#but trying to be funny always falls flat

[beyonceisstraight]

wait so you’re telling me folks try to be funny on purpose rather than let it be something that comes and goes?

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various recent pictures of things

[tobacconist]

what is it about becoming israeli that makes jews lose their classic sense of humour. is the middle east just an intrinsically less funny place?

[disgustingtwitches]

141 as clients for sexworker reader!

//König and Nikto are here too//

MDNI

Ghost

You rarely see him, but you look forward to hearing from him. He always books multiple hours, sometimes even overnights. It's just hour after hour of pounding. Every hole you can take it. You tell him not to leave marks, but you don't really mean it. You know it. He knows it. Bitemarks and bruises are on your skin for days afterwards, he pays for you to send pictures of them healing. Thank God your regulars don't give a shit about the marks. Even if they did you wouldn't stop him from leaving them. Can't really stop him from leaving them. He asks you to wear makeup so he can fuck it off your face. You recently found out he's been stealing your fake eyelashes when they fall off, he collects them like trophies(???) Only praises you when he's felt you've earned it, which was rare. Never said I love you. Don't think he knows those words.

Gaz

Ugh, perfect client. Always a gentleman and really hot. Like "why are you hiring me when you can fuck anybody?" hot. Such a pretty dick too, has a little beauty mark on his shaft you like to kiss. He books three hours every other week just to cuddle and fuck. Really big on pleasing you, so he'll request you not to wear underwear just so he can pull your pants down as soon as you walk through his door and start eating you out. Sometimes when he really wants the "girlfriend experience" he'll slide into you while your spooning and watching Netflix. Has accidently said "I love you" once while ploughing into you, his lips pressed right up to your ear. You don't bring it up.

Price

One of the older clients. Big pussy eater. Huge. Likes to hire you to do stuff around his flat in a skirt and g-string so he can pull it to the side and eat you out while you're doing whatever he asks you to do. Watching TV? Cleaning the windows? Folding laundry? Sometimes he just straight up wants you to sit on his face, holding the skirt up so he can still see your face. When he's finally satiated, he'll get his. Sitting you on his lap and helping you bounce up and down, still in that skirt. Says I love you, but not to you. To your pussy. Literally looks at your pussy and says it.

Soap

So, so weird. Likes to act out scenes he sees in porn. Seriously. Like "help me I'm stuck in the washing machine" or "did you order a pizza with extra sausage". He'll buy outfits for the scenes; cheerleader, nurse, maid, even has a oddly realistic army uniform, right down to the boots. You get the point. One day he wanted to "try ass stuff", because he thought it "looked cool". He said I love you as soon as you stuck the tip of your strap-on in him and continues to do so every time you fuck him in the ass.

König

Yeah... Sorry to be basic but he's a bondage guy through and through. He likes to switch it up sometimes but he's mostly the dominating party. Not the kind to care about fancy shibari, really just hogties and knots that will keep you in your place. Taught you a few moves to take him down when he wants that. Wants you to use him for your pleasure when you're dominating, just like he uses you for his own. Doesn't say I love you. But he does teach you to say "I am yours" in German. So whenever he asks you a question in German, your line is always "Ja, Ich bin dein, Oberst."

Nikto

Very clingy. He was odd off rip. You were kind of uncomfortable with him because you didn't really understand him. Then he became endearing when you finally "get" him. He's sweet. Doesn't want to be alone. He'll pay anything just to have you sit next to him. Watching TV. He sits on the floor between your legs while you sit on the couch and play with his hair. He tells you lame jokes while eating whatever you wanted that day. One day you decide to tell him a corny joke too.

"We... don't think that is very funny."

Of course, he has needs. It depends on the day, but he's always changing the dynamics. Very much a switch at heart. He'll have you bent over the table while holding your jaw to look up into his eyes. Making you say thank you everytime he strokes into you. Other days he'll want to be rode while you hold him, "handsome man," you say between every kiss, "love you so much," while he whimpers under you, "you deserve to feel good." He says I love you. A lot. You say it back. Whether it's because you want to continue getting paid or you actually care about him, you're not too sure at this point.

[byfulcrums]

been rewatching rtte

toothless is called T multiple times, but the letter T doesn't exist in the alphabet of this world

i think hiccup was also called H???

hiccup went to the wedding of the man who tried to kill him and his family multiple times. no wonder he thought he could change drago's mind

snotlout is canonically a theater kid

"you're so small and cuddly" "please never say that again"

the twins are really smart, but they're also just stupid

hiccup straight up disappears when he's working on something

heather had a super noticeable crush on astrid

fishlegs got a love interest!! a plus size main character actually has a cool, badass love interest!

it was super hetnormative but it was cute

there was an island full of flying women who were implied to regularly commit cannibalism

hiccup taught all the riders how to fly with toothless, that's so sweet

everyone is a flat earther except for the twins

hiccup almost directly killed a lot of people

and killed a LOT more when destroying their ships

“scalding– cal..ding--" "toothle, plama bla!" was pretty much the funniest part of the entire series

dagur was bullied as a kid by a guy 8 years older than him who literally tattooed an imagine of him beating up little dagur in his arm??? What was that all about

actually we need to talk about how messed up everything about dagur is and about how the things that could've/did happen(ed) to him may be the reasons why he's Like That

just why was he imprisoned by the outcasts??? he didn't do anything to them directly

oof my brain is spiraling. "he loved you" "ig now we'll never know" what do you mean he didn't know if his dad loved him

there's a technically musical episode

tuffnut became hiccup's defense attorney and immediately got him the death sentence

hiccup regularly jumps off cliffs

he also jumped off a boat, with his arms tied and without toothless. just where did he think he was going

snotlout's annoying attitude is actually because spitelout pressures him too much and he feels like he has to be perfect for his dad :((

THE 'HICCUP'S EVIL MIRROR' VILLAIN THEME DONE RIGHT YESS!!!

viggo is the best httyd villain change my mind (you can't, swords at sundown, you may bring backup but i will win on my own)

skrill comeback skrill comeback SKRILL COMEBACK!!!!

"COMEEE TO DADDY"

what is a boar pit???

oh my god i had missed this series so much. it has no right to be this funny

this was my childhood. it has forever shaped the way i am

berserker heather the unhinged >>>

actually good disability rep! yay

hiccup complains about his peg leg pinching him

he straight up cannot walk without it and it is shown many times

"well, there are the benefits of a metal leg" after it got caught in a bear trap

funny moments, like snotlout trying to steal it to use it as a weapon

the jokes!! toothless laughing at the jokes!!! hiccup being so fucking done with the twins, who are always making the jokes!

there's an episode where everyone is so sleep deprived they actually start spiraling

astrid becomes a happy go lucky girl, hugs snotlout and tells him he's handsome

the fucking mood swings snotlout got were insane

the twins were straight up just hallucinating

"i sent them to wash their dragons, how could they mess that up?" cut to heather falling on her face with a bucket full of water in her hands

fishlegs becomes so paranoid, he's yelling at everyone all the time

"don't you know the trapper's trap can trap the trapper?? ...oh gods, i must be losing it, i'm quoting dagur"

YOOOO VALKA!!!! it's so nice to see her

hiccup tried to murder dagur to stop him from getting to toothless, which is scary bc it shows just how far he's willing to go for his bff, but also funny because hiccup. that was not going to work

oh the hiccstrid slowburn, how i have missed you

the twins's made up language

there was a beach episode turned murder mystery and a musical episode held at gun point

hiccup has a whole little speech that he periodically gives astrid to remind her that the twins serve a purpose

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version) VI

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alexia tries to talk to you

TW: discussions of eating disorder

It's reminiscent of that night all those years ago when Alexia came home and was shoved against her own wall by her sister.

It's funny how history repeats itself.

Alexia, back to the wall and unable to understand why and Alba, absolutely furious, being the one to hold her there.

"Alba?" Olga shrieks, standing up from her spot on the sofa.

Alba had one of the spare keys but usually, she didn't use it. Today she had though, bursting through the door like a woman on a mission and shoving Alexia up against the wall.

Jaume never saw the first time but he's heard about it. He couldn't have lived so long in this family without finding out about what happened when he was a baby. But, still, this is the first time he's seen Tia Alba angry at Mami and he watches with wide eyes from the top of the stairs.

"She's skin and bones!" Tia Alba hisses," I watched her today! She could barely stand up!"

"I know."

"And she...Wait, what?"

"I know, Alba." Alexia is calm even though her sister still has a tight grip on her shoulders, pinning her to the wall. "We know. We're trying to work out how to help."

Alba lets go of her, stepping away. "You know?"

Alexia nods. "We know. We're just trying to work out how. She always finishes dinner."

Guilt settles low in Jaume's gut as Mami, Mama and Tia Alba start discussing your eating habits.

You'd always been a bit peckish. You were never much of a big eater.

Jaume was the opposite. He was a growing boy. He ate a lot, especially on days with football training. He hadn't thought much of you offering your food to him, grateful that he wouldn't have to rifle through the fridge when Mami and Mama left the kitchen.

The topic of dinner comes up again and Jaume lingers on the bottom step, threading his fingers together anxiously.

"She..."

The three women fall silent as he steps into the light.

"What is it, Jaume?" Olga asks.

"Mama," He says, throat bobbing and tears welling in his eyes," I didn't...She never...I didn't know, Mama."

"Didn't know what? What is it?"

"Bambi...I..."

Alexia has always been his idol. She's a legend at Barcelona, captain of the club, captain of the country. Her trophies seemed endless and so did her awards. She was a World Cup winner. One of the greatest to ever play the game.

He wanted to be like her.

Her approval meant everything to him.

"Jaume," Alexia says," What is it? About Bambi? Tell us."

"I've been eating her dinner," He admits," When you and Mama turn your backs. She gives it to me."

Tia Alba noisily blows out air, hands cradling her head and Jaume can see the heartbreak on absolutely everyone's faces.

"Thank you for telling us," Alexia says," You're a good boy, Jaume."

Jaume's throat still feels tight though and guilt still swirls in his belly. "Is she...Is she going to be okay?"

No one answers.

It's a delicate situation to work around.

Alba drops hints during your weekly lunch. Olga keeps an eye on your snack breaks after school. Alexia tries to heap more food onto your plate.

You don't notice anything wrong though, apart from the fact that Jaume is suddenly not hungry anymore. He doesn't want your leftovers.

Alexia's the one to confront you, slipping into your room as you finish up some homework.

"Hey," She says.

"Hey." You finish off your last sentence before spinning around in your chair. "What's up?"

Your room has changed since you were little.

Most of your train tracks and little sets are packed away in the attic but your favourite models still litter your shelves. Your bed has gotten bigger and the bookshelf that used to be covered in children's stories is now full of textbooks and little dancing knickknacks like dead pointe shoes or worn-through ballet flats.

A desk has been moved in for you to complete your school work and your closet is now full of clothes you wanted to buy rather than what Alexia used to want you in.

Gone is the little girl with full, round baby cheeks and in her place is a teenager who's lost weight at an alarming rate.

Alexia can hardly believe it.

"I bought us ice cream."

She waves the tub teasingly at you and you pull a face.

"Sorry, Mami," You say," But I'm not hungry right now."

You spin your chair back to your desk.

Alexia spins it back.

You huff.

"Even just a little bit?" She asks," I can't finish this all by myself."

"Jaume's always hungry. Eat with him."

Something prickles down your spine.

Mami is acting weird like she knows something about you that you don't want her to know.

