however the worst possible way is. But a lot of people say it while meaning it in the best possible way turns out.”

“And how does this relate back to you thinking people are rude when they talk around a subject?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m trying to do that more.”

“What more?”

“Identify when I’m doing that kind of thinking that what someone is doing is the worst version it could be. So, society probably isn’t trying to be rude by talking around things. I think it’s accidentally rude.”

“Do you mean incidentally?”

“What’s the difference?”

“They both mean something happened by chance. Accidental implies that the thing happened by carelessness while incidental indicates it would still happen this way even if people were taking care.”

“I think people want to believe it’s that last one but I believe it’s more often the first one. Cause I can be the same way. I normally don’t think much before talking, and if I did that more, I’d say things differently or maybe not say anything at all.”

2. This is also from the platonic a/b/o fic I didn’t realize had so many scenes already sketched out. The scenario is that James had a shady doctor prescribing Jamie pills that included an (i fucking guess) untraceable dynamic suppression med. When his dad is too busy to deal with a refill, Jamie asks Richmond’s med team to prescribe him a new vitamin pack.

“Oh that bastard. I’m gonna kill him this time, Simon, I am!”

“Georgie, c’mon, let’s focus on Jamie now and murdering later, yeah?”

“Fine, fine! So doctor, what about that? Like I believe his father would hurt him, cause that’s his way, but the how doesn’t make any sense. With vitamins?”

“Well, we don’t know if there is anything different between the vitamins his dad got for him and what we provided here. The best way to find out is with a blood test.

And you’re Jamie’s medical health proxy. So-“

“Yes, you’ve got my. You need to do a blood draw? Run tests?”

“Yes ma’am. You’re granting permission for the draw?”

“Yes, of course. What the fuck. How-how soon will you know? Does he have to go to hospital? It’ll take us almost four hours to get there. Do we-“

“Georgie, she can’t answer any questions if you don’t give her a chance, love. Take another deep breath for me, okay? In and in and in. Hold and hold and hold. Out and out and out. Okay, again.” And after she kept at it, he addressed the doctor again.

3. From that evil fic I teased about. I’ve played coy about what happened before now but you caught me! Rebecca walks onto the practice pitch ‘without Jamie’, Ted notes to himself.

“Jamie’s parents were in a car accident this morning. That’s why I called for him. His mother is being held overnight for observation and is quite understandably shaken. She called Man City to get a hold of Jamie, and when she explained what was going on she was able to talk with Pep. He promised he’d talk to Jamie so she could rest.

And then he called me directly.”

It was silent for a moment, and she was tempted to look around to better gauge player reactions. She kept her eyes on Ted, instead, because his was both more important and certainly more interesting. As she’d begun her story, he’d paled alarmingly.

And he failed to spill forth some folksy American tale to talk circles around everyone. Instead he hoarsely asked only one question.

“And his father?”

It gave away a weakness he had, which Rebecca was sure he neither realized he’d done nor that it was one. And why would he be worried about that, she reminded herself, when he also doesn’t realize he’s in game of your making.

“Ah, I should have been more precise in my language. His biological father divorced his mother when he was still an infant, I’ve been informed. It was his stepfather that was driving and took the brunt of the impact. He died on scene.”

She didn’t say it icily or meanly. She just said it without warmth. And that impacted the players more than she’d thought possible. Unfortunately it took time for her to understand that, because at the moment everyone just appeared to be in shock.

Ted didn’t ask anymore questions, and the silence was getting uncomfortable even for her.

“Well, since she took her late husband’s last name, there is a chance this won’t make the papers without the name Tartt attached. Still, if it does, Keeley made some excellent points about how we want to look. So no one go on your socials until she’s spoken with you.

Back to training now.” And she turned to walk away, not once looking back.

Away

1. ^ Chance #3

2. ^ Goal #1

3. I shamelessly stole this idea from a fic where Ted has Jamie stay with Roy in a similar manner as hockey players sometimes do? Apparently. So season 2 Jamie returns to Richmond. And Ted cooks up a thing where Jamie is going to room with Sam. Help them get their differences settled. And then…and then James Tartt shows up.

Jamie sort of unthinkingly says “Oh, Ted knows about me da’”. And Sam is sure that Jamie must have misunderstood what happened until he hears about Ted walking away but sending the soldier. And the conversation Jamie and Ted had in the Crown & Anchor.

[mikashisus]

Clipped Wings

”i could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; i would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. i would know him in death, at the end of the world"

— madeline miller

summary: He was like the fresh breeze on a warm summer day, brushing over your skin with the most delicate of touches.

He knew just the right words to say and how to say them, and lies slipped from his lips easier than wine slid down his throat.

pairing: venti x fem!reader

content warnings: foul language, panic attacks, mentions of alcoholism, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of abuse and trauma, mentions of torture, religious symbolism, and suggestive scenes (including innuendos)

ch.1 wc: 1.9k

author’s notes: earlier chapters are between 1000-2000 words long.

this fic is semi canon divergent. only few canon events will be mentioned, and timeline is around 3.0 when the traveler is just entering sumeru.

cross-posted on ao3 & wp (-FOC4LORS)

CHAPTER I: sowing the seeds of hope

"Oh what pain doth the heart sing

When faced with the churn of old love's sting...

The seeds of hope shall be thrown askew

And a maiden's heart will be turned anew"

The lovely sound of a lyre in the corner of Angel's Share tavern attracted your attention. Setting down the bard's drink on the table and tucking a tray underneath your arm, you sent him a small smile.

"New song?"

"Yep!" he giggled, taking a sip of the drink you placed down. "I think I'll call this one: (name)’s Woes! How's it sound to you?" His ever playful tone rang in your ears; a pleasant change from the recent events.

Just the thought of said events made a bitter taste settle on your tongue and your heart ache in a painful way. It had been hard to get your mind off of things lately.

You sighed, averting your gaze to the floor. "Well, considering you have a knack for picking up on other's emotions, I'd say, yes... it fits the mood quite well." You met his cerulean eyes again, which were now shining with more mischief than before. You could only assume the tricks he was holding up his sleeve, and wondered what kind of tomfoolery he'd pull off just to elicit a smile from you.

"Care to drink with me?" he offered, the question a little quieter than his earlier enlightenments. "You look like you need a break." He gave you a once over. To be fair, you did need a break. A break from everything, even your job at the tavern.

Shaking your head, you clicked your tongue. "Would love to, but I'm technically still on shift. But, you can keep playing— our patrons love your performances." You sent him a warm smile, one that made the tips of his ears turn pink and his heart to start racing.

"You seem to enjoy them more than they do, though," he smirked, sending you a knowing look as he strummed his lyre again.

Of course... there was the teasing. You expected it to come at some point after talking with him.

And he wasn't entirely wrong, either... you loved his songs, always finding your eyes wandering to him when he was performing in the plaza. However, you never thought anyone noticed... much less Venti himself. You had always thought you were being subtle in your intrigue. Nothing got past the bard, you knew that all too well by now.

A little flustered, you grabbed the wine glass from the table before he could take another sip. It was almost empty. "I'll go get you another wine," you turned on your heel, hearing the bard chuckle. Before he could utter a retort, you swiveled back around. "But only if you behave!"

He saluted you, "Yes, ma'am!" he winked, watching as you stormed off behind the counter before thinking up a new song. His eyes drifted to you, watching as you prepared another wine for him.

He frowned. It was no secret that your recent relationship with the chief alchemist had taken an immense swan dive. No one really saw it coming... especially since the two of you were so infatuated with each other. But alas, he made the mistake of tossing you aside and shouting hurtful words at you when you expressed how lonely you felt as of late... and to top it all off, his outburst had happened in a public area, where he freely humiliated you and treated everything as if it had been nothing. As if he had never cared for your feelings at all.

And to think it all started because you were a little upset that he was spending so much time on his research and little time with you.

Usually you didn't mind all that much when he was busy with work, as being an alchemist was his job, and the immense fixation he had on his interests were understandable, but he had been putting off spending time with you for over a month. At first, you didn't say a thing, mainly because you thought you were simply being petty or acting childish— but after trying to talk to him about how you felt, and having your feelings be completely ignored, you realized that no... you weren't being childish.

He was blatantly ignoring how you felt, and he had the audacity to think you'd still stay with him after he yelled at you like he did. After he utterly humiliated you and destroyed every single shred of dignity you had left.

