#i hope this was good enoug

[superchat]

I picture you as a really soft person, I hope that’s not weird to say

sdfgljksdf nah its okay, i dont thnk its that weird. thank you tho, i think my shoulders and neck is pretty soft tbh

sometimes when im having a panic attack ill run my hands over my neck or shoulders cus of it tbh

[dabislittlemouse]

Hmm, how about “Hey there little miss,“+ Dabi ( noncon with chase kink🤤) Hope it’s not difficult, I’m excited to know what you come up with!🤗

“𝑯𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔..”

-Dabi x Reader smut (tw: noncon, MDNI)

2K FOLLOWERS EVENT

It was supposed to be a fun night out with your friends at the downtown bar to celebrate your graduation. Though it turned out far from it the moment a certain individual stepped in, entering inside as if he owned the whole place. You of course minded your own business, but you couldn’t ignore the way his presence was so heavy to the point the whole room quieted down.

The man was wearing a hood, you couldn’t fully see his face but his eyes were noticeable, sharp blue eyes that looked like they’re almost glowing under the shadow of the hood. You found yourself staring at him longingly while your friends were chatting with each other, completely unaware of the actual danger creeping by. He approached a certain person near the counter who kept drinking and laughing with his buddies, not even glancing at him. His hand was placed on his shoulder, gripping it tightly and the group quieted down, looking confused.

“The hell you want?!” the man said, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

“So you’re that piece of shit who spied on us, huh?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine. It clearly brought no good news. Your instincts screamed at you to tell your friends to get the hell out of here immediately.

“Spy?! What are you even talking abou-” Before he could speak further, the mysterious man removed his hood, revealing his dark spiky hair. Now you could see his face, his terribly familiar scarred face with staples holding it. Your eyes widened in terror.

“Guys!” you whispered, grabbing your friends attention. Your face went pale, recognising the heinous villain who’s been burning several towns and people. “We need to leave! Now!”

“Leave?! What do you mean? We just arrived” one of your friends replied.

“No listen to me, we need to-"

In a second, screams and a bright blue filled the whole bar. You saw that the villain had set the man on fire, he was burning alive and screaming in agony as the blue flames ate his skin and melted his bones. Panic filled everyone, people started running and screaming, reaching for the nearest exit, pushing each other to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Guys!!! Guys wait for me!!” you screamed at your friends who were running ahead of you, leaving you behind as the mass of people pushed you. You fell to the ground, not being able to keep up. The bar was set ablaze and smoke got in your lungs, making you cough hard.

As you struggled to stand up, a pair of boots suddenly were right in front of your face. You froze in fear, as your eyes slowly looked up to see the villain, a wicked smile on his face.

“Hey there little miss~” he said seductively, not even bothered by the smoke and flame. His hand reached to grab your arm, making you stand up.

“N-No please!” you whimpered as he slammed you against the wall, pressing his warm body against yours.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at me earlier” he whispered in your ear, inhaling in your scent and feeding off your fear. “Mmh fuck- such pretty doll you are”

“M’sorry I -I didn’t mean to be rude! Please don’t hurt me-" you squeezed your eyes shut as he grabbed your chin.

“Don’t worry dollface, I already incinerated those who I had in mind. The problem is though, I am still pissed off. Angry. Need to do something to blow off some steam don’t cha think?” he smiled, pressing his now hardened bulge against you. Your eyes widened at his clear indication. Without thinking further your knee came up, hitting him right between his legs, hard. Dabi let out a grunt, crouching down in pain while you ran out from his grasp, heading for the door.

“Ugh- you little fucking whore!”

If he was angry earlier, now he was completely furious. Like a mad hungry beast hunting down its food. And you provoked him enough, bad decision.

The door was blocked by walls of scorching blue flames, no way you could get through them to go outside. Tears started rolling down your face, were trapped inside with Dabi. A hand reached to tug at your hair harshly, pulling you towards him as you let out a scream from the pain. Then he threw you down to the wooden floor, getting on top of you as flames surrounded you both.

“N-No please!! Let me go!” you begged as he began burning off your clothes, the heat making you wince and wail.

“I’d have gone softer on ya doll, but you just had to be a brat, didn’t cha?” he growled, slapping at your bare thighs. “Now I’m mad. And when I’m mad-"

Dabi unzipped his pants, whipping his cock out and then spreading your legs harshly with both of his hands.

“When I’m mad I make sure to burn and break everything in front of me”

You wailed, trying to get away from him but the flames surrounding you both were getting closer. If you moved further your hair would surely catch fire. He buried his head on your neck, biting and sucking on your skin harshly while the tip of his cock pressed againstyour entrance.

“Y’scared?” he asked softly out of nowhere, looking up at you, staring at your teary eyes. His thumb reached to wipe off your tears, an unusual tender action if it wasn’t for the situation you were in.

“Y-yes” you whimpered, hoping that he would have some mercy and let you go.

His grin widened, pulling off the staples of his mouth. “Good”

Without a warning, he pushed himself inside of you, tearing you open without preparation at all. Breath got caught in your throat, the unbearable painful burn between your legs making it impossible for you to even scream. He was big, he would kill you.

“Fuuuuckk so tight f’me” he said as he buried himself completely inside of you, his tip touching your cervix. “Think I’m gonna have so much fun with you from now on”

From now on? Your blood turned cold at the indication between his sentence. But your mind stopped thinking the moment he started moving, thrusting deep and hard in and out of you, grunting on your ear as your tight walls milked him dry.

“So good, this tight fucking pussy of yours- s-shit!”

You sobs and screams got louder as his hands gripped your hips, heating up and leaving nice marks that wouldn’t go away for a while.

“Haahh fuck- who would’ve thought that I’d find such precious gem in a hellhole like this?! Must’ve been a reward from God himself for all the hard work I do. Y’know, taking care of trash and incinerating them all~” he laughed, still thrusting inside of you as he savored the scared expression on your face. He was vile and terrifying, marking your body from the inside out while you could do nothing but take on his anger and frustration.

With a few more thrusts, you felt him throbbing inside of you.

“N-Not inside!” you screamed but he totally ignored your pleas, his hips stuttering as he reached his high. His cum, warm and thick completely coated your walls white, dripping out of your sore cunt as well, followed by a guttural groan from the villain. His eyes rolled back as he enjoyed every second of it, as if he hadn’t cum in years.

“F-Fuck, shit doll! Came s’much” he breathed out, looking at the mess beneath him. He reached to lick your cheek, savouring your salty tears.

“I think I’m gonna keep ya princess” he chuckled, pinching your cheek. “Let’s get the hell outta here, I don’t want you turning like me”

[painted-bees]

You know, if/when Margie ever goes to get assessed for ADHD or such, it'll be over some executive function-related failure on a project that she had hoped would prove to her that she can excel at things so long as she actually 'cares' about them. It'd be something music related for sure--maybe some kind of collaborative videogame music charity thing that some other online music nerds have organized together--I dunno what the indie online musician equivalent of a "zine" is lmfao

Like, it's not even a big prestige thing, and she's not getting any money from it--but it's an exciting project and she gets to compose covers of her favorite viddy game songs and have her music featured alongside other artists she enjoys. But--you know, there's a hard deadline. And there are certain expectations--she want's to make something good and memorable with this.

She gets started on it, and it's going well--well enough for her to be like, "great, I can come back to this later and I'll have it done no problem!" And then she forgets. And then she gets a reminder in her email that submissions are due by the end of the week. The email was sent on Monday, it's Thursday evening. She panics, and tries to put together the rest of the composition that same night, dismayed beyond words that she had put this thing off until literally the last minute. And it's not coming together, she had this great sound and idea in her head, and now it's failing to materialize for her. Her mounting frustration and panic has built up past being a helpful motivator, and is now actively sabotaging her efforts until she can't do anything but cry about it. It's 3 am, the work isn't done, it's isn't going to get done...she utterly failed. At this thing she's good at, that she wanted to do, that she was eager to be a part of.

Materially, she loses nothing by being like "well, I can ask for an extension, and if that's not possible then oh well." It wasn't a paid gig, it wasn't some huge, prestigious feature, there were no awards or accolades on the line, really. But it was supposed to be an easy thing she could do to remind herself that she's perfectly capable at completing things if she just--yanno--cares enoug, puts her mind to it and deems it worth her effort. It was supposed to be easy self-reassurance. And she failed.

and so she's crying in the wee hours of the morning over some small, unremarkable thing that she had chosen to do, for free, in her spare time because she hung all her confidence and self-worth on her ability to complete it in a manner that she could be proud of.