You stare across at her from the bank of a river. You're on one side. She's on the other. The river rushes between you, a gaping chasm that's getting more and more dangerous as it splashes at the banks.

"I can't eat with you?"

She's pushing now and you snap.

"Why does it matter? I'm not hungry! Drop it!"

Alexia's façade drops as well.

"You've not been eating," She says bluntly.

The water laps more furiously at the banks of the river, rushing towards to a waterfall. Alexia looks at you from across the bank. You stare back at her unblinking.

"Yes..." You say, frozen in place," Yes, I have. What are you talking about?"

"Are you an athlete?"

"What?"

"Do you consider yourself an athlete?"

You scoff, standing up. Your stomach swirls as blood rushes to your head. You feel a little woozy and light-headed but you force your way through it.

"Is this your way of saying that dance isn't active enough for you? Yes! Yes, I consider myself an athlete."

"Then why aren't you fuelling yourself like one?"

Alexia's being gentle about this, trying to coax you out of the corner you've found yourself trapped in. She should have been more subtle though, she realises with a jolt, because you're seconds away from bolting.

She reaches out for you across the bank, a simple hand.

You want to take it. You want her to throw a rope across for you. Something for you to hold and clutch as you swim over to her, to safety.

But you just can't.

Safety means questions and you don't want to answer her questions. You're sure she'll hate you for what she unearths. You're sure she'll look at you and not see her daughter looking back.

If you can't be perfect for her, if you can't be perfect for yourself then you're not worth anything to her.

Jaume has common interests with Mami. He plays football like she did. He plays well like she did. He's going to be world-class like she was.

You have little in common with Alexia but it doesn't make her love you any less. She adores you. She'd drop everything to make sure you're alright.

She doesn't care if you're not perfect. She doesn't care if you decide to quit ballet altogether. She just wants you to be alright.

But you just don't believe that.

You need perfection in yourself. You assume Alexia needs perfection from you as well.

She's staring across the bank from you, arm still out.

You reach for it but the river has gotten more aggressive. The mud on the bank is slippery.

You go straight in.

You try to inflate your lungs but all you can do is breathe in icy cold water as you're battered against the rocks.

You look at Alexia, still holding a tub of ice cream.

She looks at you.

You bolt.

Out of your room. Down the stairs. Out the door and down the street.

Alexia would run after you but she knows. She knows you so well. You'll just run from her and you're much fitter than she is right now. You'd get away quickly.

If she lets you go now then she'll at least know where you're going.

If she runs after you then you could go anywhere.

You're scared. Alexia has scared you.

It's a difficult conversation to have so Alexia lets you run. You need time to calm down, to prepare for this.

She's not happy. She can't be happy when you are starving yourself for reasons still unknown but she can be content with her decision to let you go for now.

You'll have run to somewhere you feel safe.

Alexia can be content.

Or, she's content for a few hours until she gets that call.

"Is this Alexia Putellas?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm just calling because you're put down at y/n's emergency contact? I'm afraid she's passed out in one of the practice rooms."

[kaiijo]

THINGS YOU DO THAT HE FINDS HOT — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, itoshi rin, barou shouei content: gn! reader, suggestive content notes: hope you enjoy!

⋆｡° isagi yoichi

oh. my. gosh. isagi is absolutely down bad for you wearing his clothes — specifically, his jersey. tbh all the players love when you do but with mr. isagi “egoist” yoichi is one of the most obsessed with it.

whether his clothes are loose, tight, or fit just right, isagi’s face is flushed red and his eyes are glued to you with stars in them. after he see you in his jersey, he’s giving you his sweatshirts and jackets and looking up matching clothes on the internet

⋆｡° bachira meguru

bachira immediately gets butterflies in his stomach whenever you dance. he loves seeing how carefree you are when you do and just the way you twist and move your body.

if you really want to make his heart skip a beat, invite him to dance with you with an outstretched hand and a sweet grin and he’s absolutely putty in your hands. when you dance as close as you can, chest to chest, he’s melting in your arms with an uncharacteristically shy smile and a whole army of butterflies in his stomach

⋆｡° kunigami rensuke

kunigami really, really, really likes it when you openly admire his physique. he’s not trying to be vain but he works hard for his muscles so he loves it when you show your appreciate for that hard work

you can do this in various ways: compliment him, stare at him when he works out, squeeze around his arm and ask if he’s bulked up more since the last time that he saw you with a little, cheeky smile. whatever you do, it has kunigami feeling a little lightheaded

⋆｡° nagi seishiro

this might be cliché but nagi thinks it’s super hot when you get really passionate about things that either you like or that he likes. as someone who is pretty lazy, there’s something about the contrast of you getting fired up that he likes. he’s focuses on how animated you get when you’re telling him about something you love, the way you speak, the way you gesture, nagi just can’t take his eyes of you

like i said, he really likes you being passionate about things he likes. when you get really into a video game you’re playing together, sharp eyes trained in the screen and your fingers mashing buttons on your console, cursing quietly under your breath when something doesn’t go right — it may not seem that nagi is paying attention but he is and he’s enjoying every moment he’s spending with you

⋆｡° chigiri hyoma

chigiri’s face gets really warm whenever you trace your fingers along his face. you’re reverent, enraptured by his beauty and even though chigiri is always told how pretty he is, it’s different when it comes from you because it’s you. he’s squirming and blushing under your gaze

what makes him even more flustered is if you’re cuddling with one another and you ghost your fingertips along his jawline and whisper about just how beautiful he is. there’s something so intimate about it and chigiri feels like he’s locked in some sort of trance with you that neither of you really care to leave

⋆｡° rin itoshi

laughing at his jokes even when they’re deadass not funny is the quickest way to get rin’s heart thumping. because he’s someone who’s usually super serious, it’s kind of rare for him to crack any quips but when he does, it usually falls flat because people think he’s serious (or because it’s blatantly not funny) but you can always figure out when he does and he can count of you to let out a little giggle at the very least

maybe it’s the way your mouth curves into a smile or the way your eyes light up with amusement but rin just thinks you look your best when you’re laughing (especially at his jokes/“jokes”). he presses adoring kisses to every inch of your face when you get a private moment together

⋆｡° barou shouei

barou is an absolute sucker for you getting along with his younger sisters. he’d honestly rather die than admit it but regardless of how old they are (if they’re really much younger or pretty close in age to him), you being an older sibling figure and role model to them really attracts him to you

he may always roll his eyes when his sisters insert themselves into your time together, but he would absolutely kill for them (and for you) so seeing all the people he cares most getting close just makes him feel even more superior for choosing you as his partner. when they finally do leave you alone, he’s definitely pulling you into his arms to show you his appreciation

[spider-stark]

SPARRING PARTNER

Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin!Reader

Summary - You and Aegon have hardly spoken since sharing a particularly sensual moment a month ago. Now he thinks he stands a chance at beating you in a sparring match.

Warnings - targcest (lightly implied that reader is Daemon's daughter), vague hints regarding smut, blood, horny/stupid aegon & reader, ! MINORS DNI !

Word Count - 2.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Care for a partner?” 

Aegon’s gruff voice had come as a surprise, knocking you from a state of concentration as you swung for one of the training dummies.

Your body jolts. You fumble, then miss your mark by a fraction of an inch. The tip of your blade grazes against the dummies wooden neck, rather than slicing its head clean off. 

Gritting your teeth, blood thrums in your ears as you whirl around to face your cousin. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to sneak up on an armed woman?” 

He’s standing within an arm’s length of you—much too close, considering you had been swinging a sword around. One wrong move, and it could’ve been his head that you had taken off. 

In spite of this, Aegon appears utterly at ease. Standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he shrugs at you, a lopsided smirk pulling at his lips. “I prefer for my women to be dangerous.” 

“I’m the furthest thing from one of your women.” 

“Really?” He cocks a brow, that stupid smirk growing wider. “Must I jog your memory, then? Remind you of Aemond’s name-day celebrations when-” 

You cut him off with a narrow-eyed glare, raising your blade in a feigned-threat. The tip is poised at his navel when you hiss, “Enough.” 

Obedient as always, Aegon’s mouth snaps shut at your command. His mouth remains curved, though, silently taunting you. Memories from last month flash through your mind—the two of you, drunk and stumbling away from the Banquet Hall, hands roaming freely along each other's bodies. 

A mistake. 

That’s all it was: an ignorant, drunken, mistake. 

Still, you feel your cheeks heating at the thought of that night. You huff, sliding your sword back into the leather-sheath strapped around your hips. “I’m not one of your women,” you huff, though you’re not so sure the reminder is meant for him. “You have a type, Aegon—and that type consists wholly of whores.” 

You had nothing against the whores, of course. Many of the ladies working on the Street of Silk were fine women—if anything, you felt bad that they had to deal with him. 

At least they get paid for it, though. You deal with his flirtations free of charge. 

“Well,” Aegon drones, his lilac eyes dipping further south. Sweat soaks through your tunic, making it cling to your skin in a way that accentuates the curve of your waist. “Not wholly of whores.” 

Your expression falls flat. “How flattering.” 

With that, you spin on your heel, fully intending on continuing your training on the other side of the yard. You make it less than a full step before his fingers snag on your wrist, whirling you back around. 

Your free hand finds the hilt of your sword, a warning flashing in your eyes. Worry flashes across his face, though it’s mostly shrouded by arrogance. 

“You never answered my question,” his voice carries a subtle wobble, hardly noticeable. You catch it, though, unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin. “Would you like a partner?” 

“A sparring partner?” 

The question is phrased like an insult—and, maybe, you had meant it that way. Your focus hones in on the hand still wrapped around your wrist. His smooth, uncalloused, princelike hands. When was the last time he had even held a sword? 

A puzzled frown accentuates the pout of his bottom lip. When he speaks, his voice is so unusually tentative that his response sounds more like a question than an answer. “Yes?” 

You try holding in a laugh—and fail miserably. Aegon’s confusion gives way to annoyance, embarrassment tinging his pale cheeks red. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Several biting remarks instantly come to mind, each a bit more insulting than the last. You hold your tongue. Surely he doesn’t actually believe himself capable of sparring with you, right? When it comes to swordfighting, you’re leagues above him. It wouldn’t even be close to a fair match. 

“Nothing,” you respond quickly, tight-lipped as you hold back another laugh. “But you know what? Sure—I could use some decent competition.” 

Aegon’s chest puffs slightly, confidence soaring. 

You nip that in the bud, “Mind fetching your brother for me?” 

He deflates at the mention of his brother, shoulders slumping forward as he scoffs. “You truly believe Aemond to be better than me?” 

“Without question.” 

Aemond was a bit of a twat—but he was undeniably skilled at swordplay. 

“Do you forget that Aemond and I were trained by the same knight?” Aegon asks, brows raised. “I’m just as skilled with a blade as my brother. If not more.” 

Another laughable statement that has you biting your cheek, trying not to insult him any more than you already had. 

It was true that, same as Aemond, Aegon had been trained by Ser Criston, a knight of the Kingsguard, when he was a boy. But if the softness of his palms was any indicator, then he hadn’t done a good job at keeping up with that training. 

“Doubtful.” Sighing, you then gesture to his clothes, “Besides, you’re not even dressed for a fight, Aegon. You can’t move in that!” 

Glancing down at himself, he observes his tight-fitted emerald tunic, slim trousers, and shiny black boots. Fashionable—but terrible for a fight. 

“I assure you that I can move just fine,” he huffs, weakly defending himself. Bringing a hand to his hip, he slides a dagger from a small black sheath. “I’ll prove it!” 

