#but less so than what we ended up getting

[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[luveline]

hii 🤍 i miss spencer, amanda and reader 🥺 when will reader and spencer finally kiss?? hahahah

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.2k

Amanda’s dad has a girlfriend with a kind mouth that curls in smiles, like seeing her is the one thing you’ve waited for all day. You have slow hands: your fingers ease through Amy’s hair one strand at a time, warm, but somehow shivers race down her spine whenever you touch her. You’re like her dad, in that you kiss her cheek before bed or hug her with one arm. You’re a gentle touch whenever Amy wants it. You and Spencer are both enthusiastically tactile. 

What Amy doesn’t understand is why you and her dad never seem to kiss. Amy isn’t sure if she wants to see it. She hasn’t thought of it in depth, just knows that you and Spencer are both grown ups who love one another —Spencer looks to you in every room, his eyes squinting against the sight of you like you’re some star, a sun, bright and blistering and too beautiful to look away. It’s like a movie. Plus, Amy wants a stepmom. Paula from school has one and she says it’s awesome. 

“Dad?” 

“Yeah?” Spencer’s voice echoes, head deep inside a cabinet looking for a can of evaporated milk. “We don’t buy enough canned stuff. We’d be screwed in the apocalypse.” 

“I like fresh.” 

“Of course you do. You’re brilliant.” 

“Brilliant,” you echo, legs swinging against the cabinet behind your legs. You hold the door to prevent Spencer’s likely head injury. 

“Dad?” Amy asks again. 

He pulls his head from the empty cabinet to appease her. “I know, I’m looking for the hot cocoa powder.” 

“That’s not what I want to ask.” 

“Oh. Well, what do you want from me, angel?” 

You choose that moment to hop down off of the counter top, phone in hand. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, leaving with no further explanation. 

It’s good timing. Amy crowds her dad to look up at him, a reflection of her brown eyes peering down at her curiously. He cups the back of her head. “What, Amy?” he asks. 

He says her name nicely, too. Amy is bathed in love, all the time, but it never gets any less warming. She wraps her arms around his thighs and rubs her nose against his stomach, cuddling into him. 

He’s patient, but not unaware. “What do you want, beautiful?” he murmurs, fingers scratching gently up his scalp and through her hair, soft ends of it fluttering down onto her shoulders. He repeats the motion. “I’m listening.” 

“Why don’t you and Y/N ever kiss?” 

He laughs softly. “Why are you asking me a question like that?” 

“You’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but you don’t kiss or anything. Do you?” 

Spencer holds her face, more fingers in her hair than anything on account of her small head. “No, we don’t kiss,” he says, like it’s a secret, but a good one. Amy’s confused squinting makes him laugh again. “Um… just, it’s not easy to explain, but we’re taking things slowly. That means that we like one another, but we’re not rushing to do things we aren’t ready for.” 

“You’re not ready to kiss her?” Amy asks. 

“Maybe not.” Spencer doesn’t share that you aren’t completely ready either, far as he’s aware. This is a big thing for both of you, months of deep pining, a fragility. “It’s not because I don’t want to.” 

“She’s really pretty. I think you should hurry, just in case someone else likes her.” 

Spencer hugs her to his tummy and gives her a squeeze. “She’s beautiful like someone else I know. And I will kiss her, I’m waiting for the right time.” 

Amy forgets about what she’d been asking after that, charmed and then ferried to her room to get dressed. We’ll have to go out for cocoa, Spencer had said, bundling her in a big coat. You were all to happy to put your shoes on and join them, Spencer’s borrowed scarf shielding your neck and jaw, your nose quickly sniffly against the cold. 

Amy takes your hand on the way into the cafe and savours the warmth of it. She will need to concoct the right time, she decides, for her dad to kiss you, if only so she can be a flower girl at your wedding. If you get married (if your wedding ceremony even has flower girls). She’s just thinking maybe she’ll be the maid of honour when you push out a chair for her. She settles in, wondering if you’d like flowers, what sort of clothes you’d wear, if you’d come live with them in the apartment, sipping at a procured, thick hot chocolate while you and Spencer chat. 

“Half?” he asks, knife poised over a pastry. 

“I already ate all mine.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” He cuts the pastry in half and offers it to you, a red and golden brown mini pie, fruit glistening in its jelly, flaky salt on the top that tumbles off the edges as he passes it to you. “Here.” 

You take a big bite. You smile so much you can hardly chew. 

Spencer stares at you. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, nothing.”

You have fruit on your lip. Your genuine puzzlement is all the more enticing: how is Spencer supposed to look away? He hooks his ankle around a leg from your chair and draws closer. 

“You know, I heard you earlier.” 

“When?” he asks. 

“Before we left. You were telling Amy that you think I’m pretty.”

“No, Amy said pretty, I said beautiful. I should’ve said perfect.” 

“That so?” you tease.

Spencer has to wonder what’s beneath it. Kiss me, kiss me. Lean over and do it, Reid. Or if he hears what he wants from your lilting mouth. “I’m sure there’s a hundred words I should’ve said.”

“You don’t have to say anything else,” you say decidedly, your hands falling to his knee, “that’s enough flattery for today.” 

“Is it?” 

“You sound entirely genuine,” you say, voice turning soft now, a padded thing to think about later. 

“I am,” he says. Simply, and hopelessly, leaning in to breathe the same air. 

“Is now the right time?” you whisper. 

“You heard that?” he asks back. 

“I’m ready whenever you’re ready.” 

Spencer chances a glance at Amy where she’s ripping at the paper sleeve on her hot chocolate before he holds your arm to kiss you. A chaste, brushing touch, pressure of a butterfly’s wing at first and then marginally firmer. He kisses you, and he pulls away just as your bringing your hand to his cheek. 

“Was that okay?” he asks. 

“Very princely.” 

“So you're getting married, right?” Amy butts in, her smile a thousand watts. “Yes? Can I choose the flowers? Can we go on a honeymoon?” 

Spencer flushes at the idea of Amy seeing him, but then he feels sick thinking about such a short first kiss, covering the side of your face with his hand to occlude his lips as he moves in and gives you another. 

“Dad, one was enough.” Amy’s concern is grouching, and it makes you laugh against his mouth. 

You both pull away. “Sorry, Amy,” Spencer says, “but you did tell me to hurry up.” 

“Yikes. Can I have some pie?” 

Spencer hands her his uneaten half. You search for his hand under the table. 

[ms-demeanor]

So I have vision insurance again which means I was able to go to the optometrist and get glasses through insurance for the first time in 11 years (instead of paying out of pocket and getting glasses from zenni) and here are my notes:

It's *NOT GREAT* that Luxotica is mentioned by name on the insurance card printout

I know everything got more expensive in the last ten years, but frames also got a lot more expensive and for some reason there was a huge gap in prices - my insurance covered $130 for frames and the office had a bunch of frames for $70 and a bunch of frames for $150 but basically no frames between those two price points.

When you say "I can't afford to go over the allowance" on XYZ thing they are not even *considering* the cost of progressive bifocals. So I was like "no coating, cheap frames, no extras" and then they were like "okay so the progressive bifocal is going to be over a hundred dollars more" and I was like "how much is the bifocal with a line" and they were like "oh that's only $15 but we don't consider that appropriate for your age, we recommend this other kind of lens" and it doesn't matter what you consider age appropriate for me, I can't afford that so we're not doing that.

The seventy dollar frames are all kind of trash. Super thin, super bendy, and not in a good "flexible fit" way but more in a "if you fall asleep in these you will wake up with broken glasses" way.

They wrote down my reading prescription wrong? For the last ten years I've been slowly creeping up from +.25 to my current +2.50; they told me it had increased but the printout said +.75 so either my prescription has been wrong for a while or they missed the 2 at the front of that number and my glasses are going to show up with a low magnification. (I noticed after I'd left the office but before the glasses arrived).

Given all of that, with insurance: $25 for a pair of glasses, which included the office copay.

So then of course I went to zenni and ordered glasses anyway because I've been wearing the same frame design for seven years and want another pair that look exactly like that.

Progressive bifocals WERE the most expensive part of the order, and because my prescription is stronger they are getting progressively more expensive - initially the upgrade to bifocal cost something like $30 for a lower magnification, now they're $85 for the stronger prescription.

And that's it, that's the expensive part. Fifteen dollar frames, five dollar anti-reflective coating, total for bifocals was around a hundred dollars; I got a pair of single-vision sunglasses for under $20.

Part of the reason I decided to spend more at zenni than at my optometrist's office was because I was able to get good, sturdy frames that I know fit my face and will survive mosh pits and me falling asleep on them without cracking. In order to get the same thing at the optometrist's office I would have had to pay thirty dollars more for lenses as well as forty more for frames so I would have walked out of there paying more for a pair of glasses with frames that I wasn't super excited about (there was a pair that was *okay* but not great that were similar in construction to my current frames but more bulky and square) than I did for glasses that I know I like and a pair of sunglasses.

I did end up paying less out of pocket for the visit than I would have without the insurance, and $15 for a pair of back-up glasses isn't bad. But it was all-in-all a frustrating experience.

However: I've been wearing the same pair of glasses for three years and the anti-reflective coating is worn away in some places and they're so scratched that they're impossible to actually clean in some places and large bastard looked through them last week and was like "OH! No wonder you can't tell when you need to clean your windshield! You don't get to drive at night until those are replaced" so no matter what glasses I'm wearing next week they're going to be an improvement.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⋆⁺₊❅. “Give you...whatever you need!"⋆⁺₊❅.

synopsis: being the captains assistant ;)

tags: lots of possessiveness, manipulation (?), power dynamics, dom capitano, vulgar, explicit, fingering, facefucking, begging, degradation, penetration, creampie, you get the gist

wrd cnt: 2.5k

a/n: doja cat pls release generous ( lyrics from the song as title) and my life is YOURS… also partly inspired by the azeru audio….

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Droplets of a custom blend of his favorite drink, warm and slightly sweet hit the bottom of a porcelain cup.

It was just something you did, something you knew The Captain liked and as his assistant, routinely did.

This particular evening it was as if everyone in the nation needed you. A task, an errand, or just had to stop you in your tracks to his quarters for some idle chat.

It must have been several minutes longer than when he was expecting you, which was far too long to keep the Captain waiting; occupied against your will.

His tea was cold by now.

Finally, you ran over to his door. The runway-like carpet ending and small tiles lining the entryway to his office, guarded and sealed.

But you were a regular.

The guard knocked on the door, “Sir, your assistant has returned” he announced, waiting for an answer.

It took a few seconds, but you could hear a faint “Let her in”.

You sigh deeply and watch the giant doors open and shut behind you as you walk into the dimly lit room, only candles and small lamps lit across the table and crackling fireplace that remained behind The Captain’s seated body.

“Over and Over. I must have called you a thousand times? More or less.” He spoke, his voice clear even through the steel mask that adorned his face.

“I’m so sorry-“ You quickly respond, placing the cup on the edge of his desk and folding your hands together. “I got caught up with some others- a few harbingers as well needed my assistance.”

He straightened his legs, now standing in front of you, making you back up just slightly due to his large frame.

“It’s as if you’ve forgotten who you serve.” He said, the point of his gauntlet nail scratching the edge of your jaw and trailing down to your chin.

“Who kept you so long?” He asked, quickly adding “Never mind. Don’t tell me, I’d rather not know.”

You have trouble knowing where to look. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for yourself.

“Now that you’re here…maybe we should get started. You’ll probably need to stay overnight.” He mentioned.

You nod, agreeably to not seem like you’re eager to leave.

You sorted out all the intel Capitano had been collecting. There were piles of data, equipment, maps, and so much more. You were the only person he’d let touch them. It was common for you to stay late, as work never seems to dry out. It was also common for you to be whatever he wanted you to be. Errand runner, liaison…or his toy to let out his frustrations.

Everyone sees The Captain for what he puts on. Respectable and professional.

Most of the fatui honestly confess to enjoying working for him, as he has been much kinder than the others.

He can be, but he has his limits.

How can he be so kind to you when you’re late? You dared to keep him waiting.

“This is unlike you.” He says, noticing you yawn as you flip through the pages.

You blink your eyes a second too long, “Oh- I’m sorry I haven’t gotten much sleep, but I can keep working! Please don’t worry”. You assure.

“ I’m not worried, not for myself anyway.” He adds, kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk.

“Come here.” He urges you, forcing you to get off your small little table in the corner to his desk.

He flicks just one finger and you follow, taunting you to his lap.

“Yes- Captain?” You feel your throat get dry as you sit on his thigh, big enough to count as a seat.

“Is there anything…you need from me?” You ask, insinuating a more personal form of assistance.

He hikes his foot up higher on the table, creating a steep slope of his legs that drags you down and forces you into the crook of your lap, hands instinctively hitting his chest for balance.

“This isn’t for me. I think we need to wake you up.”

You felt a small shiver run up your spine when his hands landed on your hips, “How else will you finish all your work?” He adds.

You let out a small sigh as you felt his steel-clad fingers wrapping around your sides as if your ribs were now armored.

He slowly dragged them down your stomach, small points sliding down the sides of your thighs making you arch your back and grind onto his lap, earning a chuckle from him.

With swift motion, he grabs your throat; dropping his mask on the floor and letting it roll off somewhere.

Your body tenses, and you can see the most faint glimpses of his face; still hidden under the darkness of the room.

Deep and rich, he speaks to you, “Take off your clothes.”

Almost as if he’d conditioned your mind, you do so with no complaints.

He even helps, tugging up your shirt with the finger tip of his gauntlets as you pull it off. As your shirt falls to the floor, you stand before him in just your bra and skirt, your heart pounding in your chest. He doesn't waste any time, his hands moving to your back, deftly unhooking your bra with practiced ease. The straps slide down your arms, and your breasts spill free, bouncing lightly as they are finally released. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, exposed and vulnerable.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. "Now the rest."

You slip your skirt down, letting it pool at your feet, and step out of it.

You stand there, naked and vulnerable, your breath hitching as Capitano's fingers trace the curve of your hips. His touch is firm yet deliberate, each movement sending shivers down your spine. Shadows play across his muscular frame, making him appear even more imposing as he pulls you back onto his lap, each leg now dangling off his sides.

"Spread your legs," he commands, his voice low and gravelly. The steel in his tone leaves no room for disobedience.

You hesitate for a brief moment, but the intensity in his dark blue eyes compels you to comply. You part your thighs, positioning yourself in his lap. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable, a stark contrast to the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your folds, another hand squeezing your breasts between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp, arching into his touch, your body betraying how much you crave his attention.

"Please..." you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears you.

He leans forward, his mouth closing around your nipple, suckling hard enough to make you cry out.

His teeth graze the tender flesh, sending waves of pleasure and pain coursing through you.

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the tough material of his armor, as he moves to your other breast, repeating the process. Each pull of his lips, each scrape of his teeth, makes you shudder, your body responding eagerly to his rough ministrations.

"Captain..." you moan, your voice breaking as he continues his assault on your senses and his gentle strokes around your inner thigh, purposefully ignoring your sensitive pearl.

He pulls back, leaving you panting and desperate for more. His eyes glint with satisfaction as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. "Turn around," he orders, his voice firm and commanding.

You obey, swinging your leg over and turning your back to him…well, it’s more of him picking up your entire weight and shifting you into position.

As you automatically reach for the edge of the desk to steady yourself, he lifts himself off his seat, stepping close to your body, his presence looming behind you, his heat radiating against your bare skin. You feel his hands on your ass, squeezing the globes roughly, spreading them apart to expose your most intimate parts. Your breath hitches as you anticipate what's coming next.

"Look at you," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me." He adds, flicking his arm down to release his hand from the gauntlet, thudding on the floor just as his last piece of equipment.

“Is this what you were thinking about in that little corner of yours?” He teases.

His fingers trail down, skin grazing the crease where your thighs meet your ass, dipping lower until they brush against your wet folds. You gasp, your knees buckling slightly as he slips one finger inside you, probing deeply. You clench around him, your muscles instinctively tightening, drawing him deeper.

"You're so, so wet," he murmurs, his finger sliding in and out of you, slowly building up speed. "Such a good girl."

Your head falls forward, your forehead resting on the cool surface of the desk as you ride out the sensations he's unleashing on your body. His cold finger flicks against your clit, making you jerk and whimper, your hips swaying involuntarily as you try to get more friction. "Beg for it," he demands, removing his finger and resting it on your hips.

"Please... Captain, please," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "I want more... I need you..."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Not yet," he says, "But soon."

You whine in protest, your body aching for release, but he grabs your hips.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You drop to your knees, your hands trembling as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly. You undo his pants, pushing them down to reveal his hardened length, already glistening with pre-cum.

You lick your lips, your mouth watering at the sight of him.

"Take me in your mouth," he orders, his hands gripping your hair tightly. "Show me how much you want it."

You obey, wrapping your lips around his throbbing cock, sucking gently as you take him deep into your throat. He groans, his hands tightening in your hair as you bob your head up and down, your tongue swirling around him with each pass. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, his hips thrusting gently to meet your movements.

"Fuck... yes," he mutters, his voice strained with effort. "Suck it like you mean it."

You redouble your efforts, taking him deeper, your throat convulsing around him as you gag slightly.

He tastes amazing, salt and iron, the essence of his power and dominance filling your senses. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard as you stroke the base of his shaft with your hand, listening to the sounds of his grunts and moans above you.

"That's it," he praises, his fingers digging into your scalp. "Just like that... almost there...you’re working so hard"

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathing heavy and labored. You know he's close, can feel the tension building in him, and you work harder, your jaw aching from the effort.

Suddenly, he lets out a low growl, his fingers yanking your head back as he comes, his hot seed flooding your mouth.

You swallow dutifully, licking him clean as he pulls out of your mouth, his chest heaving with exertion.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust, and smirks. "Up," he commands, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm.

You do as told, standing up and facing him, your legs shaky from being on your knees for so long. He grabs your wrist, yanking you towards the desk, and pushes you onto it, your chest pressing against the cool wood. You gasp, your nipples rubbing against the rough surface, sending jolts of sensation through your body.

He kneels behind you, his hands roaming over your ass, squeezing and caressing the flesh before diving between your legs once more. His fingers find your drenched entrance, slipping inside with ease, pumping in and out with increasing speed.

You moan, your head falling back as his other hand circles your clit, rubbing it furiously.

"That’s it…keep making those sounds," he whispers, "So fucking wet for me. You need more, don’t you?”

You nod, unable to form words, your body consumed by the pleasure he's giving you. His rough hands continue to pleasure you, painting your ass red with just a single slap.

“Answer me.” He says, waiting for your begging voice before pressing his hard length into your ass.

“Yes- please….please Capitano.” You whimper.