And Raf's the one holding her, trying to figure out how to impress on her that this whole fiasco is not...a suitable way of measuring her worth. Like--it's not proof that she's 'lazy'. This isn't what laziness looks like, this isn't what a "lack of care" or "lack of motivation" looks like. Ugly crying over a low-stakes, free-time, "for fun" project after forcing yourself to work fruitlessly through the night is...disordered. Like, Raf of all people, gets it. He completely understands lmao but it requires attention and help. It's not the first time he's suggested to Margie that she should book an assessment. He's offered to help her get the process started several times in the past. She's always been very "yeahhh...nah" about it. He figured it was because she was afraid of being told that there was something """wrong """ with her. Which--he empathized with a lot, and so never really pressed her about it.

But, over this specific event, it becomes clear that what Margie is most afraid of is hearing and knowing definitively that's there's nothing wrong with her. She worries that her inability to complete things on time, to remember things, to keep organized and clean and to prioritize things is just something everyone has to deal with, and they just care enough to deal with it properly--while she has somehow internalized that crying about it means she won't have to worry about it anymore. Maybe cuz she was spoiled growing up, like her parents use to suggest; that she was never truly forced to face the consequences of her inaction. And, for what ever reason, that'd mean she's just...a bad person.

And once Raf realizes that this is what has been keeping her away from getting assessed, he commits to fully pleading with her to get assessed, promising that no possible outcome will change his opinion of her at his very core. And it works. He's able to get a referral for her from his therapist, gets her booked, and over the course of three appointments, she goes through the assessment--feeling an undeterred mix of anxiety and shame all the while 'cus what if they just think "this girl walks in with a latte and a 'problem' but her real problem is that she has never experienced a real struggle in her life lol" or "she's exaggerating things just so she can get drugs, no way is anyone actually this stupid" or "this is a huge waste of time". That's not how it turns out, of course. Between the self assessment, the assessment she had to give to 3 trusted friends/family members to fill out, the IQ test, the cognitive ability tests, and whatever else happened during the dialogue between her and the psychologist--Margie gets her ADHD diagnosis and an autism diagnosis. She gets Raf to sit in with her while the psychologist goes over the results with her, 'cus she doesn't trust her ability to recite any of that information to him herself afterward lmao To her surprise (and to Raf's quiet, triumphant validation for calling it correctly), Margie's IQ is, apparently, a very sexy 136...but is undercut by remarkably low results on tests pertaining to certain cognitive abilities--to the point of qualifying as significant impairments.

On the list of treatments, medication is suggested as a footnote following a list of things including therapy, habit-building and behavioral exercises, dietary suggestions, and further reading suggestions. Which comes to her as a relief, because it's gonna take her a few more years before she's comfortable with the idea of medicating (imagining in her mind that one unfortunate unofficial Calvin and Hobbes comic that has made her fear losing her enthusiasm for her creative musical endeavors lmao). Until then though, the therapy is, perhaps, the most helpful treatment suggestion on that list. Aside from contributing to supportive mental/emotional/behavioral exercises--after the initial relief of "omg there WAS something wrong, I'm not just a bad, lazy, uncaring person!!"--the backlog of hurt that follows the "I needed help but they punished me instead" revelation provides a lot to work through.

[toournextadventure]

movie night drabble i

Summary: The ever elusive Tara Carpenter finally makes her appearance at your brother's frat party. Maybe you'll kiss. Okay, you'll definitely kiss.

Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, underage drinking, slight violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader A/N: I got a little more goofy with R in this one because I wanted to try something a little different with my writing, so I hope y'all enjoy! movie night i | movie night ii | movie night iii

"Hey," your brother Alfie shouted over the music blaring throughout the frat house. "Carpenter's here."

You turned so quickly you spilled the vodka from your cup onto your shirt.

"Ah fuck," you mumbled, dropping the now-empty cup without a care in the world. Not like it was your frat house, why should you keep it clean?

You promptly bent down to pick it back up. Your Ma raised you better than that.

"Where is she?" You asked, once again searching for any sign of the younger Carpenter girl.

"You don't see her?" He was teasing you. It was evident by the stupid, smug look on his ugly mug.

"She's 5 foot nothin’, no I don't see her," you argued back.

“Over there,” Alfie pointed, and you followed his finger as best as you could.

“Where are you pointing your crooked ass finger?” You asked.

“See Frankie?” He asked in frustration. As if it was your fault he had crooked, broken fingers. “She’s talkin’ to him.”

“Ah shit,” you mumbled when you spotted Frankie and, finally, Tara. “Take my cup.”

You didn’t wait for him to agree before shoving the cup into his arms and making your way through the crowded frat house. As much as you wanted to see Tara, you didn’t want to see her with fucking Frankie. No one was worse than that prick. You and Alfie were pricks too, but at least you both stayed respectful. Frankie just wanted to get his rocks off with whatever girl gave him the chance.

Unfortunately, it looked like Tara might be that girl.

He was standing a little too close for comfort by the time you finally shoved your way past everyone. That annoying little voice in your head reminded you that Tara wasn’t yours and you had no right to her. And that voice was correct! But that didn’t mean you were going to stand aside and let fucking Frankie get his greasy hands on her.

“Hey Frankie,” you said with an obnoxious smile and a painfully hard clap on his shoulder. “How ya doin’?”

“Hey,” he said without even looking at you.

“Hi Tara,” you said far softer and with a much more genuine smile. At least you hoped it was, you were starting to feel a bit of that vodka settling in.

Tara opened her mouth to answer before being cut off by Frankie. “Need something?”

Think of something good.

“Yeah, actually,” you said with a shrug, “but we might wanna talk in private.”

“Just tell me now, Street Rat,” he said quickly. “I’m busy.”

Think of something good.

“It’s just,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure you get yourself checked out, man.”

“For what?”

“I was just talking with Skye earlier and she said she got the clap,” you said with a shrug. “I know you two are fuck buddies so you should probably watch out.”

“You serious?” He asked, suddenly standing up and looking far more furious as he crushed his beer in his hand.

“I’m doin’ you a solid, man-”

“-you gonna say this shit in front of Carpenter?” He asked, now standing toe-to-toe with you. Admittedly you may have underestimated his reaction to such a ploy. Should’ve come up with something less good.

“Dude chill, I told you we should talk in private-”

“-didn’t tell me it was about the fucking clap.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be tryin’ to fuck every girl that looks at you.”

You heard the crack below your eye before you felt it, a painful punch spiderwebbing across your cheekbone and eye. Nothing you hadn’t felt before, but Frankie could pack a punch when needed. Tears instantly pricked at your eyes as you recaught your balance and stood up, trying to blink away the pain. And tears. And humiliation.

“Say it again, Street Rat,” Frankie said.

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara tried to say, doing her best to stand in between the both of you. Not that it mattered, she was too short. It was pretty cute, actually. “Y/N, let’s go.”

Don’t say it.

“You’re a man whore, dude,” you said anyway. He clenched his jaw tighter. “A man whore with the clap.”

You moved Tara out of the way and braced yourself when Frankie lifted his fist again. Thankfully he had dropped the beer can; you could already feel something warm trickling down the side of your face. If he was going to hit you then he needed to do it like a man, not with a weapon. Pop always said only cowards used weapons against unarmed men.

Maybe you should have been a coward.

The punch never came. When you re-opened your eyes, you saw Alfie standing there in between the both of you, creating the buffer Tara had tried and failed to become. His back was to you but you could tell by the square set of his shoulders that he was tense. And pissed. Oh god, he was pissed.

“Go home, Frankie,” Alfie said in his heavy Bronx accent. Like most everyone in the family, it came out more when he was tense. Or angry. Oh, he was angry.

“Not until I get an apology,” Frankie said as he pointed to you. “To my face.”

“Not my fault you’re collectin’ STDs like they’re fuckin’ Pokemon, man,” you said back. Shut up!

“Come here-”

“-enough!” Alfie shouted, pushing you both back. Not that you needed the encouragement, your cheek was still throbbing from the first punch. “Get the fuck out, Frankie.”

“I’ll be back for you, Street Rat,” Frankie said with a finger pointed at you. Like the mature adult you were, you stuck your tongue out at him before giving him your best New Yorker smile.

“Now,” Alfie insinuated with a push on Frankie’s chest, guiding him to the front door.

With one more look at you, Frankie finally made his way out of the frat house, pushing past whoever was unfortunate enough to be in his way. He was barely out of sight before you felt a hard slap against your stomach, forcing you to double over. You felt like you were going to puke. Maybe you would.