You stare at the weapon, unblinking. Incredulity lines each syllable as you ask, “You plan to fight me with that?” 

It was, admittedly, a very pretty dagger. 

No expense had been spared in its creation. The pommel was forged of shimmering gold, rounded and delicately crafted to emulate the appearance of glistening dragon scales. Dark shagreen wrapped the hilt, and the blade itself was made of steel so dark it appeared onyx, its tip curved ever-so-slightly, making it ideal for carving through flesh. 

Pretty, but still just a dagger. A weapon designed for close-range attacks would do him little good against a sword. 

“It’s a weapon, is it not?” If Aegon’s at all embarrassed by your teasing, he doesn’t show it. His jaw flexes, lilac eyes boring into you. “Fight me.” 

“This is foolish-” you start. 

“Fight me,” Aegon growls, cutting you off. He takes a step closer. Your spine turns to a steel rod, chin held high as his stare narrows on you. “Unless you’re too afraid to lose,” he purrs. 

Your blood simmers. 

He’s goading you. You know that—and take the bait anyway. 

“Fine,” you answer bluntly. 

Rolling your shoulders, you take your stance a few paces back from him. Feet apart and hands raised defensively, you don’t even bother with drawing your weapon—making his brow raise. 

“What about your sword?” He asks, eyeing the sheath at your waist. 

“Don’t need it.” 

Cocky—but true, nonetheless. If you were to spar with a weapon, then you would probably have him disarmed in seconds. Doing it this way, unarmed, you at least stand a chance of getting a good workout before your inevitable victory. 

“Let’s go.” Curling your fingers, you beckon him closer, a taunt in your voice, “Give it your best shot, Aeg.” 

A shiver crawls up his spine, thinking back to Aemond’s name-day, the last time you had called him that. The two of you had been so impatient that you hadn’t made it further than an empty broom closet; his teeth grazing against your neck, and his name oozing from your tongue like honey. 

His hand tightens around the hilt, remembering how it felt to be gripping your bare waist, instead. Remembering, too, how it felt as his touch drifted lower and lower, his fingers hooking along the waistband of your smallclothes just as a maid pushed the door open and started screaming. 

You hadn’t called him Aeg since that night—since you rushed to fix your gown and darted out the door, leaving him to deal with the maid. To hear it again now—after a month of dreaming of it—was pure bliss, as well as a confirmation that, perhaps, you don’t regret that night as much as you wish you did. 

Voice low, he asks, “Ready?” 

You almost smile. Aegon had been trained by the Kingsguard, taught to spar with honor, to wait until your opponent was ready to strike. 

But you were trained by the Rogue Prince. Taught to say fuck honor—strike first, ask questions never. 

A split second and you’re lunging forwards, making a move for his dominant side. 

Aegon’s eyes go wide—then his guard snaps up, forcing him to focus. 

Caught off guard, his movements are desperate and sloppy as he stumbles backwards, evading your strike. 

Your fingertips brush the sleeve of his tunic. If he’d moved a second later, you would have caught him by the wrist. A second later, and you would have already won. 

“Sneaky,” he chastises. 

You open your mouth to respond, only for the words to be cut off by a yelp. He takes you by surprise, barreling straight for you. Steel glimmers as the onyx blade sweeps towards you, slicing through the air much faster than you would’ve thought. 

There’s no time to dodge the strike—not without the risk of tripping over your own feet. You lift your forearm, aiming to block rather than dodge. Aegon notices this—a heartbeat too late—and purposefully slows his own blow. 

You hiss as cold steel grazes against your skin. Crimson trickles towards your elbow, minuscule compared to what it could have been. If Aegon hadn’t hindered his own strike, the blade could have very well cut-through to pure-ivory bone. 

Anger sparks in his eyes. “You could’ve dodged that,” he pants. 

Taking several small steps backwards, you grin at him through gritted teeth. “And you could’ve struck harder.” 

Aegon’s stare narrows and, instantly, that spark flares to an all-consuming wildfire. Lilac flames lick at his irises, the heat of them nipping at your skin, sweat beading along your brow. 

He moves first. 

Slicing from the left, you duck to the right. His counter is swift, aiming for your bicep. But he’s too hesitant—giving you just enough time to twist your body out of the way. 

His movements are as fast and relentless as they are unsustainable. Aegon’s chest heaves, evidence of his fraying endurance. You bide your time, weaving and dodging his blade's curved tip. Letting him push you back and back and back, focusing on evading rather than striking. 

Swinging low, his blade cuts through the front of your tunic, hardly a fucking centimeter from tearing into your sternum. A bit panicked, you snap your arm up. It rams into the side of his dominant wrist, striking a particularly sensitive nerve. 

He hisses. Takes a step back to regroup. 

Never loses his grip, though, knuckles turning white around the hilt. 

“Impressive,” you bite out, feeling your own temper flare. 

Taking advantage of the small window, you move towards him. Swept towards his ankle with your leg, hoping to knock him off balance but— 

—He predicts your movement, jumping back only to immediately press forward again. Every movement is aggressive; not calculated or precise, but still swift and near inescapable. 

You block and block, stumbling back and back. Your footwork turns sloppy, your focus hazy. Then, suddenly, your back is slamming into rough stone. Blade poised at your chest, Aegon grins even as he fights to catch his breath. 

You curse at yourself, realization settling into your bones. 

You counted on him being a poor swordsman—on being out of practice and out of shape. Waiting for his stamina to deplete, knowing that when it did, you could easily overpower him. 

You hadn’t considered that maybe he’d had a strategy of his own, though. 

Aegon had tricked you. Overexerted himself on purpose. Moved faster and faster, ensuring that you were focusing on him and not your surroundings, allowing him to back you into a godsdamned corner. 

Your temper flares. Instincts kick in. 

Your hand thrusts upwards, aiming for the chain dangling around his neck. His freehand shoots up at the same time, catching your fingers just as they wrap around the thick metal. He doesn’t move your hand away, letting the warmth of your touch linger against the column of his throat. 

You had planned to choke him, and Aegon knows this. And yet neither fear nor worry clouds his gaze. His lilac eyes remain bright, glittering with intrigue, of all things. 

A low chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, which is only mere inches from your own. “If you were this desperate to touch me,” Aegon purrs, the sweetness of arbor red permeating your senses as his breath fans across your cheek, “then you should’ve just asked.” 

“You’re insufferable,” you grind out. 

Aegon leans closer, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as your foreheads touch. Your heartbeat stutters, then quickens. He loosens his grip on your fingers, not caring that you could easily attack him again. As he brushes a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear, you’re fairly certain that, at this moment, Aegon has no cares at all. 

“You were wrong,” he whispers. 

The world around you begins to fade, your vision hollowing until all that remains is him. You just stare at him—wide-eyed and confused, utterly ensnared. 

“Earlier,” Aegon continues. “You said that you were the furthest thing from my type of woman. But you were wrong–” his touch drifts from your hairline, traveling along your jaw in a soft caress, “–you’re the only type of woman that I want.” 

A serrated breath escape escapes you as Aegon pushes himself against you, further caging you against the stone. Close enough that, with each breath, his plush lips brush against yours. Close enough that you can feel his hardening length buried against your thigh. 

“Every night,” his voice drops to a whimper now. “I’ve thought of you every night since then. Dreamed of you, even.” 

You bite your tongue, scared that if you don’t, you might say something stupid—might tell him that you dreamt of him, too. Of the warmth of his touch, fingertips burning against your skin as they dipped lower lower lower. 

Weakness wins out, a strangled moan slipping from parted lips, “Aeg-” 

“Have you thought of me?” Aegon asks, brows furrowing into an unbearably innocent expression. You squirm against him, your back arching off the stone, hips desperately searching for friction. He clicks his tongue. “Words, dove. Use them.” 

Gods—how you hate yourself for this. For how easy it is for him to toy with you. For how much you enjoy it. 

You rasp, “Yes-” 

In response, a satisfied hum. “Good.” 

For a moment, somehow both brief and eternal, you wait for him to close that gap between you. Wait to feel his lips crash against yours, to taste the sweetness of his tongue. To have his touch once again strike a match within your soul, leaving you to burn in the ecstasy of his embrace. 

And then, suddenly, you feel it—

—the tip of his fucking dagger pressed against the underside of your jaw, a single bead of warmth trickling down the column of your throat. 

Lip curling into a snarl, you glare at Aegon. 

He looks all too pleased with himself, smirking as he asks, “Now am I better than Aemond?” 

You don’t answer him—not with words, at least. But he can see the response simmering in your eyes; a certainty that excited him far more than it scared him.

You were going to kill him.

a/n - honestly just wanted to practice writing a short little fight scene with this! originally this was going to be about aemond, but my love for aegon won out as it always does.

as always, like's comments and reblogs are appreciated! and if any of you want to talk about all things aegon or hotd/asoiaf, my asks/dms are open (please none of my irl friends like hotd i'm begging)

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and saw that your requests were open so I thought I’d shoot this over. If you don’t vibe with it don’t worry about skipping it. I was wondering if I could request a James x reader where they are living together and definitely love each other but they’ve kind of slipped into a roommate phase. Like they’re just living around each other and reader starts feeling insecure and scared and doesn’t know how to get back into normalcy. Maybe a little angsty with some fluff at the end

Thanks lovely!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.4k words

When James comes in the front door, his shoes squelch. You look him up and down, dripping wet and mud caked up to his knees. You wince. 

“Rough practice?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” James says, dropping his bag by the door and heading for the kitchen. 

There’s an exhausted slump to his shoulders, and his shoes leave a muddy trail of footprints, and you hate to do it, but—

“Would you mind taking off your shoes?” 

“Oh.” James looks down. You see him follow the trail with his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You hate yourself as soon as it’s out of your mouth, because that’s exactly the sort of thing you’d say if it wasn’t fine. And yeah, you’re a bit peeved that he’d track mud inside after you’d mopped the floors just yesterday, but you know he wasn’t thinking about it and you’d promised yourself just this morning that you were going to be nicer to him and now he’s sitting on the floor looking like his day is getting worse instead of better. 

You try again. 

“Um, I made dinner.” You step over him awkwardly, setting a hand on his head to help yourself. James doesn’t shrink from the touch, but he doesn’t lean into it like you could swear he used to either. The stove turns off like it’s relieved to do it, having idled for close to a half hour while you waited for James to get home. You wanted to try and eat together tonight; you used to do it all the time, but lately you’ve been having too many couch dinners by your lonesome. “Macaroni and cheese, is that alright?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You jolt a little at James’ hand on your back as he reaches around you for a bowl, and he looks at you, lips quirking like you’re funny. 

You find yourself smiling back by muscle memory, a reflex almost forgotten. It lifts your heart. 

“So, how was practice?” 

James glances up at you, then goes back to filling his bowl. “I’ve already told you,” he says. “Rough.” 

“Oh, right.” You huff out a little laugh. He passes you the spoon, and you take it without really looking at him. “Sorry.” 

His answering smile is weaker this time. More a press of his lips than anything. 

“Don’t be.” He kisses you on the cheek, then goes, pulling out his chair at the table. 

You take your seat, too. A lot of these base routines have begun to feel empty lately. They used to be an assurance for you, like if you always wore your same paths into the carpet you’d become so entrenched in this house, in James’ house, that neither he nor it could ever let you leave. You loved knowing that if he was back from his run when you woke up in the morning, there’d be a glass of orange juice waiting for you on the counter. That when the flowers on your kitchen table started to wilt you’d come home to a fresh bunch, and that if you called and told him you were having a bad day lunch from your favorite sandwich shop would miraculously show up at your work. Those things used to make your heart feel full to bursting, because they meant he was thinking of you. 