You can almost feel the smirk that’s plastered on his face behind you. He lines himself up, his tip teasing your entrance, dipping just enough to coat himself in your slick arousal. You shiver at the contact, your body tensing in anticipation. Then, without warning, he presses forward, his cock sliding partway into your tight channel before pausing.

"Relax," he commands, his voice firm. "Give yourself to me completely."

You try to relax, breathing deeply, but the stretch is overwhelming. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he begins to push deeper, filling you inch by agonizing inch. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, your muscles clenching around him as he forces his way inside.

"That's it," he whispers, his voice strained. "Take it all, my little slut."

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he's buried deep inside you, his balls pressed against your ass. You gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the fullness, by the sheer dominance of his presence within you. It's almost too much, but somehow, it's exactly what you need.

Capitano doesn't wait for you to adjust. With a low growl, he pulls back until only his tip remains, then thrusts forward again, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force. You cry out, your hands clutching at the desk for support as he claims you over and over again. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your head spin and your vision blur.

"Fuck, you feel good," he grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "So tight, so perfect."

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. He fucks into your at a monstrous pace, your body going limp. He picks you up, holding your neck firm from behind.

“Arch your fucking back.” He growls, roughly handling you into position. You can feel the tension building in him, the same tension that's coiling inside you, tightening with every thrust, every caress. You're close, so close, but he's not done with you yet.

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your ear. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a low rumble.

You obey, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild, filled with lust and possession. He looks at you as if you're his world, his everything, and in this moment, you believe it.

"You're mine," he whispers, “Anytime another person- another damn harbinger calls for you- shit” He groans, “…tell them to fuck off. Captain’s order?” his voice thick with emotion. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, I will-!" you breathe, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

His hand slides down to your clit again, his fingers rubbing in fast, desperate circles. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you scream his name as you come undone, your body convulsing around his cock. He follows right behind you, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave, filling you with his warmth.

You’ve never served Capitano with a cold cup of tea again.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[myouicieloz]

Live your life

band!aespa x groupie!reader

Synopsis: It’s been less than a year since the band Aespa was created. Karina, Minjeong, Giselle and Ningning travel all over the country with nothing but a few gigs, little money and much love for the music. They’re far from superstars, and still don’t have a lot to offer. Besides, there’s something they can’t quite grasp: why you, the band’s most faithful fan, follows them without even questioning.

Warnings: lots of plot w a little bit of smut in the end, as alwayss.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: I tried following the MV in chronological order (except for that little deck scene bc I forgot abt it and when I went back to rewatch the MV I didn’t know where to squeeze it in so wtvr) and I’m kinda proud w the way it turned out ˆˆ I had lots of fun writing it so I hope you have fun reading it too!! Also I ❤️ you band!aespa let me be your fucktoy I can take the four of you. and not in a fight (probably in a fight too).

pt.1 | pt.2

“Is this legal?” Ningning asks, hugging the straps of her backpack. She tilts her head up to grasp at the place that would make their stay for this week of competition, its grand walls of concrete leaving her in awe.

You’ve been wiser this time: the cache of the band’s last performance made it possible for them to buy a roof rack for your brother’s— now basically theirs— van, which provided much more space for equipment and luggage. 

“Not really.” The four of you say, in unison. With a deep sigh, you grab your belongings and walk towards the huge stairs that precede the nearly-abandoned place. 

“It used to be a bathhouse,” Karina tells the maknae, holding her by the shoulders as they walk forward in hopes of making her less uneasy. “But now they use it as a vintage, low-cost hostel, or whatever. It’s always cramped during these times of the year, so we’re safe Ningnie. Don’t worry.” 

The bathhouse is huge, although its dirty façade announces it’s been long since the place served its initial purpose. Grass grows around their feet, nearly disappearing into the wild, and there’s a great amount of dirt clinging to their shoes in the parking lot. Three floors are presented in front of them in all of their grandness, in a structure so massive the place could be misguided as a shopping mall. 

Ningning gulps, although she doesn’t look relaxed in the slightest. Going up so many flights of stairs leaves you breathless, resting your hands on your knees as soon as you reach the entry lounge. The inside of the building is much different from what you expected: it’s filled with warm lights, and most importantly, it’s packed. Young people storm from side to side, hanging out in the corners or walking in rushed paces. The mixed voices bring a lively vibe to the open area, and you smile as you watch comforting chaos unravel. Such noise is enough proof that you're here: the girls are actually going to perform in the most important music competition in the country. 

A hand on your shoulder grabs your attention as you reach for your camera, itching to record every second of the journey. Ningning’s voice makes you look up amidst getting lost searching for it in the middle of your stuff.

“Y/n.” She calls for you, staring at the ground to avoid making eye contact. Her shoulders are pressed downwards, announcing a hesitant posture much unlike herself. You hum in response, acknowledging her while still looking through your backpack. “Is it ok if we room together, this time?” 

You watch as Ning brushes her hands repetitively, aware something’s wrong. Ningning might be the youngest of the band, but she’s usually mature, serious, and confident; It’s concerning to have her acting like that.

“Sure, unnie.” You smile at her, looking around as you squeeze her arm in hopes of offering her some reassurance. After making sure the other girls were busy with the check-in, and that there weren’t any eavesdroppers, you ask, “Are they back again? Have you been getting any sleep?”

Ningning’s nod, followed by a tired sigh, is enough of an answer. You know being so dependent on her friends bothers her deeply, even though you’ve told her countless times none of you mind. 

It’s well-known among the girls that Ning struggles with night terrors. Being an independent and strong-willed child made her extremely talented, but also very lonely. Ningning’s parents invested in her and sent her away from her hometown, Harbin before the age of 10. From then on, the maknae found herself all alone in Korea, pushing through an excruciating routine at a shitty entertainment company where people barely knew her name. She never spoke, at first because she didn’t know Korean at all— but also because people rarely talked to her; only urging her through events and evaluations like a doll.

Or better, more like a ghost. The loneliness clung to her bones, making its way through her soul until she wasn’t even sure who she was without it. 

Ever since then, her nightmares have kept her awake at night, trapped in a tangled mess of absurd dreams that deprive her of getting any rest. The hallucinations are so real she’s frequently urged out of sleep with a trembling body and heavy nausea, rushing to the nearest bathroom in complete panic.

Thankfully, not sleeping by herself is something Ningning found to be of much help, even if just a bit. So the girls take turns holding the youngest member close in their arms until her body gives up to exhaustion, still trembling. 

That was before Ning had gotten it under control. With the help of a professional and her friends’ endless support, she eventually learned how to suppress her troubled thoughts. As months went by, her nightmares somehow did not scare her as much as they did when she was a little girl. 

Or so she thought. Asking for help meant things were not looking good at all, which set up an alarm in the back of your mind. 

You had to talk to Karina about it and let the leader know. Out of the three girls, she was the most protective of Ningning: the duo acted like sisters most of the time and had a tight bond. 

“We’ll get rid of those nasty monsters, Ningie.” You tell her, resting your arm on her shoulders as you walk side by side to the elevator. “Fuck them. I’ll personally beat their asses for disturbing our little princess’s sleep.” 

Ningning’s laugh fills up the small corridor, and as she clings to your body, you’re reminded of how small she is. The maknae trusts you; it’s something you feel in the way she reaches out for your embrace, allowing herself to be vulnerable even if not for long. 

“So,” Karina says, staring at the four of you with a serious face. “I know we all want to enjoy the festival too, and we absolutely should. But it’s late, and it’s a week-long competition, so I say we take it easy and rest today.” 

The leader's words reverberate through the elevator, her assertive tone leaving it clear that it was a rather strong-willed suggestion as you all nod. 

“We’ve worked hard for this opportunity.” Minjeong agrees, leaning onto the big mirror that gave the impression that the elevator was much bigger than its actual size. “Let’s not fuck it up. We can have fun later anyway.” 

“Our first performance is tomorrow, but we have a bunch of interviews scheduled before that. We must be well prepared and rested.” Giselle adds, while they get onto their floor and start walking toward their assigned rooms. 

Somehow, the girls always manage to get caught up with something just minutes before getting in the car for their road trip, which meant you arrived later than expected. At nearly 4 AM, everyone was tired, even though the adrenaline of being part of something as big as The Box was enough for them to be a bit jumpy, eyes darting around to capture everything dimmed possible. 

The rooms were better, this time: there wasn’t any dust and the place looked fairly comforting, compared to the last place you stayed at. You drop your backpack and your small suitcase onto the ground without much care.

“Goodnight, cuties. See you in the morning.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes as you throw yourself on the bed, extra tired from being the designated driver for the entire journey. Giselle, Winter, and Karina wave faintly, too, making their way to their room at a quick pace. 

Ningning smiles and watches as you stretch yourself, exhausted. She’s quick to drop her stuff and pull her single bed, although it doesn’t move further than an inch. “Y/n… help me join the beds, please?” 

“Right, right. Of course.” With some effort, the two of you manage to move the two beds together into the center of the room, and you relax for a bit while Ningning occupies the bathroom. The soft sheets that welcome your face are much different from the leather seats of your car, and the change is well welcomed— so much you let out a deep sigh, relieved now that you’re finally able to relax. 

After changing into your pajamas, you stare at the ceiling and you wait for Ningning to hop out of the shower and join you in bed before falling asleep yourself. However, the last thing your mind registers are the soft sounds of Yizhuo’s shower before sleep takes over your body and you lose a short-lived battle to unconsciousness. 

—

Life is anything but peaceful when you give up a normal, ordinary life to live off of music. Not that it’s a bad thing: if anything, the thrill of not having a routine grants to the girls a type of freedom that only comes with art. 

That’s all Karina can think about as the five of you hang out at a big, open field. There’s a fence where you and Ningning sit, and the cool breeze messes up her long, pitch-black hair. More than freedom, the leader’s chest also burns with a deep sense of accomplishment. 

Within a blink, she’s at the bathhouse’s rooftop and this time her bandmates chat lively by the place’s enormous sign. It’s nighttime, and a different kind of unsettlement takes place inside her rebel heart this time, one Karina feels deep in her bones.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to dwell much: her senses prove to be right almost immediately when they’re struck by a sea of shooting stars. They fly by so fast Karina barely sees them, making their way through with such strength she’s pushed onto the ground. There’s only enough time for her to grab a single star, grasping the small light within her hands as strongly as she can. 

But just as fast as it happened, the storm is gone. Karina looks up to talk to you and the girls about it, but you’re nowhere to be seen. She frowns, realizing she’s left all alone, under the darkness of a starless sky. 

That’s when she wakes up: breathless, trembling badly as she grabs her neck in hopes of making more air run through her lungs. Despite the cool night, her body is drenched in sweat. Yet, the oldest member can’t help but sigh in relief once she looks up beside her and finds Minjeong peacefully asleep. The leader looks to the other bed, where Giselle’s faint snores can be heard, her mouth hanging slightly open as saliva drools onto the bassist’s pillow.

Karina’s safe. She’s with her girls, in the comfort of their room. 

Yet the loneliness she felt still echoes through her body, hurting enough to draw small tears from her eyes before she acknowledges it. It had been such an empty moment… to look up and not see any of the people she loved and cherished deeply. 

It’s something Karina decides she never wants to feel again. 

“Mhm…” Minjeong stirs, her eyes half open as she stretches her arms out. Karina’s noises probably woke her up— the girl has never been a deep sleeper anyway. “What are you doing awake?” 

A few seconds go by, and Karina stays silent. The answer comes when the blonde is almost falling asleep again, so low Minjeong thinks she’s imagining it. “You left me there, all alone. All of you.” 

“We… who?” Minjeong’s voice is scrappy with confusion. She looks at the leader, scratching her head as she watches Karina get up. “Why would we do that? We’re literally right here, unnie.”

Minjeong’s attempts to understand her friends fail. If anything, she’s bluntly ignored by Karina, who shakes Giselle gently until she manages to get the Japanese girl up, although clearly in a zombie-like state, still barely conscious. 

The weather was still a bit hot by the time they arrived, so the girls agreed to leave the old, arched windows open for the night. Now, the wind had messed up the leader’s wavy hair, and there were little eye-bags under her eyes from waking up so abruptly. As a result of such an intense dream, Karina’s lips trembled and her body lacked its usual strength, which was noticeable by her limp arms. She looks fragile, clearly disturbed by a train of thoughts echoing inside her mind. 

And the way the leader stares at Minjeong so helplessly… It’s the reason why she doesn’t question when Karina offers her hand to help the blonde out of bed, in complete silence. One that remains until the leader unlocks your and Ningning’s room with her spare card, walking onto the bed with light steps— as if she was taken by the wind itself. 

Your bedroom is not as big as theirs, and the improvised bed is still rather small, but Karina makes it fit. Her hand is keen on Giselle’s back, urging the girl back to bed as the leader lies her down once again. Like in a puzzle, Minjeong squeezes herself between your arched back and Ning’s body, careful to not wake up either of you. 

“Feeling better?” She asks Karina, who watches the scene with a small smile. Minejong’s heart is filled with warmth at the girl’s pretty face, as she closes her eyes once again. 

“Much better.” The vocalist murmurs, calm and collected. Being tangled with her girls at one of the country’s most successful music events is enough to dissipate her previous loneliness. There’s nothing else she needed but the five of you. “I’m no longer alone, now.” 

She’s complete.

—

The Box is an event created for Companies from all over the country to show off their assets and make as much profit as possible—and they make sure to capitalize on every second of it, which is as much of a burden as it is an opportunity for its participants. The girls had interviews, outfit changes, and makeup booths provided by sponsors, guaranteed as long as they shot commercials and launched a few good words about their brands. 

Held in a big, open area, the place brings goosebumps to Karina’s stomach, reminiscing too much of her dream as the same clouds wind on the sky, blocking the sun’s path. Just as she had done moments prior, you look up too, frowning. The lack of light makes the day seem gloomier than usual, and a single droplet of rain would result in an atrocious, muddy day. 

And that would be a disaster, for sure.

“So,” After recording the stage they’d perform at in just a few hours, you turn around and nearly shove your camera on Giselle’s face. “Enlighten us, Gigi: why is the festival named The Box if the main stage is actually a big fucking losangle?” 

Giselle’s tone is condescending as she adjusts her perfectly arranged bangs, giving you a dirty look before answering. “Y/n, my love.” She redirects the camera to capture both of your faces, smearing your cheek with her lip gloss. “You just have to accept some things: like the weather, time… and The Box’s setup. It’s how it’s always been, so let’s not dwell on that matter, okay? Thanks.” 

“Very well, then. You heard her.” You nod back at the camera, capturing the massive stage for a few more seconds before pausing the recording. 

Giselle’s passive-aggressiveness was one of her hottest traits, and you loved to watch her boss people around. Which she always made sure of doing, whenever she had the chance to.

The Japanese girl giggles at your words, nudging you gently. Not much further from you, Karina and Ningning stand in a big line for something popular dish. You wave to them, and Giselle straightens her posture, following your stare as she grunts. 

“So, you and Jimin, huh.” She asks, plucking at the grass with her shoes. It’s obvious she’s trying her best to sound nonchalant and not make a big deal out of it.

It was no secret that you were devoted to Karina, surrendering yourself with as much as a whisper from her. Still, it was amusing to you how shy Giselle seemed with her question. Her hesitation was sweet, so cute it draws a smile from your face. 

“Oh… well, yeah.” You shrug, not at all ashamed of her hidden inquiry. “She needs someone to warm up her bed.” You eye Giselle attentively, studying the older girl’s body language before adding, “I can help you with that too if you’d like. I know Jimin unnie wouldn’t mind.”

Your answer catches her off guard, her eyes wide from your straightforwardness. You’re nearly teasing her for being so shocked when she laughs, shaking her head at your straightforwardness. It’s Giselle, after all: the girl has such a flirty nature you’d be surprised if she didn’t give you a run for your money. 

“We’ll see... You’re sure one of a kind, Y/n. That you are.” She answers, with a sultry tone before gently squeezing your arm and vanishing from your sight. 

That is enough for you. The Japanese girl’s gorgeous looks and confident nature make her so desirable and hot— truly an it girl, often leading the group to try out new music styles and different types of choreographies. Giselle is always pushing herself outside her comfort zone. 

It’s good that she knows you’re also willing to try anything she’d like, too. 

Brushing that subject off your mind, you take some time to dive into the festival, just as curious as the girls were: the place is still beautiful, despite the weather. Its lively atmosphere is enchanting, and there is so much happening: from bands singing on minor stages to dance performances not much further from where you stand. Everyone seems eager to participate, and you’re just as excited to watch everything at once.  

This event is also a great opportunity for you, considering you’re still attending university— hoping to major in Media Arts in a year or so. Even though you spend most of the time following the girls around, your passion for filmmaking and photography is also one of the reasons you’re so committed to recording everything your eyes meet. You plan on making this documentary into your final presentation of the year and submitting it to one of your main classes. 

So you record everything: making a full turn to capture your entire experience. You’re so committed to your task that you don’t even notice Minjeong’s frame behind you, the blonde girl not making an effort to move such thing as an inch from out of your way. 

The two of you collide with each other so roughly you have to hold onto the girl’s tiny frame with your free hand to prevent her from a having dirty fall.  Minjeong gives you an ugly look, impatiently wiping the dirt from her plaid skirt. She’s judgy, as always— not a day goes by where the blonde doesn’t give you a hard time.

Although you weren’t exactly peaceful to her, either. 

“Do you ever wear a bra?” She mumbles, annoyed. Minjeong’s fingers press the tip of her nose bridge and she closes her eyes as if dealing with you was enough to drain all of her energy. 

“Why are you looking anyway?” You’re quick to snap back, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Choosing comfort over fashion was something you’d always do, and today was no different. Your look for the day was rather basic but perfect for someone who’d be walking around the entire time: a pair of jeans and a plain white tank top that made your Aespa badge visible to anyone who took a quick look at you. However, that little show of hers has made the dirt that clung onto the fabric attract attention to your breasts, highlighting the way your pierced nipples peeked through. It had only been a few weeks since you and Giselle got them done, so you were still a bit hypersensitive.

Not that you minded, anyway. Minjeong would be a jerk regardless of that: the blonde made her life’s purpose to annoy the shit out of you, and she’s very committed to doing so.

Proving your point, Winter scoffs, all annoyed. “You always make this shit on purpose, don’t you?” You stare at her, confused, and it seems like she’s had enough. Rolling her eyes, Minjeong brushes past you, nearly dragging you by the shoulders as she stomps away. “Whatever. Whore.”

Minjeong is so rude. Undeniably so, with an insanely stubborn temper. Her mood changes quickly, and it is hard to tell if she genuinely hates you or if it is just some kind of playful banter. Not that you cared much, honestly. 