“Quit startin’ fights, you moron,” Alfie said as he grabbed your shoulders and stood you up straight again. “I’m gettin’ real tired of defending your sorry ass.”

“Pop always said I was a slow learner,” you said, your own accent coming out just enough to irritate you. With a slight scowl, you focused harder on your words. “I’m sorry.”

“Better be,” he said with a sigh. Finally, he turned his head to look at Tara. “You good, doll?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a shrug.

“Be careful with Frankie,” he continued. “He’s a real prick.”

“He’s a-”

“-not a word from you,” Alfie interrupted you with another slap to the shoulder. “You started this whole mess.”

“Coulda finished it too if you gave me the chance,” you said, rubbing your now sore shoulder and still trying not to puke from the blow to the stomach. Maybe those fireball shots weren’t necessary.

“Would you mind taking our little menace upstairs and cleaning the blood off?” Alfie asked Tara. “I’d appreciate it.”

Tara looked at you at the suggestion, really looked at you. Just that one look from her was enough to have your heart beating out of your chest like a Loony Toons character. Oh what you wouldn’t give to have her look at you all the time, whether in malice or admiration or love. Just to have her eyes on you would be enough to leave you happy and content until the day you died.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh, reaching forward to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t test her,” Alfie whispered to you as Tara pulled you away.

You just wiggled your brows suggestively at him, to which he promptly threw his hands up in defeat.

Tara led you throughout the frat house as if she had lived there her entire life. It was almost amusing to see someone so small moving through the crowd without any trouble, as if people knew there was a child among them and they needed to make sure not to step on it. Wait, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing her to a child. But, come on, she was small enough.

By the time you both managed to stumble up the two flights of stairs to the third floor, you were very much starting to feel the alcohol and the bruise that was blooming across your cheek. It was going to smart, that was for sure. Tara pushed you into Alfie’s room - by pure coincidence, surely - and shut the door behind her, locking it promptly.

“You’re a prick,” she said the moment she turned back around to look at you.

“I was protectin’ you,” you said, taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly to ease the accent. “Frankie’s a prick and you know it.”

“I didn’t need protecting,” she groaned. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“You wanna get the clap, be my guest,” you said with a shrug.

“Does he really have it?” Tara asked doubtfully.

You closed your mouth and looked off at Alfie’s closet. If you didn’t look at her, maybe she wouldn’t force you to answer. Even with the music pounding through the walls, you heard her sigh. You shouldn’t have lied, that annoying little voice in your head said. Sometimes you hated your subconscious; it was usually right.

Tara’s hand gripping your jaw made you flinch, which then made the throbbing in your cheek resume once again. Say what you wanted about Frankie, but he could pack a punch. Probably would’ve been better to just leave him be. But then Tara pulled your chin to face her, and you were instantly reassured that no, you absolutely should’ve gotten him to leave.

“He cut your cheek,” she said as her eyes left yours to look at the wounds that adorned your face. “Have anything to clean it with?”

“Here,” you said, leaning back just enough to pull your shirt over your head. Tara’s eyes went wide before she did her best to look anywhere but at you.

“Please put your shirt back on,” she said, still not looking at you.

“It’s got vodka on it anyway,” you said as you shoved the shirt into her hands. “Nature’s disinfectant.”

“It-,” she turned to look at you incredulously. “Are you stupid?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you said with a grin. “Just clean it already, I’m braced.”

Tara shook her head slowly, but grabbed your jaw once again to hold you still. Her hand was soft; incredibly soft, actually. Depending on how she held you, you could almost see that scar of hers. An angry pink that looked like it didn’t really want to finish healing. She probably needed to put some cream on it, maybe you could ask your Ma for a bit of advice.

You hissed when she dabbed the vodka drenched shirt on your cheek. Oh, now you remembered why it wasn’t a good idea. It got the job done, sure, but it hurt like a sonofabitch. But you squared your shoulders and stayed still until she was done dabbing it. Even though it seemed like she was cleaning it a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Does Frankie actually have the clap?” Tara asked again while she finished up.

“Have you slept with him?” You asked in return. She gave you a frown before looking back at your cheek.

“No.”

“Then yes he does,” you said with a nod. “Plus a few others, he’s like a breeding ground for ‘em.”

“You’re disgusting,” she sighed before straightening up.

“Listen, if you wanted to get laid tonight, you could’ve always asked me,” you said with a shrug. You hoped it came off as nonchalant, even though you were totally chalant about it. Was that even a word?

“What makes you think I would want to sleep with you?” Tara asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. It didn’t distract you from noticing the slightest flush to her cheeks.

“Because you think I’m sexy,” you said in a sing-songy voice, “and you wanna kiss me.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” She asked.

She did not, however, stop you from reaching out to grab her by the hips and pull her until she was standing between your legs. Even when you were sitting she was barely taller than you. Her arms uncrossed so she could rest her hands on your bare shoulders, causing you to shiver lightly. You were going to blame it on the alcohol.

“You can call me whatever you want,” you said, your eyes darting down to look at her lips. “As long as you call me.”

“This is only because I’m drunk,” Tara said, her own eyes looking at your lips. Bingo.

“Of course,” you said as your thumbs slipped under her shirt and rubbed her hips lightly.

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” she continued.

“Naturally," you agree.

The alcohol coursed through you, leaving a heat in its wake. But it was nothing compared to the inferno you felt in your core when Tara practically surged forward to kiss you. She wasted no time parting her lips for you, letting you taste every inch of her. She tasted of cheap beer and lemonade; surprisingly unsurprising.

"Were you smoking?" She asked as she pulled away; you chased her, leaving a trail of kisses across her jaw. "You smell like smoke."

"Which answer gets me laid?" You asked between kisses.

"You're insufferable," she groaned.

She pushed against your shoulders until you fell back against the bed. Almost instantly, she climbed on top of you, straddling your stomach and placing her hands on your ribs. Her nails were short, but still long enough to scratch your skin lightly, sending another shiver through your body. It was a nice feeling. Painfully nice.

“Don’t try to romance me,” Tara said as she looked down at you; her pupils were blown and she looked absolutely beautiful.

“Just a fuck?” You clarified.

“A quick one,” she said with a nod.

“Clothes off?” You asked.

“On,” she corrected.

“Yes ma’am,” you said quickly before letting your hands push under her shirt, nails lightly scratching across her skin until you felt the underwire of her bra.

You waited, watching her to make sure she consented. The alcohol may have been clouding your judgment ever so slightly, but you weren’t Frankie. When Tara looked at you and nodded, you wasted no time in pushing her bra above her breasts. The moment your knuckles brushed against her nipples, her head slowly fell back and she exhaled sharply through her nose.

That inferno in your core only grew hotter when you rolled her nipple between your thumb and forefinger and her hips stuttered against your stomach. Oh it was a beautiful sight, to see Tara lose even the slightest bit of her composure from such a small gesture. You did it again and had to bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning at the movement of her hips.

“Don’t tease,” she said breathlessly, her nails digging deeper into your ribs. A stunning sting that you hoped would leave marks.

“As you wish,” you said in reply.

One of your hands stayed right where it was, brushing lightly against her nipple just to see her shiver. Your other hand moved down, unbuttoning her jeans with surprising ease that you blamed on nothing more than the alcohol. With nothing else in your way, you effortlessly slipped your hand under the waistband of her underwear, letting out a humiliating moan when you felt just how wet she was.

“Jesus, Tara,” you said breathlessly as you ran your fingers through her folds before stopping on her clit.

“Just shut up,” she said between clenched teeth.

It was an uncomfortable position for your hand to be in, though you wouldn’t change it for the world. Your wrist was at an awkward angle, you couldn’t do much, and there wasn’t much room to move. But that didn’t mean much when Tara was doing most of the work for you, rutting her hips against your hand as if you were good for one thing and one thing only.

“Don’t move,” she gasped, confirming your suspicions. You didn’t really care.

“Fuck,” you groaned as you watched her move, her nails finally splitting your skin ever so slightly. It wouldn’t bleed, but there would be red marks for the next few days. 

Even though Tara wasn’t touching you, there was something satisfying about watching her get herself off on your fingers. Seeing her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth fall open when she hit just the right spot. Feeling how wet she was and how effortlessly she could rut against your fingers. No shame, no regrets, just the pleasure of the moment.

God it was hot.