Now you’re not sure what they mean. They seem like things James does because he’s supposed to, like part of a script, a routine. Chores. 

As soon as he’s sat down, he’s digging into his dinner. James eats like a boy. Wolfing, like someone’s going to take it away from him. You hope it means he likes it. 

“What’d you do today, m’love?” he asks through a mouthful.

And see, he says things like that. Calls you his love, asks about your day. It’s all started to fall flat. You know he’ll take whatever answer you give him, because you’ve begun to suspect he doesn’t really care. 

“Nothing crazy,” you answer honestly. “Shayna’s baby came early, so I’m taking on a bit more at work until they can find someone to fill in for her. So that’s a bit stressful, but it’s not awful.” 

“Mm.” James nods, but doesn’t offer more than that. His mouth seems to be perpetually full. 

You fork a macaroni noodle, pretending you have more appetite than you do. Truthfully, you’ve felt weird and off and vaguely nauseous all day. 

Last night had been a bit of a breaking point for you. It came on rather suddenly. You’d gone to bed long after James, but you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from him, the way the moonlight snuck in through the slats in your blinds to fall across his sleeping face. He was so beautiful, and you loved him so much you didn’t know what to do with it all, and then you were crying. 

You’d wept silently, wishing James would wake up, but you were unwilling to rouse him and he wasn’t going to do it himself. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep with your pillowcase damp and cold under your cheek and woke to find James’ side of the bed empty as usual. Orange juice on the counter. 

“I was wondering if you might want to watch a film tonight,” you say lightly. “I saw they’ve put that sci-fi one you like back on Netflix.” 

“Ah, have they really?” James swallows, forks another bite. “Wish I could, but I’m supposed to meet everyone at Spoons in a few minutes here.” 

Oh. The realization hits you like a dull thud, smack in the center of your chest. He’s not eating quickly because he likes your food; it’s because he wants to leave. 

“Can’t you stay here?” Your voice is small. James looks at you like he’s not sure what to make of it. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He offers you a smile. His fork clinks in the bottom of an empty bowl, and his chair screeches as it’s pushed back. James brushes his lips across your cheek as he goes by. “We’ll have to do it this weekend, though, definitely.” 

You know by now these sorts of promises aren’t meant to keep. They come written in disappearing ink.

He heads upstairs to change, and desperation grips you. It forgets he’ll be home later and puts you hot on his heels, your own dinner left on the table barely touched. 

“Jamie, wait.” He pauses with his shirt half off, looking over at you in the doorway of your bedroom. “Don’t you feel like we’ve not had much time together lately?” you ask. 

The plea is naked in your tone, and James’ eyes soften. He tugs his shirt off, straightens his glasses. “I haven’t had time for much of anything lately,” he says, shrugging good-naturedly. 

It’s true. He’s been busy. His new coach seems to think the team has nothing but time, and as captain James is expected to commit even more than most. When he’s not at training, he’s keeping fit on his own or running errands for his mum or sleeping it all off in your bed. 

“But you should come tonight,” James goes on brightly. “Dorcas and Marlene will be there, it’ll be fun.” 

He tosses his clothes in the laundry bin and makes his way over to the dresser. You cross your arms, then uncross them. Parse your words. “I don’t…I just feel like you hung out with your friends last night, you know?” 

“You could’ve come then, too,” he says, stepping into a pair of jeans. “They all love you, you know that.” 

“I don’t want to hang out with your friends.” It comes out sharper than you intend, though not less sharp than the look James gives you. He’s finished getting dressed but doesn’t make to leave. “That’s not what I mean. I like your friends, but it’s not…the same as spending time with you. It doesn’t count, for me.” Your voice softens on the last two words, knowing that for James, it might very well count. 

For him, you’ve gathered, social time is social time. So long as you’re there, he’ll feel just as connected to you as if you were curled up on the couch together having a private conversation. You wish your brain worked the same way, but it doesn’t. 

He’s looking at you with something like trepidation now, so you state it plainly. 

“I really miss you, Jamie.” A blockage rises in your throat. You swallow it back down. “I feel like…I don’t know what’s going on with us lately.” 

“We’re the same as we have been.” He looks confused, worse when your face pinches painfully. 

“And that’s all?” You try to blink them away, but tears burn in your eyes. “This is just what we do now?” 

“No.” James looks appalled, but you catch the quick glance he gives to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s only for now, just until the season’s over and Coach mellows out. Where’s this coming from?” 

You blink hard, angling your head away from him. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just being emotional.” Your breath scrapes on the way in. You pretend it doesn’t. “It’s okay if you have to go.” 

He shakes his head, and when you start back towards the stairs anyway, he says, “No, come on.” In a few long strides, he’s got your elbow. He tugs you gently back into the room. “Let’s sit down, okay? What’s going on?” 

“Sorry.” Your voice is pitchy and tight. You think you hear James inhale softly before he’s drawing you into a hug. It doesn’t feel quite like it used to, but it’s still warm, still nice. 

He sits you both down on the edge of your bed, arms still wrapped loosely around you. “What are you sorry for, baby?” 

“I was going to try not to make your life harder today,” you laugh wetly, pulling back from him to swipe under your eyes. 

“You don’t make my life harder,” James says, somewhere near to dismayed as he slides his hand to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t.” 

You give him a look meant to say, Oh, come on, but you’re not sure how it comes off with your face blotchy and snot starting to run from your nose. You take in a big breath, trying to calm yourself. 

“I think I’ve made it harder more than I’ve made it easier lately,” you admit, looking at your bedcover and also at nothing at all. “I didn’t even really realize until recently, but I’ve just felt so…disconnected from you lately. It’s like even when you’re here, I’m just around you and not with you, and—” Your voice catches, and you inhale again. “And I know you’re really busy, but I’m just trying to find ways to fix it.” 

James’ hand drops from your shoulder, into his lap, and you lift your gaze. He looks crestfallen. “What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly, his own voice starting to sound raw. “I can’t control these things. And we live together, I see you all the time. It doesn’t seem fair to ask me not to see my mates.” 

“I’m not asking you to do that.” You’re horrified. “But that’s just it, Jamie, it’s like we only live together anymore. Saying hi when you come in, waving when you go back out, those don’t count as quality time for me. And I wish I could get the same feelings from being in a big group that you do, but I can’t.” 

James looks at you helplessly. You shrug, just as powerless. 

“I know it’s not your fault,” you tell him, and a tear drips off your chin. “I don’t know what to do, either. I just want you to know that I’m trying, okay?” 

James nods for a minute. Thoughtful, heartbroken. He lets out a big breath. Your arms come around each other at almost the same time, so in sync you can’t be sure who reaches for the other first. You’re trying not to get snot on his fresh shirt, but he palms the back of your head, pressing your face to his shoulder. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. “You’re right, we should both be trying more. I think I’ve let myself get so overwhelmed that I’m not…almost not even thinking throughout the day, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this by yourself.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, and a little laugh rumbles through James’ chest. He hugs you tighter. 

“It is a little bit, though, isn’t it? I haven’t been paying attention. But okay, let’s make a plan for now.” His hand splays out between your shoulder blades, and you clutch at the material of his shirt, both of you wordlessly trying to get closer as if you can make up for lost time. “Come with me tonight, please.” You go still, but James goes on, “I know it’s not a solution, but I can’t back out and I’d really feel so much better if you were there. Please, angel. And tomorrow, we’ll stay in and watch something. Not a film only I like,” he gives your back a teasing little squeeze, “but something we can both get into. Or we can just talk, or play a game, I don’t care. Tomorrow is our night, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sniff, nodding and pulling away slightly so you can wipe your face. James joins in, pinching your nose clean for you and wiping the snot on his jeans carelessly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to clear my busy schedule.” 

He smiles. It’s like the sun beaming through clouds. “I’d appreciate that. Really hard to get ahold of you these days.” You let out a little laugh, and his grin spreads. “Good, so that’s for now, and at training on Friday I’m going to talk to Coach about cutting down on our hours.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Jamie, you don’t have to—” 

“I do,” he says. “I’ve been a wuss about it, but everyone on the team is miffed and it’s really my job to handle it. He doesn’t know everything yet, so I can at least give him some advice about how we operate best.” 

James palms the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and meeting you halfway. His forehead presses against yours. 

“I’m really glad you said something. Thanks for being the smart one, as usual.” Your smile is small at first, but James nudges his nose against yours until it blooms in full. “We’re gonna make it better, okay?” 

You swallow thickly. “Okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 

“Don’t thank me.” His voice takes on a tender quality, and you push your forehead into his. He palms your cheeks in response, stamping his lips to your forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you, too.” 

That was never up for debate. 

[fushigurioo]

SAKURA VS TECHNOLOGY

FACETIME EDITION

y/n is missing sakura, so they thought they’d facetime him so they could see him before bed. oh, if only they’d known what a struggle it would be..

wc: 831

You blink down at your phone screen - in utter disbelief in what it’s displaying back to you. Once, twice, three times.

“HELLO?? Why aren’t ya saying anything?” Sakura huffs on the other end. “Why are ya calling me this late anyway it’s midnight, what’s up?”

Another second passes before you sigh and giggle at your boyfriend, who currently has his phone pressed against his ear, despite being on a facetime call.

“What are ya laughing at? HELLO?”

“Haru..babe.. take your phone away from your ear. This is facetime.” You say, trying with all your might to hold back your laughter. As funny as it may be, how clueless he is with technology, you find it simply adorable at how surprised and flustered he gets when he discovers something new on his phone that would be so mundane to most.

“Huh? It’s what time?” He asks, while pulling the device away from his ear and looking down at the screen.

You tilt yours away from your face, snorting and choking on your laughter.

He’s lying on his back, flat on his pillowless futon. His two-toned hair is pushed back and messy. He’s looking downwards at his phone, holding it just slightly below his chest. It’s the most UNFLATTERING angle.

Your restraint cracks and you burst out into a fit of laughter at the combination of the angle, and his confused expression when he realised he can SEE you on his phone.

“Huh.. What the hell is this? How is there a video of ya on my screen? Did you do this?” He’s talking so fast, and has the most precious pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

“No Haru,” you say in between short laughs. “This is facetime. It’s a phone call, but we can see each other at the same time! I thought we could try it out because I couldn’t sleep and I miss you.” You explain, propping your phone up against a makeshift lump on your blanket, giving him a little wave and heart hands.

“It’s- oh..” Sakura mumbles. He smiles softly down at his phone, his heart rate increasing when he registers that he’s looking at you in real time. His blush deepens just ever so slightly into a darker shade of pink. Though, the sweet moment soon ended when his eyes widen and he gasps, sitting up quickly and fixing his messy hair.

“Wait - did ya say we see each other? You can see me too?” There’s a slight tremor in his voice, he’s nervous.

“Mhm” you nodded. “I saw how happy you were to see me.”

His face flushes all over again and he chokes on his breath. “AS IF! I wasn’t happy to see you, I was just surprised that - huh? What’s with ya?” Concern briefly flashes through his face as he clocks your face, which had lost its smile and in turn replaced it with a pout, your lower lip sticking out. Just a slight manipulation tactic you mastered which always catches your boyfriend off guard when he’s yapping random words to make it seem like he isn’t completely head over heels in love with you.