From an outside perspective, everything between you two seemed fine... but maybe that was because you were an expert liar. If it weren't for you dropping the news to your boss last week, then Venti would've never known anything had been going south so fast in the first place.

Diluc had offered you a day off from work to take some time to yourself, but you refused. You knew that if you were left alone, your mental state would deteriorate further. Therefore, you continued to work, seeing as it was a delightful distraction. And indeed, it was... even though the shouts of drunkards weren't particularly any better than the thoughts that roared on like a waterfall in your head.

Maybe you should've taken that time off after all...

Venti could tell the whole ordeal must've taken a toll on you... after all, dating someone for two years and then suddenly breaking up with them had to be hard. He pondered on whether or not he should conjure up a new song for you and play it when it's finished. The one he just played for you was something he merely thought up on the spot and used as a mood lightener. If he were to make you a real song, he'd want to do it right— it would have to be perfect; no teasing or sneaky lyrics.

"Here's your wine," you slammed the glass down onto the table, making him flinch a little as he was brought out of his stupor.

"Aw c'mon now, (name)! Spare an innocent bard, will you?" he teased, batting his eyelashes. "You know, if you intend to attract more patrons, you'll never do it by making that face and acting all violent." He chuckled when your eye twitched, and sent you a knowing smirk. He was definitely looking for trouble tonight, that was for sure.

"Innocent, huh? More like shameless!" you retorted, rolling your eyes as you remembered the countless times he's flirted with you when you were already in a relationship with someone else. Not like you minded the sudden adoration, but it was a bit uncomfortable at the time. Now though...

"Learn to control yourself— especially when in the presence of a taken woman!"

"Not to be insensitive, but you don't classify as a taken woman any longer," Diluc interrupted, joining the two of you at the table. He set down a Dead After Noon on the table before you, nudging it in your direction, and glanced between you and Venti. Was he subtly insisting that you should take a break?

"So, to be frank... anyone could try their chances with you right about now."

You didn't like the way he said that... it sent a shiver down your spine as his crimson eyes bore through you, before they shifted back to Venti with a warning glare. "However, some people need to learn what restraint means. Taken woman or not." Then he was gone, retreating back behind the bar to serve a drunkard.

You hadn't even realized he had been here tonight until now. Had you been that caught up in your thoughts since the start of your shift?

You let out an exasperated sigh and crossed your arms overtop of the table. Venti was back to humming and strumming his lyre, the melodious tune that left his lips beginning to lull you into a calmer state. This was why you loved his songs. They were serene and told tales of love, woe, war, and tragedy. Each one had a meaning, and whether or not you knew those meanings, they were still delightful to hear. Your favorite was the one telling of a young maiden who fell in love with a god.

No matter how much the maiden wished to ascend to the heavens and be with him, she couldn't. She was fated to stay on the surface as a mortal, and her lover was doomed to eternity in the skies. Even though it was a tragic tale, the love portrayed between the two was something you could only ever dream of. You were silly to think you found that everlasting love with your ex.

Then again, you really did think the two of you would have a bond stronger than that in fairytales— one forged in blood and cherished until the end of time. That was your childish dreams speaking... to wish for something that only existed within your wildest daydreams. To think that your first love would be worth salvaging until your dying breath. How naïve you were to believe it all.

"You like that one, don't you?" Venti questioned as the song neared its end, drawing you from your thoughts. He could somehow sense the downward spiral of your emotions, and quickly diverted your attention to something else. You admired his knack for reading others' emotions, and having a high sense of empathy for those around him. He truly was enticing.

You opened your eyes, being met with vibrant crystal blues mixed with verdant greens. You hadn't even realized you closed your eyes in the first place, but the sight of Venti gazing at you made you push the thought aside.

His eyes were brisk, like the breeze on a hot summer day, yet warm like a campfire on a chilly night. Though, there was always something off about his eyes; an underlying sadness laid deep beneath his cerulean irises, hazing over his curious stare like a thunderstorm over a raging ocean. You wanted to debunk whatever it was, but you knew that even if you tried, he wouldn't let you.

You smiled sadly, "Yeah... it's definitely my favorite."

He chuckled softly. The beating of your heart seemed especially loud in the corner the two of you sat in, so loud that you swore he could hear it. And unbeknownst to you, he could. He could hear every raced thump inside your ribcage, every shallow breath of air you took in to your lungs— cause what was a bard if not someone who could read the souls of those he wrote ballads about? And he suddenly had an idea for a new one.

"You tend to like the love songs more than the others. Shall I play more of that genre when you're around?"

Maybe he ought to write one for you if you admired them that much. The thought made him want to start on it right away... and he was already coming up with the perfect melody.

"Please," you sighed in relief, resting your head upon the table as Venti chuckled once more and began to play another one of your favorite songs, one shrouded in a blissful tune and depicting the love of two people who lived out the rest of their lives together happily.

"As you wish."

author’s notes: i hope u enjoy this fic as it progresses! the first 3 chapters are a little ehh but that's simply cause i wrote them back when i had no clear plot to go off of. i'll prolly end up rewriting them later on, but for now they'll stay how they are.

chapter 2

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

New Collars

Wrote this because why not? New collars and feelings? What could be better.

Summary: Wanda gets you and Scarlet some collars, Scarlet has some feelings about the situation

words: 1K

Warnings: Swearing, but pretty alright otherwise

"Wanda why do I have a red sparkly collar on?" Scarlet was messing with the loop that was hanging from her new collar "I feel like a dog"

Wanda smiled, ignoring the witch looking back at you "my pretty baby likes it though doesn't she?"

You nodded "I love how sparkly it is!" You kissed Wanda thanking her for such a cool gift "does this mean you're our owner?" Scarlet spoke before Wanda could say anything "woah woah woah! She is not my owner, I'm technically older! And who wants to be a pet for a person?!”

Wanda stood up kissing you on the cheek and patting your head, she walked to where Scarlet was "you are a brat, and a brat needs a nice little collar so I can drag you around when you're being bad" Wanda poked her finger through the ring of the collar pulling the witch close "Wanda come on this is a little much don’t you think?” Scar laughed a little to break this weird tension that was building up.

You knowing full well what was happening padded over to where the witches stood and took your place beside Scarlet

“Maybe we should just go shopping and have fun, I doubt anyone would care about the collars, I mean come on you two are powerful witches that look alike! That’s crazy” you were rambling and you knew it but couldn’t stop, before you could start again though Wanda placed her finger on your lips shushing you

“You don’t need to protect our precious witch here detka, she’ll learn” you gave her a little nod and she walked away from you two.

"Why does she turn me on?" You shrugged "she's got a dominant attitude and a great smile"

"Come on you two we need groceries!" Wanda shouted from the front door and you two quickly moved towards your girlfriend "see, what good pets you are"

"Fuck off" Scarlet muttered storming out of the door and into the back seat of the seat crossing her arms "she's so grumpy" Wanda laughed grabbing your hand leading you to the car "is my pretty princess ready for shopping?" You smiled nodding your head "yep!"

"Maybe if you and Scar behave we can get some ice cream" she opened the passenger seat for you ushering you in and getting into the car herself "Scarlet are you going to be good?"

"no, and I'm gonna make this day out so unbearable for the two of you-"

Wanda laughed "you always make our days unbearable sweetheart, but you're a lot of fun"

************************************************************************

You'd been in the store 20 minutes and Scarlet was bored "you know we got groceries delivered in the avengers compound in my universe, it was quicker and took less time"

Wanda rolled her eyes letting go of your hand "Y/n go and get some vegetables okay?"

"Sure babe!" You ran off to find the veg aisle leaving the two Wandas "Scar why are you upset?"

The witch was taken aback a little "oh I'm not really upset" she thought about it "actually yeah I am! Why the hell do you think you can boss me around? I'm not a fucking child" Scarlet went to walk away but Wanda grabbed her wrist pulling her back "hey listen I don't treat you like a child, I just want to protect you, want to love you an-"

"That might work for Y/n but it won't work for me, I don't need to be babied by someone who's younger than me"

Wanda pulled her close into a tight hug, despite her protests, whispering into her ear "you said you've not felt loved for years, you've lost your family, brother, husband and even your sanity for a little while, please let yourself be loved by someone who knows you better than anyone, this is a different universe where you can have a fresh start"

The two of them were silent for a little while, Scarlet holding onto Wanda tight, crying softly in the middle of the seasoning aisle, people walking back and forth but they didn't care, you suddenly appeared from around the corner carrying a few bags of veggies "okay I got carrots, leeks, brocol-Oh, are you okay?"