Truth be told, you had other things to worry about, like the amazing festival happening at the moment. You’d deal with that nightmare of a girl some other time. 

Instead of allowing the petite girl to disturb your mind, you decide to walk around by yourself too— despite preferring to be surrounded by the girls at all times, you were cool to be on your own.

You were deeply committed to making a masterpiece out of your clips. If the work you handed in was good enough, then perhaps your professor would overlook the number of absences on your attendance sheet and give you a nice grade. 

After walking around for a few minutes, a certain stage catches your attention: the structure is small and curiously held like a boxing ring, where nine girls sing and dance in beautiful harmony. The space is so far from the center of the festival its last rounds of chairs nearly drag onto the woods that surround the place. 

The girls performing are all dressed in dark pants, white crop tops, and black ties, and they’re incredibly in synch while still making complicated moves. Their voices are sweet, and so is the music that flows to your ears: it’s a cover of one of your favorite songs, KARA’s Mr.

Your eyes go straight to the sign that hangs in front of the stage, looking for said group’s name. Thankfully, it’s easy to find, both in Hangul and Romanized.

Fromis9.

The nine girls’ bright stage presence fills up the area, and it amazes you how coordinated they are, not one outshining the other despite being so many. No lines are stolen in the song; instead, they add to each other beautifully, reminding you of your girls. The contrast is fascinating, from Aespa’s four-member band to those strangers, who sing cheerful songs like this will be the last happy summer of their lives. 

You’re enchanted by them, truthfully. Not only talented, the girls seem genuinely sweet, as they spin and jump around to hype up the dead crowd. And oh, they’re stunning: each one with striking features, ones that surely seem like they’ve been taken straight out of a fairytale. 

You make sure to record their entire performance, as well as the little playful moments reserved for interacting with their fans and supporters. Soon enough, the song ends, leaving the group breathless but happy. You watch as the girls bow and take turns passing small water bottles around, tired from giving their all on stage. 

A few of them start a small discourse, although you don’t pay enough attention to grasp the meaning of their words. You’re too busy staring at one of them instead, hiding behind your camera so she doesn’t see how enamored you are. 

The girl is small, but her slim waist and toned muscles announce she must spend most of her free time at the gym. An energetic pink-haired girl clings to one of her arms, providing a clear contrast to her long, pitch-black hair, but she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest: if anything, she hugs the energetic girl back, laughing and she twirls her friend around.

Luckily for you, there’s a big paper clasped in front of her shirt, just like every artist who is currently performing and competing at The Box. You search for her name with expectation, just like you’ve done with her group’s name.

Hers say, Saerom. 

A beautiful name for an enchanting girl. 

However, it’s her face that surprises you the most. She’s beautiful, of course— stunningly so, but so is everyone at this festival: something expected for a place with such a high concentration of artists, models, and people in the entertainment industry in general. But as you look into her high cheekbones and sharp jawline, you’re surprised to find such kind eyes staring back at you. Saerom’s eyes provide her soft, almost ethereal look as she nods to you. It’s a faint action, one a distracted eye would barely notice once she moves back to the middle of the stage with her bandmates, yet you’d never miss it. There’s no way she wouldn’t stand out, despite her plain outfit. 

You could stare at her for hours. 

Although you’re incapable of doing so: in a blink, steady hands grab your camera, and your arms are urged down so fast you nearly let it fall on the ground. Nothing disastrous happens, thanks to your steady grip and good reflex, but your vision is blocked by a serious Karina, fuming as she stares angrily at you. 

“What are you doing, Y/n?” The leader’s cocky, angry voice is something you only hear when she’s feeling intimidated or when she wants to be petty, which is unusual for the occasion. Why would she be so defensive towards you?

Karina usually yaps her heart out until your ears hurt from her complaints. It’s a normal thing for her to do, whenever she’s pissed. However, she doesn’t say anything this time, clearly waiting— demanding an explanation. 

So you lift your camera, playfully poking her in a failed attempt of easing the grumpiness out of her. “I’m making The Box’s documentary as my final presentation.” You stay on your tiptoes, trying to get a hold of the view Karina is blocking so confidently, but it’s useless by now: the performance is over, and the Fromis9 members have already retreated backstage. “For that class I told you about, remember?”

Karina rolls her eyes, ignoring your explanation as she directs you in the opposite direction. With a resolute tone, she brushes off the matter. “Whatever. Listen, Y/n: you should only focus on us, your band. There’s no need for you to look at anyone else.”

Oh, Karina’s fuming. It’s easy to tell, from the way she refuses to meet your face to the red that paints her cheeks. You giggle, enjoying her subtle possessiveness. 

Truth be told, you thrived on being reassured just as much as the girls did. The only difference was that you made an immense effort to hide how much it aroused you, well aware they’d use it as an advantage. 

Besides, there was a bit of truth behind her words: the girls were the only ones you truly felt connected to; they were yours just as much as you were theirs, and you didn’t feel like you needed to meet new people.

“Of course, Jimin unnie.” You nod, walking next to her as you turn your camera off and place it back in your backpack. “Aespa is the only band worth looking at, anyway.” 

Karina blossoms under your praise, smiling brightly as she kisses you gently, her irritation gone. “Good girl. Now let’s go to the main stage. There are only two hours until our performance, and the girls are starting to get ready.” 

You’d like to tease her back a bit but now wasn’t the time. Not when the band’s nerves were all over the place, nervous they’d fuck up the opportunity of their lives. No, you wouldn’t do such a thing. You’d be their anchor, peace, and most faithful supporter as you always were, ready to remind the girls of their true potential. 

With that, you and Karina walk back to the main stage with synchronized steps, and the moment with Saerom is brushed off to the back of your mind.

You've probably imagined the entire thing, anyway. There was nothing to wonder. 

—

“Hello, girls. Are you Aespa?” The staff asks, entering the room with his eyes glued to the list in his hands. After the five of you nod, he adds, with a comforting smile, “You’re on in 30. Come after you finish your makeup and clothes so we can start the soundcheck and set up your microphones.”

With another nod, you fall into a nervous silence once again. The girls have waited for this opportunity for so long; the crowd’s heated screams could be heard from where you stood, only adding to the girl’s expectations. It was the first time they performed in front of so many people, let alone at such a big and renowned festival. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Giselle mumbles, softening her necklace as if it were suffocating her. Her breaths were uneven, her eyes fixated on the ground. 

Karina smiles softly at the girl. As the leader, she knows it’s her duty to look composed and relaxed, to tranquilize her bandmates. “You’re not going to throw up, Gigi. You just need some air. Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

The leader grabs Giselle by the arm, urging her up. As they go through the door, Ningning rushes to follow their steps. 

“I need to breathe too.” She gulps, not even sparing you a glance as she runs to catch up with her friends. 

The nerves were striking, and they needed to look composed so they’d give their all on stage, as always.

You and Minjeong were the only ones left backstage, which allowed you to take some time to study her better. The blonde was perfectly still on the couch, with a rigid posture and hands clasped tightly on her lap. She looked composed, almost bored, as she always did— but you know her better. 

Minjeong’s muscles were visibly tense, and her left leg was bouncing so much you were afraid it’d be chopped off from her body. She’s usually so composed, rarely giving a fuck about anything in her life. Whatever it was, the most Minjeong would do was roll her eyes at it or give it a nasty, rude response. Nothing else.

Seeing her bottle up her feelings like that is something that leaves you deeply uncomfortable. The way she deals with her emotions is none of your business of course, and it’s not like she ever talks about how she’s feeling with anyone anyway. 

Minjeong rarely talks about herself; not to you or her bandmates. She’s simply someone very private when it comes to that matter. It’s something the blonde struggles with— understanding and acknowledging her emotions are not things that come to her naturally, so Minjeong would often carry her burdens alone until the feelings get so heavy she explodes, taking it off on someone who has nothing to do with whatever it is she’s going through. 

Although it surprises you to see how deeply caring the girl can be. Minjeong, who knows Karina loves apple-flavored candy and sorts them out for her leader, even though they all think it’s gross. Minjeong, whose personal space is sacred, allows Ningning to be as clingy as she wants, aware the maknae longs for physical contact after being deprived of it so much as a child. Minjeong, who is the most competitive person you’ve ever met, but lets Giselle beat her at deck games whenever they notice the Japanese girl is feeling down. 

Minjeong, who despises you thoroughly, but snuck a new SD card into your purse after seeing you struggle with your camera for a few days. 

You didn’t want her to make her big debut feeling like a nervous wreck. She needs to relax, and not be so tense otherwise she won’t do good in her performance. 

And you know just what to do. 

With a sigh, you drop your hand from the doorknob and turn to her, leaning on the wall to take a better look at her. 

“You’re nervous.” You state, smirking at the sight of her face growing red—the blonde girl, usually so collected… oh, how she hates to be caught. 

Most importantly, Minjeong hates you can always see right through her. 

“Well no shit, Sherlock.” 

Walking towards her with small, unhurried steps, you sit right next to her, crossing your legs as you lean onto her.

“I can help you with that.” You whisper to her, staring at her mouth. “Do you trust me?”

Minjeong scrunches her nose but doesn’t move away. Her answer, however, comes immediately— not an ounce of hesitation coming from her mouth. “Not at all.”

“Good.” You cup her face. “Wise girl.”

Leaning in, you capture Minjeong’s lips in a messy kiss. Despite her fiery personality, she tastes sweet, and you savor the strawberry essence of her lip gloss. Kissing Minjeong is addictive, yet you can’t seem to get enough of her. You lick her lips and devour her until your lungs scream for air, and the two of you get off each other when there’s no air and you’re both left desperate and breathless. 

Minjeong’s blonde hair flows freely, her scrutinizing stare forgotten the moment the two of you got so close your breaths entwined. For a moment, you don’t do anything but stare at each other, as you look for any signs of what she’d like to do next. You’re nearly sure she’d tell you to get lost until she grabs your neck and pulls you close, kissing you for the second time. 

“You’re completely insufferable, Y/n.” She murmurs in between the kiss as her thumb brushes down your neck. Even though there’s a faint pressure, her touch is almost soothing, urging you down to your knees. “Now, do more.”

You’re more than eager to follow her wishes, urging her pants and underwear down in a swift motion. Minjeong’s pussy is so pretty, all pink, swollen, and glistening, and you lick your lips with anticipation. The blonde girl lies comfortably on the couch as she spreads her folds with two of her fingers— showing herself to your hungry gaze.

“How do I look right now, Y/n?” Her tone is drenched with mockery as you squeeze her thighs, drawing a shiver from her. Your hands trace tiny circles on her milky skin, and you choose to ignore her; too focused on her beautiful body on display for you. 

Minjeong’s free hand goes to grip your hair, annoyed by your lack of response. “Fine, then. Do you want to know how you look?” 

Her malicious smile, much different from her delicate features, is what makes you shiver at her concentration. Giving her thighs faint bites, you ask, “Enlighten me, Minjeong.” 

“Like a whore.” Her grip tightens and you can’t help but bite harder this time. “Hey! See, I’ve always said you’re just a cheap who—“

Minjeong is silenced by your warm tongue on her pussy, licking a big stripe of her sex, as you go all the way up to suck on her clit as well. Her high-pitched moans are like music to your ears, and you take turns sucking her sensitive bud and letting out some lewd, loud sounds as you nearly make out with her pussy. 

“Do you want my fingers, pretty girl?” You mumble, staring at her through your lashes. 

Minjeong looks like a painting, beautiful with her mouth half-opened and a thin cover of sweat covering her brows. She nods frantically, urging you even closer.

Greedy, that’s what she is.

“Yes, please.” It’s the first time you’ve ever seen use her manners, so you’re quick to comply. “Fuck, Y/n…” 

Two of your fingers enter her cunt without any resistance as you thrust hard and fast. She bucks her hips to add to the stimulation, and you’re graced with the glorious view of her abs, thankful she chose a tiny crop top for the day. You want to see her tits, too, but it’s not like you’re in any position to demand anything— not while Minjeong uses you as a toy, rocking onto your mouth as her moans grow louder and louder. 

You feel her walls tensing up, and her toes curl as she tells you, “Y/n, I’m going t—“

“Cum for me, Minjeongie.” You give her clit one last, harsh suck, as her breathing becomes even quicker. “That’s it, let go.”

Minjeong follows your commands, reaching her orgasm with a high-pitched moan as she squeezes your head in between her thighs. Her body trembles from the stimulation, and you keep your fingers inside her walls until she’s calmed down enough that her screams are reduced to heavy breaths. You lick her clean, then, careful to not touch her clit as you eat her out for a few other moments. 

What’s most surprising to you, though, is the delicacy in her touch as she urges you up, tasting herself on your lips. 

“Sweet.” She giggles, before grabbing your tank top and pushing you off her. Minjeong’s obsessed with oversized jeans, and her current ones look huge on her tiny waist as she takes her time with buttoning up. “I really needed that, Y/n. Thanks.”

You don’t bother to hide a cocky smile as you nod, shrugging. 

“You’re going own that fucking stage today, Minjeong. All of you.” It’s what they were born to do. There isn’t a slight possibility of them not doing their absolute best on stage.

“I know.” Minjeong looks around, bouncing back and forth with her hands on her jeans’ back pocket. After a pause, she adds, with a quiet tone, “You’re going to be there, right? At the front row. Recording and all. It’s one of the only things you’re useful for.” 

You smile, understanding the hidden meaning behind her bored tone. “Of course, I will, dumbass. I’ll be there with you, as always.”

You’d always be there for your girls: cheering, supporting, or helping the band with anything they needed. 

Karina, Ningning, Giselle, and Minjeong were not sure of when you had become such an important figure in their lives, but there was something they all agreed on: they’ve grown too fond of you now. It was impossible to let you go. 

Not that you had any intentions of leaving their side, anyway. 

[rachelsfav-queer]

Wednesday: I really don’t see what this all has to do with the bouquet of flowers you offered me, Enid. Quite frankly, you seem to be acting stra-

Enid: *fed up* I LIKE YOU!! THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO DO WITH IT! I LIKE YOU WEDNESDAY AND I WANT TO KISS YOU!! I WANT TO KISS YOU ALL OVER YOUR STUPID, SHARP FACE! THIS! IS! A DATE!!

Enid: I’VE BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND BUT YOU’RE THE MOST CLUELESS PERSON ON EARTH AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING BECAUSE I EXIST!!

Enid: I WANNA BE YOUR FRICKING GIRLFRIEND!!!

Enid is left panting from screaming so much and Wednesday is left flabbergasted, mouth wide open and her face bright red. As literal months of missed flirting and misinterpreted gestures pass by her eyes in less than a second, Wednesday realizes how true Enid’s statement was, as harsh as it may have been. She truly was the most clueless person on earth, perhaps even on the astral plane as well. Just as Enid is about to storm off, Wednesday speaks.

Wednesday: Enid. I apologize for unwittingly putting you through this torture of trying to get through my admittedly thick skull and confess your feelings towards me. I’m ashamed to share any trait in common with that socially inept gorgon you call an ex boyfriend…

Enid: *interrupting sadly* Wends… I didn’t mean that whole, clueless thing. I just… my emotions got a bit ahead of me, I’m sorry. You’re not-

Wednesday: But I am, am I not? I’ve been completely clueless to your advances and looking back, it’s certainly not from a lack of trying on your part. I wish I could’ve noticed your affections earlier, so that I may have told you that they are returned in full by me.

Enid: *starstruck* Wow… well, I’m super glad that you feel the same way about me, Wends. And just for the record, trying to court you has been like, a thousand times more enjoyable than it was with Ajax. At least you were aware enough to go along with everything I had us do, he was barely aware I was even talking to him half the time. Again, he’s cute, but very clueless.

Wednesday was caught on one part of Enid’s sentence.

Wednesday: Court me? You want to court me, Enid?

Enid: *smirks and giggles* Of course, silly! I would absolutely love to get the chance to sweep you off your feet! Just like you deserve, cutie! *winks*

Wednesday: *blushes, smiles* Oh, mi loba. I would love nothing more than to be swept away by your affections. What a fitting proposal for an Addams, being courted by such a beautifully deadly creature as you, Enid.

Enid: *extends her hand* Well then, mi luna, will you allow me to court you? Prove myself worthy of your divine beauty?

Wednesday: *takes her hand* As if you haven’t already proven it by saving my life. But yes, please woo me, Enid.

On the other side of the graveyard, Yoko and Divina are watching the interaction, eating popcorn and drinking soda.

Yoko: Wow, that was literally the gayest shit I’ve ever seen.

Divina: Yeah, that was harder to watch than you trying to be flirty with me before we started dating, baby.

Yoko: *spluttering* I- you- you said! But-

Divina cuts her off with a kiss.

Divina: Shh, you’re cuter when you’re quiet. *winks*

Yoko somehow blushes bright red.

End <3

(Note: Sorry this was so damn long lol. I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head of Enid courting Wednesday, so I had to add some plot to it. Hope y’all enjoyed!)

[kurogane2512]

Eirene Birthday 2024

Yeah I couldn't hold back after this message so here it is (tho I'm late)

18+ CONTENT

Game: Path to Nowhere

Characters: Eirene x gn!reader with a dick (Chief)

Type: Smut with plot, long fic

"Ms Eirene, there is a guest for you- the Chief of MBCC." One of Eirene's servants informed her while she was seated in her dressing room, getting ready for her birthday banquet.

Eirene hummed and noted the time to be 6pm then told the servant to bring you in, feeling slightly surprised at your unexpected arrival. She then sat upon her vanity and started applying her eyeliner when she spotted you appear through the door in the mirror's reflection. Eirene smirked to herself eyeing you in the mirror and let out an amused sound.

"What a pleasant surprise, Chief. Here to wish me for my birthday?~"

"Actually, yes."

Eirene's eyes remained fixated on you hearing your words, wondering if you were saying the truth. She kept down her eyeliner then stood up and took a few steps towards you. You smiled while glancing at her from head to toe then extended out the packet in your hands.

"You look beautiful. Happy birthday, Eirene."

Eirene looked at the packet and could tell there was a gift inside. She accepted the packet and kept it on one of the side tables before coming back to stand in front of you, crossing her arms over her chest and lips curled up from one corner.

"Thank you, Chief. Is this your way of making up for declining my invitation for tonight's banquet?~"

You looked at her in surprise, "....I would have wished you regardless of the invitation. It's your birthday."

Eirene let out a soft chuckle, "Well, would you come to the banquet with me if I made it as a personal request?~"

You pursed your lips out of hesitation, "Sorry to disappoint you, Eirene. I'd be quite of place at such a gathering, and I do have a lot of work to do. I was barely able to take out time to come right now."