“I’m sorry, I really did think you’d be happy..” You carried on with your pretend sad act, knowing that Sakura would crumble at any second.

And boy, did he crumble.

“HEY! STOP DOING THAT I -“ he lowers his voice and looks down to his left, avoiding eye contact. “I am happy to see ya, okay? I.. I missed you too.”

Your heart swells with undeniable joy and love for your boyfriend, and your happy smile made its way back to your face. Sakura moved his eyes back to his phone screen, and after seeing your change of expression, couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across his face too, nor the sheer adoration in his eyes as you moved on and started telling him about some funny tiktok you had just watched.

From this night onward, you and Sakura would always facetime before you fall asleep, on the nights that you don’t spend together.

Despite facetiming becoming a regular routine for the two of you, Sakura still always puts the phone to his ear when it’s you calling him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

BONUS

“Did you guys hear the rain last night guys? Boy, it was really coming down.” Nirei questions his friends, before taking a sip of the coffee he had, courtesy of Kotoha.

“Mhm. Although not for long, heavy rain always relaxes me into a peaceful sleep.” Suo answers.

“Not me. I didn’t realise, I was talking to y/n on face chat. Face talk.. whatever.” Sakura explains nonchalantly, taking a bite out of his egg sandwich.

Kotoha, Suo and Nirei all exchange knowing, amused glances with each other, with Kotoha covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter.

“I think he means facetime.” Suo said, with his signature closed eyed smile and head tilt.

“I SAID WHATEVER.”

NOTE FROM RIO: THIS IS MY FIRST NON SMAU POST 😭😭 I really hope you all enjoy, as always please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see and i’ll do my best to make it happen❤️

[tired-biscuit]

farmer boy!kiri driving me insane as per usua

he’s everyone in town’s favorite guy!! big and dependable and so funny!! local housewives make it a point to wear their prettiest dresses to go and visit his stand at the local market.. but he doesn’t fall for it..

doesn’t fall for anyone until you move into town.. you work at the local bakery and sometimes visit him when the bakery needs an expedited egg delivery..

he’s so smitten with you, you’re pretty, smart and he can’t take his eyes off of you.. makes it a point to lift the heaviest things when you’re around in an effort to impress you..

little does he know how smitten you are with him.. how you purposely promote custards and egg tarts just so that your bakery needs more eggs and milk.. and you have an excuse to go see him again <3

all these meet-cutes until he finally works up the courage to ask you on a picnic.. where he lets you feel his muscles like you’ve been dying to from the start.. where he lets you take off his overalls and lifts up your skirt..

where the sun warms his and yours’ skin and where only the flowers know what happened next :3

(he ate you out and bred u <3)

18+ / fem!reader

you’ve been dying to touch and feel his biceps for the longest time now because you’ve seen the way they tighten and turn exceptionally prominent whenever he picks up and tosses those big sacks of flour that you keep ordering for your bakery from him and him only.

he always greets you in the friendliest way possible whenever he swings by to deliver you the goods; a polite nod of his head and a warm “hey there, darlin’” never fail to make you weak in the knees. the combination of it, that’s sometimes even accompanied by a rather playful wink, turns your brain to goddamn mush. goodness, you’re so into him that it’s getting kind of absurd!

but to be fair, how couldn’t you be? he’s pure eye candy, with his sharp facial features, fiery eyes and messy hair of the exact same shade that he keeps tied back with the help of a single elastic, and that exposes the sides of his neck, as well as the nape, in the most delicious of ways.

his skin is tan and sun-kissed from many days spent working outside under the blazing sun, and his back is broad; he carries any kind of weight with seemingly no trouble at all. the faded, well worn jeans that he usually throws on whenever he drives to town make his ass and thighs look absolutely divine as they hang off his hips.

the sight of them makes you feel like a sleaze from the way they coax you to ogle at him so openly again and again. stealing glances as he moves around your little storage room where you keep all your ingredients, all you can see is his tight physique, his big hands, how appealingly thick his fingers are; coated with a thin layer of white powder coming from the flour.

he’s a working man, oftentimes dirty with sweat and grime whenever you just happen to be passing by his land and spot him coming back from the fields, but surprisingly enough, he keeps his nails clean whenever he comes to see you.

and it doesn’t stop just at the nails. even his face lacks the sheen of sweat his line of work usually tends to induce, because unbeknownst to you, he doesn’t leave the house before he scrubs it clean. his signature white t-shirts — each one usually adorned with a logo of his favourite sports team — are crisp and constantly smell of pleasant laundry detergent; like they’ve been freshly washed every single time. and if his hair just happens to be a mess that day — stubborn strands, bedhead and whatnot — he makes sure to hide it underneath his trusty baseball cap just so you don’t have to see it.

altogether, it shows that he’s trying to impress you. that he’s putting in the effort.

and that effort is almost enough to make an already smitten girl like yourself admit defeat and fold right then and there; in the storage room of your little bakery. to make you rest the flat of your palms against one of the shelves, and bend right over at the middle.

until the fat of your ass is peeking from underneath your pretty sundress, no panties in sight, and he’s got drool nearly dripping from his mouth at the discovery. until his fat cock is nice and snug, sheathed inside your soft cunt, and his heavy balls are tightening from the way you’re invitingly wiggling your hips against him and hurrying to make him all sticky and wet with your arousal so that he can slide in even further, even deeper.

just by looking at him, you know he’d fuck you nice and slow, and so deep that it’d make hearts form in your eyes right before they’d cross. quiet grunts would fill your ear, his breathing ragged as it tickles the side of your neck and cheek. his calloused hands would be warm against your hips; dusting flour over your dress and skin, and providing a steady weight that you could lean on and rest your tired body against any time you’d wish.

there’d be constant pressure in your lower belly — overhelming but the good kind nevertheless. the slapping of skin against skin, the stretch, the sweat coating both of your brows. the pounding, the pleasure, the passion that’d be so intense that you’d end up feeling it in the goddamn marrow of your bones even.

and then, the climax. the white noise and bliss as every nerve end buzzes with electricity that’s powerful but mellow at the same time. the feeling of warm cum eventually leaking from your poor little pussy, down your thighs, dripping onto the floor; causing a mess you both chuckle at whilst cleaning afterwards.

his forehead pressing against your spine as he hunches his back because of the prominent height difference and waits for his cock to slowly soften whilst it’s still inside of you, still stretching your velvety walls. your clothes sticking to your salt-riddled bodies as you attempt to catch your breaths and not say anything too brash or embarrassing to each other.

you want him to rail you and fuck your brains out in this tiny storage room so bad. he’s just such a… man. bulky and strong, simple and endlessly kind. his heart is as big as his tits are, and much like the rest of him, you can’t help but leer at them, too as the mixture of the summer heat and your baked delights turns too much for him to bare in that exact moment and he swiftly loses the crisp white t-shirt just so that he can survive it.

watching him as he throws it over his shoulder and keeps it there, you start to think that you could take such good care of him. that he could take such good care of you. you can already see it; a cozy house, a couple of kids. hard work, animals and endless love. fresh lemonade and cookies. creaky wooden furniture and movie nights on the world’s comfiest couch. domestic bliss.

he’s the type to kiss you goodbye and hello again whenever he walks through the front door.

your daydreams end abruptly when he tosses the last sack of flour onto the neat little pile and turns around to look at you with a face that’s all of a sudden vividly red like a tomato; from his neck to his forehead, from one ear to the other.

you’re still blinking, sweetly batting your eyelashes up at him by the time he finally gathers enough courage to ask you a question you’d thought you’d never get the chance to hear from him.

he wants to take you out on a date, huh?

[gunnerfc]

Wingwoman | Steph Catley x Cooney-Cross!Reader

Summary: Your sister Kyra notices your crush on Steph and takes it upon herself to be your wing woman 

Warnings: I did use she/her pronouns for R and there is a small makeout scene!

WC: 2.4k

AN: I just think that Steph Catley <3333333

Kyra rolled her eyes when she heard your loud laughter in response to Steph's not-that-funny joke. The midfielder was shocked no one else had figured out your crush on your fellow Aussie, you made it painfully obvious to everyone, including Steph herself. Your younger sister decided right then that she would become your wingwoman and help you get a date with your national team captain.

Kyra took her first shot during the team’s gym session when you were separated from Steph. It was hard to not find you two attached to the hip. 

“Hey Steffy,” Kyra sang as she picked up a set of weights. “Hi, Kyra,” the older woman responded, a small groan falling from her lips when she noticed who it was. Steph loved Kyra but she was not in the mood to deal with any of her jokes.

Steph had, or so she thought, been doing her best to show you how interested in you she was. Yet, all of her advances seemed to fail when you made no effort to reciprocate her feelings. You two have played together for the Matildas for a long time and the defender has always had a small crush on you that seemed to grow when you joined Arsenal. 

“What do you think of Y/n/n,” Kyra asked, trying her hardest to make anything obvious just yet.

Steph paused her movements, a small weight still in her grasp. She could feel her cheeks grow warmer at the mere mention of you and quickly turned her head away from the young midfielder. Why was your younger sister suddenly asking about you?

“Um, I think she’s... cool,” the defender replied, rolling her eyes when she couldn’t come up with a better word to describe you. She had plenty of nice things to say about you, but all of them were far too romantic and cheesy to say to Kyra.

“I disagree but whatever, moving on,” Kyra joked, not missing the chance to be a typical younger sister. “Do you think she’s pretty,” she questioned, hoping to bait Steph into saying more than just ‘cool.’

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? She’s one of the prettiest people I’ve ever met,” Steph rushed out, her cheeks once again heating up as she thought about how attractive you were.

Kyra had to resist the urge to dramatically gag at her words and instead opted to not respond. She left Steph to do her weight lifts, leaving her confused and slightly worried that she might have made it too obvious she had a crush on you.

Steph tried to shake her thoughts but she heard you laughing loudly at Katie and Leah and her eyes immediately landed on you. She wasn’t sure what else she could do to make you see how she felt about you but little did she know Kyra had it (slightly) under control.

Kyra didn’t say anything else to either of you until you were in the car headed to your shared flat. “So, when do you plan on telling Steph you’re madly in love with her,” your younger sister teasingly asked when you stopped at a red light.

Your eyes widened in shock as you jerked your head in her direction. “What are you talking about,” you rushed out, you thought you hadn’t made it obvious at all considering Steph hadn’t tried to make a move.

“Please, have you heard how loudly you laugh at her jokes,” Kyra rolled her eyes as she responded to a text from Alessia.

“Her jokes are funny,” you tried to defend yourself, you thought the jokes Steph made were hilarious.

“Everything is funny when you haven't fucked,” Kyra shot back with a raised eyebrow, daring you to challenge her words.

“Kyra!,” your eyes widened at her words, but you had no other rebuttal and focused on driving once the light changed. 

The rest of the car ride was silent as you replayed Kyra’s few words. Surely you hadn’t been that obvious with how you acted around Steph. If your sister was able to catch on, maybe your other teammates had as well. Or, maybe Steph herself knew and didn’t feel the same way and that’s why she hadn’t made a move.

While you spent the rest of the evening thinking about every interaction you had with Steph, Kyra was busy texting Alessia and Vic asking for help trying to set you up with Steph. You could hear your younger sister giggling through the walls and could only hope she hadn’t told any of your Arsenal teammates. Or worse, your Matildas teammates. You knew if any of them knew, you truly wouldn’t live it down.

Kyra rolled her eyes at her screen when she read Alessia’s text that said she should force the two of you into a closet. The midfielder quickly responded saying that was too cheesy and she needed something different.