Wanda turned to you still holding onto the sniffling witch "Scar here is just feeling down little one, do you want to get her some candy?" She winked at you and you sped off quickly to find the candy for Scar, and obviously for you because you felt like you deserved it for everything you deal with daily.

The witch finally pulled away from Wanda wiping her tears away "I'm sorry for snapping"

Wanda smiled helping her wipe her tears away with her thumbs "don't apologise for having reasonable emotions Scarlet, you have a family now, you've got partners, your brother, friends and the two things you wanted more than anything in the world, your boys"

The witch broke down again "my boys...I can't believe they love me after all I did"

Wanda shook her head "no no none of that, they love you it doesn't matter what you did all that matters is what you continue doing from now on, remember when you took them to the cinema? They had such a fun time watching the minions"

Scarlet laughed remembering when the boys tricked her into taking them to see the strangest movie she'd ever seen, little yellow men with their own language, she thought she was high or on some drugs.

"That was a fun day, okay, I'll stop doubting myself...can we get the ice cream you promised?"

Wanda let out a laugh "you don't say said for long do you? Of course we can have ice-cream"

"Hell yeah!" You'd come round the corner just at the right time "are you not sad anymore?”

Scarlet pulled away from Wanda bringing you into a tight hug “moja ljubezen I love you so much, thank you putting up with me” she nuzzled into your neck keeping you close

You just stood still enjoying this embrace while Wanda watched on fondly

“Okay come on I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day” Wanda ushered the both of you through the store and into the car "no one noticed your collars either" Wanda laughed but Scarlet rolled her eyes

"Okay whatever, it is pretty comfortable" she mumbled cuddling up to you in the backseat. "Time for ice cream don't forget!"

You made damn sure you were getting your ice cream

"Of course your majesty" the witches laughed at your eagerness, Wanda moving out of the carpark and towards the ice cream parlour before you threw a tantrum.

Scarlet took the time to think about what Wanda said, she was pretty lucky now, a fresh universe and a fresh start and she was going to enjoy every second of it while she could.

[justoneofthoseghosts]

what should i write based on the title "if i don't want anyone, then why do i feel so alone?"

A/N: Nonny, I don't know if this was meant for me but here goes anyway because I am drowning in my Brettsey feels tonight.

In hindsight, maybe Sylvie shouldn't have pushed it with Dylan. Sure, he was nice and sweet but they didn't really have much in common. He took her to a three hour play where she spent half the time thinking about the errands she needed to run the next day (and okay, maybe about a certain someone too who blew back into town and had told her he'd be at Molly's all night). He technically guilt tripped her into performing his magic show before running off to Vegas with his brother (thank heavens for Mouch, honestly.)

She knew she couldn't string him along any further, not when she knew deep down that it wasn't going anywhere. He deserved someone he could share his magic tricks with or enjoyed going to the theater. She - well, she wasn't sure what she deserved but maybe it wasn't this. She had taken bad advise from her friends and maybe it was time she listened to herself.

It had been after that difficult call that she knew she needed to cut him loose. She didn't feel like talking to him about it and he rarely understood what she did on a daily basis. She calls him and asks to meet up at a restaurant near her apartment. She intended for it to be quick and painless that is until he asked if she would be his date to his brother's wedding.

Well, that kind of explained the trip to Vegas. Maybe it was a bachelor's party.

"I can't," she blurts out.

"Oh, are you working that day? I could have sworn it was your day off," he says.

She sighs. So much for quick and painless.

"It's not that, Dylan," she begins to explain, "I just don't think this is working out. i don't think I can go all in."

He frowns.

"I'm sorry," she states earnestly, "I thought I was ready. You're a great guy and you deserve someone who'll make you happy."

He nods. They share one last awkward hug before they part ways.

It's three weeks later when she's in Fowlerton visiting her parents that she gets a call from the new Paramedic Field Chief's secretary asking her to stop by when she got back to Chicago. The elder woman wanted to talk to her and Sylvie thinks it must be because she lit up the PIC from first shift for not making sure the right supplies were in the jump bag. Her heart still beats a bit faster in her chest when she thinks about the baby they almost lost that day, if not for some heavy improvisation.

That call really took a toll on her, so much that she almost called Matt because he was probably the one person who would understand the situation. Stella, Violet and Mouch were there to comfort her and Chief Boden had always been like a father figure to the firehouse but a part of her wanted to know what Matt thought, maybe hoped that he would reassure her, tell her that she made the right calls. Instead, she decided to take some time off to visit her family. She had a new niece, one that was barely four months old and her brother had been nagging her to visit. It was the perfect time to do.

The meeting with Paramedic Field Chief Lee turns out to be about something else. They discuss her track record as a CFD paramedic, Paramedicine and her career goals. Sylvie always thought she'd stay at 51 until she retired but in the last few months, maybe even the past year, a feeling had started to creep up on her - a feeling that maybe she was beginning to outgrow being PIC and maybe Paramedicine was her way of trying something new.

"Have you ever thought about being an Ambulance Commander?"

Sylvie's eyes go wide, "me?"

The Field Chief nods, smiling warmly at her, "there's an exam in a couple of months and one of the ACs in the 2nd district is retiring soon."

She asks for time to think about it. it was a big leap but something in her was telling her that maybe this was the right leap.

When she gets out of the meeting, she fishes for her phone in her purse, surprised to find a text from Matt.

I wanted to give you a heads up this time. I'll be back in town tomorrow for another DHS meeting.

She stares at the message, not sure what to say. She drops her phone back in her purse. She'd worry about it later. She didn't want to seem to eager anyway.

She texts him back two hours later while on her couch, drinking some cheap rosé with a screw top and watching House Hunters.

Thanks for letting me know. I'll see you at the firehouse?

His reply comes back almost instantly, like he had been waiting the whole time for her message. She decides not to read into it too much.

Might not be able to swing by 51 but I'd love to catch up after shift at Molly's.

She drains her wine glass before typing her response.

I'd really like that too.

He sends her back a smiley face emoji that is just so dorky and so in character that it makes her snort. She doesn't want to think about the little flame of excitement she feels.

It's just Matt, she thinks, they've already seen each other since the break up and now, at least she has about 12 hours to mentally prepare herself.

She enters Molly's, looking around for him until she spots him talking to Stella by the bar. He grins when he spots her, getting up. She doesn't meet Stella's eyes. The Lieutenant has a wide grin on her face as she slinks away, saying something about getting more beers from the storage room.

"Hey," he greets, opening up his arms.

"Hi."

She steps into his embrace and maybe it's just her imagination but the hug feels a bit longer, it lingers a bit before the pull apart.

"How are you?" He asks.

She shrugs, "we saw each other a month and a half ago."

"I know but -" he shrugs himself before clearing his throat, "how's, uh, Dylan?"

"We split up," she admits.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sylvie," he says but he didn't sound like he was. She lets it slide.

"How about you? How's your girlfriend?"

He clears his throat again, looking uncomfortable before letting out some non-comittal grunt.

"What does that mean?" She asks, genuinely perplexed.

He sighs, "there wasn't anyone. There hasn't been since."

He lets the last word hang in the air between them and somehow it takes her a bit of time to process what he meant.

First of all, he lied about being in a relationship and secondly, he hadn't been in one since they broke up.

Huh. There was definitely a lot to unpack.

Maybe she should be angry at him but she finds that she can't. Maybe it's because despite the fact that she tried to move on herself, she hasn't too. It wasn't as easy as everyone told her it would be.

Letting the one person who was quite possibility the love of your life was never easy.

They lock eyes and he smiles tentatively at her. She narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head but he can tell there's no malice in her actions.

"Let me buy you a drink," he offers.

She tilts her chin upward, "I want the goos stuff."

"The good rosé Stella keeps behind the bar?"

She tries hard not to smile or blush at the fact that he still remembers. She nods solemnly, "that's the one."

Matt shows her photos of a recent trip he and the boys took. She shows him photos of her cutie pie niece and somewhere in between they end up talking about Sylvie's conversation with the Paramedic Field Chief.

Of course he's nothing but encouraging, telling her the words she wants to hear. She takes a sip of her wine, smiling at him, squeezing his shoulder in thanks.