That was only half the truth, you didn't reveal one other reason which was perhaps the most important one. Eirene's expression didn't shift and she simply nodded, "It's a shame, I'd have liked your company. But, thank you for your blessings, my dear partner in crime. I think victory in 'war' at tonight's banquet is certain~"

You squinted your eyes at her strange words, "What do you mean?"

"Hm? Isn't it obvious? Every interaction, every meeting, every gathering, is like a battlefield for me. Today's banquet is no exception."

"But.... it's your birthday, you are supposed to celebrate and enjoy. Can't people give you a break even on your birthday?!"

You sounded rather assertive in the end, making Eirene slightly surprised. Her heterochromatic eyes looked into yours as if she was staring right into the depths of your soul.

"You are a strange one, Chief. You should be aware by now I'm always ready for battle, be it with words or actions. This world is too cruel to have a moment of respite for someone like me."

Your fists clenched involuntarily as you remained silent, unable to refute her words. You then heard her heels tap as she walked closer to you and kept her palm on your chest, leisurely sliding it up and down before cupping your face.

"The only battle I'd hate to have is with you, but if that day ever came then I expect nothing less than a satisfying fight from you~"

Eirene leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of your lips, leaving a mark of her deep red lipstick.

"Let's meet later tonight, shall we?~" She then leaned near your ear to whisper, "I'll be going all out against you and I trust you'll make it a thoroughly enjoyable experience for me~"

Your face turned red at her words, "Will you even get the time? Won't the banquet go on till late night?"

"Hmm, that depends on me and my victory~"

You let out a sigh and accepted her deal. Eirene still wished you'd have come to the banquet, your presence would have eased some pressure and thrown people away from her but in truth she simply wanted to be with you than the pretentious bunch hogging her. The war tonight was fought with tactics, seductions, boasting etc— everything Eirene had been prepared for. It really didn't feel like a birthday banquet for her, she was only waiting for the moment for it all to end.

It was 10 pm now as you were finishing the last stack of papers in your office. You'd have finished much earlier had your mind not been occupied with thoughts of Eirene and the words she spoke, you wondered what she wanted to do with you and your mind always wandered to particular fantasies which you'd have to bring yourself out of and focus on work. You looked at the clock and questioned if she was really coming, you knew her victory was guaranteed but you were concerned for her wellbeing. Parties of the rich were exhausting, after all.

Some moments later, a knock resounded on your door and your hopes skyrocketed thinking Eirene had arrived. But you were met with slight disappointment as it was simply your Adjutant reminding you to sleep on time and not overwork yourself. You shook your head and let out a sigh before resting back on the chair, gazing up at the ceiling. You wondered what Eirene was doing, how the party went, if she enjoyed or it really was a battle as she called it. Suddenly, another knock came followed by the door opening and your eyes widened.

"Still awake, Chief? I see you waited for me~"

It was Eirene. She was still wearing the dress you saw her in earlier, her face slightly flushed as if she was tipsy.

"E-Eirene! I didn't think you would...."

"Hm? Why wouldn't I? I made a promise to you, I'd never break your trust."

You quickly stood up and walked up to her, allowing her inside by gently holding her arm. Her body leaned into you and pressed you against the wall, her head resting on your chest.

"Are you okay? You shouldn't have forced yourself, you must be tired after the party."

"Mmm.... I'm fine, Chief. It was indeed quite draining but I saved enough energy to be with you~"

You felt guilty for refusing her invitation, had you known she wanted you around so much then you would have swallowed your hesitations and came for her. Eirene leaned away from you and stood up straight, looking at you with a smile that seemed to hold some expectations.

"So... how was it? What all did you do?" you asked her.

"The usual. Throwing off guests trying to flatter me and have a share in my fortune, having a battle of wits with enemies trying to make me slip up and spill my secrets, and avoiding weasels who slink up to me in hopes of grazing my body."

Eirene stated nonchalantly, showing just how common such things were for her.

"....Did you eat something? Or even drink?" you asked, worried.

"Certainly; the dining table is another battlefield, after all~"

You let out a sigh while she chuckled softly.

"So, what do you want to do now? I'd really want you to rest up."

"Don't forget your end of the deal, Chief. I'm still ready for another battle tonight~"

"Hah~ Fine, come with me then."

You grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the office, leading her to the cafeteria. The place was empty now as all Sinners had retracted to their cells, the staff was essentially up just for you and your late-night requirements. You went to the bar area first and sat down with her, ordering a few drinks for both of you.

"Drink as you want, Eirene. Nobody is here to trap you in your words and reveal your secrets."

Eirene chuckled and picked up the glass in front of her then clinked it with yours while announcing 'cheers'. You both took one sip while gazing at each other then she languidly leaned against the bar table, letting her hair flow free from the bun and fanning her face. She then began ranting about the kind of people she met and what conversations she had, letting all her frustrations out as alcohol slowly climbed in her system. She wouldn't do this anywhere else or with anyone other than you, the trust between you and her was one of a kind.

"You know, Chief, all this would be more tolerable had you been there. Now that we are revealing all our thoughts, why don't you say the real reason for declining the invitation?"

You looked at her with hesitance and pursed your lips, "It's nothing serious, I didn't lie about the work and feeling out of place...."

Eirene chuckled and kept her palm on your thigh, slowly rubbing it in circles as if to rile you up.

"That's unfair, Chief. I thought there were no secrets between us~"

You knew nothing would escape Eirene, she saw through your half-truth easily. You looked down and gritted your teeth then finally let go.

"W-Well, I thought you'd be judged quite harshly for inviting me. You know, why would the Quinn CEO have any relation with the Chief of MBCC bla bla..."

An amused smirk crept up Eirene's face, she had already made guesses about the reason and this one was the most likely in her eyes.

"Hehe~ How easy you are to read, Chief. I know you are the straightforward type, but don't wear your heart on your sleeve so much. Try to make your behaviour more.... unpredictable~"

"You are the one who's too good at interpreting people! I was being very cautious this time....!"

Eirene let out a hearty laugh, perhaps the first time she laughed so openly today. You pouted as you felt ridiculed but soon eased out looking at her carefree state, you were glad to see her enjoy even if a little. She stopped laughing then looked at you with a smile and interlaced her hand with yours.

"Let's play some games, Chief~"

You were caught off-guard by her proposal, "Games? Like board games or something?"

"Mhm, you have some in the recreational area, don't you?~"

"A-Anything but chess, please...."

"Haha~ Don't think I cannot beat you in other games, Chief. Well, I'll let you pick a game~"

You sighed then made your way over to the recreational area together, you looked around to decide upon a game where you'd have a decent chance of winning then finally settled on one.

"How about Pool?" you suggested.

"Interesting choice.... do you think I won't be able to beat you in this?~"

"Not really, but I feel I can put up a better challenge than in others~"

"A good challenge, that's what I wanted. Don't disappoint me now, Chief~"

You walked up to a Pool table and arranged the balls then took your respective positions with cue sticks in hand. Eirene let you have the opening move to give you a head start and the match continued from there. The goal was the usual- score the most pockets without fouling. The match turned quite heated as you teased each other for failed moves or missed chances, the alcohol riled you up from Eirene's provocations and you became quite serious about winning while Eirene appeared as calm as ever.

"Why don't you show your true nature, Chief. I know you are hiding some kind of secret move~" Eirene taunted.

The match was going head-to-head for the most part until you finally took the lead for a while but Eirene recovered soon after. It reached the point where only 1 ball remained, the deciding play for victory. You took your position and angled the cue stick with focus and precision then hit the ball but missed the pocket due to applying too much power. The ball rebound from the edge and ended up on your side again.

You clicked your tongue and stepped away to give Eirene space and have her turn. You were pinned up to the wall as the space between the table and wall was rather small this side, you should have stepped to the other side instead. Eirene eyed you deviously as she walked in front of you before bending upon the table and angling the cue stick. Somehow, she was perfectly positioned right in front of you which made her butt stick out and rub against your crotch.

You shivered from the unexpected stimulation and gazed at Eirene's figure. You suddenly felt hot all over looking at her exposed back as it was arched up from her position and the way her curvy behind snuggled against your crotch. You looked at her face and she was focused on the play, not at all bothered by what was happening behind her. You wondered if she did this intentionally, you wouldn't be surprised if she did. She then moved in circles for a bit as she adjusted her position to find the perfect angle.

You lost all focus on the game and were only looking at her now, your hands trembling with the urge to hold her. Your pants felt tighter and you hoped she wouldn't notice but you knew that would be in vain. She then suddenly stepped back a little, completely pressing her butt into you and squeezing you against the wall. You held back a groan and tried to shift out of the way but it was difficult, you were trapped by her. You tried to look up at the game and saw her hit the ball finally, and to your dismay, it went in the pocket making her the winner.

Eirene stood back up and you breathed a sigh of relief while she turned around to face you with a big smile on her face, "See, I told you, Chief!~"

You were practically sweating now and did your best to hide your semi-erection, "Y-Yeah, congratulations! I guess we should call it a night now! I'll drop you off—"

You turned away from her and were about to walk away while wiping your sweat when Eirene held your hand and pulled you towards her before pinning you on the wall. The next moment, her lips were quickly pressed on yours while her hands cupped your face possessively. Your eyes widened but you couldn't hold back your urges anymore, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her even closer. The whole game had riled you up due to her taunts and provocations, and the last 'interaction' was the breaking point.

"Don't act so innocent, Chief. I want my prize for winning now~"

She whispered between the kiss, her knee grinding against your erection.

"You did that intentionally.... mmh... d-didn't you?"

"Don't say you didn't like it. Look at your state now~"

"Is this what you wanted all along? You shouldn't have wasted time with the game then~"

"Mmm, it was fun. I liked being able to enjoy without any worries. Now, I expect you to give me a real gift. You have to thoroughly please me~"

"Yes ma'am~"

Eirene smirked before smashing her lips to yours again, engaging in a passionate kiss. Your tongues mingled together, your hands groping each other to pull off any piece of clothing. Eirene discarded your coat and unbuttoned some of your shirt before sliding her hands down to unbuckle your belt. Your hands found the knot of the strings of her dress and hurriedly loosened it, letting it fall down her upper body and exposing her breasts.

"W-Wait! We should move elsewhere—!" you protested.

"I don't mind it, Chief. Nobody will come here at this hour, and you can delete all the footage from the cameras later~"

Eirene husked before going down to kiss your neck and chest, leaving prints of her red lipstick on your skin. An idea occurred to you all of a sudden, you pressed the button on your ear piece and eyed the camera in the corner.

"N-Nightingale, turn off the cameras in the recreational area for tonight. Also, nobody is allowed to come here until I say so...."

There was silence for a moment before a reply finally came, "....As you say, Chief."

You removed the ear piece after her reply and threw it across the Pool table. Eirene had already opened your pants button and unzipped your flyer, palming your erection through your underwear.

"Good thinking, Chief. See, I knew you are worthy to be my partner in crime~"

She was about to take out your cock when you pushed her back making her lean against the Pool table and grasped her leg up to your thigh, pressing your bulge to her clothed core. She let out a sultry gasp, lacing her hands in your hair and clenching your back with her nails.

"Ahh.... calm down, Chief. I'm not going anywhere tonight~"

Eirene whispered while rocking back n forth on your erection. You dived in near her neck and inhaled her intoxicating scent while pressing kisses to her skin, pleasured sighs leaving her mouth and flowing in your ears. She nipped your shoulder before biting down at a spot, making you hiss before grabbing her breasts and kneading them.

"S-Sorry that I didn't come, I didn't think you wanted me there so much. I was just worried for your—"

"Shh, say no more, Chief. I'm used to doing these things alone, but knowing that there is someone out there genuinely supporting me gives me lot of encouragement. It's just that.... the party would have certainly been more enjoyable with you, and you already gave me an enjoyable time now. It's rare to have a chance to be alone with you like this, why don't you please me as you promised?~"

You nodded with a smile then dropped to your knees, spreading apart her legs to expose her soaked core. You caressed her legs up to her thighs then slid of her panties that were already wet with arousal, followed by rubbing you finger over her folds. Eirene softly sighed in pleasure and rested her legs on your shoulders, essentially pulling your face closer to her core. You looked up at her and saw her smirk before intertwining her fingers in your hair, tugging you forward.

You raised up her thighs then lapped up her folds once, sending a shiver in her body which made her arch up. You followed this with more licks to her clit, flicking your tongue on the bud in quick motions. Eirene hummed as your tongue went deeper, eventually plunging it inside her and sucking. Your thumb circled her clit while you ate her out, your tongue grazing her sensitive spots and sucking on them. Her grip in your hair tightened and she pulled you deeper, wrapping her legs around your head and squeezing you in.

"Y-Yes, Chief.... aaah.... right there.... Oh! You are good at this— hngh~!"

She leaned back on the table more, her body heaving as her orgasm approached. Her free hand went to pinch and twirl her nipple, she gazed at you with ragged breaths and adored your focused state pleasuring her so well. She loved having you worship her this way, treating her no less than a queen. She doesn’t care what others would think of her being with you, they don’t know you like she does and.... when have they ever known her true self even? She ran her hand through her luscious hair, tilting her head back and moaning your name, moaning for you to go deeper and harder.

That’s exactly what you did as your mouth latched onto her clit and sucked the bundle of nerves while fingering her walls, finally making her release. Eirene sat heaving as you cleaned her up before standing up, she immediately pulled you in by your neck into a passionate kiss while she felt your throbbing erection rub against her abdomen. She was impatient now, too pent up to go slow and sensual. Her palm slipped past your underwear and directly grabbed your shaft, wasting no time to finally free it from the confines.

“L-Let me get a condom....” you stated and were about to walk away when Eirene gripped your shaft tighter and essentially pulled you closer by it.

“Leave it now, Chief. It’s too late for it~”

“But—”

“Oh, just be quiet now~” Eirene abruptly kissed you while trying to align your length to her core. “It’s fine today, I need it this way~” She whispered against your lips and you let go of all worries too as you gripped your cock and rubbed the tip across her vulva, mixing your pre-cum and her slick.

“Mmm.... don’t be so gentlemanly now, Chief. I’m expecting you to fuck me~”

Her words caught you off-guard as she rarely used such crude language. You then shoved forward and plunged inside her in a single thrust, entering her half way then sliding to the hilt. You groaned together at the penetration, feeling overwhelmed by her warm walls enveloping you tightly and your girthy length filling her up completely. Eirene arched back and wrapped her legs around you while gripping your shoulders, a nod from her was all you need before starting to thrust in and out.

You started slow at first just to ease her, you were tempted to slam in as she wanted but that wasn't your style and you knew Eirene loved it your way more. Her hooded eyes gazed into yours, conveying an insatiable lust and need, the look making you lose control and increase your pace. She bit her lower lip as you became faster and deeper, pulling out till the tip remained then quickly shoving in all the way. She felt all her sensitive spots being touched at the same time, your cock was inside her so well.

"C-Come on, Chief.... We are not lovers— aaah.... y-you don't need to be so careful~"

You gritted your teeth then suddenly lunged forward and laid her flat on the table while plunging down into her at a harsh pace. Eirene moaned incoherently, surprised by the change but loving it nonetheless.

"I'll still fuck you like a lover— guh!~" you announced as you slammed into her, your thighs slapping against hers as you kept up the pace. Eirene smirked in victory and pulled you in for a hug, wrapping her arms around you while sweetly moaning in your ear.

"Show me then! Show me how you do it like I'm yours!~"

You buried your face in the crook of her neck and thrusted in and out at an animalistic pace, fucking her just the way she wanted. Her hands slid down your back making scratches from her nails, marking you up as her property. Eirene knew she wouldn't feel this pleasure from anyone else, all those people trying to flatter her to get inside her were worthless. It was ridiculous at some point, how could she feel this from you? But here she was, letting you ram into her like a beast and thoroughly enjoying it.

She was eventually turned over and bent against the Pool table now as you entered her from behind, impressed by your stamina as you hadn't cum yet. There was no way she was cumming before you, but she was finding it difficult to hold on with how your cock drilled at all her sweet spots just the way she liked. Your hands grasped her butt and spread her cheeks apart further, taking in the sight of your cock piercing her. It was irresisitible to have the Quinn CEO this way, little did you know you were the only one she'd bend over for.

"Aaahn! Yes! Yes! Mmmm~! F-Fuck me, Chief! Fuck me harder! Let it all out!~"

You grunted and pressed her lower back down, putting her in a beautiful arch with her head tilted to the back and eyes rolling to her skull. You then leaned forward and pressed your front to her back while your arms wrapped around her waist, sneaking down to touch her clit. Your thighs slapped against her ass and produced erotic sounds, your finger rubbing her clit eagerly to make her release.

"Eirene.... you are so tight d-damn.... Why don't we do this more? When was the last time we did this— ngh!~"

"F-Forgotten already, Chief? I don't blame you.... aaah.... i-it was almost 8 months ago... mmh!~"

"How did I live without being inside you for so long.... s-shit...."

"Y-You tell me, hehe.... Don't you have other people for this?~"

"No... I have been so busy, I didn't do with anyone else— fuck!~"

"Oh my, you have been pent-up for so long? Hehe, I'm glad to b-break your streak then— aaahn!~"

Eirene practically screamed as you suddenly made a harsh thrust, hitting her deepest spot then continuing to hammer at it the same way. It wasn't as fast as before but it was so much deeper and harder, she could feel every part of your cock graze her walls. You raised up her right leg and and put it over your shoulder then grabbed her waist and ploughed in and out brutually, the table creaking as her body bounced against it.

"I-I'm going to cum— fuck! Let me pull out!~"

"N-No, give it to me inside! You said you'll fuck me like a lover!~"

You took a deep breath then turned her over completely and pulled her up in your arms, carrying her as she bounced on your cock while you leaned against the wall. You hilted all the way as you finally released, gushing her walls with your thick stream of cum. She came at the same time and held your length in a deathly grip, practically milking you of every drop you had. She felt so full as your cum poured inside before you pulled out your cock, letting some drip down her thighs. You breathed out together and she leaned in to kiss you, you were worthy of her in every way and she hoped you'd understand that.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay,” he says cheerfully. “Tried YouTube yet? They’ve got tutorials for everything on there. I found a guy who taught me how to change my oil and tie a Windsor knot.” 

“Did you not know how to tie a Windsor knot?” Tim asks, both clearly puzzled and clearly a trust fund kid. 

“Naw, Bruce or Alfie always just materialized it for me whenever it came up,” Dick replies with an easy shrug. “Also had to learn how to shave from Ollie, which was definitely an experience. But Dinah taught me how to smuggle a full bottle of Jack into a bar in fishnets at the same time, which is actually really useful knowledge so remind me to pass that one on later. Donna and I literally saved most of San Francisco and our favorite coffee shop that way once. Oh, and Harvey was the one who explained taxes existed. Did not know those were a thing ‘til I was like, twenty.” 