You watched her as she came, her hips stuttering, giving you the opportunity to finally help out and rub tight circles on her clit. Just enough to sustain her orgasm for a few seconds more. She exhaled sharply and leaned forward on her hands, pushing deeper into your ribs. It made it a little harder to breathe, but when Tara Carpenter was the cause? Well, you would be happy to just suffocate under her touch.

“God you’re hot,” you said softly, not even sure if she would hear you or not. That was okay; it wasn’t the point.

Her eyes finally opened as she caught some semblance of control over her breathing again. The beautiful brown of her eyes was taken over by her dark pupils, and for a moment, she almost looked like she was smiling down at you. Maybe she was, you certainly wouldn’t bring it up to her. Not at that moment, anyway. But then she blinked a few times and shook her head before removing her weight from her hands, unburdening you from suffocation.

“I suppose you’re not entirely insufferable,” she said as she slowly pushed herself off of you, being a little extra careful as she buttoned her pants.

“You’re gonna leave me high and dry, aren’t you?” You asked when she tossed your shirt back in your face.

“You never clarified you wanted to get laid,” she said with a smirk before walking to the door and leaving the room.

You fell back onto the bed and sighed loudly. Your head was thumping with your pre-hangover migraine, your cheek was still sore, and you had a serious case of blue balls. But the mental image of Tara getting herself off on your hand… well, you supposed that would suffice.

For now.

[reigningqueenofwords]

Sure, Babe

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word count: 1,173

Read on AO3

Bucky moved to lean on the kitchen doorframe. He watched you move around with ease. You were barefoot, wearing one of your favorite dresses, and an apron he had bought you years before. You’d mended that apron so many times since, and refused to ever replace it. Sure, you had others, but that one meant the most. Your hair was up in (what you called) a messy bun, however he thought it was beautiful on you. He could see your favorite earrings dangling slightly from your ears. They were nothing fancy, some fake pearl earrings you’d bought online, but they made you feel beautiful. He didn’t need to see your face to know your makeup was minimal- mascara and some lipstick or lipgloss. Even now, 6 months pregnant, you did your little morning routine before the kids got up.

“Mommy!” He smiled as you turned to your youngest, Hannah, come running in the backdoor. 

“Yes, baby?” You smiled over at the 5 year old. Your smile turned to amusement. “You were playing in the mud, weren’t you?” You giggled. 

She nodded, eyes wide. She was covered in mud. “Nessa helped, too!” Nessa was your 7 year old. “She made me a mud crown.” She giggled, and her nose crinkled as she did. “Hi, daddy!” She beamed at him. She was missing one of her front teeth, making that grin extra adorable. 

You turned to him and smiled. Wiping your hands on a dishtowel, you went to kiss his cheek. “Care to clean up our children while I serve dinner? Just hose them down and wrap them in a towel. They can have a bath after.” You rubbed his chest. 

“Is Andy messy, too?” He asked about your oldest. He was 10, and it was touch and go with him playing with the girls. Some days he loved playing with his sisters. Other days he wanted nothing to do with him. 

“He has a book report coming up, so he’s up in his room reading.” You told him. “He promised them he’d play Go Fish with them later, though.” 

He chuckled, giving you a quick peck. “Alright, out back, munchkin.” He motioned for Hannah to head back out. “I’ll be right out, let me grab you two towels.” Life was never dull with them, that’s for sure. He chuckled as she ran back outside yelling for Nessa. “How’s our littlest one treating mommy today?” He asked, rubbing your bump. 

You smiled, looking down at where his hand was. “She’s good.” You put your hand on his. “Hoping she looks like her daddy, just like her siblings.” You loved that all three of your kids looked just like Bucky. There were little features that they got from you, but they got his dark hair, and his blue eyes. 

“I hope she is as beautiful as her momma.” He kissed your cheek before going to get those towels to hose off the girls. 

Watching him go, you bit your lip. You couldn't believe how lucky you were to have him, even though he constantly told you how he was the lucky one. 

Not long after, Bucky came in, a girl on each arm. “Hi, mommy!” Nessa giggled, pushing some hair out of her face. “Dinner smells yummy!” She gushed as she wiggled down to go see what was for dinner. 

“Thank you, Nessa.” You kept your eyes on what you were serving. “We’re having baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and sweet corn. And if you eat most of your dinner, I made brownies for dessert.” 

She gasped, excited. “The ones with the peanut butter?!” She asked, hopeful. 

You giggled at her excitement. “Peanut butter chunks .” You told her, getting her even more excited. Her favorite food ever was peanut butter. 

“Alright, let’s let momma finish plating dinner.” Bucky chuckled, coming over lifting her by the arm pits. She laughed as he carried her over to one of the chairs and put her down. 

Andy and Hannah had already climbed into their chairs, almost always loving your cooking. They weren’t a fan of carrots, spinach, or broccoli. You needed to sneak those things in, but they seemed to be okay with sweet corn and sweet peas. Oddly enough, they did like veggie lasagna, which contained all the veggies they didn’t like. 

Soon enough, you were all sitting around, ready to eat. “Baby, why do we all have more than you?” Bucky furrowed his brows. 

“It’s the end of the pay period, so groceries are a bit tight. You get the most because you work hard, the kids get a bit more because they’re growing and they need it.” You felt there was nothing wrong with that. “I have enough, and I’ll munch on what they don’t eat.” You assured him. 

“No, you should take some more of mine. You’re growing a human.” He got up to put some of his food on your plate. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You will park your handsome butt in that chair and eat. I’m eating enough, I promise. You do manual labor, and you need that food.” Your tone was loving, but let it be known that you would not back down. “It’s just a couple nights of this, and then we go grocery shopping. I’m fine, the baby is fine .” You assured him, taking a bite of his chicken. 

The kids were happily eating, not paying much attention to the pair of you. Bucky slowly sat back down. “But you’re getting the bigger brownie.” He pointed his fork at you. 

Smiling, you nodded. “Sure, babe.” You agreed, knowing that you’d give him part of it because you weren’t a huge fan of brownies. 

After dinner, Bucky told you to relax while he got the girls a bath. Most nights they did bathe separately, but tonight they got the joy of a bubble bath together. Andy put on a movie to watch while you started on the dishes from dinner. 

“Babe.” He sighed, hands on his hips as he saw you wiping down the kitchen. “That doesn’t look like relaxing.” He raised an eyebrow at you. 

You smiled at him, shrugging. “I was going to read while Andy watched a movie, but I wanted to knock this out. This way I have more time to relax with you.” You admitted. 

That softened him. “I’m off tomorrow. You will relax. I will do all the cooking and housework.” He went over to pull you to his chest. Your arms went around his neck. “And I’ll see if Ma will take the kids this Friday so we can have a date night. It’s been a few months.” 

“I don’t think we’ll top the last one, as I’m pretty sure that’s where I got pregnant with our little one.” You giggled. “Not that I am complaining one bit. I love being pregnant, and I love watching you with our kids.” You fell in love with him more every day. 

He kissed you softly, looking forward to the rest of his life with you.

[lovingperfectionsblog]

Fix it.

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x reader

Summary: Hangman offers to help Bob with a crush he has on the Hard Decks barmaid. 

Warnings: Swearing, degradation of women, use of the term slut, mentions of sex, degradation during sex, mild mention of wanting to crash a plane, misogyny, inaccuracies about women and daddy issues, throwing a drink in someone's face, the term bumping uglies is used and I feel like that should be a warning.  

Word Count: 4003

Author's note: So, this is the first time I have ever written for Top Gun, I know nothing about the military, so please forgive me. But, here it is, and I hope you all like it. Also, I obviously do not believe the nonsense about women and daddy issues or any of the other degrading things said about women, It is all to further the story. Please remember to be kind. And remember, do not tolerate, let alone fall for, anyone who degrades you! 

____

“So, tell me little Bobby Boy”, the chair squeaked across the linoleum floor as Hangman turned it around, taking a seat across from Phoenix and Bob, who were clearly engaged in a private conversation, “were my eyes deceiving me or were you blushing when you were talking to Penny’s new pretty little barmaid?” Neither the scowl on Phoenix’s face nor the blush on Bob’s could be prevented, and these both deepened the smirk on Hangmans. 

“What’s it to you Bagman?” There were very specific moments Bob was thankful for Phoenix, and intercepting hangman when they all knew he was about to get too much was one of them. The ever deepening crush on ‘Penny's new pretty little barmaid’ was something Bob was hoping to just, kind of, get through. He was well aware that this was something that was never going to happen and he needed it to blow over, now. 