She missed this a lot, maybe even what she missed the most when he left for Portland. It was the comfort and the sense of peace he always seemed to give her, how he always knew what to say to talk her off the proverbial ledge.

"What? Is there something on my face?" He teases when she gazes at him maybe a moment too long.

"I just missed this," she says quietly.

"Me too," he confesses, "but maybe it won't be for long."

[artificialqueens]

Daddy's Boy, Chapter 6.5 (Biadore) - Imafuckinglibra

Ummmm. Hi. I don’t really know if anyone on here cares or if I’m shouting into a void. Obviously I’ve been gone a minute. I’m making this one 6.5 bc technically it’s supposed to be 7 but I don’t know if I’m publishing it yet or If it’s worth publishing it I should say. As an apology though I’m including a bonus at the end for whoever wants it. If there’s mistakes I’m sorry if there’s a part 7 it’ll be fixed. 

This is just pure smut btw enjoy.

“Fashion is like eating, you shouldn’t stick to the same menu.” Kenzo Takada. If you we take his words to actually mean what they literally say, you could say he’s implying we should change our choices. Kind of like…"

“Who the fuck wrote this shit?” Roy grumbled out loud, trying to find the name of the culprit on the loosely stapled pages in front of him. 

He tossed his glasses off onto the bed and tried rubbing the frustration out of his weary eyes with his thumb & index finger.

‘I’m too old for this’ He thought. ‘Go be a costume designer, no I want to TEACH. Be a LEADER.‘ sigh “Yeah right.” 

He had to come to realization we all do that - inevitably - when we’re alone for too long we kind of go, batshit. You start thinking about your life choices and just where oh where did you go wrong. And man did he feel alone.

His apartment, although my no means small especially on a teacher salary, suddenly felt massive. Without his near constant companion running around in baggy jeans, ill fitting hoodies or singing about every day activities the apartment felt like he did. Vast & vacant. Tad dramatic perhaps.

The living room once just books, dog beds and a TV was now littered with photographs, guitar picks, knick knacks so many empty bottles of various sodas or beer. 

The bathroom once so pristine now riddled with long hair everywhere, toothpaste splatter against the mirror, bottles of all sorts of hair and face lotions.

Food smeared and discarded left and right in the kitchen area, boxes and boxes of old take out. Empty bags of chips or half eaten cookies just scattered about without a care in the world. 

Not to mention the bedroom. 

“Just look at how he left these pillows!” He thought. 

Well, to be honest none of it was that bad. Not even close. Everything was immaculately clean. It just been so long since he’d seen Danny he had to start making things up to be mad at him at. If he didn’t he’d start to think of the good and then he’d just miss him.

In true college student fashion the punk rocker had taken the opportunity summer vacation presents to travel with his friends. Him and his roommates packed their bags into Brian’s busted little car and decided to travel the US and hit at least one new bar every night. It may have only been 12 weeks but god it felt like 5 years. 

Some times they’d just stay in one place, sobering up in some dodgy hotel before they head to the next place. Which Roy absolutely despised, causing many a fight between the two. At least 3 times. At least. 

However. Some times, most times, fine. Pretty much every city to be honest, Danny and Brian would perform some of their music and they’d have gas, food and hotel money the next day. Which Roy had to admit, made him proud. 

The fact that he could take responsibility and provide for himself like this with his craft was absolutely endearing. Roy envied him for it once in a while. 

Granted. He didn’t do it all himself, he had 4 others with him. Jason included, the only one with a head on his shoulders who’d pre planned every last detail of their trip before they left. 

Summer comes and goes every year though and so does financial independence and adolescent freedom. Danny and his friends had to finally return to school, and finally back to Roy. Not before making a stop at his mom’s house first though. 

He’d been in Azusa for 2 weeks at this point, getting his school work in order, doing laundry, buying school supplies, being babied by his mother and bullied by his brothers as 20 somethings do. 

“God I miss him though.” Roy said to Dede who’d been strolling through the empty hallway. Realizing the essay from hell was finally over and done with. 

‘D!!’ he scribbled on it. ‘You at least managed to get your own name right, now try getting other people’s name right! Baloney!’

VRRRR VRRRR

His phone vibrated on the bedside table next to him. He carefully dropped the stack of papers  onto the portable work bench he kept close by and picked up his phone. 

Incoming Call

Danny 

Danny put the heart next to his own name, don’t question it. 

“Hey, you headin…” Roy asked before he realized what he was looking at and grabbed his bottom lip with his hand to keep from laughing. 

“Shhh.” Danny gestured softly with his index finger over his lips, whispering the command. “Quiet.” 

Danny had propped his phone against some shampoo bottles and a tub of conditioner at the bottom of his mother’s shower. The front camera pointed directly at center stage just for Roy.

His head was tilted in the corner of the tiled shower, his body contorted to fit into the small cubicle. Bent long legs either side of his chest to give his partner the best possible view of the skinny middle finger gliding slowly in and around both entrances. 

His mouth agape in ecstasy at the hot water spraying down from the shower head against the wall onto his growth and down his inner thighs. 

“Naughty boy.” Roy whispered to himself with a devilish grin. He knew Danny only ever teased or fingered himself in both holes when he was desperate. Something which he didn’t frequently do up until right before he left. During finals when he was too stressed to see each other. 

“It must’ve been a minute since he’s been able to jerk off.” He thought but hey can’t blame him. He might have been a liiiitle pent up too. 

Roy picked up on the hint and put the phone down on the bed against his headboard so Danny could enjoy his own show. 

Sitting back on his ankles Roy undid his shorts zipper and pulled his semi erect cock out. Slowly tugging at it to match Danny’s rhythm. Eager to catch up with him but not eager enough to ruin the moment too fast. 

Driving his young lover wild with his fist steadily opening and closing, squeezing the pre cum out of the tip. The same pre cum Danny spent hours teasing him with. 

He reached for the drawer or toys they’d accumulated in their time together and pulled out a fleshlight Danny bought him before he left. 

“No.” Danny mouthed shaking his head. “Pillow” 

“Pillow?” Roy whispered. 

“I want to see.” He gestured back with one now freed hand.��

Roy realized what he meant and happily obliged.

With one hand still around his shaft and the other gripping under him he slowly lowered himself as he would if Danny had been there rather than his hand. 

“Like that.” Danny smiled biting his lip. Watching carefully for when Roy’s cock would slide into his palm again. Sliding 2 fingers into his asshole at the same time. 

He’d grown accustomed to pretending Roy was the one pleasuring him rather than himself, especially when they played together like this. 

He still felt the same butterflies in his stomach he had the very first time they slept together, the same giddy high from watching Roy’s head twitch at every gentle touch. The veins wrapping around his thick tan cock. 

‘Oh fuck he’s gorgeous.’ He thought, watching his body tense and relax with every thrust. His skin becoming shiny with sweat as he picked up his pace, probably without realizing. 

Or maybe Danny was the one who picked up his pace first, who knows. He couldn’t tell anymore. All he wanted was Roy to fuck him hard right now, even if it was just pretend. 

“Dan!” His mom yelled snapping them to reality. 

“Yeah?” Danny yelled frowning at Roy to hush. His fingers slowing down significantly but not stopping. As if he’s been caught in the act before but knew he could get away with it. 

“We’re heading to dinner soon, when you gonna be done?” 

“Like 10 more minutes I’m just washing my hair.” He lied winking at his audience. 

“Okay Hun, we’ll wait for you.”

“AirPods.” Roy whispered quickly gesturing with his hands while they were still unoccupied. 

“But they’ll get wet?”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” Roy rolled his eyes. Danny had dropped these AirPods in everything from salsa, mountain dew to even the mud at the dog park but this was one step too far apparently. Really?

Without missing a beat Danny simply reached his long legs over to his pants that had the case still inside. He put just one in, being careful to keep his head out of the splash zone. Reassuming his position when he was ready with the water perfectly hitting its target again. 

“Ready?” Roy growled into his ear.

“Yeah…” Danny melted into his voice. Thinking how close he could get to cumming right then and there just at hearing his rasp again. 

“I can’t. Wait. To. Fuck….ugh, you.” Roy grunted emphasizing each word with a thrust into his palm. Watching as Danny nodded lost in his own desires, his fingers pounding into himself with him. Making his top lip quiver each time, distorting his face into a silent cry as he tried to control himself. 