An idea popped into her head when Vic said something about needing one of you to feel jealous. The team had planned a night out for the upcoming weekend after the game and knew it would be her chance to force one of you to make a move. She quickly texted the small group chat to say she had a plan but refused to elaborate. 

Kyra spent the rest of the week planting small hints to you and Steph about the other, hoping to make you both think about the interactions you two have had. After the final whistle blew for that week’s game, Kyra watched you hug Steph for much longer than two friends would and rolled her eyes when you both pulled away with a deep blush.

The team quickly showered and changed before heading to a local late-night hangout bar to celebrate the win. You purposely avoided Steph and opted to sit with Stina and Frida at the opposite end of the table but your eyes swayed toward the defender every few seconds. 

You nodded along to the conversation your two teammates were having but your mind was focused on Steph. The little comments Kyra had made throughout the week were starting to get to you and you felt like you were getting your hopes up. 

You weren’t paying attention when Kyra, along with Alessia and Vic, excused themselves to the bar. This would be Kyra’s final move in an attempt to get you and Steph together and if it didn’t work, she might have to take Alessia up on her offer to shove you two into a closet. 

“Excuse me,” your younger sister started, gaining the attention of the closest bartender. “Do you see that girl at the end of the table over there,” Kyra asked as she subtly pointed over her shoulder to you.

The bartender nodded in response once his eyes landed on you. “Can you fix a random drink and take it to her and tell her someone from the bar sent it to her? But don’t say who, we’re trying to make two idiots realize their feelings,” Kyra asked, hoping this would work out the way she was hoping. 

The bartender chuckled to himself at her request but nodded again anyway. Kyra knew you wouldn’t drink during the season but a random person wouldn’t know that which made it seem a bit more believable that it was from a stranger. The trio quickly headed back to the table, no one had realized they had been at the bar. 

You were deep in conversation with Stina when a drink was placed in front of you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and you felt your cheeks warm slightly when you realized all of your teammates' eyes were on you. 

“Um, I didn’t order this,” you started but the bartender quickly cut you off to tell you it was from someone else. He didn’t stick around long enough for you to ask who at the bar it was from.

A few of your teammates let out whistles and laughs before they started teasing you about having an admirer. You playfully rolled your eyes at their comments but when you locked eyes with Steph, there was a different look in her eye that you hadn’t seen before. You swallowed lightly before tearing your eyes from hers and continuing your conversation with your Swedish teammate. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see Steph stand before making her way to the bathroom. You resisted the urge to let your eyes linger on her and forced yourself to keep the conversation flowing. Your phone dinged a few moments later with a text and you quickly apologized to Stina before checking who it was from.

You held your breath for a moment when you read Steph’s name followed by her asking you to come to the bathroom. You waited a moment before excusing yourself in hopes it wasn’t obvious. With your back now facing the group as you made your way to the bathroom, you missed the little high-five your sister and her two new close friends gave each other. 

You quietly knocked on the door to let Steph know you were there and it was unlocked a second later. You quickly entered the bathroom and locked the door behind you. Steph was leaning against the sink with her arms crossed. You’ve never seen her look this upset, especially at you in the years that you've known her. 

You waited to speak, giving her time to process whatever she was thinking. The silence in the room was thick and the tension was growing. You watched Steph clench her jaw a few times before she started speaking.

“This isn’t how I thought I'd be telling you this but I’m in love with you. I know I should have told you sooner but I didn’t know if you felt the same way because you never seemed to reciprocate anything then Kyra kept saying these little comments that made me think that maybe you do feel the same way,” the defender declared before stopping to take a breath.

Your jaw fell open slightly at her words, the shock was evident across your face. You thought about her words, pausing on what she said about your sister. Kyra had been telling you both things the past week in hopes you’d both get it together and say anything to the other. A small part of you was grateful for your sister’s intervention but you were mainly focused on the fact that Steph felt the same way you did.

“I didn’t know you felt the same way I do, I thought you were just being super friendly! If I had known you felt the same way, I would have said something way sooner, I just didnt want to ruin our friendship on the off chance you didnt feel the same way,” you blurted out before Steph had a chance to say anything.

Both of you stood in silence as you processed what the other said, realizing you both are terrible at reading hints. Steph chuckled to herself before she took a few steps toward you and moved a hand to rest on your cheek. You locked eyes with her before yours dropped to her lips, subconsciously licking your own as you thought about kissing her.

Steph took one final step toward you until your noses were touching before whispering against your lips “Can I kiss you?” You nodded softly and her lips were on yours a second later. Your lips moved against each other slowly, giving you both a chance to truly take in the fact you were actually kissing.

Steph’s lips started moving against yours faster as her other hand moved to rest on your waist. You tilted your head slightly making it easier for her to take control of the kiss as one of your hands wrapped around her wrist. Your lips fought each other before Steph pulled back when air became a problem.

The defender rested her forehead against yours as you both heaved slightly in an attempt to catch your breath. “I can’t believe we have to thank Kyra for this,” you groaned softly when the realization hit. 

“Actually, I think we should thank whoever sent you that drink,” Steph joked with a small smile on her face.

You laughed softly at her words before speaking again, “Were you jealous, Steffy” you teased with a matching grin on your face.

Steph rolled her eyes at your words but the red tint on her cheeks gave her away. You chuckled as she leaned in to give you a quick peck before unlocking the door behind you. You made your way back to the table your teammates were at, ignoring the teasing comments thrown your way.

“Fucking finally,” Kyra groaned when she noticed your intertwined hands. “If that drink didn’t work, I was ready to lock you two in a closet and throw away the key,” the midfielder huffed when you two sat down.

“Wait, it was YOU who sent the drink,” you gasped at your sister, eyes wide at her words.

“Yes! Neither of you would have made a move if it weren't out of jealousy so I had to come up with something,” Kyra all but yelled. 

The rest of your teammates laughed at her outburst knowing she was right. You and Steph sat in shock even though you both also knew she had a point. “Anyways! When’s your first date then,” your sister smirked.

Neither of you spoke as you both went red in the face. “Um, we didn’t get that far,” the defender spoke for the both of you as she cleared her throat.

“What do you mean you didn’t get that far, you were gone for like ten minutes? What happened in the bathroom,” this time, it was Caitlin’s turn to question the two of you.

You both avoided the eyes of your teammates, finding your surroundings much more interesting. It was Katie who started laughing loudly before shouting you two were doing something “dirty.” Your eyes widened and before you could tell the group that wasn’t true, more teasing comments were thrown your way. 

You groaned at their words before Steph leaned in to whisper in your ear to ignore what they were saying. Her hand wrapped around yours tightly as your teammates said every joke they could think of. 

Your face was hot as you heard the things they were saying but you did your best to tune them out. You locked eyes with your sister who was across from you, sending her a small smile and mouthing ‘thank you.’ Kyra sent you a bright smile in return before laughing along with your teammates.

Deep down you didn’t mind the comments they made, you were just grateful to finally be making progress with Steph. You squeezed her hand softly before leaning back in your chair, a large grin gracing your features.

[babyleostuff]

SUPER DRIVE

・❥・ for the 2k followers event

summary: the one where your boyfriend tries teaching you one of their choreographies, but you end up in the hospital

pairing: idol!hoshi x fem!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship | word count: 2k

warnings | a couple of swear words, and one suggestive joke

“Are you trying to get me killed?” 

Having a boyfriend who was a dancer was a dream and a nightmare at once. You loved watching him on stage and in practice, how he changed into a whole different person when he worked on a new choreography, working his ass off until dusk - you felt so proud whenever he ran straight to you at the backstage after they won an award.

But right now you wanted to curse him more than ever. This wasn’t the first time Hoshi tried to teach you one of their choreographies, but it had to be the first time that he wanted you to fall face flat into the ground. 

“How am I even supposed to move my foot like that?” You looked at his reflection in the mirror, horrified. “Oh come on, it’s not that hard, you just have to,” and then proceeded to make the most confusing moves known to humankind.

Your boyfriend was an excellent teacher, that was not up for debate, but it seemed that he forgot you weren’t a dancer - you struggled with learning the choreo for Darling, and now he wanted you to dance to Super like it was Macarena. 

“Baby, slow down, please,” you whined, pulling at his arms to stop him from moving. “I know you’re this cool super star dancer and shit, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed, I’m not,” you pointed to yourself, looking at him with a serious expression.

He laughed, pulling you to a sweaty embrace, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’ll go a bit slower ‘kay?” He looked down at you with a smile and you rolled your eyes, because you knew it wouldn’t help much. “What are you smirking at Kwon Soonyoung?” 

“Nothing,” he murmured, running his knuckle across your cheek. “Very funny,” you snorted, pushing him away, though he didn’t move much. Damn you muscles. “Keep joking like that, and you won’t get dinner for the next month.” 

“I could live without that,” he smiled, turning back to the mirror. 

“Okay then, I won’t suck yo-,” 

“Okay, okay, I get it. Let’s get back to dancing.” 

You smirked watching how his ears turned slightly red, as he tried to concentrate on the choreo. 

The sun had long set when you finally got the first steps and could easily dance the chorus of the song, which earned you a total of fifteen kisses from Soonyoung messily placed all across your face. “I told you you could do it,” he couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you dance more comfortably now.

Soonyoung loved dancing as much as he loved you - he breathed and lived for performing, and he never thought he’d find someone who’d be as supportive as you were. Even if you had to come to the studio in the middle of the night because he was having a mental breakdown - you never complained, you were there for him through thick and thin, and he’d never be able to thank you enough for that. 

You were his comfort place, his safe haven, and Sooyoung would do anything to make you happy in return. 

But almost killing you - that wasn't on his list.  

“Okay, babe, let’s teach you the next part.” 

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. You weren't sure if it was because you had been dancing for the past couple of hours, or if it was just because you were hungry, but you felt your vision blur a bit. But that didn’t matter - your boyfriend looked over the moon as he showed you the next steps, trying to take it as slow as he could so you could match his pace. 

Besides, you were sure you'd get better in a second.

“Did you get it?” Soonyoung turned around, his sweaty black bangs sticking to his forehead. If you weren’t feeling so bad you’d run your hand through his hair, pushing them back from his eyes. He always scrunched his eyes adorably whenever you did that. “Baby, you okay?” your boyfriend asked, this time more concerned.  

“Of course, don’t worry,” you tried to sound as convincing as possible. You didn’t want to cut your date short just because you were feeling a bit off. With their tight schedule and overseas trips you weren’t sure when would be the next time you’d get so much time for yourselves, and if you told him you weren’t feeling good, he’d immediately make you go home. “I just had to take a short break,” you smiled. 

Although Hoshi didn’t seem that convinced, looking a bit sceptical back at you, he resumed his explanation on the choreo as you tried to follow along. A couple of minutes passed and you actually started to feel a bit better, you even went back to bickering with him, as he laughed at you failing miserably at a certain step. 

“Next time,” you said, gasping for air. “We’re going to have a cooking date, and then we’ll see who’ll be the one laughing, you moron.” 

“Hey! You didn’t have to agree to this,” your boyfriend whined, looking at you with the biggest boba ball eyes. “I’m just kidding, baby, you know I love dancing with you. I just didn’t realise how extreme this choreo is.” 

“Let’s just finish up this part, and go home, yeah?” 

You nodded, as Soonyoung placed a kiss on your forehead, caressing the back of your head. “You’re doing such a good job, baby. No matter how much I laugh at you, you’re fucking amazing,” you scrunched your nose at his corniness, as he pecked your forehead again. 