So Phoenix sitting here quietly trying to encourage him to ask for your number was not helping squash any and all hope he had that he MIGHT get the courage to ask, but now he also had Bagman asking questions on top of it? What happened to the days where no one noticed him?

“Well, you see, I myself had my eyes on her, but the second I saw Baby On Board over here looking redder than Rooster after a game of DogFight, I knew I had to do my good deed of the week and help my man out over here.” Phoenix felt her annoyance rise the longer she stared at that godforsaken toothpick hanging out of his mouth. Bobby didn’t need help, not from Hangman at least. 

“I’ve got it, but thanks Bagman” Phoenix twisted in her chair, fully facing Bob’s side profile now, the man in question focusing on a spot on the table in front of him, hoping they’d forget he was even there at this point while he tried to get his own blushing under control. 

“Ah! So he does have a crush on her!” Hangman's voice carried across the room causing the other Daggers to start paying more attention to what was happening in the once seemingly quiet corner of the room. 

“Who has a crush on who now?” Rooster made his way over, mimicking Hangman as he took the chair next to him and spun it round, heaving himself into it as he waited for an explanation. Coyote, Fanboy and Payback all sauntered after him, the entire table now surrounded, Bob’s head dropping even lower, eyes scrunched shut, refusing to push his glasses further up his nose from where they had begun slipping down in fear of moving and drawing attention to himself. 

“Bob has a crush on the new barmaid” Hangmans gaze hadn’t left Phoenix’s glaring eyes and that shit eating grin had yet to leave his face. 

“Oh shit! No wonder he was so willing to get the drinks Friday night then.” a large hand came down on the table in front of them, the loud noise causing Bob to jump, a bewildered (and very red looking face) turning to Phoenix, a silent plea to get them out of this situation. 

“Well, yes, but we don’t need-” Phoenix tried, she really did, but when these men got in on information like this, it was hard to get them out of it again. 

“So, when are you making your move?” Fanboys' question was innocent enough, but considering he was one of the few pilots that knew Bob a little better than the rest, just after Phoenix, it was a fairly dumb question and the alarmed look on Bob's face was indication enough of that. 

And if the look on Bob’s face wasn’t enough, the look of exasperation on Phoenix’s was. 

“We were working on getting Bob to that point before Hangman over here,” an accusatory finger was thrown in the offender's direction, “interrupted me”. 

“And here I was to extend a helping hand. It’s kind of seeming like you aren’t all that appreciative of that help here Bobby Boy” the entire table, other than Phoenix (again, thank you Phoenix), was now staring directly at Bob. 

“That’s a little rude of you Bob” Cyotes voice could be heard behind him. 

Roosters popping up next, “Yeah Bob, the man’s just trying to help.” 

“Since when are you siding with Bagman of all people!” Phoenix couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How had all of these men, who seemingly couldn't stand Hangman, suddenly be siding with him. 

“Since he knows how to work women. The least Bob could do would be to hear him out.” Payback tried to offer a voice of reason, knowing that when it came to Phoenix and Hangman though, it was probably falling on deaf ears. 

“Work women! Are you hearing yourself?” She needed to get Bob out of here quickly. 

“Listen, he has a point. Just, the goal is to get Bob and this girl together-” Rooster began before Phoenix interrupted him. 

“No, the goal is to get him to have courage to ask for her number.” 

“You’re thinking too small. Bobby’s a good looking guy, we can get him laid.” Bobs head shot up, wide eyes meeting Hangman’s own, more relaxed face, which was now looking directly at him, “So, what do you say? Want big ol’ Hangman's help to get you laid?” 

“I don’t, it’s not really like that.” Bob muttered out weakly. I mean, yes, the thought of potentially bedding you was definitely something he didn’t want to discount, but it was more than that. 

He wanted to date you. He wanted to ask for your number and talk to you for two weeks to a month over the phone and at the Hard Deck and then he wanted to ask you on a real date. And then he wanted to go on more dates and he wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend and then well, if in any of that you thought he deserved it, yeah, he wanted to bed you. If he ever got the courage to do any of that, but that’s what he wanted. That was the game plan. 

“Of course it’s like that. Do you or do you not want to bump uglies?” The round of ew’s did nothing to deter Hangman from the question. 

“I, well, of course I want to bed her.” Bob couldn't help but beg for the ground beneath him to open up and so he could just fall into it, but Bob also knew that he rarely got so lucky. 

“Bed her?” 

“He means ‘fuck’ Bagman” 

“Ah, thank you Rooster. But also, bed her? Seriously? Even bump uglies sounds better than that.” Hangman knew he was just getting a rise out of Bob at this point, the kick beneath the table directly into his shin from Phoenix a sharp warning to drop it, “Regardless, you’ve got our help there friend. Don’t you worry, I’ll have her eating out of your hand by the end of the night, that is a guaranteed promise.”

“Bob, listen, this is a bad idea. This is Hangman for gods sake, do you honestly think this is going to go well?” Phoenix was trying her best to dissuade him from agreeing to Hangmans help. 

Bob swung his gaze between the two pilots, completely unsure of what to do. On one hand, Hangman did kind of know what he was doing when it came to women. He was frequently leaving the Hard Deck with them to get up to what Bob can only assume was some pretty disgusting activities, but on the other hand, Phoenix was completely right, this was Hangman they were talking about, one of the most cocky and degrading men any of them had ever known. 

But he needed to make a call, and desperate times call for desperate measures, and Lord knows Bob was desperate for you to notice him.  

“What do I need to do?” It was almost a whisper directed at Hangman followed by a groan from Phoenix and a round of cheers from the others. 

“Bobby, you will not regret this, I promise you, and honestly, I’m willing to start your lessons on women right here, right now.” He swung towards Phoenix, his smile so wide Phoenix had to do everything physically possible not to wipe it off with her fist. 

“The most important thing you need to remember when it comes to women,” Hangman was now looking back at Bob, who was leaning forward, attentive as always, praying this would be the lifeline he needed when it came to you, “they love what they think they can’t have and they LOVE it when you call them a slut.” The sound of Hangman and Coyotes hands meeting in a high-five was heard, shortly followed by a chair being shoved away from the desk they were currently sitting at as Phoenix rose to her feet. 

“Jesus, Bob, don’t you dare come crawling to me when this goes balls up.” With one final scowl directed at hangman she was leaving the group of men, a last middle finger thrown up as a “Bye Phoenix” was shouted after her from the cockiest pilot known to man, deciding to leave whatever this mess was alone for good. 

_____

“So you decided to come anyway?” Rooster asked as Phoenix settled next to him, watching the pool game happening between Fanboy and Payback, both pilots taking a sip of their individual beers.

“Came to see the shit show.” Her eyes landed on Bob and Hangman in the corner. The latter vividly talking as if he was instructing a boxer in the corner of the ring before their next round. 

“I know you have your doubts, but Hangman can actually be a good man. He isn’t trying to hurt Bob, he’s just trying to help as best as he knows how.” Rooster just shrugged as Phoenix let out a sigh, both knowing what he had just said was completely true. 

“I know, but God, saying women like to be called a slut?” she threw Rooster a disapproving look, concerned at the smile on her friends face. 

“He explained it to Bob after you left. He meant it purely from a sex perspective. Like, you know when you’re going at it and you say ‘such a good little slut, just for me’ kind of vibe? None of us actually think women are sluts, especially not the ones willing to sleep with us. Honestly, we’re all just really thankful they are willing to even sleep with us.” Rooster tried to placate Phoenix. 

“Even Hangman?” She wasn’t going to stop until he had been knocked down a peg or two. 

“You didn’t hear it from me, but especially Bagman. He speaks like that to get a rise out of you, but honestly, he’s actually terrifyingly respectful. I'm pretty sure he even hates calling women anything degrading in bed. I think he’d prefer to be called something gross and degrading now that I think about it.” Rooster could only shrug at the alarmed look Phoenix had given him at the new i information he had casually dropped on her, “You know that bullshit that women with daddy issues like to be degraded? Well, I never met anyone with bigger daddy issues than Bagman over there, and that’s coming from me.” A knowing look following the statement.

Phoenix couldn't find a surface to place her beer fast enough before she was letting out a full belly laugh at what Rooster had just told her, her drink spilling all over her hand as she tried to picture Hangman of all people begging a woman to call him her pretty little slut. She hated that Rooster made sense, but yeah, it fit. Suddenly she felt like she understood Hangman just that much better. 

Suddenly Coyote was rushing into the little section the dagger squad had carved out for themselves, “Shut up! She’s coming! Act natural!”