A year ago he’d be too embarrassed to act like this over a video call but dating someone long distance like this changes a person. Especially when that person begs so nicely for it each time. 

“I know you want both holes filled, don’t you. I need to fuck you, I need to taste your cum running down my chin again.” He continued.

Danny whimpered a near silent “uh huh” at him drifting his eyes closed as his hands took over with a mind of their own. His left hand finding the same path as his right. A single lanky finger curling into himself, enough for now to apply just the perfect pressure for release.

“Fuck you’re gonna cum right, uhng…now.” Roy panted thrusting himself harder and harder despite his legs burning. His breath ragged. “Right now, aren’t you. Oh fuck.”

“Uh…huh.” Danny nodded again to the best of his ability as his hips bucked, his fingers and toes all curling in as his orgasm overtook him.

Roy watched him writhing around, the sight pushing him so close to the edge he didn’t think he could come back from it. But he didn’t want to look away yet, he didn’t want this moment to end so soon. 

Watching Danny melt into the floor as his hips instinctively kept riding his own fingers were too delectable to let go just yet. His bottom lip clenched tight between perfect teeth as he fought back from making a sound. His chest puffed high as he fought for air. 

“Hngh I can’t wait, fuck, to fill you with cum. Watch it drip out of your tight little ass”. He kept teasing. Knowing Danny hadn’t had enough yet, he could see it in the brief flash when their eyes finally met again. 

Rhythm be dammed at this point he was uncontrollably humping his pillow chasing his own orgasmic high as he tried leading Danny to a second.  Wether ready or not he couldn’t escape it now. “C’mon baby, I know you got one more. Keep that hand there.” 

Danny took a deep gulp for air and moved his left hand towards his growth instead, jerking off furiously in unison with his hips’ gyrating. 

“I…hm huh.” He squeaked softly. The coil inside his body near snapping again despite never going down. 

“Aaah!! Fucking…Dan. Shit.” Roy cried, looking down at his cock pulsing violently. Cum shooting out from his hand onto the sheets beneath him. Splattering across the pillow, the bench next to him and nearly on his phone. 

He kept his chin pressed against his own chest trying to catch his breath, his eyes shut in ecstasy as he heard a faint squeak between the shower splashes coming from his phone. 

His eyes fighting open as he watched Danny completely drop into a mess with his legs uncontrollably shaking through his second orgasm. His face scrunched up, bright red and dripping in probably sweat if the water hadn’t gotten to it yet. 

“Holy shit.” He sighed wiping his hair out of his face. “Fuck baby you made me cum a gallon.” 

Danny softly chuckled under his breath as he straightened his legs up and out against the tiles. Ass still on the floor as he felt the water washing away his sins. “Shhh.” He joked again.

“See. What am I supposed to do with this?” Roy teased pretending to be mad as he turned the camera to give him a view. 

Danny took his phone and started typing quickly. 

You better save some for me then when I get back. You promised to fill me up remember.

“Yeah I remember.” Roy laughed. “Gonna make up for all the times you blue balled me this summer.”

Danny’s face went flat when he read it. Looking into the camera with fake distain. 

Nevermind. I’ll just find some other professor to do it, fuck my way to an A this semester. 

“Dirty bitch…” Roy growled. “We’ll talk about it later, go wash your hair and enjoy dinner. I have papers to grade.” 

[Admin Note:

Continue scrolling for a mildly pornographic illustration.

If you are at work or in church or your parents are looking at your phone over your shoulder...

...then consider yourself warned.

Coming in 10...

9...

8...

7...

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5...

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1!]

[dracolichbitch]

Arcane

yes i know i'm literally weeks late but i had to work. here's day one for @tes-summer-fest Arcane

Even though the relationships between the faculty of the College of Winterhold were diverse and various, it was not inaccurate to say that the various teachers of the school were capable of displaying the bare minimum civility expected of them towards each other, despite there being more than a few rivalries, and certain parties having no choice but to agree to disagree on certain subjects lest they risk riling themselves up too far and coming to blows. Even though one might not think the Arcaneum to be an appropriate place to sit around and drink alcohol, it had become the place in the College where after hours, ideas flowed best when tongues were loosened by the gentle encouragement of wine and mead.

That didn’t mean Urag wouldn’t incinerate anyone who accidentally spilled their drink.

It was a stormy night in Winterhold, and classes were canceled with the encouragement for students to stay indoors and indulge themselves with their personal studies. Meanwhile, Jura and Miraak elected to join some of the other teachers in the Arcaneum for some drinks and discussion to relax a little bit, and to take their minds off the stack of papers on Jura’s desk that still needed reading. The current discussion when they arrived and took their seats, drinks already in hand, regarded Hob’s Fall Cave.

“Oh dear, don’t tell me. Has another group of necromancers moved into that cave already?” Jura questioned, taking a sip of her snowberry cider before continuing, “I just killed the last group living in there two weeks ago.”

“No, no, I don’t think so.” Faralda was quick to assure her, a steaming mug clasped in her own hands. She sat on one of the couches by Mirabelle, close enough that their legs brushed whenever one of them moved. “At the very least, not yet. Recent word from a mercenary staying at the inn is that while he didn’t see anyone there and there were no undead meandering about, he did notice there was still fresh food in one of the chambers. So while its possible a single mage might’ve made the cave their abode, it doesn’t seem like a new coven has taken it over yet.”

Jura mulled over the words with a slow nod even as she leaned against Miraak’s side on their own little couch, casually invading his space even though she had plenty of her own, not that he seemed to mind.

“Well, in that case, it should be fine.” Jura shrugged as she got comfortable.

“What, you mean you’re not going to grab the torches and pitchforks and go drive them out?” Phinis’ voice dripped sarcasm as he propped himself up on his elbow on a side table, a glass of wine dangling loosely in his free hand.

Jura rolled her eyes at the question.

“Why would I? It’s neither immoral nor illegal to live in cave if one chooses.” She noted, pointedly raising an eyebrow. “If they’re not harming anyone then why care? I suppose the Jarl might raise a fuss as technically they don’t own the cave, and it’s not their personal property to make alterations as they desire, but that doesn’t sound like our problem. It’s not as though the Jarl is paying us to deal with trespassers.”

“Well if they were a proper mage, then they should just join the College instead of living like a goblin in a cave.” Colette piped up without even looking up from the book in her lap. She took a long drink from her wine glass before setting it to the side. “After all, how could it possibly be more advantageous to live there than among other mages?”

“Peace and quiet for starters.” Jura drawled dryly. You’re not there to squawk constantly about imagined slights. “No apprentices pestering you with questions while you’re trying to work. No interruptions from other people in general while you’re trying to work. Don’t have to worry about your colleagues stealing your favorite quill or borrowing from your supply of soul gems without asking. If you build your own library then you don’t have to worry about people not putting books back on the shelf properly or cracking the spines or spilling things on them or dog earring the pages.” She hissed, thinking of a certain Breton with that terrible habit. “Not to mention the various advantages that would come from maintaining a personal garden rather than sharing from a communal one. You don’t have to worry about someone else capturing all the moths rather than leaving enough to keep the population steady, nor do you have to worry about someone killing important plants by over harvesting them. Especially when you paid to have said exotic plant added yourself and the taxes on importing the seeds from the Summerset Isles were expensive, considering the civil war, and you didn’t actually get to harvest anything from it yourself, Colette.”

Colette groaned in exasperation. “Are you still going on about that? It was one time, and I reimbursed you the money for the seeds!”

“Only after I literally turned your office upside down and refused to put it back until you did so. And I don’t recall you reimbursing me for the effort I put into ensuring those seeds actually sprouted, the effort it took to replicate Summerset’s climate and soil properties so they would bloom, and of course, the sheer amount of time it took to allow it to grow naturally without expediting the process with magic!”

Colette’s eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Tolfdir walked in and interrupted.

“Now now, everyone settle down. The weather might be nasty now but that doesn’t mean we should be.” He smiled gently at Jura before turning his gaze to Colette. “Let’s not forget that we’re all colleagues here and we should treat each other with at certain minimum of decorum and respect.”

Jura huffed quietly but got the hint. She took a long drink from her mug of cider, though her eyes shot daggers at Colette, who promptly sniffed and turned away from her.

The room fell silent, though the tension in the air was thick and heavy like fog. The silence was beginning to grow awkward after a few minutes until finally, Miraak was the one who broke it.