And that’s when the blurriness came back. With nausea this time. 

Now you were sure you needed to eat something or else you’d collapse, but that would mean you’d have to leave the studio because neither of you thought about bringing any snack with you. You just decided to push through it, a couple of minutes wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. 

“And then you do the jump, but watch your feet because you have to kind of twist them like this when you land,” Hoshi showed you the footwork and how you were supposed to finish the step, looking at you carefully through the mirror. “Got it, babe?” 

You nodded your head, though you weren’t sure how much of what he had just shown you you got. Soonyoung pulled out his phone, turning on the music, totally oblivious to how much you were struggling next to him. 

For a while you were doing great - you followed Hoshi’s every step as best as you could, paying attention to your footwork and arms. You could do this, it was almost over. 

But the moment your foot touched the floor after the jump, you felt a sudden ache in your ankle radiating up your entire leg and before you knew what was happening, you fell unconscious to the floor. A panicked “baby” was the last thing you heard before everything turned black. 

Soonyoung knew something was wrong, he was your boyfriend - of course he knew when you were unwell, he was too in love with you not to notice it. If he only knew how badly you were feeling he’d carry your stubborn ass home himself, because he knew that there was no way you’d leave the studio, you’d just keep on repeating that you were fine. 

The plan was to finish the last part of the dance, hug the shit out of you as a reward, and drive you home, so you could eat and rest, but everything went to shit as he saw how your foot twisted in a weird angle, as it met the ground after the jump. Hoshi had never been so grateful for his quick reflexes, because the moment he saw your body unconsciously fall to the floor, he rushed towards you, catching you in his arms. 

"Baby? Baby, please open your eyes," Hoshi felt his arms shaking as he gently lifted your head off the floor to place it on his lap. "Baby," his voice cracked with helplessness. What was he supposed to do now? Wait until you wake up, take you to the hospital, or call an ambulance? 

The only thing that kept him from going completely crazy was the slight rise and fall of your chest - you were breathing. 

"Why didn't you tell me you felt so bad, you idiot?" he sighed, brushing your hair away from your forehead. 

The cold December air was blowing through the open window and Soonyoung could feel the goosebumps on your skin, but he didn't want to close it, you had to have some access to fresh air - it was the least he could do - but he also didn't want you to freeze. He quickly took off his flannel shirt and covered your body with it. Maybe it wasn't the warmest, but at least because it was a few sizes too big for you, it covered your whole body.

"Hey, baby? Please wake up," he whispered, his lips against your forehead. He kissed it tenderly, and in that moment, Soonyoung promised himself that when you woke up, he wouldn't leave your side for the next week. He would follow you everywhere, he would be as clingy as a puppy, but there is no chance that you would get rid of him. 

He had no idea how long it was before your eyes finally slowly opened. "W-what happened?" You croaked, trying to get up. “Hey hey, not so fast,” Soonyoung scolded you in, holding you down so you were still lying on his lap. "You overworked yourself and fainted. Why didn't you tell me right away how bad you felt?"

You sighed and looked at his worried face. It was obvious how concerned he was. "I didn't want to worry you, and besides, I knew that if I said something, you would tell me to go home. And... I thought nothing that terrible would happen," you admitted.

"Of course I'd tell you to go home, you little genius,” he snickered, rubbing soothing circles onto your hip. “I can't believe you're the one who's always mad at me for working too much and when you're the one who's worse!"

You would have agreed with him if it weren't for the pain in your ankle that wouldn't go away.

“Could you check my ankle, honey? It hurts,” you said, and quickly noticed how your boyfriend’s brows furrowed even more. “I’m sure it’s okay, it just stings a bit,” you tried reassuring him. 

You heard him curse silently, and you were about to ask him what was wrong, when you felt pain shoot through your ankle, making you whine because of the ache. “Shit, we have to get you to the hospital,” he said, gently laying your foot down, so he wouldn’t cause any more pain. 

“What do you mean?” You asked concerned, and tried lifting yourself up to look at your foot. “Lay down or I’m going to tie you down,” he said, and you decided to do as he said because you felt sorry for how shaken he seemed. “Soonyoung, baby, look at me,” you said, running your hand over his cheek. "No, no, we have to call an ambulance a-and they will take you and it won't hurt anymore, I p-promise."

“Soonyoung, calm down!" You had to raise your voice slightly because it looked like your boyfriend was about to cry. "Everything's fine, it’s just a sprained ankle."

“Excuse me for freaking out, I only thought you were dead!” He yelled, tugging at his hair, making a mess on his head. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and you seriously had to do something to calm him down.

"But Soonyoung, you can take me to the hospital, we don't have to call an ambulance," he looked at you, surprised for some reason. "You want me to drive you?"

“Yes,” now you were the one who was confused. Why was he so surprised that you wanted him to drive you to the hospital?

"So you trust me behind the wheel?"

"Baby, what do you mean? Of course I do," you said immediately, grabbing his hand.

"And you're not afraid to come with me?"

“Soonyoung, what are you talking about?”

"I just feel like not everyone feels safe with me driving, and I thought you'd feel better taking the ambulance," he said quietly, looking down. As if the pain from your ankle moved to your heart, you grabbed his hand tighter and brought your joined hands to your chest.

"There is no other person in the world with whom I feel as safe as with you."

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[icallhimjoey]

I feel like Joe's the type of guy during a heatwave to complain about the heat but still insist on cuddles. And I just imagine both parties being grumpy from the heat but also from not being able to just cuddle.

lil short one! sticky sweaty cuddles with a lil side of grump! Wordcount: 1.5K

---

That Better?

"Where do you think you're going?" you can barely make out the words Joe's mouth tries to shape. He's pressed up against your chest, his whole cheek stuck to your skin in a way that makes his lips go funny.

It's uncomfortable. Way too hot and sticky. Outside you can see another flash, and hear the sky rumble in the distance. No rain yet, though. Just humidity.

"Joe," you warn when he tightens his grip on you as you try to move away a little. "Please, it's too hot." You use both hands to find his shoulders to create some space in between the two of you.

It's difficult, because you're fatigued with the heat, and Joe is stronger than you.

"The fan's on." Joe argues, though it's dry and flat, no energy to put any heat behind his words. It's already hot enough.

He holds on, quite tightly at that, and you huff a breath into his face as you relax again. You're too weak. The room already feels stifling and heavy without a person stuck to you, but Joe's lying right on top, and you desperately need the fan to hit the areas of your body that he's covering with all of his right now.

But Joe doesn't want to move.

He's grumpy for it too, but he needs the cuddles to get to sleep, no matter how warm and sweaty and gross it feels.

Which, it does.

Everything feels damp.

It's silent for a while, until you can feel a drop of sweat make its way down your scalp, sliding through your hair slowly and then picking up speed when it gets to your neck.

It's disgusting.

"I'm not even moving and I can feel myself sweat." you complain, but Joe just hums. Adds, "Yea, it's sweltering." in agreement. He can feel you sweat too, but knows that it just means that the fan feels nicer for it. He doesn't add that bit of information - fan feels like a sensitive subject now. You had just had a big fight over whether or not to sleep with the floor fan on.

It wasn't exactly a silent one - the fan or the fight.

Joe desperately wishes for the fan to be moved out of the bedroom; it's a big floor fan that sounds like an airplane taking off, he'd always say. But you need it on. You'll take the loud constant whir that will bring you an actual breeze over suffering in a dead silent humid room that feels more like a sauna than anything else.

"Baby, you know I can't sleep with it on. It's too loud."

"Can't sleep with a fan on, but can fall asleep in the middle of The Expendables." you'd sarcastically said, making a face at him. The Expendables was basically a whole film of big loud explosions. He'd insisted on watching it the other day, and then fell asleep about 15 minutes into it.

"You know that's not-" Joe sighed with frustration. "That's hardly the same."

You could feel the sweat sit between your toes, it was that hot.

"Joe, without the fan on, I don't even want to touch my own body! Let alone yours!"

You fought, back and forth until you'd cut it off by going for a cold shower. When you got out, you found Joe in bed with all the lights off and the fan on, and you silently accepted Joe's kind compromise.

When you'd laid down on the bed, Joe had immediately rolled half onto you, and you knew that in return for the fan being on, he wanted to at least be able to fall asleep the way he wanted to. Needed to.

Touching.

All snuggled up.

Breathing your breath, limbs crossing limbs, bare skin pressing into bare skin. Feeling heartbeats and hearing heartbeats, until one of you can't feel their arm anymore from lying on a shoulder weird. Joe needs the comfort of a whole person to make a psychical connection with to feel instantly at ease.

It not his fault that you calm him down so much. That he loves you.

And you love Joe too.

But it's definitely too fucking hot for any of it. You feel too grumpy, and you know Joe isn't in the best mood either.

Joe might feel at ease, but you don't feel at ease at all.

You're still holding out hope that the clouds that had threatened rain all day will actually give way. The heat needs to break already. So far, no luck though. Just some flashes and some rumbling thunder up high in the sky.

You're not a fan.

You don't like thunder storms. There's something so very threatening about them. Every loud crash makes you jump a little, surprising you every single time.

Joe knows.

He remembers the first time he'd been around you during bad weather, and he had watched you from up close for a little while until something inside of him took over.

I, big giant man. You, small little defenseless woman. Must protect.

Cave man behaviour.

Cute when you're after a little babying, but absolutely awful when the heat and the humidity had you in an awful mood. Like right now.

Another flash lights up your bedroom for a split second, and you can hear how the storm's getting a little closer.

"I'm not scared, you know," you comment softly, and Joe just hums again. Acknowledges what you're telling him, but keeps you close for his own comfort. Doesn't seem to care if you're scared or not - just pretends that you are, because he likes that a little better.

He ducks into his shoulders a little more, curls up to you a little more, and you can feel how the side of his face slides against your chest.

Slides.

You try to hold back an audible wince at how much you hate that, and you endure Joe's weight for a little while longer. But then, slowly, the itch under your skin becomes too much and it builds until you feel like you're about to burst.

"I can't," you suddenly sputter, pushing at Joe's shoulders again. "Sorry babe, but I cannot." you say definitively, groaning as you move to sit up. This time, Joe lets you go.

When you see Joe's sad little face, half of you wants to reach out to wrap your whole self around him. But the other half wants you to go sit in the freezer.

Unfortunately for Joe, the latter wins.

"M'sorry, just..." you turn in the bed and find a piece of cold mattress to lie down on, your head near the foot of the bed now, your feet near your pillow. You get the best bit of air from the fan from there too, right in your face, and it feels a little better.

It really does help that you're damp all over.

Makes the air actually cool you down.

You suppose that's what sweat's meant to do in the first place, so it makes sense.

Joe watches you from his spot.

Watches as you starfish on top of the bed in the dark, hair blowing in the breeze, and Joe wants to frown, because this isn't what he wants. But then he sees how the creases on your face slowly disappear, and just witnessing you be a little more comfortable makes his own frown smooth out a bit too.

"That better?" Joe asks, and you're not sure if it's a sarcastic question or not. If saying yes will hurt his feelings or not. You detect a little hidden bite in there though, so you don't answer.

Instead, you sigh a little contently and say, "Come over here."

Joe doesn't need telling twice.

In an instant, his legs have swung around on the bed and he finds a nice much cooler spot next to you.

"Here," you say, and you hold out your hand.