Twenty-ish, anyway. Well, he’s twenty-three now, probably, so . . . eh, twenty-two at the latest. 

“. . . your life experiences are not universal,” Tim says after a long pause, like getting wooed with handmade nests and giant diamonds by a half-alien superclone and knowing how to tie a Windsor knot at age fifteen is somehow “universal”. No one in this conversation has been even slightly “universal” in their life experiences. 

“Are you telling Superboy about Robin yet?” Dick asks, and Tim–hesitates, a little. 

“I didn’t think it was mine to tell,” he replies carefully. “Most of the Justice League doesn’t even know about Robin.” 

“I told the Titans,” Dick replies with a shrug. “And Uncle Clark.” 

“Jason–” Tim starts, and Nightwing’s sleek feathers all instantly, involuntarily twitch. Tim cuts himself off, and Dick . . . doesn’t say anything, for a moment. 

Jason never told anyone about Robin. 

Though the Joker was pretty bored when he figured it out, apparently. A “real” person wasn’t as interesting as the mask. The mask being a mask wasn’t as interesting, maybe. 

( Dick doesn’t think about how much RAGE it puts in him, thinking about the Joker cutting Jason out of Robin’s wings and finding him BORING. thinking he was LESS than, thinking he wasn’t worth– 

it’s not the time for that. for any of that. 

it’s not. )

“You’re your own Robin,” Dick says. “It’s up to you who you tell what.” 

“I did tell Steph,” Tim says awkwardly, looking away. “Well . . . I mean . . .” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, baby bird,” Dick says. “Like I said: you’re your own Robin.” 

“But you were Robin first!” Tim practically bursts out, gesturing sharply with Robin’s wings. “And it just . . . it feels wrong, to tell people! Like it’s someone else’s secret. I only actually told Steph because I felt like I had to, if we were gonna–if we, you know–but Superboy doesn’t care whether I’m human or not, and she did, and . . . I never felt right about telling her anyway. Just because I thought I was supposed to, not because I . . . sorry. Just . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

( “I’M sorry,” Dick doesn’t say back, because he can never say that to Tim while he’s wearing Robin. 

it never ends up as him saying it to TIM, when he tries to. )

[thatdammchickennugget]

Mr. Sensible One

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

summary - watching over a sick four-year-old shouldn't be too difficult, right? But when a minor fever turns into a full-blown panic, you find yourself helping two very anxious godfathers through the ordeal—one of whom is surprisingly charming, despite the chaos

warnings - fluff, nurse!reader, teasing, reader is described with hair long enough to be put into a ponytail, muggle!reader, sick child, canon divergent (lily and james never died)

wordcount - 2.7k

a/n - a little oneshot to celebrate my new job at a pediatrician

Remus Lupin had always considered himself a calm, rational man, even in the face of adversity. After all, he’d lived through full moons, more than one near-death experience, and Sirius’ cooking on numerous occasions. But now, as he stood in the living room of his cramped but cozy little apartment, watching a sick and very miserable looking four-year-old Harry sniffling on the couch, that calm was quickly unraveling.

Harry let out a tiny sneeze, his face scrunching up as though the world had personally offended him. His glasses slipped down his nose as he pouted, tears brimming in his big green eyes. Remus’s heart sank.

“Is that—Pads, is that a fever?” Remus asked, holding a shaky hand to Harry��s forehead. “He feels warm, doesn’t he? I think he’s burning up.”

Sirius, who was pacing by the fireplace, stopped long enough to shoot a panicked glance at Remus. "Warm? He's on fire, Moony! Oh Merlin, I knew something like this would happen! We are so not cut out for this! James and Lily are going to murder us!"

Remus groaned, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "We can’t let them come back to find their son in pieces."

"I'm not cut out to be a godfather under these conditions," Sirius muttered, crouching next to Harry and trying to look reassuring. It wasn’t working. Harry stared at them both, looking pitiful and confused as if sensing the rising anxiety around him.

“Lily left us a number. For his pediatrician, I think!” Remus suddenly remembered, grabbing the note Lily had meticulously taped to his fridge before they left for their first vacation since Harry was born. "We just need to call the doctor, and everything will be fine."

"You can use a telephone?" Sirius asked, incredulity breaking through his worry.

Remus shot him a look. "It’s not that hard."

“Well, get on with it, then!” Sirius urged, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Remus fumbled with the phone, his mind racing. He had no idea how to explain what was going on. He had even less of an idea what a Muggle pediatrician could do for a magical child, but Lily had sworn by this doctor. As the phone rang, Remus felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hello, Willowbrook Pediatrics, how can I help you?" a warm, feminine voice answered.

For a second, Remus could only blink in surprise. The voice was soothing, far more relaxed than he was at the moment. It brought him back down to earth, just a little.

"Er—hello, this is Remus Lupin," he stammered, shifting on his feet as Sirius threw him an impatient look. "I’m watching a little boy, Harry Potter—he's, um, he’s my friend’s kid. I think he’s sick? And I think he’s got a fever? I—I’m not sure what I should be doing."

There was a small pause on the other end of the line. Remus’s anxiety flared again until he heard a soft chuckle.

“You sound like you’re ready to have a heart attack, Mr. Lupin. Don’t worry. Kids get sick all the time, especially at that age. It’s probably nothing serious. Why don’t you bring him in, and we’ll take a look?”

Remus blinked, thrown by her casual tone. "Bring him in? Oh, right. Yes, of course. I should’ve thought of that." He pinched the bridge of his nose. Why didn’t I think of that?

“You’re doing fine," the nurse added gently, still sounding amused. "Just breathe. You’re not the first one to call in a panic. We’ve seen it all.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, his cheeks warming in embarrassment.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you,” she replied, and then, as if to reassure him one more time, “I promise, he’s going to be alright. Just come in when you can.”

When the line disconnected, Remus let out a long breath, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“Well?” Sirius asked, practically bouncing on his heels. “What’d they say?”

Remus pocketed the phone. “We’re taking him in. She said it’s probably nothing serious.”

Sirius visibly sagged in relief. "See, I knew we’d be fine. We can handle this."

Remus wasn’t so sure, but as he bundled Harry up to go, his mind kept circling back to the voice on the phone.

ੈ♡˳

Remus wasn’t entirely sure how he expected a Muggle pediatrician's office to look, but the moment he and Sirius walked in with Harry in tow, he was immediately overwhelmed. Brightly colored walls, posters of cartoon animals, and shelves lined with toys greeted them. Children’s laughter echoed from a small play area in the corner, though Remus was fairly certain one or two were close to tears. The mix of noise made his head spin.

"Is it always this chaotic?" Sirius muttered under his breath, eyeing a child trying to climb one of the chairs in the waiting area.

"It’s a doctor’s office, Pads, not Azkaban," Remus replied, though he too was a little out of his element. Harry, clutching his favorite stuffed dragon under one arm, looked miserable, his cheeks flushed from the fever.

“Here, sit down with Harry. I’ll handle the paperwork,” Remus said, gently guiding Harry toward a row of chairs.

“Paperwork? What paperwork?” Sirius asked, frowning.

"Just sit down," Remus sighed, already walking toward the front desk.

As he approached, he noticed the receptionist—the same voice he'd heard on the phone. You were scribbling something on a clipboard, completely focused, but when you looked up, your face softened into a welcoming smile.

"Mr. Lupin, right?" you asked, looking at him with the same warmth he'd heard earlier.

Remus felt a flicker of recognition, though he couldn’t place it. Something about you seemed familiar. "Yes, Remus Lupin. I called earlier."

You nodded. “Yeah, I recognized Harry.” ou peered over his shoulder, gaze falling on the tired little boy snuggled into Sirius’s side.

“Yes, that’s him. He’s, uh…not feeling great,” Remus said, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

You smiled gently. “Poor thing. We’ll get him looked at as soon as possible." You handed Remus a clipboard with a short form. "I just need you to fill out a few details—basic information— because he hasn’t been here yet this year, and then the doctor can see him.”

Remus stared down at the form, trying not to let his bewilderment show. It was mostly straightforward, but some of the questions made him pause. Medical history? Allergies? He wished Lily were here to fill this out, but he scribbled in what he knew, occasionally glancing up to see Harry leaning more heavily on Sirius.

“You seem like you’re doing better now than when you called,” you remarked, noticing his tense scribbles.

Remus chuckled nervously. “You, uh, caught me at a bad time. I didn’t realize how difficult this would be.”

"Well, you're doing great," you reassured him, eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. “You’re not the first to panic over a sick kid. Happens all the time.”

“I’m not usually one to panic,” he said quickly, though his mind betrayed him by flashing back to that morning's chaos. Except when it comes to Harry.

You tilted your head, a strand of hair falling loose from your ponytail as you studied him. "You really care about him, don’t you?"

Remus blinked at the observation. "Of course. He's... he means a lot to me. To us," he corrected, glancing over at Sirius, who was currently trying to distract Harry by making funny faces.

Your smile deepened, a fondness in your eyes. “Lily picked well, then.” you said it so casually that for a moment, Remus wasn’t sure if he heard right.

“Wait,” he said slowly, realization dawning. "You know Lily?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Oh, I probably should’ve mentioned that earlier. I’m Y/N, an old friend of hers from school. Well, before she went to boarding school, anyways. We’ve known each other since we were kids."

Remus stared, momentarily thrown. How had Lily never mentioned you?

“I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, feeling a little foolish. “She’s never mentioned you before. I’m sorry.”

You waved it off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t see her much anymore, with everything going on in her world. But we stayed in touch.”

Her world. Remus knew exactly what that meant. You might have been unaware of the magical specifics, but you clearly knew Lily had a separate life. He wanted to ask more, but a small voice from behind interrupted his thoughts.

“Uncle Moony,” Harry mumbled, reaching out for him, his little face pinched with discomfort.

Remus was by his side in an instant. “Hey, bub. You’re going to see the doctor soon, okay? They’ll help you feel better.”

You watched the scene unfold with a soft smile before standing up from behind the desk. “We’ll get him checked out right away,” you said kindly, motioning for them to follow toward one of the exam rooms.

Remus gently lifted Harry into his arms, the boy's tiny hands clutching onto his shirt as he rested his head on Remus's shoulder. His breathing was shallow, his face warm against Remus’s neck. Despite the weight of worry settling in his chest, he offered Harry a small smile.

“Let’s get you sorted, kiddo.”

Sirius was right behind them, glancing back and forth between Remus and you, his curiosity clearly piqued. “So,” he began casually, falling into step beside you. “You and Lily, huh? That’s a surprise. I don’t remember her mentioning any old friends.”

You chuckled, pace unhurried. “I’m not surprised. We lost touch for a while after she went to that mysterious ‘boarding school’ of hers. I guess her life changed quite a bit after that.”

Sirius hummed in response, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Remus shot him a warning look over Harry’s head, as if reminding Sirius to tread carefully. The last thing they needed was to accidentally expose the Wizarding world to an unsuspecting Muggle, especially one who was apparently still connected to Lily. Sirius winked at him, clearly taking that as a challenge.

“So, Y/N,” Sirius continued, his voice dropping to a mock-conspiratorial tone, “what exactly did Lily tell you about her boarding school?”

You laughed again, this time more softly, shaking your head as you led them down the hallway. “Not as much as you’d think. It’s always been this huge mystery, like something out of a fantasy novel. She’d come back every summer with these wild stories, but when I pressed her, she’d just change the subject. I think she enjoyed keeping me in the dark.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, intrigued by how much you didn’t know. He wondered how Lily had navigated that line between two worlds for so long. “Didn’t it drive you mad not knowing?” he asked, genuinely curious.

You shrugged, opening the door to one of the exam rooms. “Sometimes. But we’ve been friends for so long… I figured if it was something she wanted to tell me, she would. Besides, I always got to hear lots about James. And about you two as well.”

Remus blinked, startled by the mention of himself and Sirius. "Us?" he echoed, stepping into the exam room with Harry still nestled against him.

Sirius raised an amused eyebrow. "Oh, do tell. What stories has our dear Lily been spreading about us?"

You smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Well, I wouldn’t say 'spreading,' but she did mention you two from time to time. You, especially, Sirius. Something about you being…what was it? Oh right, 'impossible to control’. And Remus here was always 'the sensible one, the voice of reason.’” You chuckled. “But it seems like that balance has worked out well for you all these years."

Sirius puffed up with mock pride, placing a hand over his heart. "Impossible to control? I take that as a compliment."

Remus rolled his eyes, shifting Harry slightly in his arms. "I’m sure she meant it that way."

You chuckled at their banter, pushing off from the doorframe to prepare the exam room. “Well, you three certainly sound like a handful, from what I’ve heard.”

Sirius flashed you a charming grin, ever the extrovert, already opening his mouth for another quip. Remus shot Sirius a pointed look, but his attention quickly shifted back to Harry, whose tiny frame seemed even smaller sitting on the exam table. He gently brushed a hand through the boy's messy hair. "He's still burning up," Remus murmured softly, the worry evident in his voice.

Sensing the shift in mood, you turned back to them, your tone professional but kind. "Alright, let's take a look and see what's going on with him."

As you moved toward Harry, Sirius leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to seem relaxed, though the concern in his eyes betrayed him. Remus sat on the edge of the table, still holding Harry’s hand. The boy stirred a bit, his feverish eyes flickering open just enough to meet yours.

"Hey there, Harry," you said softly, crouching down to his level. "I'm just going to check a few things, okay? You’re going to feel better soon, I promise."

Harry nodded weakly, his bottom lip quivering as you took out a thermometer. As you gently placed it under his arm, Remus kept whispering reassurances, his thumb softly rubbing circles on the back of Harry’s hand.

"So, how long has he been like this?" you asked, glancing up at them.

Remus bit his lip, thinking. "Just since this morning, I think. He was fine last night when we put him to bed. But then he woke up with this fever, and he’s been sluggish and…off."

Sirius chimed in, unable to contain himself. "He's not usually like this, you know. He's normally bouncing off the walls, keeping us on our toes."

You nodded, your practiced hand moving swiftly as you checked Harry's vitals. "Sounds like it could just be a regular bug. Kids his age are bound to catch something sooner or later. But we'll see what the doctor says."

After a few more moments of quiet examination, you straightened up and smiled at them both. “The doctor will be in soon, but it looks like a pretty standard fever so far. You’re doing the right thing bringing him in.”

Remus exhaled a breath, the weight of the moment lessening, but his eyes still reflected lingering concern. Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “See, Moony? We’ve got this.”

You handed Remus a small packet of information, including instructions for monitoring Harry’s fever. At first he didn’t even notice the sticky note you left on top. “This should help too. But don’t hesitate to call if things change.”

As you made your way back to the door, you hesitated for a moment before turning around with a smile, your voice slightly teasing. “And if you need any more help with Harry—or anything else—don’t be afraid to use that other number I gave you.” You gave Remus a wink before walking out, leaving Sirius snickering and Remus flushing a light shade of pink as he looked down to find your phone number scribbled on the note.

Sirius grinned widely, nudging Remus with his elbow. “Well, well, Mr. Sensible One, looks like you’ve made an impression.”

Remus groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Shut up, Pads.”

Sirius wasn’t about to let it go, though. “A wink and everything. You should ask her to dinner or something—Lily would love it. And think about it, Moony, you’d finally get out of the house.”

Remus gave him a long-suffering look, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We’re here for Harry, not me."

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius drawled, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms. “But Harry’s not the only one who deserves to feel better, is he?”

With a small laugh, Remus glanced down at the packet of papers in his hand, his thoughts lingering just a little longer on those numbers staring back at him. Maybe Sirius was right… maybe he did deserve a bit of happiness, too.

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

[arkadijxpancakes]

Yes. The Weasleys had too many kids. An analysis. (Part 2 of 2)

So, where were we? Right. The Weasleys have so many kids that it fucks with their family dynamic and with the mental health of everyone involved. Last time, we looked at Molly and Arthur during the war. We ended in 1981, which means that all kids are born, now. Molly is still nursing. (It’s common to nurse kids up to two or three years, while slowly weaning them, so I assume that this is what Molly does.) She’s finally done with becoming pregnant every other year, however. And it’s about time, because her workload is bigger, than any single person can handle. And while it will decrease over time, it will stay enormous for the next couple of years.

1982 – Bill (who will be 12 at the end of the year) starts Hogwarts. It’s his first lick of freedom. There is no babysitting-duty at Hogwarts. All he has to do is stay out of trouble and earn good grades. Other than that, he is free to do what he wants. He will be the only Weasley-sibling in Hogwarts for two years. Because of this, his parents probably have enough money in reserve to buy him a full Hogwarts-kit without resorting to second-hand-stuff too much. (He might get second-hand books, but his robes and wand are probably new.)

At home, life is still hard for Molly. She has one less kid to take care of, but the kids who are still in her care are a handful. She still needs to teach Charlie. Percy got 6 over the summer and is a little nerd, so she is likely teaching him, too. Fred and George are still chaos incarnate. (And they are just getting started, really.)

Bill’s duties (chores around the home and watching his younger brothers) get passed down to Charlie. Percy might try his hand on this, too, because he is still in direct competition with the twins and Mum gives him attention when he helps her.

The war is over and the Weasleys start to feel the effects of this. As Death Eaters are captured and sentenced, the Wizarding World starts to feel safe, again. The stress eases off (but Molly is probably still grieving.) 

Arthur’s work schedule slowly goes back to more normal levels, allowing him to spend more time at home. However, he missed out on a big chunk of his children’s childhood. It’s also hard to return to his role as a parent, because at this point, the roles of the family are pretty much established: Molly is in charge and does most of the work. Some of the easier chores are passed down to her kids (first Bill, now Charlie, later Percy). This includes watching over his younger brothers while Molly takes care of her toddlers. It’s kind of hard for him to integrate himself into this dynamic. (Just imagine him doing the laundry or the dishes – it’s very likely that he has a different way for doing this, which could easily disrupt Molly’s workflow or simply just annoy her.) 

I think he will mostly stick to the stuff he did when Bill and Charlie were little. So he’s taking his kids out for trips on the weekends. But this is difficult, too, because it’s not Bill and Charlie anymore, but Charlie, Percy, Fred and George. Their dynamic is entirely different, and it’s hard to keep an eye on all of them, while also satisfying their needs equally. (Especially because Percy, Fred and George start to clash.) As a result, the trips are probably not as frequent as they once were.

It’s also possible that Arthur picks up his Muggle-hobby at this point. (Picking up this hobby causes him to spend at least some evenings in his shed, tinkering with Muggle-stuff instead of helping his wife. I imagine him to fade into the background a little bit, while he leaves the household and child-rearing to his wife.)