“What’s the worst spell you know?”

Tilting her head, Jura glanced up at him from where she laid snug against his chest.

“Elaborate?”

“I don’t mean the weakest when I say worst. By worst, I mean, what spells do you know that aren’t illegal, and aren’t necessarily immoral, but are gruesome enough in effect or purpose that perhaps they should be?” Miraak elaborated, his voice nonchalant as he asked this, and indeed there was a carefree look in his eyes as he took a sip of mead and glanced around at everyone expectantly.

The room fell silent once more even as everyone exchanged glances with each other. If Jura had to guess, it seemed that his question had caught them all off guard, and while she was very curious to see if anyone would actually admit to an answer, she wouldn’t be surprised if all these straight laced wizards elected not to reveal some of the more creative ways they could use magic.

It was to her surprise when it was Tolfdir who spoke up first.

“Well, I… I’ve certainly never used this spell before, of course, naturally, but a long time ago, there was a Maomer mage here who was my predecessor as an instructor in the school of alteration. One of the spells he taught, more as a novelty for the rest of than anything, was a water-breathing spell.” Tolfdir was clearly hesitant to say this as he glanced around the room at everyone before finally averting his eyes from all of them, directing his gaze into his cup.

Phinis was the one to question this. “How is a spell of water-breathing twisted or immoral?” He asked with a chuckle shaking his head. He wore a bemused smile.

“It was a spell of only water-breathing.” Tolfdir answered simply.

Jura raised an eyebrow before she realized what he meant and then she shook her head with a grin.

“Oh damn.”

Miraak nodded in approval.

Faralda let out a low whistle before shaking her head. “Well, I suppose if we’re sharing interesting ways to kill someone, I must say my specialty has quite a few. If I had to pick one, however, I’d say that freezing the blood as it rushes through a person’s veins is probably the nastiest one I’ve ever used.” She admitted, closing her eyes. She fell silent for a moment before continuing, “To do so slowly was considered an efficient method of interrogation. It was painful, for one, as well as panic inducing. The sensation of your blood growing cold, slowing its travels through your veins. Your lungs gasping for air, and though you can breathe, there being no relief as your vision fades regardless.”

Drevis shook his head slowly, his brow furrowing in befuddlement as he leaned against Phinis’ shoulder, his lips twitching at the corners in some restrained emotion Jura couldn’t quite identify.

“I wouldn’t say that quite fits the question. It sounds to me like nothing more than a practical application of everyday destruction magic.” He noted, tapping his chin with one finger, a hazy far off look in his eyes as he mulled it over. “Meanwhile illusion has a wide variety of unpleasant, yet not necessarily illegal spells. By the very nature of it, of playing with an opponents mind like a child dabbles with clay, after all, could be considered twisted by the more barbaric and uneducated inhabitants of this land.”

Phinis nodded as he wrapped his arm around the back of Drevis’ shoulders, sipping from a mug of spiced cider held in his free hand.

“Indeed, it’s never a surprise when those uneducated in the art of magic ascribe morals to that which should be considered neutral. Magic is nothing more than a tool after all, and how can tools be evil?”

Never seeing eye to eye with the conjurer, and never passing up the opportunity to argue with him, Jura snuck in her two cents.

“An axe can be used to chop wood, or it can be used to chop necks. Surely you’re not so daft as to think that these two acts are equivalent in morality? Certainly it may not be the axe itself that is evil, but only a child would disregard the role it played in both scenarios.”

From across the foyer of the Arcaneum, Jura could see Phinis narrow his eyes, but just as he opened his mouth to retort, Colette spoke up.

“Something not many people understand about the art of restoration magic is that it certainly does have more potential towards inducing harm than one would think at first glance. Take, for consideration, the heart. It is an organ that every man and mer possesses, an organ without which life ends. Though there is barbarous magic in the reach that involves replacing the heart with foliage, it’s a futile, pointless practice that only weakens those who undergo such a ritual. It-”

At this point, Jura interrupted, a habit she’d taken up more often than not lately, however, thinking of Kiera, she chafed at the notion of briarhearts being foolish for undergoing their traditional practices and rituals.

“Just because you don’t understand the magic or the reasoning behind the briarhearts’ ritual doesn’t mean it’s foolish. It just means you’re ignorant.”

Colette’s glared daggers, though whether it was due to the words in question or the interruption in general, Jura wasn’t sure.

“Anyway, the heart is the most vital organ in the body, from which life springs forth.”

“If it’s so vital then why hasn’t anyone replaced their brain with something else instead?” Jura interrupted again, not necessarily because she disagreed that the heart was indeed an important organ. No, this time, she was simply contrary for the sake of it.

“Do you have any intention of allowing me to speak?”

“Sure, as soon as you say something worth hearing.”

Colette’s eyes narrowed further into slits.

Jura’s lips stretched into a wolfish grin.

“The point is I know a spell that expands the heart beyond the limits of the human body.” Colette’s words were rushed now as she clearly sought to speak as fast as possible before Jura had the opportunity to interrupt her once more.

And instead of doing so, Jura raised an eyebrow.

“Oh I know that one too. It’s a popular torture method among the Thalmor.” She noted, nonchalant. “Coercing the flesh of the heart to grow beyond the chest cavity until it’s spilling outside of the body through the eyes and the mouth. It’s a horrific way to die.”

Drevis grimaced at the words and shook his head slowly.

“That makes my ability to convince someone they are a chicken and act accordingly look like a mere parlor trick.”

Phinis chuckled softly before stroking his hair slowly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in a true smile. “Fret not, I’ve no doubt it takes more skill to do such a thing than it does to merely pour magicka into flesh and cause it to grow beyond what it should be. It’s not as though it’s overly difficult to amplify the effects of what could be considered an otherwise normal healing spell.”

Colette crossed her arms with a distinct hmph!

“The question wasn’t about the most skillful spell, but the most morbid, I would remind you.”

“Alright now, let’s settle down.” Tolfdir interjected once more with his usual calm and complacent smile, gesturing for everyone to return to their seats. “After all, it’s not as though this is a competition after all.”

Colette huffed before twisting in her seat until she faced away from Phinis and Drevis and held her cup to her face as if to hide her glare behind it.

On the other hand, Phinis made a show of opening his mouth in a large yawn before adopting a fake smile.

Mirabelle, who’d opted to remain silent and merely watch thus far, dragged her gaze around the cast of assembled mages before landing on Jura.

“And what of you, Jura? You’re at the very least adept in most schools of magic. What would you say to be your most diabolical spell?”

Jura blinked slowly at the question before closing her eyes with a quiet hum. She took a sip from her cider as she mulled the question over.

“Well, I suppose its a matter of debate, as to how its being qualified as unethical or immoral. After all, there are plenty of spells that can be used in a morally upstanding fashion, or in utterly cruel and inhumane ways. But if we’re talking about spells that by their very existence and function are utterly horrendous to the very core? I can think of nothing worse than soul trapping.”

Phinis immediately snorted into his cup and shook his head, rolling his eyes as he did so.

“I’m not even surprised. I don’t know what I expected you to say but of course it should’ve been that.”

Jura smiled demurely at him before shrugging her shoulders, leaning back against Miraak more. “I’m not sure what you expected either. After all, I may be many things, but above all others, I am a healer. I’m not well versed in brutal applications of magic.”

She could feel the deep reverberations in Miraak’s chest against her back as he hummed, though she didn’t need to look up at him to know he was deep in thought, evidenced by the way his arm around her waist tightened like a serpent coiling up around its prey. Despite that, she relished in the entrapment.

She knew what he was thinking about after all. She had no doubt he was remembering what they’d done days earlier before returning to Winterhold. She still had the sizzling scent of charred flesh etched into her mind.

The trap was easy to place. All she had to do was leak where she was going, and that she would be alone. That little bit was all it took to lure Lysandra to the old Nordic ruins she had long since cleared of the necromancer filth skulking there. Like moths to a flame, Lysandra came, and she and Miraak were waiting there. Lysandra put up quite a fight, but as the years wore on, she became increasingly reliant on her vile manipulations of the dead, and there were no dead there to answer her call.

Jura had already returned their bodies to ash.