“We can shut up or we can act natural, you gotta choose here bud” Hangman was the first to address the confusion caused by their friend, “Bob, it’s your time to shine, here she comes”, a final clap on the back and Hangman was making his way over to Rooster and Phoenix to watch how well his own little protege did trying to pick up you up. 

As Bob watched you walk over with their drinks all neatly lined up on a tray, he tried to calm himself down, replaying all the lessons Hangman had taught him in his mind, reminding himself he could actually do this. 

This was all just to get your attention. 

You just needed to know he existed. 

Women like what they can't have. 

Women liked being called a slut. 

Yes, that was it. That's what Hangman had said. 

Why was he so sweaty? 

Women like what they can't have. 

Women liked being called a slut. 

“You look like a slut.” 

A silence descended over the entire area. All eyes, wide, now focusing on Bob. Music was the only thing that could be heard between any of them. No one is willing to move out of fear alone. 

Although to him, all he could hear was his own blood pounding in his ears, nerves fully taking over. But he did it and now he was just waiting for you to fall at his feet, at least, that's what Hangman told him would happen. 

Although this, this felt wrong. He had messed up. He knew he had messed up somehow, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough for him to figure it out. 

“Excuse me?” You were the first to speak up after Bob’s faux pas. 

“Oh, I said, you look like a slut.” From there, the entire group watched events unfold in slow motion. 

“No Bob! It’s -” Before Hangman could interject, you’d already thrown a drink over him. Bob covered head to toe in someone's beer, “rhetorical.” 

“Get out Bobby Floyd!” Your look was icy, finger pointed towards the Hard Decks doors. 

“Yes Ma’am.” Bob knew better than to argue with you. He immediately got up, head down, tail between his legs and made his way to the doors, praying he could get out of there as quickly as possible, making promises that he’d never step foot into the Hard Deck again, mentally figuring out how to crash his plane tomorrow.  

Hangman could feel Phoenix seething next to him, against his better judgment he turned to look at her only to find her already staring holes into him, “You have 24 hours to fix it Hangman, before I shoot you out of the sky myself,” and with that she was gone, following Bob outside, but not before she was profusely apologizing to you, promising that this was not Bob.  

_____

Bob isn’t sure how Phoenix had convinced him to come to the Hard Deck tonight, but here he was outside its doors, breathing deeply as he tried to convince himself to step inside. 

And if he happened to see you, well, the written out three page apology was ready. He had no shame in groveling if it got you to forgive him. 

One last deep breath and he made his way in, beelining for the pool table where he knew Phoenix was waiting for him. He couldn’t give a damn about anyone else there, actively making the choice to ignore every single one of them. He knew technically it wasn’t their fault, it was him, he was the one who had messed it up, but this felt right. 

And if he had gotten an extra confidence boost from telling Bagman to fuck off the next day at work in front everyone, well, that was no one else’s business but his. 

The air was awkward, everyone could feel it, everyone was being extra nice to him and despite him being polite, he was still avoiding actually entertaining conversation with anyone else except Phoenix, until “Hey Bob, you need a drink, go get one.” He glared at Hangman, the other pilot only shrugging his shoulders, nudging his head in the direction of the bar. 

“Go, I know you don’t trust him, but trust me, go get your drink.” It was Phoenix, giving him a slight push off his stool. As he made his way to the bar, already getting his apology pages out of his pocket, he noticed the entire dagger squad quietly watching him make his way over. He felt bitter, but he knew that he had to do this. He was ready to beg. 

“Bob,” it was Penny leaning over the bar, lemonade in hand, a smirk firmly plastered on her face as she handed it over to him, “I think you owe this bar a round of drinks considering last week's indiscretion.” 

“Ma’am, a round of drinks for the bar is probably the least I could do considering what I did,” Bob ran a hand over his face as Penny cackled, making her way over to the bell, its humiliating ring sounding throughout the bar, all the patrons giving a loud cheer as the prospect of a free drink from a stranger who had somehow wronged the bar owner. 

“Who fucked up this time Pen?” Your voice sounded out as you made your way back around the bar from the kitchen, clearly not having noticed Bob yet, but when you did, a smile a mile wide graced your face and Bob felt both humiliated and blessed all at once, “Ah, I assume this is penance for his sins of last week?” You and Penny shared a knowing look, and Bob wished he was in on the joke instead of the butt of it. 

“And he will be paying for it.” Penny let out one more laugh as she slapped the top of her bar and gave a quick look around at how full her bar was this evening, knowing this was going to take a hefty chunk out of Bob's money, throwing Bob a wink as she left you two to talk. 

“I’m sorry.” Bob wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. He had felt awful all week and he needed to make amends and find out how he could fix this as soon as he could. 

“Why on earth would you get Hangman to help you get  a girl's number?” Bob froze, you knew. You knew he had needed someone else's help to try and flirt with you. He might not have crashed his plane last week, but tomorrow, it was definitely happening tomorrow. 

“I will regret doing that until the day I die.” Bob groaned out as you watched him squirm in front of you, a laugh leaving you once again at his misery, “He is possibly the worst person I have ever met in my entire life.” 

“Hey, he’s not that bad, considering the groveling he did this week and all.” You shrugged as you continued to wipe down the bar in front of you. 

“What groveling?” Bob hadn’t heard anything about Hangman groveling, but when he threw a look towards his fellow aviators, the shy smile on all their faces, Hangmans in particular, showed that maybe they had been in his corner all along, even if he had messed up as badly as he did. 

“Well, after you told me I looked like a slut,” Bob felt the humiliation flood him again, “Hangman profusely apologized and the lot of them had explained that you may have a crush on me and were just super nervous to ask for my number, so he had offered to coach you and that you may have gotten just a little nervous and duffed it a little bit.” 

“That may have been exactly what happened.” Bob chanced a look at you, the soft smile you sported gave him hope that maybe you weren’t all that mad with him after Hangman had pulled his weight to remedy the situation, “And I think duffed it a little bit is the understatement of the century.” 

“Oh Bobby Floyd, I was just trying to be polite, but you completely fucked it. Didn’t anyone tell you that you only call a girl a slut while you’re busy rawing her from behind?” If Bob didn’t already look like a loser in front of you, him choking on his spit and face going even redder than it already was at the thought of ‘rawing you’ did not do him any favors. 

“Ma’am, I will never call a woman a slut, ever again, under any circumstances, I can promise you that.” Bob had made this promise the second he had said the word to you last week, but this just solidified it to him. 

“Oh, well, that’s a bit of a pity, I was kind of hoping after our third date, you might be willing to while you bed me.” Bob was sure his heart stopped. 

“Date?” It was all he could get out. If he didn’t want to make more of a fool of himself, this was all he was willing to get out. 

“Yeah, the date Hangman offered to pay for, after that first one though, it’s on us.” You were enamored with the look of wonder on his face as you told him you’d be going on a date with him. 

“You’re seriously willing to go on a date with me after everything?” In lieu of an answer, you instead just glanced down to the napkin Bob hadn’t even seen you place in front of him, your name and number scrawled on it, all nice and neat just for him, “I promise it will be the best and most expensive date you ever go on.” The look of absolute shock never leaving his fae=ce as he immediately pocketed your number, not willing to jinx anything more. 

“Oh I bank on it being the most expensive date we ever go on, I mean, it’s the least we can do to thank Hangman for his lesson.” With that you swung your cloth over your shoulder, “I look forward to your call Bobby Floyd.” and with one last wink you were making your way to the other side of the bar to help Penny with the ever increasing amount of patrons swamping the bar for a free drink. 

As Bob stood there with possibly the biggest smile on his face, he felt a nudge to his shoulder, seeing his Captain with a small smile of his own, “Mav”, he greeted with a nod of his head, receiving one in return, embarrassed that his superior had to hear all that. 

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop Bob, but did she just use the term ‘bed you’ when telling you she hoped you’d call her a slut while you sleep with her?” Mav didn’t really care what term she used, in truth, he was just sure Bob hadn’t even really registered she’d said it at all, and honestly, he was rooting for Bob, he wanted him to know that he hadn’t completely fumbled the bag when it came to you. 

“Bed me?” Bob hadn’t even fully registered what Mav had said before he heard Rooster behind him. 

“He means ‘fuck’ Bob” 

And for the second time, Rooster had to watch Bob end up with a drink all over him at the Hard Deck, this time though it was infinitely funnier as he watched Bob spill his own lemonade all over himself in shock. 