1984 – Charlie starts Hogwarts.

There are now two Weasley-Siblings at Hogwarts, but things are still pretty chill for them. It’s still just Bill and Charlie, after all. Bill is probably considered trustworthy enough by his teachers to receive a time-turner, so he can take all electives Hogwarts has to offer. (I do wonder how much Molly’s expectations are playing into this. She clearly expects her children to do well at Hogwarts, both in terms of grades and behavior. At this point, he is either a massive nerd like Hermione, trying to perform well to fulfill his mother’s expectations, or both. He is also setting a standard for his siblings here, whether this is on his own accord or because of pressure he receives from Molly.)

At home, Percy (now 8) takes over Charlie’s duties. He tries to control Fred and George. It’s likely that he fails miserably. They are just too close age-wise for this to work. 

Fred and George are 6 now and start to play rough. Last year, Fred turned Ron’s teddy bear into a giant spider (which probably caused Ron to develop arachnophobia). Next year, they will try to talk Ron into making an Unbreakable Vow with them. So keeping an eye on them is getting harder, not easier.

At this point in time, Scabbers exceeds the life span of his species. Rats can get up to two or three years old. (And Rowling knows this. This information is included in book 3, when Ron takes Scabbers to the pet store to have the witch there check on him.) This is Scabbers third year with the Weasleys, so his time is up. No one seems to notice, though. I don’t blame Percy (or the other kids) for this, but Molly and Arthur should notice that they don’t have to replace a rat or have a talk about how Scabbers is happier in the great rat heaven. They don’t and I wonder why. My suggestions are: a) They are either not paying any attention to Percy and his pet (which would suck) or b) Scabbers is turning into Peter and uses a wand (his own or Molly’s) to confund them as needed (which would suck even more).

1987 – Percy starts Hogwarts.

At the end of the 1986/87 school year, Bill (who is a prefect now) takes his OWL in all 12 courses Hogwarts has to offer. It’s possible he returns his time turner after this or keeps it until his graduation to deal with his NEWT-workload. He now starts his sixth year. Charlie is in his fourth year and is already on the Quidditch team. Molly is very, very proud of both of them.

Percy is a wee first year and doesn’t have to watch out for any younger siblings for once. He can focus on learning instead. He is probably the first boy in the family to end up with hand-me-down robes, as he has a similar build as Bill and Bill has probably outgrown his first set.

Scabbers is six, now. So he has lived twice as long as a normal rat would. Still, no one has caught up to the fact that he is awfully old for a rat. It’s very likely that he accompanies Percy to Hogwarts. (It should be noted that Hogwarts only allows cats, owls and toads as pets, so Percy probably got a permission to bring a rat instead. However, no one at the school notices Scabber’s age either.)

Life at home is still chaotic. Fred and George are 10, Ron is 8 and Ginny is 7. Molly is probably teaching all of them. Her workload is slowly going down to a more manageable level, but keeping the twins in check is still a challenge.

She probably doesn’t expect Fred and George to do chores and watch over their siblings. (At least not in the same way she expected from her older kids.) Mostly, because she can’t trust them to do it. (Remember the Unbreakable Vow? Yeah, that.) Additionally, Ron simply has no authority over them, so that’s not an option either.

1989 – Fred and George start Hogwarts.

In his seventh year, Bill was made Head Boy. By now, he took his NEWTs and left school. He probably returns home for a little while, before he takes the first chance he gets to fuck off to Egypt and play with cursed tombs. (We should probably talk about English wizards, Egyptian treasures and colonialism here, but that’s a completely different can of worms.)

Charlie took his OWL and is now in his sixth year. He’s still on the Quidditch team and should be Quidditch Captain by now. He’s also a prefect. So between them, they got all the big achievements Hogwarts has to offer: Prefect (both of them), Head Boy (Bill) and Quidditch Captain (Charlie). Bill also got 12 OWL, which is an achievement on its own. Molly will measure her other children against this later.

Speaking of Molly: While her home life is going to relax a lot this year, her expectations are still around. She is still expecting her kids to do well in school. Considering that Fred and George are now at Hogwarts, the old demand “Watch over your younger siblings!” is back and in full swing. I can’t see Charlie doing it – he has his head full of dragons and Quidditch and lived five blissful years in Hogwarts without the need to look after anyone all that much. Sure, Percy was at school, but he has already learned to look after himself. I don’t think Charlie will start with this now. Not unless the twins interfere with his prefect- or Quidditch-duties or are completely out of line.

Percy is a different story, however. He is in his third year and still taking after Bill. Just like Bill he takes all electives, so it is likely that he also gets a time turner for this. At this point, Percy has ingrained the idea that he needs to perform exceptionally well at school and Bill set an incredible high bar to reach, but he is willing to do just that. He also spent a lot more time at home dealing with the twins. Molly’s expectations for him to be a good boy and to look after his younger brothers will now put pressure on him again. He will probably try to control their chaotic behavior, but they are 11 now, and they will listen to him even less than before.

For Fred and George, this is heaven. They finally escaped the watchful eyes of their mother and have a whole new world to explore. So many secret passageways and even more victims to play pranks on. Percy is annoying, but they can play pranks on him, too. They will soon steal the Marauder’s Map from Filch’s office, which will open up even more possibilities. It’s great. 10/10, no notes.

Life at home is finally manageable. It’s just Molly, Ron and Ginny (and also Arthur and his Muggle-stuff). This is probably a nice time for Ron, because there are no older siblings around to steal his limelight. However, at this point he has the family dynamic internalized and his self-esteem is pretty low overall.

1991 – Ron starts Hogwarts.

By now, Charlie has left Hogwarts. It is unlikely that he actually finished his education, however. When Harry becomes a member of the Gryffindor team in Philosopher’s Stone, Fred says: “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but this year’s team is going to be brilliant.” Had Charlie finished his education, he would have left in summer 1991. The quote is from autumn 1991. In this case, the quote would make no sense, because there were no matches for Gryffindor to lose between Charlie leaving and Harry becoming Gryffindor’s new seeker. So he must have left before then, probably sometime in his sixth or seventh year, after his seventeenth birthday.

It’s important to note that we don’t read about any fights over this. I can’t imagine Molly being happy with this, but he must have had her permission. (Otherwise we would know about it. Molly can’t shut up about the failures of the twins, she would not shut up about Charlie’s failures either.)

Percy is in his fifth year and a prefect. By now he is the career-driven rules lawyer we meet in canon. He will end this school year by taking all 12 OWL – just like Bill. (When Ron is made prefect in OotP, Molly makes sure to tell everyone that he is now a prefect, just like his older brothers, and she seems very comfortable doing so. I assume, Percy heard his fair share of this, when he was made prefect.)

The twins are in their third year and members of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. By now, they have earned themselves a reputation as pranksters.

Ron is the sixth Weasley-kid to enter Hogwarts. While his older siblings might have gotten some second-hand stuff, everything he owns was basically handed down to him: Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand and Percy’s old pet rat. To be clear: none of those things make much sense to hand down (or at least not to Ron).

Bill’s old robes should have gone to Percy after Bill left Hogwarts. They should be of a similar height, while Ron (as an eleven-year-old) should be somewhat smaller. Instead of handling it that way, Percy got new robes as a reward and Bill’s robes were handed down to Ron. This is clear favoritism on Molly’s part. It’s no surprise that Ron (who already feels overlooked by his parents) feels upset about it.

Giving him Charlie’s old wand makes even less sense. We know, that the wand chooses its wizard. Charlie’s wand did not choose Ron, so it would not perform as well for him. In addition, in book 1 the wand is described as follows: “He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.”

That thing is basically falling apart. That was either a lot of wear and tear during Charlie’s time at Hogwarts (considering the fact that we have not heard anything about this with other wands, this is unlikely) or the wand was already a hand-me-down when Charlie got it. In either case, giving Ron a wand that has its core more or less poking out, doesn’t sound very safe. I wonder why Arthur and Molly decided to do this. Did they expect Ron to have a great learning experience with a damaged wand? Did they want Ron to use the wand until it eventually did break, saving them another year or two before they had to buy a new one? (And yes, they would indeed need to buy him a new one in his third year, but they had no way of knowing that. Unless there are prophecies for that kind of shit. And even then. The fuck?)

Money is tight, of course. But is it really that tight? They could afford to get Percy an owl, after all. And buying a wand for their son is an expense they've had 11 years to plan. I understand getting second-hand robes and cauldrons, as they see a lot of wear and tear. But this should not apply to a wand in the same way. This is just really, really odd.

And then there is the elephant – and with elephant I mean rat – in the room: Scabbers. Firstly, that rat should be dead for at least seven years by now. No one seems to notice. No one cares. What the fuck.

Secondly, why is Percy giving his pet to Ron? There just isn’t a great explanation for this. Scabbers has been his pet for ten years. TEN. Percy should be attached to his pet like glue. After all, he has Scabbers since he can remember. Why is he willing to part with his rat? The only reasons I can think of:

1) He does it because Molly asks him to. She is clearly playing favorites, here. Not only does he get new robes when he becomes prefect, but he also receives his very own owl as a gift. It’s possible that this owl comes with strings attached, and Percy is required to give Scabbers to Ron to get the owl. Which would be a pretty fucked up situation for every child involved and should’ve been handled differently.

2) Percy wants to get rid of Scabbers. He doesn’t know about Scabbers’ Peter-shaped secret, of course (otherwise he would’ve reported this). But it is possible that he feels, on a subconscious level, that something about Scabbers is off. Not in a dangerous way (again, he would’ve reported this), just in an unpleasant way. (This would still be odd. Especially when we consider that no one noticed Scabbers age.)

3) Scabbers has decided that it’s time to jump ship. Percy just turned fifteen this year. He is old enough to grow suspicious of his seemingly immortal rat. It’s possible that he cozied up to Ron to manipulate both boys into making the switch. Or he turned into Peter and confunded some Weasleys. Who knows. He’s still a Death Eater and mass murderer on the run, after all.

1992 – Ginny starts Hogwarts.

The flock has left the nest. Molly’s work is mostly over. It’s just her and Arthur who stay at the burrow. She still takes care of the household, but the responsibility for her kids rest on other people’s shoulders, now. There is nothing left to do, except knitting, sending care packages, worrying about her kids careers and hexing the occasional howler. Molly could get a job now or pick up a hobby or two. I mean, she does read Gilderoy Lockhart’s shitty books. She is a fan of his, after all. But she doesn’t seem to enter any community over this (no fan club, no reading circle, no nothing. It’s just her). And there are no other hobbies outside of that. 

Apropos community: We don’t really see her having a community. She is a pretty important side character, but the books never mention that she has friends or other contacts outside her family. It seems like she is focusing on her kids and only on her kids.

Which would explain her meddling. Because Molly meddles a lot, when it comes to her kids and their futures. She keeps putting pressure on Percy to look after his younger siblings – this will expand to Harry after she gets to know him. Percy (still a good boy) does as she wishes. It’s not healthy, neither for him nor for his relationship with his siblings (who are mostly annoyed by him), but Molly either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. In the future, she will be very cross with Hermione after reading Rita Skeeters articles about her. She will also be upset about the twins' career choice and Bill's choice of girlfriend…

And yeah, that’s basically it. At this point, the family dynamic is firmly established and ingrained in her children’s heads. Percy is already set up to explode in the near future. Being Molly’s Golden Child is neither good nor healthy, especially considering all the pressure that comes along with it. His relationship with his siblings isn’t all that great, either.

Fun fact: We don’t know if anyone ever told him about Scabbers’ Peter-shaped secret. If it did happen, it was probably pretty traumatic. That shit-show was his pet for ten fucking years and he handed it down to his younger brother. That’s nightmare fuel, even if Peter never hurt any of them.

The twins have firmly established themselves as troublemakers. At least some of their “jokes” really aren’t funny and border on cruel, neglectful and/or harmful. (Remember the Unbreakable Vow? Yeah, still not funny. In 1993, they also tried to lock Percy in a pyramid. Yes, I don’t think they wanted to hurt him, not really, but that thing was still a cursed tomb. Things could have gone wrong, and at that point they were old enough to know better. In their last year they tested their joke-sweets on younger students who were neither adequately informed nor old enough to consent for something like this. Yes, they tested the sweets on themselves first, but something could still have gone wrong because of allergies and all that stuff. And after they left Hogwarts and started their joke shop, they do sell love potions to students, complete with options to smuggle that shit into school. Additionally, instead of going bad/losing their potency, those love potions get stronger with age. This alone is a horror story waiting to happen.)

Ron is affected, too. His self-esteem is pretty low when he starts Hogwarts and it will stay that way throughout the series. This will inform a lot of his decisions (especially the bad ones) in the future. 

We don’t know much about how all of this affected Bill, Charlie and Ginny. Bill and Charlie just aren’t as involved in the narrative, and Ginny stays kind of… bland and love interest-ish… throughout the story.

So… yeah?

Am I saying that the Weasleys did not love their kids? No, of course not. Especially Molly shows her love regularly. (Her love is more like a water hose than a watering can, however. Very intense and focussed on a single spot at a time, instead of reaching all her kids equally.)

What I am saying is that the Weasleys, as a family, are pretty dysfunctional. Many factors are playing into this – Molly’s and Arthur’s dynamic as a couple and as parents, the number of their kids, the war, etc. It’s impacting all of them negatively. Molly is stressed out, Arthur is out of touch and some of their kids lose their trust (either in their parents, in their siblings or in themselves.) It also makes their love feel conditional. The twins feel this whenever Molly is comparing them with their older (more well-behaved) brothers. Percy feels this when he comes home with that promotion and is demoted from Golden Child to family-traitor within a heartbeat. Ron has internalized it and desperately seeks attention and affection elsewhere.

They still love each other, but it’s a difficult position to be in for most of them.

And the worst thing: I don’t think Rowling notices any of this. She did not intend the family to be as dysfunctional as it is. She keeps portraying the Weasleys as this great, loving family who took Harry in when he needed it the most. And of course they did – but that’s not all there is to it. There are so many issues that go unresolved in the books. Molly never learns to back off. The responsibility for the conflict between Arthur and Percy is placed entirely on Percy, despite Arthur being at fault, too. The twins never really learn that a prank can go too far. Ron doesn’t really solve his self-esteem-issues. Rowling does start to give him some character development regarding his self-esteem-issues multiple times, but he always seems to revert back over the course of the summer holidays. 

The family really deserved more effort to go into the writing.

Note: This analysis is not meant to say that stay-at-home parents are bad or that Molly should have gotten a job while having seven little kids at home. What I am criticizing is the way we treat care work. Because it is work, and a lot of work. A stay-at-home parent is often on call 24/7. A stay-at-home parent never really gets to take a break, never can take a day off, and never just can leave their work for another day. But they do deserve breaks and days off, just like any person with a day job. And that is where their partners and the rest of their families come in.

And this is the other thing I wanted to criticize here: The way we glorify living as a nuclear family. It’s said that you need a village to raise a kid and I do think this is true. Having more people involved in child-rearing (be it relatives, neighbors or professionals like teachers) is a boon. Families had access to this for millennia. Raising your kids with the help of your family and your village was normal, up until very recently. And it’s a shame that the Weasleys seemingly had no help like this. And yes, I do see the fault with Rowling, who wrote them that way. She basically took the concept of the nuclear families of the 1980s and 1990s and slapped it onto the family, without any world building at all.

(Please also note, that I consider stay-at-home parents to be different from tradwives. When I use the term “tradwife”, I am specifically referring to stay-at-home mothers who do not just take care of their household and their kids, but who also commit themselves to having as many kids as possible and who tend to take on other duties (like homeschooling) as well. The most common examples of this are probably families who belong to fundamentalist Christian churches or cults.)

[moonstruckme]

hiii. congrats on 7k!! can i order an apple pie with ²⁸⁾ dark lipstick smeared on a cheek for stevee?? tysmm💗💗💗💗

Thank you!!

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 585 words

You’re proud of yourself for being able to even half follow the movie. You didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand, but the theater is dark and nearly empty except for a few teenagers several rows below you, and you should have known you were in for trouble when Steve picked a seat in the back corner. You keep trying to break things off and pay attention to the screen, but your lips come back to each other’s like magnets every time. 

Steve has shown no inclination to watch the movie, though you know he’d never pressure you if you indicated you didn’t want the distraction. You can feel the asking in the soft presses of his mouth each time you start up again, hi and do you want to and is this okay, all syrupy coke and the bite of the sour candies he’d eaten during the commercials. His hand has taken up permanent residence on your thigh, chaste but there. His torso stays turned toward you like a flower toward the sun. 

You open your eyes for a second, catching a glimpse of the screen. “Isn’t that her sister?” 

Steve indulges you, turning his attention in that direction. “Maybe they’re trying to take it in a love triangle direction?” he replies quietly.

“Ew, with the sister?” 

“I don’t know.” His whisper carries a familiar tone, like he can’t decide whether to be exhausted or amused by you. “Rom coms are weird.” 

“Oh, wait.” You perk up. “He’s asking the sister for her ring size. Are they getting married?” 

“Well, it’s probably the end of the movie. Getting close to a couple hours now.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, baby.” Steve seems to decide on amusement. 

You exhale softly, dismayed, and he rubs your thigh consolingly. “I can’t believe we missed the whole thing,” you say.

“We can catch it again, if you want. Or just stay for the next showing.” 

“Will we get to actually watch this time?” 

Steve drops his head to your shoulder, puffing air down your arm. “If you really wanna,” he says reluctantly. 

You smile where he can’t see you. “Why did you agree to this one if you didn’t even want to watch it?” 

“Because you wanted to.” He kisses your shoulder, a quick peck. 

You make him sit up when the lights come on. His hair is mussed slightly, and when he gets a look at you a grin splits his face. 

“Oh, c’mere.” He puts himself between you and the rest of the theater, wiping at something near your lips. 

“What?” 

“You’ve got lipstick all over you.” 

Your eyes widen, and you look at his mouth. Kiss-swollen, with a dark rim you can see even with his face cast in shadow. 

“Oh my god, it’s on you too. I forgot I was wearing it.” 

“Shit, can you get it? It’s not coming off of you. What is this shit, bulletproof?” 

“Supposed to be smearproof,” you mumble. You thumb at his top lip, but the color stays stuck. You can hear the teens chatting as they file out behind him. “I don’t know how we got it all over.” 

“We’re just that good,” Steve mutters, but his tone is less humorous than bitter. After a few more seconds, he gives up. “Okay.” He gets up, grabbing your trash and his jacket. “We’re just going to have to get it off in the bathroom.”

You’re horrified. “But everyone will see.” 