She cast her alight from the inside, and watched as the life slipped out of her like love out of a betrayed spouse’s heart as the fleshy innards that had never known the light of the sun succumbed to heat rivaling that of the brightest of stars. Her skin sizzled like oil dripping from that of a roast pig, and as she opened her mouth to scream, inside the light of Jura’s magic could be seen pouring out like water from a spout. She burnt slowly, until there was nothing left of her but bits of bone sticking out of the ashes.

It was simple fire magic, so easy an apprentice could do it, if they only knew how, but it was the application in which it was applied that made her death so brutal, so gruesome. Magic was not cruel, it could only be used cruelly, and she of all people was not kind, and she was not merciful, and by the end of it, whatever was left of Lysandra’s mind poking out from the pain, it was most certainly wishing that she was.

Not that any of them needed to know that.

[thattimdrakeguy]

Regarding that separation live read blog idea,

While Early Tim Drake is a viable enough option I guess, why Ultimate Spider Man instead? You know, something that actually makes you legit happy instead of being incredibly hard to read like in the former case

Only asking

As I've said before, several times over, I don't think I'd see the point in an Ultimate Spider-Man blog. It's not a relevant comic book series.

There's a new one coming out, yes. But unless they pull the wrong out from under me, it's going to be a new one.

I'm not a big attention seeker or anything. It's that I'm under the understanding that the point of a blog is to get followers. And I don't see myself getting many with an Ultimate Spider-Man one.

And Spider-Man at large is such a popular character, that having a niche one would put me under the wheels of everything else much sooner.

Plus I don't read it every day or anything like I did with Tim. I made the active decision not to go overboard like I did with Tim Drake, so I could avoid ruining it for myself.

It has been years, since I properly gave a fuck about Tim Drake. I'm fine with it. I'm not even saying I'm going to actually do it.

I didn't announce some plan right now.

I'm fine.

There's nothing new to talk about with Ultimate Spider-Man either. Most people actually read that competently.

With Tim it's interesting, because when ever I read it back, it says stuff so straight forward, that I'm not sure how any of these so called "interpretations" come up.

And if I where to start a new blog. I'm certainly not telling anyone unless I want them to know. And I'd block people quick and fast.

It'd be more of a social experiment then something I'd attempt to do for enjoyment.

Plus, maybe I could do it less in the habit of talking like this, like I'm some high authority that needs to be taken oh so seriously to the point I feel like a pretentious dick head.

I could finally go back to talking about stuff that I do like, despite it's flaws, as someone who simply likes it. This specific blog feels like it subconsciously locks me into such a specific mind set that i hate who I come off as here.

You know the last time anyone tried to get to know me here? Well, years obviously, I haven't been active in ages. But before that it's been a while. And people who I haven't even done anything to stopped interacting with me, probably 'cause they thought I was being a total fuckhole. When otherwise, I was absolutely fine.

If I was relevant enough to have a reputation with this blog, I don't see it being a good one. It'd at best me "He has some good points, but fuck he sure seems to think highly of himself. I don't think I like him. Takes himself too seriously."

In most of my friendships, I'm the light-hearted, sweet, kind one, that makes people laugh.

Could anyone honestly tell from this blog? Could anyone guess that I was one that was called the 'cute' soft one in friend groups? I entirely doubt it. And that bugs me.

I'm not me anymore on this website. No one knows me. I'm a totally different person.

I'm rambling now I'm realizing.

I'll shut up.

I just care so little about this blog that I don't know when to shut up anymore. Doesn't help my case.

The greatest pleasures I've ever had in my entire life came from when people would message me, telling me that I helped them NOT commit suicide, because I kept them so engaged and entertained that I convinced them not to. Without ever interacting with them directly.

That made my life feel like it had worth, and that me being born was worth it, because I technically saved lives, even though that's probably stretching that.

All I do now is depress people.

[screechthemighty]

Is this progress? Is this what actually working on things feels like? Is this a good omen for 2023? I can only hope so. Here's a God of War fic update (AO3 link in the reblog)!.

rose colored boy: part two

She’d been humiliated by a damned tree. That was the worst part. She’d been winning that fight, technically she’d still won, but it wasn’t the Travelers who had finally taken her down. She’d tripped. On tree roots. Faye wasn’t usually one for pride, but admitting that out loud when she came limping back to civilization was hard.

Walk as little as possible, they’d told her. Seven days of rest at least. It will be more if you push yourself. That was not the answer she’d been hoping for. Faye was tempted to push her luck, but she didn’t want to put herself out of commission for longer. Not when Odin still had minions that needed dealing with.

Hope they don’t get too comfortable over the next week. Or maybe they should get comfortable. Let them think she was gone for good. It’d get them off guard when she came back.

No, that’s not very convincing. Damn it.

Drawing in her bed didn’t hold her interest for long, so Faye tried to think of things she’d been meaning to do. The only thing that even remotely caught her attention was getting another tattoo. So she limped to the nearest person who could help with that.

It’s going to hurt.

I’m already in pain. It can’t get any worse.

Well, she was wrong about that one. But at least the pain behind her ear was distracting her from the pain in her ankle. Better the pain she chose than the embarrassing accident pain.

“Oh, Amund, you’re early,” noted the artist, Klara. Faye opened one eye. Her vision was a bit blurry, but that was certainly the tagelharpa player from before. “Someone got in before you.”

“It’s fine,” Amund said. “That looks…” He froze, seeming to finally recognize her. “Uh…I promise I’m not following you.”

Faye laughed, slightly strained. “Wouldn't I be following you in this instance?” she pointed out.

“Good point.”

“Oh, she’s the one?” interrupted Klara.

Amund’s shoulders hunched slightly, like he was trying to retreat back into his shell. “...yeah,” he said in a quiet squeak.

Faye would’ve looked at Klara, but that would’ve involved lifting her head. She didn’t want to risk ruining the tattoo. “Why, what have you been saying about me?”

“Just…the truth. That you helped us. That’s it, I swear.”

“Bit of gossip about your other exploits, too,” added Klara. “How’s it going with the Travelers?”

Well, that was a complicated question. “You know…they do a lot of yelling, All Father this, All Father that…” It was annoying, really. “Have there always been so many?”

“The cult’s grown a lot lately. Not sure what that bastard is promising them…”

“Easy answers,” Amund interrupted. He still looked embarrassed, but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “That’s…that’s the best way to get people to follow you, isn’t it? Say you have all the answers for everything that troubles them. Provide a convenient scapegoat as needed. There you go.” He sat down, wrapping his arms around himself. “We’re the scapegoat.”

He wasn’t wrong. Life could be difficult in Midgard. It was an untamed land in most places; at best, most people existed alongside it and hoped for the best. Odin tried to present himself as a symbol of order. If people only followed him, they could survive the harsh winters, the wild creatures, the draugr. If they only did something about that untamed element: the Giants, the one group he so far hadn’t been able to fully control.

“Well, best of luck to them. I can’t control the weather.” Klara sighed heavily. “Well, I’m sorry I brought it up. Anyone have anything better to talk about?”

Faye thought about it for a moment. “...how does one start tagelharpa?” she asked.

Amund perked up immediately. “Oh, my mother taught me. It’s a family thing.” He pulled up his sleeve and held out his arm and exposed hand. Faye had to blink away some tears to read the words carefully inked there. Steady hand–common for archers and musicians, it seemed. Careful touch on his fingers. She could see some other words on his neck, near the ear. “She’s good. She was better than I am, before her hands started hurting too much. I actually started on kraviklyra, but I loved watching her play so much…” He had pulled his hands back into his lap. She watched his fingers move, as if he were playing the instrument in his mind. “...I couldn’t help asking her. I can probably still play kraviklyra, it’s just been a while.”

He was lucky to have that connection to her. Faye wondered if he really knew how lucky he was. So many of their kind had lost that.

That’s how they’ll really kill us. They’ll cut us off from everything.

But Faye had brought this up to avoid thinking about that, so instead she asked, “What’s your favorite song?”

That got Amund talking. He had a lot of favorite songs, and detailed explanations why. Faye didn’t mind. She liked hearing people talk about the things they cared about. It distracted her from the pain.

He has a nice voice, she thought. Then, Where did that thought come from?

“Okay, done,” Klara said. “I think that’s it.”

Faye sat up carefully, trying to shake off the light headed feeling that flooded her body. “Is that a hawk?” Amund asked. “It looks lovely.”

Faye nodded and examined the tattoo in the offered mirror. It had hurt, but it was perfect. “I love it,” she said eagerly. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Here, let me get cleaned up and then it’s your turn.”