Joe gives it a glance before looking at your face. He knows you've only just showered, but your hair's mostly dry already. He notices it now as it drapes over the edge of the bed, swaying in the wind. You may be sweaty, grumpy, sticky, and uncomfortable, but you're still gorgeous. It's almost annoying how he likes the way the heat makes you look.

"Hold my hand." you say when it takes too long for Joe to grab hold of it.

It's your compromise.

Joe smiles.

Takes it.

It's not as nice, but Joe will take it, fingers intertwining as your palms glue together.

"That better?" he asks again, and this time there's no doubt about his intentions, voice much sweeter and softer, no hidden bite left in there at all.

"Hmm." It's your turn to hum now, agreeing as you add, "Better."

Joe gets to touch you.

You get the fan on.

It's not the best of both worlds - it's still fucking boiling - but it's definitely better than before.

And then, just when you think, maybe you actually could fall asleep like this, you can hear the soft patter of a few raindrops hitting the bedroom window.

Just a few at first, but it quickly picks up into a gentle, rhythmic pattern as the sound grows.

You squeeze Joe's hand, and there's still a slight slick to your palms and fingers, kind of clammy, definitely warm.

But it's kind of nice to be stuck together like this.

Joe squeezes back, and you let a happy sigh escape you.

You can actually fall asleep like this.

"Much better."

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[savagewildnerness]

Let’s breakdown this scene…

Lestat, playing piano: bent over, lost in the world of the music - out of this world entirely. Louis sees a broken thing playing a plank of wood. A far cry from the proud, splendid creature he once knew.

(From Interview with the Vampire) "My eyes widened as I studied this stooped and shivering vampire whose rich blonde hair hung down in loose waves covering his face.”

Side note from me, as I love to talk about things that make The Vampire Chronicles appealing to me. Some people seem to be of the view that they wouldn’t desire immortality, only to be these sad, lonely, melancholic creatures… but I have always felt this way myself - even when I was a tiny child, long before I read The Vampire Chronicles. There has always been an innate loneliness and isolation to me deep inside. I don’t think you’d necessarily know it to meet me, mind! I am a smiley person! I like to do childlike, fun things. I try to bring happiness, not gloom to the world.

However, my instinct has always been to retreat into my own, wordless, unbound imagination, and to feel entirely alone, in truth. And still, I am. As a child, I felt more the weight of the world as if I were already 1000 years old. Now, loss of hope that comes with time is both sadder, scarier and, in its way, more freeing.

Anyway - imagine having infinite time and so being able to truly drift out of existence for decades. It’s such an appealing concept to me. I know Lestat is very sad here, but the idea of this kind of true escape… oh how I yearn for it. To let the world crumble around me. To step out of existence for some decades, with the possibility of return, not the reality as it is in mortal life that that is you falling through cracks you’ll never crawl out of ever again…

Lestat names Louis, reflexively when asked who said “hello”. He hasn’t turned to see Louis yet. To Lestat, Louis died 50 years ago. He is a ghost, surely? Lestat’s voice has a flat affect here. He isn’t thinking. He is merely reacting.

When Lestat first looks at Louis, I see fear:

- Does Louis really exist?

- What will Louis do?

- Must Lestat be drawn back into the world here? To acknowledge reality?

(From IWTV) “`I've dreamed of your coming . . . coming. . ' he said.”

Lestat asks Louis if he’d like a rat, as if he were a hallucination still, more than real-Louis. I think Lestat knows Louis is real when he speaks, but he’s still only half in reality himself.

Louis says “I’ve come to see you”, but Lestat is still half in his own constructed world with his music and Argerich… I love how Lestat hugs and caresses his plank-piano, drawing it into himself, as if drawing music in to himself. Me too, Lestat. Me too. I adore how Rolin and all added music to this scene. It isn’t there in the books. Of course it makes a through-line for rock star Lestat, but it is a deep love of Lestat’s and I am SO HAPPY with this addition!

I know a lot of people find “Siri, pause…” funny, but I must be a weird human, as I just find it oddly poignant. Like did people watch and laugh at this moment? This feels like when I go to see a play and people all laugh at something and I don’t laugh, then some other thing I laugh out loud at, but nobody else is laughing. And this is why I can’t do memes or any popular thing. SIGH. ANYWAY!!!

The way Lestat puts the keyboard up on front of himself, like a shield as Louis moves closer, his breathing growing ragged. Lestat genuinely scared… as though Louis’ mere presence might obliterate him if he gets too close. And of course, he does not know why Louis is there. Is he there to kill him? Does it matter if he is? He should kill him. He could too, right now. The emotional support piano becomes a protective plank.

But what Lestat is not expecting is Louis’ kindness, care, worry and empathy.

“Did you save my life in Paris?”

And now we get the first glimmer of the old Lestat as Lestat lifts his chin, shakes his head, tries to be nonchalant and to muster up his old pride, maintain any pride he still possesses. He immediately dismisses Louis’ niceness with a self-criticism as he truly perceives that he put Louis in danger by not protecting him from Armand. Responsibility in Nicolas’ death, and, he thinks, in Louis’.

Lestat is defensive. His unspoken mantra, “Don’t see me. Don’t see the real me, Louis. I cannot take it. Not right now.” Lestat is almost begging Louis to tell him he hates him, as he’s imagined Louis’ hate all these years… I fear halluci-Louis may not have been the kind, loving vision for Lestat that DreamStat was for Louis…?

A side note again: Lestat’s “All hail me” gave me a full-on spontaneous existential crisis. Folks, does Lestat say “All hail me” in the books? I hope not! Because for as long as I remember, in appropriate circumstances, I say “All hail me” and obviously it’s a turn of phrase, but I had a sudden heart stopping moment where, with a chill, I thought *Did I get that from Lestat?!* Am I entirely even my self at all?! Am I merely a manifestation of all the art I have ever consumed? Am… I… Armand!?!?!??!! Oh MY! I don’t think Lestat says this in the books though, right? Right!?!?

Well, Lestat puts his piano-plank down, terrified Louis might show him love. Craving it. Fearing it.

“Been enduring here?” Lestat is truly proud now. He will not admit his pain. As if not speaking it could make it invisible when it’s plain all about - from within him and without. It is *very* Lestat when questioned on the pain in his soul or shown that it has been seen to be like “I am FINE” & to think that’s how he comes across to others, when really of COURSE they see how broken he is. And then he bemoans that nobody will let him be broken, when he himself struggles to be broken other than when alone or on the page.

“I didn’t know it was a gift.” - Lestat is still wary. Still expecting hate from Louis here… unable yet to fully accept and understand…

Then Louis begins to say the only things Lestat has ever wanted to hear and know from Louis - thanking Lestat for the gift of vampiric immortality, showing he understands the beauty of it and intends to value that and use it… & Lestat is done for; broken open from here. He still, for a moment tries to fight back with “Shall we list all the ways we have wronged each other…” etc. But really, Lestat can now no longer maintain ay facade. Louis has opened him up.

And now we are open to Lestat’s thoughts for the last half-century. Armand erases Louis’ suicide attempt from his mind, but it is the first thing Lestat asks about. In his mind he has replayed for 5 decades how Louis is dead and it is his fault.

Sam and Jacob are so brilliant and beautiful as they open to each other in this scene. Claudia. Grief. Pain. Then, love. Broken-Lestat is particularly too much - holding on to responsibility over Claudia’s fate and how she looked at him at the end and he did nothing… and Louis, trying to take away and share the burden. Louis - so empathetic… and as they move through grief to love, words fall away (or become too personal to matter) and the storm outside echoes the storm of their hearts and their love.

(From IWTV) ““…And as I looked down at him, as I saw his yellow hair pressed against my coat, I had a vision of him from long ago, that tall, stately gentleman in the swirling black cape, with his head thrown back, his rich, flawless voice singing the lilting air of the opera from which we'd only just come, his walking stick tapping the cobblestones in time with the music, his large, sparkling eye catching the young woman who stood by, enrapt, so that a smile spread over his face as the song died on his lips; and for one moment, that one moment when his eye met hers, all evil seemed obliterated in that flush of pleasure, that passion for merely being alive.

" Was this the price of that involvement? A sensibility shocked by change, shrivelling from fear? I thought quietly of all the things I might say to him, how I might remind him that he was immortal, that nothing condemned him to this retreat save himself, and that he was surrounded with the unmistakable signs of inevitable death. But I did not say these things, and I knew that I would not.

" It seemed the silence of the room rushed back around us, like a dark sea…””

Bonus: misprint in my TVL copy!

(From TVL) “Louis had come finally to this very place and seen me through the windows. I tried to imagine it. Louis alive. Louis here, so close, and I had not even know it. I think I laughed a little. I couldn’t keep it clear in my mind that Louis wasn’t burnt up. But it was really wonderful that Louis still lived. It was wonderful that there existed still that handsome face, that poignant expression, that tender and faintly imploring voice. My beautiful Louis surviving, instead of dead and gone with Claudia and Nick.

But then maybe he was dead. Why should I believe Armand?”

[deadghosy]

CHAOTIC HEADCANNONS WITH CHIBI! READER

Like I said, you A FUCKING SIZE OF A THUMB! HUMAN THUMB SIZE😭

So imagine reader literally nibbling on [favorite food] like a hamster as angel food at you taking a picture

So it’s quite funny seeing you try to run when you only had waddled and fell on your chubby stomach and just flay your arms around huffing.

I headcannnon you biting someone’s pinky toe off because they pissed you off-

You once had used your small hot pink car to run over husk’s feet as he had annoyed you the other day.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK!?” Husk yells looking to see a hot pink car speeding away with a squeak. Husk runs after you like a cat which made you squeak scared as you did some Tokyo Drift shit with a hint of POWER OF FAMILY! you doing some fast and furious stuff as well.

Sadly Charlie caught you and made you apologize to husk as you puff your chubby cheeks as husk smirks at you being punished as your hot pink car was hidden from you.

You once ALMOST GOT EATEN BY ALASTOR ALL BECAUSE YOU WAS TRYING TO EAT HIS FOOD- YOU WERE HUNGRY?! WHAT ELSE CAN A CHIBI EAT?!

I imagine chibi reader just hiding in someone’s pocket taking their money as they have a gremlin ass laugh.

Angel influenced you too much-

I headcannon chibi reader clinging into angel dust’s fur and squirting a water gun at anyone who you deem as a threat to angel. Including Valentino-

Your favorite weapon..a lighter and toy water gun….😭

I can see reader just flipping off husk, Alastor and Lucifer…all because they tried to put you to bed as you stand there like..“FUCK NO!” >:( 🖕🏾

I can imagine husk poking your belly as you eat and you bite his finger with a mad look

I headcannon chibi reader to break dance in a middle of a heated situation of uno as Half of the hotel crew glares at you winning.

Literally you are a trouble maker…but they all love you though as you are such a cutie.

Imagine chibi reader riding a duck like a horse as Lucifer cries at this taking a picture.

Lucifer definitely took a Christmas picture with you, only ending the picture with you jumping flat on his face as he yelled falling. The picture was sure a memory..

IMAGINE YOU ACCIDENTALLY CREATING A SMALL FIRE AS YOU STAND THERE HOLDING A LIGHTER-

They took away your sweets….

You are know to always sneak around the hotel…and what did Charlie do…SHE PUT UP A BABY GATE YOUR SIZE THAT LUCIFER MADE🤨🥲 you can imagine how pissed you was with a squeak as you literally ram your hot pink car into it.

ANYWAYS THATS ALL! HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING THIS!💗🦆