“I work here. Trust me, we’ve seen worse.”

[lee-laurent]

Picture Perfect - Luke Hughes

Summary: There was a reason that Tori and John broke up. Was there not?

content: children, angst, fluff, mentions of breakups, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual smut, mentions of pregnancy, crying, oc x ex!john marino

wc: 4.5k

notes: PART 8!! we're wrapping up guys! there are gonna be 10 parts, so the end is in sight. so happy that ppl have enjoyed this series!! :)

John's shirt was soaked, but he really couldn't have cared less. He was spending quality time with Riley. Getting to spend more time with his son than he almost ever had.

Riley giggled, launching his rubber duck off the faucet and into the bubbles below. He turned, making sure that his dad, who was sitting on the floor next to the tub, had seen the splash that the duck at made.

"Oo' watchin', Dada?" Riley beamed, clapping his hands as the duck resurfaced.

"I am! Very impressive, bud," he chuckled, scooping up some of the bubbles and placing them on Riley's head. The toddler giggled again, smacking the water with his hands. John lived for moments like that. Moments where he wasn't a professional hockey player. Moments where he was one thing and one thing only--Riley's dad.

"More! More!" Riley demanded, scooting forward to put the duck back on the faucet. He gave it a little push and it fell into the water with a plonk. His giggles filled the room again, kicking his legs to make waves that the duck "surfed" on.

John couldn't help but wonder how many moments like that he'd missed because of his career. How many bathtimes? How many storybooks? How many nights spent cuddling because Riley couldn't sleep? How many nights spent ridding the closet of monsters? Sure things with Tori were complicated, but he didn't want to miss out on those moments anymore.

"Alright, Ri-Ri, time to wash up before Mama gets on our case," John said, gently pulling the duck from Riley's grasp and reaching for the washcloth.

"Noooo, more ducky!"

"Hey, hey, no pouting. If we wash up fast and get all clean, maybe Mama will let us watch Scooby Doo before bed. What do you think?"

Riley blinked, considering the offer before finally nodding. "Otay, Dada."

John smiled, relived that he didn't have to deal with a tantrum. He reached for the Spiderman themed "no-tears" shampoo and body wash. Riley giggled as John created a mohawk using the watermelon-scented soap.

"Rockstar Riley."

"Woc-staw Wiley."

"That's right, Rockstar Riley," he said, carefully washing the suds out with a cup of warm water. The bath was winding down, and Riley seemed far more relaxed since the promise of watching Scooby Doo.

Once Riley was clean and towel-wrapped, John hoisted him out of the tub, careful to balance him on his hip as they headed to the bedroom. Tori met them in the hall, smiling when she saw Riley's sleepy eyes peeking out from under the towel.

"Looks like bathtime was a success."

"Yeah, we had a blast," John replied, rocking the bundled toddler back and forth.

"Watch 'Ooby Doo!" Riley piped up, his voice full of energy despite his half-closed eyes.

"Alright, but just one episode. Bedtime is soon."

"Otay, Mama."

Once pajamas were on, they settled into the living room, Riley snuggled between his parents on the couch. John sat back, his arm on the back of the sofa, while Riley rested his head on Tori's chest. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment but he refused to fall asleep.

"This... this feels right," John said quietly, more to himself than anyone.

"Yeah... it does."

The credits rolled and John picked up a sleeping Riley. "I'll put him down."

"He, uh, he needs a sleep sack... so he doesn't climb out."

"I know, Tori. He's slept at mine," John grinned, shaking his head.

"Right. I... I forgot."

"I'll be back."

"Night, Ri-Ri. Mama loves you," she mumbled, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

~~

"You heading out?" Tori asked, pausing the episode of Gossip Girl she had put on.

"I, uh, I assumed I was sleeping over."

"Sleeping over?"

John rubbed the back of his neck, "I just figured, since Ri's asleep and I did last night... maybe I'd stay again tonight."

Tori stared at him a moment, processing his words. Having him stay the first night had been because she needed him for support, the second night had been a moment of passion, but a third night? That felt different in her mind. It felt like they were sliding back into something they shouldn't. Especially since she and Luke hadn't officially... broken up.

"John... I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not? I mean, Riley's asleep, and we've had a good couple days. Why make things harder?"

She sighed, pulling her legs up against her chest. "It's not about making things harder. It's about... what's right. We haven't really talked about what's happening between us. And I don't think we can just fall back into this without figuring things out."

"I'm not saying we have to figure everything out tonight, Tori. But things have been working well. And I've missed so much not being here... I just-"

Tori swallowed, guilt twisting in her chest. She missed the simplicity of having John around too. The easy routine, the helping hands when it came to having a toddler, the family dynamic she'd always wanted for Riley. But what if their old issues snuck their way back in?

"And Luke," she said softly, not meeting John's eyes. "Things with Luke... we haven't officially broken up."

John tensed, "Right. Luke."

Tori winced at the bitterness in his voice. "It's complicated, John. You know that."

"It's always complicated with him, isn't it?" John muttered. "You're not with him, but you're not breaking up with him either. Meanwhile, you're having sex with me. I'm trying to figure out where I stand. Am I supposed to just wait around, Victoria?"

"That's not what I'm asking for. I just... we need to slow down. For our sake. For Riley's sake."

John just exhaled sharply, crossing his arms over his chest, but gave a nod. "I get it. You're right. I just... I need to be here, Tori. To be with Riley. To be with... I'll go. But I'm coming over after the game tomorrow night."

She stood up, walking him to the door, hoping that she'd made the right decision. "Thanks for understanding," she murmured.

"I'm always here for my son. Just, uh, I'll text tomorrow."

"Okay. Night, John."

"Goodnight, Tori."

It wasn't until she heard the click of the lock that she felt like she could breathe. She went into the kitchen, popping open a bottle of wine, before settling back onto the couch to finish her show. Why couldn't her life be easier?

~~

Tori woke up to Gossip Girl still playing on the TV. She blinked, groggy, realizing that she had fallen asleep on the couch. The empty glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, a reminder of the emotionally charged conversation she'd had with John.

She stretched, rubbing her temples, but before she could get up to make herself a cup of coffee, Riley's voice echoed from his bedroom.

"Mama! Where Dada?"

Tori felt her heart sink. Riley's voice was getting louder, more insistent, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was a tantrum. So, she pulled herself up from the couch and made her way down the hall.

"Mama's coming! Mama's coming, baby!"

She opened the door to find Riley standing in his crib, his hands gripping the wooden rail, eyes wide and expectant.

"Where Dada?"

"Dada went home, sweetpea. He had to get ready for his game today."

"But who play dinos?"

Tori lifted him from his crib, holding him close. "I know, Ri-Ri. We'll see Dada soon, I promise."

"'oon?"

"Yes, baby. After his game, okay? He loves playing with you, remember?"

Riley nodded, "Play now?"

Tori hated this. Hated how complicated everything felt. She wanted Riley to be happy, to have the world he deserved--one where his dad was there when he wanted. But things didn't fall into place that easily. Last night had reminded her of how stubborn John could be, but maybe he could get over that for Riley.

"How about we eat breakfast first? Then maybe we can call Dada?"

"Otay."

Tori placed him in his high chair, getting him a bowl of cheerios and blueberries together. She knew deep down that he'd play with them more than he'd eat them, but she really wasn't in the mood to make pancakes or waffles.

"Mama?" he asked, sticking cheerios to his spit covered hand.

"Yes, baby?"

"Dada come home?"

She sighed, "We'll see him soon, Ri-Ri."

"'Uke?"

Tori nearly dropped her mug on the floor, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't expected Riley to ask about him, especially when he seemed so fixated on his dad. She turned to look at him, placing her coffee down for safety.

"Luke?" she repeated, brushing his curls from his face.

Riley nodded, poking at another Cheerio. "Dada no play. 'Uke play?"

His innocent question cut deeper than she had expected. He had grown fond of Luke, and Tori now had to face that fact that Luke had been more than a casual part of Riley's life.

"Luke's... busy right now, baby."

"'ockey?"

"Yes, Luke's busy with hockey. So, he's not coming over today."

Riley's face scrunched up in disappointment, but he didn't press further. He instead just grabbed a blueberry and squished it under his finger.

"Don't play with your food, Riley. It's for eating."

"Otay," he replied, clearly not listening as he squished another berry. Tori just rolled her eyes, letting it go. She grabbed her coffee, leaning against the window. She had already felt bad about asking John to leave the previous night, and now Riley was asking for not just his dad but also Luke. She felt so stuck, like she was being pulled in two directions at once. On one hand was John, the father of her child. On the other, Luke, who had shown her a different kind of love, one that made her feel seen. Like she was more than just Riley's mom.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, hoping it would be Luke. But her prayers remained unanswered... it was just John.

Hope Ri slept well. I'll be by after game, like we talked about.

They hadn't really "talked" about it. He'd just kind of stated that he would be by after the game. It didn't really seem like Tori had much choice in the matter.

"Mama! Dinos?"

She shook herself from her daze, grabbing a washcloth to clean up Riley. "Dinos it is."

~~

When 7 o'clock rolled around, Tori had Riley sat in the living room in his 'Marino' jersey, playing dinos with the game on the TV. Even though he seemed only interested in his toys, Tori knew that the moment he heard John's name or his face flashed across the screen, his eyes would be glued to the TV.

Riley looked up, waving his dino in the air. "'Ook, Mama! Dino 's gonna eat Dada! Nom nom nom!"

"Oh no! You better tell dino to be nice to Dada!"

Riley made the dino "apologize," then went back to his game. John was out there, doing his job, being his best self while she sat at home and tried to put her life back together. The image of John being a larger-than-life hockey player conflicted with the John that she knew. The John that she fell in love with.

The game announcer mentioned John's name, and Riley perked up just as Tori expected. "Dada on TV!" he squealed, scrambling to his feet.

"Yep! They said Dada's name, huh?"

"Dada 'gon score?"

"Maybe." She wasn't really sure how much of the game Riley truely understood, but seeing him light up when John played brought a smile to her face.

It was funny how after years of being with John and then being friends that she still found it surreal to watch him on TV. To know that thousands of people knew his name and went to watch his team play, while she sat at home with their child at her feet, talking about how he was going to be just like Dada when he grew up. She'd always respond with "I bet Dada would love that." Although deep down she didn't want him to end up "just like" John. Sure things had been better recently, but John had his flaws. She just hoped that they could keep making things work for Riley.

But she also didn't want to lead him on. She had Luke to worry about, he--

"'Ook, Mama! Dada skatin'!"

"Yeah, baby. He's skating fast, isn't he?"

"Fast! Dada super fast!" He grabbed one of his dinosaurs, making it zoom across the table. God, could Riley possibly admire John more? He was like a fucking superhero to the toddler.

A commercial break started and Tori stood up to grab herself a snack.

"Riley, do you want a--"

Her phone buzzed. Probably just John again, giving her an update on the game.

Hey, we need to talk. I'll call after the game?

Luke? Why now? Why did he want to talk now?

"What, Mama?"

"Sorry, Ri. D'you want a pouch?"

"Yes p'wease! Pouch!"

Tori continued to stare at her phone as she grabbed Riley a fruit pouch from the cupboard. Luke's text felt like it was staring into her soul. Why had he decided to reach out halfway through a game? Had John made a comment, said something he shouldn't have? All the possibilities and she wouldn't get an answer until after the game.

She took a deep breath, then placed her phone face-down on the counter, grabbing herself a bowl of Goldfish crackers. Riley was happily bouncing around to the music playing in one of the commercials. If only she could be so relaxed.

"No more phone for the rest of the game," she mumbled, taking the pouch to Riley.

"Tank 'oo, Mama!"

"Of course, baby. Is Dada back on the TV yet?"

"'Uke! I see'd 'Uke!"

"You saw Luke on the TV?"

"Yes! In jail."

"In jail?" she furrowed her brow. What in the world did that mean?

"Yes, 'Uke in jail."

"I-" then the screen flashed to a furious looking Luke sitting in the penalty box. Of course Riley thought that was jail. John had probably taught him that, she rolled her eyes. "You're right. Luke is in timeout."

"He be bad, so they put him in jail," Riley nodded, making his dinos fight.

A few moments later, Luke skated back onto the ice. It felt weird watching him on the TV too. Like he was even more distant, more unreachable. The man who had become such an important part of hers and Riley's lives, now felt like a complication that she didn't want to deal with.

"'Uke is free. No more jail," Riley pointed, singing 'no more jail' to himself a couple more times.

"That's right. They freed him from timeout."

Tori spent the rest of the game on the floor with Riley, trying to keep her mind off things. And it worked, the rest of the game flew by and before she knew it, John was knocking at the door.

She forced herself to stand up, smoothing down her Devils t-shirt as she walked to the door. With a deep breath, she opened the door. John stood there in casual clothes, opposed to the suit that the Devils had posted a picture of him arriving in. His hair was damp from the showers, a reminder of the game that he had just won.

"Hey! Did you guys watch the game?"

"Yeah, he was glued to the screen everytime he heard your name," she smiled, motioning towards Riley, who was now busy making his dinos 'free' each other from jail just like Luke. "He was excited."

"Hey bud! Did you watch Dada on the TV?" John asked, scooping up the toddler.

"Dada went 'uper fast! Like zooooom! And then Dada win! And then my dino eat 'oo, Dada!"

"What?! Dino ate me?! You gotta be careful with those dinos, huh?"

"It's okay. I kiss it better," Riley grinned, pressing a kiss to John's cheek.

"Aww, thanks, Ri-Ri. I feel all better now."

Riley squirmed out of John's arms to go back to his dinos. Tori caught John's eye and for a moment it felt just the way it did when Riley was first born.

"You gonna stay for a bit?"

"Yeah. It'd be nice to play with him for a bit before bed."

"Perfect. I--"

Her phone started buzzing rhythmically. Someone was calling her. Luke was calling her.

"Shit. I gotta take this. I'll be right back," she forced a smile, taking her phone down the hall to her bedroom. "Hey."

"Hey. I, uh, sorry for texting during the name, but we need to talk. I've been doing a lot of thinking."

Tori sat on the edge of her bed. She had been expecting this, but now that it was happening, she didn't know how to respond. "Okay. What's on your mind?"

"I... I know things have been weird lately. I needed time to think. And I'm sorry I aired you for so long. But I need to know if we're still on the same page here, Tori. If this... if we still have a chance."

Tori swallowed, glancing at the closed door. John was out there, playing with Riley, and the reality of the situation felt heavier than it did before. She hated that no matter what, someone was going to get hurt.

"Things are complicated right now, Luke. I care about you, I do. But John... he's Riley's dad--"

"And you feel like you owe it to Riley to make things work with John," Luke finished for her, his tone clipped. "I get it, Tori. I do. But you need to figure out what you want. What's going to make you happy. Not just Riley."

"I'm a mom, Luke. Riley's happiness comes first. H--"

"Is that why you slept with John?"

"What?"

"Heard him talking to some of the other guys about it. Were you going to tell me?"

"I was going to tell you. I just didn't know when... or how. It-- it was just kind of happened. And we've been on this weird break, so--"

"So you decided that because I wasn't there, you'd sleep with your ex. Great. Do you have feelings for him, Tori? Is that what this is?"

"I don't know."

"You don't seem to know much, d'you? D'you know if you love me? Or is that still up in the air too?"

"Luke--"

"I don't know why I even called you. Call me when you figure your shit out. Until then, good luck."

The line went dead. Luke's words hit like a punch to the face. She blinked back her tears, refusing to have a break down right now--not with John and Riley both a few feet away. She didn't know what she wanted, and that was the truth. But hearing him throw it back at her didn't feel very nice.

Figure your shit out.

He was right. She couldn't keep doing this. Dragging two people she cared about--Hell, three people. Riley was part of this too--into a mess she made because she couldn't make a decision.

She composed herself, making her way back to the living room. John glanced up at her. He could see right through her fake smile. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. Just, uh, just some stuff with Luke."

"If he makes you upset, why are you still wasting your time on him?"

"John. Not in front of Riley."

"They put 'Uke in jail, Dada," Riley decided to join the conversation.

"Yeah, you're right, Riley. Luke got a penalty," John had to keep himself from sighing listening to his son mention his mother's boyfriend.

"But you no in jail."

"Mhm."

"You was good."

"It's past time bedtime, Ri-Ri," Tori cut off, sensing that she and John weren't going to accomplish much with Riley in the room.

"Dada read cat-pilla?"

"You want Dada to ready you 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar'?" Tori asked for clarification.

"Uh huh."

"Alright. Let's go brush our teeth and get in our jammies. Then Dada and you can read." Tori picked him up and headed down the hall, John following behind. Once they'd settled on a pair of blue pajamas to wear under his sleepsack, he cuddled up with John on his rocking chair. He continued to babble about Luke and being put in jail. Talking about how bad guys go to jail. John sat there with an unreadable expression on his face, holding the picture book that Riley had requested.

"Okay, Ri. That's enough talking about jail. Let Dada read."

"Otay. 'oo stay Mama?"

"No, Mama's gonna go take a bath."

"Say 'goodnight' to Mama."

"Night, Mama."

"Night, baby," she responded, blowing him a kiss.

"In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf," John read aloud, Riley tracing little patterns on his dad's arm.

Tori double-checked that his nightlight was plugged-in before making her way to the bathroom for a much needed hot bath. She turned on the hot water and let the room fill with steam. She even poured in lavendar bath salts because it was one of those days. As she slid into the warm water, she could still make out John's voice reading out "The Very Hungry Caterpillar." It felt like everything was okay. Like they were a real family again.

But deep down, she knew that wasn't true. Luke's call had been a wake-up call. She needed to stop the indecision. She couldn't ignore the cracks forming around her. John was Riley's father, and he'd been there for her. Well, sort of. He was there for Riley, who was an extension of her. Luke had come into her life and been there for her. Not just for Riley, but for her. No questions ask. John always asked questions. He always had a motive behind his actions, but not Luke. Luke cared about her in a way that she wasn't sure John did. Sure, she was the mother of his child, so he'd always have some love for her. But she found it kind of convinent how he'd only tried to push more into her life once she started seeing Luke.

After what felt like an eternity with her thoughts, there was a knock at the bathroom door. "Ri's down for the night."

"Thanks."

"Mind if I hang out for a bit? Talk?"

"Uh, yeah, give me a minute."

"We can talk in there if you want."

"John..."

"Right. I'll be in your room."

"Thanks."

She sank deeper into the water, trying to get a few more moments of peace before she had to talk to John. Figure your shit out. No more limbo. It was time to face reality, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

She dried off and wrapped herself in a robe before finally heading down to her room. John was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees.

"So what's on your mind?"