“Did she see that?” Bob’s eyes were closed, refusing to look at you. 

“She definitely saw that” Rooster couldn’t lie, flashing a smile to you as he turned Bob away, “Go, run,” shoving Bob back in the direction of their friends, but Bob couldn’t even find himself to be embarrassed this time as he pulled your number out the closer he got, waving it like a flag as all his friends cheered him on, dripping, covered in lemonade and with your number clutched in his hand. 

[slvt4lanadelrey]

Prom Queen | part two | Lorraine Day |

Warnings: Nick.

Part one | Prom Queen

Kissing Lorraine was like kissing a sugar cube, it was sickly sweet. With the most innocent of touches, the purest of words you were hooked; and she was fleeting. The kiss was sweet, something that played like a broken record in your head each second of the day. You would be helping your mother, something to do with your soon to be sister in law's wedding and the strong aroma of vanilla would invade your scenes; deteriorating you from your work. You would be knocked back into the music room, Lorraine feverish lips locked on yours.

A smile wormed its way on your face, sweet like cinnamon; she was a dream, a vitamin that helped your body.

"What's got you all merry?" Your mother asked, smiling with a cigarette between her lips. You shrugged, face blazing a deep crimson. How could you explain how your heart pumped for a girl, someone who would sneak into your heart each night to whisper promises that they made sure to keep like a vow. Lorraine, Lorraine Day was the one who made you so merry; you were a fool, a dumb and inlove girl for someone they couldn't have, how cliche of you.

"I know that look, pumpkin, you're in love." Your heart sank, feeling a bead of sweat dripping down your neck. You gulped, shuffling to avoid eye contact with the siren that lured you in with her warm voice.

She was your mom, the woman who gave birth to you and even if she didn't always show it in the way you'd like; she loved you, and would do everything in her power to protect her own.

"Come on, Y/N, is it Nick?" Your teeth dug into the tender flesh, pressing down until the layer of skin pulsated around your canines.

"No." You shamefully mumbled, blood running through your body like a sizzling fire. Gasoline dribbling throughout your system, then you threw a match stick and watched as everything was set aflame.

Your eyes sparkled, immediately thinking about the brunette that held your heart in such a way you weren't sure whether God did exist, how could such a creature with so much power and love to give out; condemn you and Lorraine into a path full of half sided, secret, unsure love. A fight worthy of war, the ongoing argument between people that slowly crept into society; you loved a girl, and there wasn't a single slither of shame in your body when it came to admitting such a fondness towards Lorraine, but to other people? You were a nervous wreck, constantly on the edge of insanity at the thought of someone knowing your heart.

"No? Then who is it, I ain't heard nothin' about another boy." She plucked the cigarette from her lips, milky smoke gasping into the air; filtering around her head like the sunlight that shun upon her. Her eyes landed on yours, searching for something that ticked you.

"It's not a boy." Your face drained of colour, a cold flush washing through your body at a speed that sent you shivering. Your hand reached out, sliding into your pockets.

"It's about a girl?" Your mother tilted her head, leaning her face into the open window to let out the smoke. She thought for a moment, breathing into the fogged window.

"You don't like Nick?" She asked, not once accusing you of something so vial, so sinful. Realisation drew on her face, her features relaxing when she glanced back at you again.

"Hope she's worth it." Was all your mother said before flicking her cigarette out the open window, she took a moment to look you back in the eyes.

"Don't get yourself killed, Y/N. I won't bury my youngest daughter for something as foolish of loving who she wants." Your mouth dropped, hands reaching out to grab ahold of her. When your digits wrapped around her wrist, tugging her into your grasp she looked at you with wide eyes.

"You don't care? You don't care that I'm not…I'm not something you thought I was?" Fear crept, slowly dragging its finger across the torn wallpaper, whispering sickly through the thick atmosphere of fearful thoughts. You're not good enough, the voice of reason screamed at you, howling through your prison like mind.

"Why would I care? I married someone who never loved me, you love someone so much you are honestly willing to stand up to a town full of bigots. I'm proud if anything." She cupped your cheek, wiping away the single fallen trickle of tears.

"You've always been brave, pumpkin."

You didn't move, not when she left, not when other people filtered through your house, not when your brother called. You were stuck in time, permanently stuck in a state of shock.

Your head was tilted backwards, the grasp of an unknown presence pouring molten lava into your locked shut jaw. It sizzled, blistered and ultimately left you unable to ever open your mouth.

Then, you were being pushed over. Your head rested into the small wooden gap, big enough for someone's head. A man, much taller and stronger than you walked over and slammed their axe into your neck with a clean slide.

The result of loving someone, I guess.

"Are you okay?" Leon nudged you, flicking a piece of food from his plate at you. Your glossy eyes flooded with sorrow squinted before landing on the boy in question.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" And just like that you were pushed into a brain-numbing conversation about marriage. Your mother would shoot you glances, each time your father and older sister would mention Nick.

Relaxation wrapped around your body like a warm blanket. Lorraine was standing in front of you, smiling like you were the only painting ever worth watching. Her dimples hollowed on her cheek, talking to someone next to her with a song worthy voice; silky soft, plush for the damaged ears.

She was a melody, a symphony that only you were able to listen to. Just like how birds chirping in the morning lust would lull you awake, already smiling for the day; Lorraine had that same affect, the same way to hush your body into a sense of comfort that ultimately caused ruffles within your picture perfect family.

Like a broken record, Lorraine didn't fit into your Palace of perfection, she was a distraction; chaotic one at best. She made you yearn for more, she made you seek a better life; one only she could provide.

Whereas, Nick was willing to settle. He'd probably buy a sweet little ranch, one nice enough to raise a family but one slow enough that it wouldn't cause too much distraction.

Torn, like a tug of rope, you were stuck. Love never doubted your mind, never once had you questioned the undeniable love and the way you were positively smitten for Lorraine. Never once had Nick made your heart skip, not with his blue eyes, chiselled jawline, not even with his jock-like ways: which had the rest of the girls swooning, dropping their panties within moments.

No. Nick wasn't your thing, he wasn't your taste, certainly not your liking. All of that love, bitter sweet devotion was all dedicated to one person; Lorraine Day, herself.

"Are you ready?" She offered her smile at you, hands wrapping around her backpack straps. She rocked on her heels, like she was scared you'd deny her. You had planned to meet up with her before the long weekend, a weekend your family had dedicated to getting to know Nick on a more…family level.

Just like every affair, every plaguing secret that would turn even the purests of air toxic within a single breath. Lorraine had been captured, sucking the life out of you with each love sick words she'd praise into your ear. Whilst Lorraine enjoyed every moment of your time together, knowing it had an expiry date, she was at peace with pressing feather light kisses along your cheek. You on the other hand was seething, jaw turning inflexible at the thoughts that somehow tainted your mind even though Lorraine was all over you.

Lorraine pressed her lips down on yours, her hands gripping so tightly around your waist. She didn't care, she didn't mind that you'd never be able to call her yours in public, that the claim over who you deserved; who you belonged to will always be held with Nick's name. You were there, she was pressed into yours; everything was fine, especially when you let out a small whimper at her brutal force.

You didn't hold the same sentiment. You hated it, it left a permanent tang on your tongue each time you were forced to remember Nick. It ached to kiss Lorraine, it left a yearning feeling in your heart when you'd call out for her and she wasn't able to answer. You were friends in public, and devoted lovers in private; but that would never satisfy your needs, I'd never clench the thirst you'd have for Lorraine each time you would lay your eyes on her. A drug, a small trickle of nectar that trailed down your throat whenever she'd whisper your name.

Mine, it repeated in your head. You were selfish, famously so. You had a boyfriend, one that wasn't that bad in reality; he listened when you said no, bought you gifts, sent flowers if you were unwell. But Lorraine would travel through trenches in order to see you, she would buy every florist out if that meant any health would be regained in your body, she would forget about the baggage you carried on the daily; all in order to be able to love you, small love, quiet and devoted love. Pure and honest, love and enchantment.

"I love you" no amount of words would cover up the sin, the blinding fact that suffocates your thoughts. Nick was expecting you in less than half an hour, he would want to hold your hand and hear the words you had solely promised Lorraine you'd only tell her.

It made you sick, how could you possibly love someone when you knew you were causing them pain?

Lorraine wasn't like other people, she was patient, more than okay with waiting. You were the problem, like every other situation; you weren't happy, so you had to isolate yourself.

"What's wrong? You've gone stiff on me, again." Lorraine mumbled, her lips never parting away from your skin, so when she talked it vibrated against your flesh. You chuckled at the feeling, wiping away the salivate trail across your neck.