Faye limped over to sit next to Amund. “What about you?” she asked. “What are you getting?”

“Cleaning up some old ones mostly. I tried to do them myself, and uh…” He smiled sheepishly. “Learned the hard way there’s a reason people train to do this.”

Faye couldn’t judge. Honestly, she was a little surprised that she hadn’t tried giving herself a tattoo by now. That seemed like something she would do. “Do you want some company?” she offered. “You did such a good job keeping my mind off things, least I can do is help you out.”

Amund looked taken aback, then pleased. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Faye told him about her life back in Jötunheim, about the horses and the hunting, and even admitted to missing Guðrún a little.

She wouldn’t realize what the little smile on Klara’s face meant until later.

[harleyharlot]

ruined. jj maybank

(summary) jj doesn't know how to love so he can't allow himself to be loved.

(pairings) jj maybank x fem!reader

(warning) just pure angst.

(authors note) hey my loves, this is my first post oh em gee! any and all feedback is welcome. this is longer than a blurb i think, i might've over-wrote but oh well! i'm a whore sucker for angst so it makes sense that my first piece is angsty but anyways, happy reading x

lowercase intended !

"i don't understand, are you breaking up with me j?" you followed him into the kitchen with tears in your eyes after he pushed past you, jj ran his hand through his hair and let out a breath of frustration before turning around to face you.

"you’re not my girlfriend y/n, so no. i'm not breaking up with you." he spat with so much venom even he was shocked, he never raised his voice or spoke to you in such a manner. then again this wasn't jj speaking, it was a terrified boy relaying lies to you that his father had been feeding him.

you took a step back from him so confused, so hurt that he would say such a nasty thing to you, when just last week you both lay in his bed as he was running his hands up and down your bare back, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. and now he stood before you, telling you that he doesn't want to see you anymore. you felt like you were dreaming.

no, you felt like you were having a nightmare. this had to have been a nightmare. this wasn't real, you told yourself in attempt to calm yourself down.

what he said was technically true, he never actually asked you to be his girlfriend but you didn't care about it much, it was just a label. jj knew it was a low blow, he didn't enjoy hurting you, but he knew that if you both carried on the way you were going, you'd end up hurt eventually. a relationship with jj was a train wreck waiting to happen and he just wanted to get you off the train before it was too late.

tears were now streaming down your face and you were a blubbering mess, "w-why? can't we talk about this?" you couldn't understand why jj all of a sudden wanted to end things with you.

you both had being doing whatever this was for about three months and in those few months you fell hard. you wrongly thought he had fallen hard too, anyone in your position would've thought the same.

"this is why y/n! you're too much!" he gestured between the two of you. everything jj was saying couldn't have been further from the truth, if anything, you weren't enough for jj, he couldn't get enough of you and he doesn't know how he lived before you.

"i'm too much?" you scoffed. the wounded look on on your face had quickly been replaced by a look of disgust. it pained jj to see you look at him like this. this was a side of you he'd never seen before, and a side he wishes he didn't have to see.

he sighed and looked you dead in the eyes, no emotion present on his face. "i..i just don't have enough space in my life for you. i can't do this anymore."

you were taken aback, you couldn't belive such cruel words could come out of his mouth.

the same mouth that peppered kisses along your jaw when you felt slightly less than happy.

the same mouth that told you you looked beautiful when you woke up.

the same mouth that told you he loved you.

you inspected his face trying to see if there were any traces of the boy you loved in there, but instead you were met with a stone cold look from a stranger. he meant it. god, you wished he didn't mean it.

you wished you didn't care enough to notice how dry his responses had been over the past few days. you wished you never drove to see him in an attempt to cheer him up.

you wanted the ground to come up and swallow you whole. maybe you misread this whole situation, you thought to yourself.

maybe this was all just some fun for jj and you were too much. you were embarrassed that you had given so much of yourself to someone who clearly didn't want you.

"i apologise. i didn't realise i was such a chore." you spat at him before grabbing your keys of the counter and rushing outside to your car, leaving the blonde boy alone on his kitchen.

once you'd gotten in your car and driven off, not even glancing back at jj, he let out a shaky breath and fell to the floor, allowing his emotions to finally come to the surface. he sat and cried knowing that he'd just lost the best thing that'd ever happened to him.

he brought his legs up to chest and buried his head in his knee's as he replayed the words his father had told him just a few days prior. the word's that ruined everything.

"she's a sweet girl. your gonna ruin her. just like i ruined your mother, it's in our blood boy. we can't have nice things."

i don't authorize any copies or translations of my work to be made, unless granted permission.

©harleyharlot

[nofoodclub]

I was careful on my wording for my manifestations bc technically i am sleeping with j right now lol not that i don't enjoy this i did very precisely say i wanted to fuck, do the sex, or really and kind of close physical intimacy… anything like that could come next we will see…aside from dragging him to the bed or straight up asking for it idk how to make it happen it took us months to get to it the first time who kiss l knows how much the both of us will shy away from initiating round 2…theoretically it should be less awkward the 2nd time but that would be true if the last month or so didn't happen the way it did… neither of us wanted it to play out like that but it did and now we are here so gotta figure out how to make the best of it….i really would like the best of it and for things to not quietly fixzle out… we could have lots of good times and funs just gotta get past step one and get it going… that'll be the hard part but i belive in us. Wow last night was the first night in almost a week i didn't fuck anyone we better get to it quick before i lose my streak 6 nights 3 partners was a whole new kind of deal for me or can go on record as my slutty week lol i don't want it to be over it was quite fun and there's still the 4th partner that I'm missing and he's the most important one…. and he's right across the room from me but unfortunately fully clothed and no cues as to things moving in that direction other than the tangible level of awkward or sexual tensions between us earlier…i just gotta keep being patient it'll play out the way it should and in my eyes it should play out in a very fun and happy way that involves sucking of his dick then letting that slide on in me and building on the feelings i has from when he sent me the text saying good girl bc wow two words one text and it got me so fucking worked up nothing has hit me at that intense of a level it was a straight 0-100 in 2 seconds i need more of that i need him to fully be my dom and fuck me the way I've been waiting for. There were nods to it the first time but we were feeling eachother out and getting lost in the intimacy of the occasion it was probably some of the most passionate sex I've had more so than with r bc wow the feels i already have for this guy, they're a lot and I'm all for it i want every part of it every day from here on please and thank you. Still loving my free pass to stare at his lovely face all i want its very nice i and l want this to last forever but i would also really like him to wake up so we can have all the funs…. leaning more to the side of he should wake up all that talk has me pretty horny atm and there's the prefect person to take care of my needs laying right in front of me how lucky

Very thankful for the sunlight coming in now… giving me a nice look at his lovely face that i haven't seen for like an hour since i shut off the lights… here's the first time I'll say this…. thanks sun for coming out at 6 am

Oh goodness lil pup is snuggling her daddy its so fucking cute i want to be a part of those cuddles so bad theyre adorable had to take a picture of the cute bc ohmygod i cant hope he never sees all the pics ive taken of him sleeping lol theres a few…

He has stirred….for a momenf, repositioned now nkt really alseep i sense waking will be a thing shortly. At least i hope it will be sleep is nkt a thing for me st the momenf. Maybe a nap this afternoon

Out of curiosity just confirmed the date and tomorrow will mark one month since we did the do…hmm would be fitting for it to happen today, that is if he ever fucking gets up uhg im bored and i wana bone there is a beautiful man only a few feet away from me and all of his clothes are securely on with no removal even hinted at how sad….but really tho i am incredibly physically attracted to him…and emotionally and any other type of attraction there is im sure im feeling it for him but ive resigned myself to know that theres next to no chance of it going anywhere past maybe a few more casual hookups due to current/permanent obstacles that wont allow for anything closer. But still i would love to feel him that close to me again. It felt right….more so than really any of my other encounters have felt. And i fucking wanted it. Thats what im missing a lot of the time, i go for easy targets because i know i wont fail but then i loose interest very quickly amd by the time we get to sex im kinda over it but still horny enough that i still want to fuck just all of the excitement is gone for me. That was not the case with him….probably what is keeping me so stuck on him is the ati wanting him, the challenge is still there, its still a conquest for me and theres still the possibility of failing meaning if it works, ive won the prize and its a pretty darn good prize too. If only my prize would wake up!!!