"I don't want to push you, V. I know things have been complicated and I don't want to make them harder. But I need to know where we stand. With Luke in the picture, I just... I can't keep pretending everything is fine."

"I get that. And I can't blame you for wanting answers. I just, I need to figure out what's best for Riley, for me. For everyone."

"I'm Riley's dad. Am I not what's best for him?"

"You know that's not what I mean, John. We'll always need you. You're his dad. And seeing the two of you recently, it... it's been so amazing."

"Victoria. I need to know what you want, though. Not for Riley. For yourself."

"God, you sound just like Luke," she threw her hands up.

"Why? Because we both want you to care for yourself too?"

Tori bit her lip, a lump rising in her throat. She had been asking herself the same questions for weeks, and now, sitting there with John, maybe things were become a little more clear. She cared about him. Hell, she loved him and she loved the family that they could be for Riley. But that wasn't enough, was it?

"I do care about me. But Riley comes first. And I thought... maybe we could try again, for his sake. But then, there's Luke. And he's been there for me, John, in ways that you... you haven't been in a long time."

John's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.

"I feel like you've only really tried to be here for me since Luke came into the picture. And... that's not fair to any of us. I don't want to force something just because... just because we have a child together. I need to feel wanted for me... not because I'm Riley's mom."

John exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I get that. And you're right, I... I wasn't always there like I shoul've been. But I'm trying now. I want to be there for you, for Riley, because I care about you. Not just because of him. But I can't wait around forever while you figure this out."

"I want to believe you, John. I really do. But... we haven't worked for a reason."

"Tori, I--" His words caught in his throat. "I know we haven't worked in the past, but things change. People can change. I'm trying. I am."

She didn't doubt that he was trying, but it was too late now. The damage had been done. And Luke had finally shown her what real, true love looked like.

"John--"

"I can't just walk away from this, from us. Not without knowing we've given us a real second chance."

"I don't know if... if there is a second chance here. We've tried so many times, but it's always for Riley. It's never for us. Us doesn't work, John. We... we work as co-parents, but we don't work as us."

"Tori, please..."

"John..."

"So that's it? You're choosing Luke?"

"I'm choosing what feels right for me. I can't keep pretending there's something here that isn't. I can't pretend just for Riley."

"But Riley needs us. Together."

"Riley needs us to be good parents. And we can do that without being together. We can give me stability, love, everything he needs. Everything you've been giving him the last few days. He needs that John to be around. I know work is draining, John. I can't even imagine what it's like being a professional athlete. But the John that's been here the last few days, playing and reading books to our boy. That's the John he needs all the time."

"You're right. I just... I haven't been ready to admit it."

"You're a great dad, John. And Riley is always going to need you. I will always need you here as his father. Luke isn't going to replace that. But we need to stop holding onto the past. It's time to move forward."

"I don't want to lose you guys."

"And you won't. We'll figure this out, John. Together, as Ri's parents."

"Yeah. As Riley's parents," John nodded, his voice hoarse.

With that, John leaned down and pressed a kiss to Tori's forehead before making his way to the door. Tori stood there, watching him go, feeling both the weight of what she'd done but also the relief that she was no longer trapped in two seperate worlds.

Now she needed to let Luke know that she'd figured her shit out.

[caitlinsgirl]

Reader drunk texting caitlin

Summary: caitlin and the narrator are childhood friends. narrator joins coworkers on a night out despite not wanting to go.

Word count: 820ish

author's note: something quick i wrote while wasting time at work <3 thank you sm for requesting it's very inspiring

tags: alcohol, clubs, taylor swift

 A Rose by Any Other Name is a Scandal

            Another night, another boring night, another lame night surrounded by folks who could not care less about me. The loud speakers of the club project a bass that shake my bones. My third martini glass sits heavy in my hand as I stare into space. I wish to be anywhere but here. The high-pitched blabbering of the people from my work cut through the noise, but it still sounds like a lump of gibberish to me. I would rather spend my night with anyone but them. Well, maybe not anyone…

 

           How easy it is to agree to plans with people who are not remotely interested in anything I have to say in an important setting. As if showing up to the club in a pretty dress and getting hammered in front of these people would make them appreciate my contribution more when the workweek starts again on Monday. At least God has given me the brief relief that they appear more engrossed with whatever nonsense the other has to say, rather than remembering I tagged along and sit just a few feet away.

            I down the rest of my drink and get up from my seat to approach the bar. I’m sure another one would make this night a little easier for me to stomach. Just one more. The bartender notices me and his mouth moves, as if asking me a question. The noise makes it impossible for me to make out what his words are, but I nod in hopes that he is asking to make me another drink.

heyyy hows it going so far?

            My phone lights up with a message from one of my dearest girls, I mean friends, I mean she is a friend who is a girl… nothing inaccurate about that. On the speakers, the song ended and a familiar tune starts up loud as ever: It feels like a perfect night, to dress up like hipsters… Seriously. It's like the world is taunting me.

            they're playing ur song at this club

            My fourth drink in front of me appeared as if it was out of thin air. The retreating bartender appears like a vanishing magician from this angle. His latest act: fueling my future hangover. My stomach buzzes with butterflies and alcohol as I stare at her contact name on my phone: Catilin Elizabeth.

She had asked me to hang out with her earlier in the week, only it was after I had already made plans with these coworkers. I felt obligated to stick to my original commitment, despite heavily disliking my coworkers and greatly liking…

what song?

            I always felt I was too obvious around her. The media has recognized me as a friend who is constantly around Caitlin, the ordinary girl who attends every home game, and often attends away games. To her, the gleam in my eye registers as nothing more than the look of one of her oldest friends. To the observant fans on the internet, they recognize the almost life-long longing that I have yet to admit to myself. It started when we both bonded over our shared love for Taylor Swift as young girls. Over a decade, I sent her links and lyrics of my favorite songs that reminded me of her. My excuse: she likes these songs, too.

            wise men once said wild winds r death to teh candle

            a rose by any otherrrr name is a scandal

            My fingers poured out the words from the latest song that has been on my mind. It feels impossible to admit the way I feel, not to her, not to myself. Caitlin goes through enough scrutiny in the media. If I said what was in my heart out loud, it could end really, really, really badly. Earth-shatteringly horrible. If we had a falling out and the world found out one of her life-long friends stopped showing up to her games, they would run with the worst assumptions to paint her in an evil light, like they always have.

theres no way theyre playing that one in the club rn 🤣

            I started giggling into my cup at the sight of her message, like a crazy woman standing on the corner of a street. The alcohol causes my vision to darken in this already-dim establishment. Electricity runs up and down my stomach and I cannot tell if it is from the martinis or from her.

            shes the albatrossssss 🦅she is here to destroy you

okay, do u want me to pick u up now?

            I looked back at my coworkers, who disappeared into non-existence. Are they seriously bar hopping, without even asking me if I wanted to tag along? If I had a ride? If I felt okay being left alone here?

            they lef tme alone here:(

fucking morons

i'm on my way

            Neither of us can admit the feelings in our hearts to ourselves, let alone to each other. But I cherish the quiet understanding intertwined in her knee-jerk reaction to drop everything and come save me.

thank u my pretty lady

[mysterywriter2187]

Transformers: One - What's In A Kneel?

!!!!!MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!!

With the responsibility of leadership and the dangers of pedestals and hero worship being such major themes, it only makes sense that all three of the film's leaders would show their true characters, and in doing so seal their fates, in moments where they have to kneel/bow.

Sentinel Prime essentially sets the entire second half of the film in motion when both the heroes and we as the viewer see him kneel to the Quintessons. It confirms everything that Alpha Trion was just telling them/us about him, and it's also the very thing that ends up getting broadcast to Iacon in order to finally expose Sentinel and turn the public against their False Prime.

For all his superficial charisma and his talk of looking out for the little guys, Sentinel himself is truly nothing more than a self-centred, spineless coward, who couldn't care less for the needs of the many and gladly bends to the will of bigger bullies/oppressors in order to keep himself in power.

After learning of Sentinel's betrayal and being subsequently captured with the High Guard, D-16 makes a point to stand while in custody and adamantly refuses to kneel. Even when Sentinel begins beating and torturing him, D-16 makes it abundantly clear that he has no intention of bowing to him or anyone else ever again.

In better circumstances this could be a heroic trait, a courageous defiance and the willingness to stand up in the face of injustice. But it just as becomes a negative one, and it's one of the last warning signs to the kind of leader that Megatron is going to be.

He may have started out with good and heroic intentions, but because of this Megatron sees himself as superior, and whether by choice or by force, he expects his fellow Cybetronians to rally behind him just as they did with Sentinel. While he sees himself as a revolutionary, in the end he's just going to become another tyrant.

And then we have Orion Pax. For much of the film, he's a far cry from the noble, legendary leader that we know and love from other iterations, but he starts to grow into it as he devises the rescue mission, and is tasked with rallying his fellow miners to help.

Having gotten a major upgrade since the last time he saw them, Orion now towers over his former peers and they're utterly awed by the sight of him. Rather than trying to take advantage of their admiration or even intimidate them with his new size and strength, Orion almost seems frustrated by the new height difference, and before beginning his speech he kneels down to literally speak to them on their level.

Orion doesn't make a point to do this, no one has to ask or prompt him to, in fact he himself doesn't even give that much thought to it, it's just his first instinct for how to best communicate. He may look larger and stronger now, but he still values the miners as his friends and his equals, and nothing is ever going to change that.

Gaining the Matrix later on may have gotten him the name, but it's this moment when Orion truly begins to embody the true core and heart of Optimus Prime. Powerful and inspiring, yet humble and caring. Or perhaps, as the legendary Peter Cullen himself has always said:

"Strong enough to be gentle."

[aziraphales-library]

Hi,

Could I ask for some roommate fics? A little pining is great but I'm not a huge fan of too much angst.

There is one roommate fic I remember that I'd love to find again, it was set during lockdown, and azirphale was a virgin but was talking to Agnes on zoom with plans to date. Crowley offers to teach him about sex, and it gets physical, even though they're straight buddies ..of course. 😏

Thankyou

We have a #roommates tag. Here's the one you're looking for and a few more to add...

Not a Mounted Dildo but a Fuck Machine by NaroMoreau, summerofspock (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley have lived together for three years when lockdown goes into effect. When Aziraphale meets a nice girl on Tinder who he thinks is his perfect match, he's delighted. There's just one hurdle: that pesky virginity thing. Lucky for him, Crowley has always been there for him. He's helped Aziraphale with every other problem through the years, why not this one?

Tinder Dates Gone Wrong by OceanLace (E)

Aziraphale decides to take a risk and brings a man home but doesn't realize that his roommate and best friend had the same idea. Things don't turn out the way either of them were expecting but end up exactly how they wanted.

Principles of Proximity by Cannebady (E)

Crowley's plan is to get through grad school in one piece and then live his bachelor dream life. With a less-than-wholesome upbringing and no real human ties to speak of, he's made a life for himself. It's just fine, actually. And he's fine too, while you're at it. Enter new roommate, Aziraphale, who just might teach him the benefits of putting down roots.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E)

PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples... Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

You Can Stay At My Place (And We Can Fall in Love) by IneffableToreshi (E)

Anthony Crowley is an art student with a heart of gold and a broad assumption about himself and his own (apparent lack-of) sexuality. When he meets literary student Aziraphale, he thinks he's found a great friend and possibly the perfect roommate. But when an exceptionally idiotic idea turns into Aziraphale reluctantly agreeing to pretend to be Crowley's boyfriend, Crowley rapidly realizes that he may not have been nearly so asexual as he originally thought...

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

- Mod D

[goldsbitch]

Not on the menu

Making out in public is not something to be shameful, right?

light smut, minors DNI, angst

note: this is my first Franco fic. this man came, served and what are we suppose to do?!

When it feels this good, it's worth breaking few rules.

You and Franco. Very well protected love affair. A fling. Just two young people who somehow end up in each other's beds whenever the opportunity arises.

Working in F2 as one of the production assistants was more exciting than one might think. Everyone would always praise F1, the size of the teams, the budgets, the glam surrounding it. F2 was different, more loose and less on the spotlight. Full of professionals, who just like drivers, worked their asses off just for a chance to progress into F1. But you were just so young, just starting and unlike with the drivers, you had no rush, plenty of time for that in the next years. It was all about learning, getting to know people and also, occasionally, having some good fun. It's hard to keep young people on a leash. Lot of travel involved, hotel rooms and many people mingling around, leads to just one thing. It wasn't special or albeit scandalous to fool around with a fellow crew member, in fact many marriages started like that, no matter the rank or department. Life on the road has its habits.

So when you first ended up on a dance floor with the ever-so-charming Franco at one of the opening events for F2, it was not such a surprise that you ended at his hotel room. Way less wondering eyes and almost no glam was at these evenings, the exact opposite of F1.

By some miracle, you managed to keep it a secret, apart from few closest friends, who served as an excuse for you two to actually hang out together. These few trusted souls witnessed their fair share of tipsy make outs and laughed collectively at your hickeys, which turned out to be his speciality. You never texted, never addressed your fling when sober. Deep down you knew you were curious to see how he was as a serious partner. But he never gave off that kind of a vibe. So you protected yourself, remained cool and decided that this was the peak your relation would ever be, and that was ok enough.

"So what about you and Franco?" a friend of you both asked you, once again. You hated when she did that. In her mind, it would be a great idea to have two of her friends together. But the truth was, she was way closer with him than you were. Nothing wrong with that, but it only reminded you of how shallow your interaction were. In order to keep you dignity while fooling around with a player, you pretended to be one as well. "You know how these things are, it's just physical. I don't think he's the kind of person I'd like to date." False. You knew that, but..! You stayed on the ground, he was just a bit out of your league. Simple as that. Soon enough he was gonna catch the eye of some model and you'll be old news. The whole thing would be way worse if anyone knew that you would actually be open to at least try and date him. It was hard to stop the daydreaming sometimes. "Yeah, that makes sense," was the only thing your friend, disappointed by your response, answered. You only wondered if she had conversations like this with him as well about you.

Life was good that one evening in August. At the time, you had no idea it will the last evening of that era. It was one of the typical dinners the wealthier members of the teams organized, a nice chill place to wind down after stressful days. You were sat few places from Franco, who was charming as ever. Raining smiles on everyone and stealing glances with you.

A text notification - Bathroom?

You gulped, locked eyes with him and gave a small nod. His smile was probably crafted specifically for you, somewhere in the depths of hell. Impossible to resist.

He got up and you followed a minute later, giving a knowing look to your mutual friend. She understood and happily covered for you in case someone else caught on.

It wasn't exactly the right thing to do, lock yourself in a room dedicated for nursing mothers. But better than blocking a bathroom.

"Aren't you a little old to be in this room?" you asked when you joined him and secured the door behind you. He was leaning over a counter, fingers tapping on the top. "I can't help it, I am hungry," Franco responded and gestured you to come closer to him. With a challenging look, you took few steps towards him. "This is a restaurant, you're at the right place."

"The things I want are not on the menu." He was done playing sneaking around and crashed his lips onto yours, as if to prove his hunger. He was just too good with his tongue. Taking you, like his little victim, making you forget the outside world still existed. His hand went to grab your neck, behind your ear, because by then he had figured out that keeping you in check was the thing that made your knees weak. His lips were locked with yours, in heated frenzy, not allowing any breath to be wasted. You knew how to play the game as well, and with a soft bite into his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, you pulled away slightly, not allowing him to take full control. "Oh," he said, trying to steal another kiss from you while you pulled away more with satisfied smile. "Is this how it is now?" he continued, tone laced with intrigue and challenge. Your tongue reached to lick his lips once again. His hand suddenly lessened the pull towards him. "Oh, hermosa," he whispered, "two can play this game." Butterflies occupied your stomach. He stepped back and to your questioning look responded with another bloody wink. And then, then he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up in the air and sat on the counter. You gasped, only amusing him more. Lost for words, you only raised your eyebrows. "Better," he said and with audacity only young boys have lifted your shift up. Without much of a thought you put your arms up and helped him get you slightly more naked. His eyes were shamelessly focus on your chest. "Almost there," he said and gestured towards your bra. "Go on. Take this horrible thing off." You chuckled, because as charming and suave he was, taking a bra off was a moment where he failed each time. Desire fueled you into making this quick. Now that you were sat, his eyes were at a similar lever to your boobs and there was something hot about his hungry look, watching you undress even more. Once you were finally fully bare, he observed you and the locked eyes with you once again.

"Pretty," was the only thing that he said before putting his lips on your left nipple for a gentle peck and then on the right one, which received a light bite. He decided to stay focused on that one, few kisses here and there and began to suck on it while his hand pinched the left one. Arrows of pleasure flew into your lower belly. He knew your weakness, he must have because this was sending you into other dimensions. Anything that feels this ecstatic would make anyone crumble. Whatever he did seemed to always work on you. He wasted no time with gentle touches. Not enough time for that. After nearly sending you over the edge with his lips dancing around and sucking on your nipple, moved a bit upwards and went for his signature move - marking your breasts with hickeys so purple it would take a week to heal. You bend your head backwards, trying to contain any loud noises your body wanted you to make in reaction to his actions. Another twirl around your sensitive nipple, bite into your skin and a hard squeeze. You did not want him to stop, too deep in it to think straight. But that must have been his plan from the beginning, because he put you on edge and then back away. You almost let a soft "No..." escape your mouth. With a puzzled look you slowly came down and remembered you were still in public. Heavy breaths and you gulped your way back to normal. He stepped back a bit and observed his mark on you. With an approving nod, he had the audacity to fix his boner up so that it was not so obvious. "Looking forward to seeing you later?" he asked with a tone that indicated the answer was obvious. You just nodded and reached for your bra, hoping his hickey was low enough it would not be visible. But, he had never made that kind of a mistake. You hopped down and gave him one more kiss, a slow and gentle this time, before he parted back to the dinner table. You joined in a minute, after fixing yourself up and trying to make your cheeks less red. Thankfully, there was only one another amused person when you came back to the table. Your friend raised her brows at you and drank her wine as if nothing ever happened.

Everything shower, hair on point, favorite perfume - you were all set and ready for how the evening would inevitably progress. This time you even made sure to clean your room. You got too comfortable with your expectations. Watching his every move, you noticed immediately when his expression changed from a casual smile to focused frown when reading a text on his phone. Was it something serious? Would he confide in later, sometimes it happened by accident. Secrets shared among tangled sheets. He got up and sent you a cheeky wink. You had to bite your cheek in order to stop the smile your body wanted to respond with, a small bruise burning inside your bra.

It took you fifteen minutes to realize he was not coming back from his phone call. You had his number, you could easily text him. But you didn't. And just like that, he was off to F1.