"I have to go." You mumbled into the kiss, parting it with a slight whine. She was just too comforting, a memory of a teddy you slept with throughout your earlier years in life. She smiled, nuzzling her head into your shoulder.

"I'll miss you, try and have fun." She was perfect, the actual oxygen you breathed in everyday.

Even though you were about to spend three tortuous days with Nick; someone she hated. Lorraine was still encouraging you to have fun, enjoy the weekend she knew you two weren't able to have together.

Part of her happy mood was that she got to see you before you left, that you promised that when you were going to be laying beside Nick you would be thinking about Lorraine; and secretly dreaming about how good she kissed.

"I can't let you go." You declared, clinging onto the girl with all your might. Your eyes wandering into hers, the silky liquid gold pouring down on you. She was heaven, so nicely wrapped up in a small frame with big brown eyes you're fortunate to look into most days.

"It's just three days." She tried to pry your arms off her, wiggling out of your grasp was harder than it appeared.

"It's 72 hours, how tortuous." She giggled, once again connecting your lips.

"Indeed."

"I'll miss you" like a parrot you repeated your words, fingers still locked with hers.

"I love you." She muffled her words, lips once again meeting yours with a quick haste.

She loved you and as God witnessed, you loved her just as much.

[burreauxinfinity]

In honor of my eras show (post concert depression is real.. experiencing cincy n2 is the highlight of my life.) being this week and the 4th ofc! ❤️🪩🎆

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm and I'm a house of cards

You're the kind of reckless that should send me runnin'

But I kinda know that I won't get far

And you stood there in front of me, just close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see what I was thinkin' of

“Y/N! C’mon!” you heard Tee call to you from the water. You were sat on the edge of the boat sipping on your drink of choice and choosing the next song that would play through the speakers. Tee, Ja’Marr, Sam, and of course Joe along with their respective girls were in the water while you had chosen to dry off instead - after all it was getting late and you had swam earlier. The early July sun cast a perfect orange glow over the lakehouse you and Joe called home during the offseason. The two of you had been together for years now, meeting during his Ohio State days.

You laughed. “No chance, the water is too cold. Any of you want another drink?” you asked as you finally looked over at them.

Joe swam over to the edge of the boat, pulling himself up. He grabbed a towel as he spoke, the orange glow highlighting his blue eyes. “Wouldn’t mind another one.”

Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

My mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea

You touch me once and it's really somethin'

You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be

I'm on my guard for the rest of the world

But with you, I know it's no good

And I could wait patiently, but I really wish you would

A short time later you were curled up in one of the chairs on the patio, sitting on Joe’s lap with a blanket draped over you as you roasted marshmallows. It wasn’t quite dark enough for the fireworks the boys had gotten yet. Though you had insisted it probably wouldn’t end well, it was the Fourth of July and of course Tee and Ja’Marr couldn’t be swayed.

Joe ran his thumb along your waist, rubbing small circles absentmindedly. He was engrossed in a conversation with Sam, something about Travis Kelce. Ja’Marr butted in.

“Buds all talk, 3-1 and all he can do is run his mouth,” he looked annoyed but Joe just laughed, his smile growing. You were captivated by him still somehow, the way his smile trickled into his eyes and those smile lines. You just smiled softly, finally tearing your eyes from him and laid your head back on his chest as you finished your s’more as the boys continued to talk.

Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

“Guys did you really need this much?” you let out a laugh as the boys set up their fireworks. They’d lined the dock with them and although you joked, you loved fireworks so you weren’t complaining.

“Too many options, we couldn’t decide,” Sam chuckled.

“He’s right.. Fuck it go big or go home right?” Tee shrugged as he set the last firework into place.

“No, I think she’s right honestly but.. Go for it,” Jess, Sam’s girlfriend, laughed beside you.

Joe took his place next to you on the patio finally, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. You leaned into his body, the subtle smell of his cologne filling your senses. Tee and Ja’Marr stayed down to light the fireworks and make sure your house stayed uh.. standing and not on fire while Sam rejoined Jess.

I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild

Just keep on keepin' your eyes on me, it's just wrong enough to make it feel right

And lead me up the staircase, won't you whisper soft and slow?

I'm captivated by you, baby, like a firework show

As the fireworks went off, lighting up the sky and the water below, you glanced over at your boyfriend. His face was lit up, fully engrossed in the fireworks. You could swear that even after years together, his gorgeous smile and ocean-blue eyes seemed to draw you in. You seemed to fall more in love with him everyday and as you sat there now, with the people both of you loved most at your home, enjoying this holiday - you couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything else.

Drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk (Ah-ah), take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down

Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly whenever you smile

And the sparks fly

Oh, baby, smile

And the sparks fly

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Gold Rush

pronouns: she/her warnings: angst, mentions & depictions of alcoholism, car crash, fluff summary: Aegon didn’t like most people but he liked you until it tore him from the inside out. You’re perfect, his gold and shimmering light. The problem? He’s not perfect. He’s not even a third of what you will one day amount to and everybody knows it…even him. verrryyy loosely based on Gold Rush by Taylor Swift. dividers: firefly-graphic wordcount: 4,039 A/N: i hope my favourite aegon girlie @adelusionalwriter enjoys!

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Aegon’s eyes sparkle as they watch your figure embrace his mother. His suit is uncomfortably tight and he doesn’t understand why the collar is pointy but a sly grin spreads up his face at the sight of his sunshine…at the sight of you. His perfect golden girl, the one who lights the remaining warmth of his heart and strengthens his overworked jaw until he’s turned into a bumbling mess. His mother would argue that that is his natural state but even she can’t ignore the glow you permeate onto him when you are near. Every sunday she slides a porcelain plate, her muscle memory too deep to forget you. It hasn’t even been a year yet, he thinks to himself as his hands hesitate on the flute of champagne beside him. Only seven months by now, he’s sure. Gods, why does it feel like he’s known you all his life? He supposes that’s ridiculous, if he had known you all his life then perhaps he would not have been so miserable in his teen years. His touch lingers on the tall glass then snaps away. The heat of your memory turns into a scalding burn at the temptation. He tucks his hands into his pockets and smiles at you across the room. Your soft features turn up at him like the pour of glitter–smooth and sparkling. You make him feel like summer. As if summoned, the chandelier catches its outstretching beams and it feels as though it has changed nothing because there you are smiling at him. He thinks that you’re the only light he will ever need. You’re as kind as a gleam, reflecting his best qualities into him. He’s still Aegon but people enjoy his company now, seek him out even. His own father comments on it sometimes. That might be the only thing Aegon dislikes about you, how easily you collect the affection of others, faster than he, Aegon himself, ever could, you have garnered the affection of even his father. He wishes sometimes that he could keep you locked up in a little box to preserve forever but that would be selfish and he promised himself that this time would be different. It had to be. He will be good enough for you, he knows it. 

So he dismisses the champagne and tentative curling fingers wave at you across the room. Gods, his heart starts thrumming gently again at the sight of your smile. When your feet patter softly in shining shoes, his arms are already outstretched and waiting. A soft giggle slips from your lips like the purest wine–the one that replaces his damnable urges–and your hands glide up his neck to wrap him in an embrace so tight, his breath catches. His eyes flutter like a dandelion loses its seed, alongside the flow of gentle wind; it’s with careful tandem with your own closing lashes. “My sweet girl,” He breathes as his lips dip his head of their own desperate volition. They coax your own so his tongue can sail at the seam of your silken lips. He drinks in your hot breath as if it’s the antidote to all ills and fuck, he thinks he’d be dying without it. He wants to drown in you, he decides, hands pressing so carefully on your hips as he draws you close. Aegon worries that if he presses too hard you will flow away into the air like dust. Your mouth coaxes him into a world beyond his own–instead of cruelty and pain, it is filled with replenishment and golden sunlight. He wants to conquer your lips in that moment or any part that you’ll give him, his brows scrunching in need and fingers rolling the rayon fabric of your dress back and forth between them. It’s not enough to have you in his arms, he wants to commit every part of today into his memory so he can replay it over and over in his mind’s eye until it fries like the computer his sister Rhaenyra fixed for you. He was embarrassed at the time that he couldn’t do it himself but his fears quelled the moment your darling tongue descended on his own. 

Panic ebbs at him whenever you look at him like this, when your dilated pupils are so wide they consume him. A rosy blush invades his face; his nose, his cheeks, even his neck and ears are pink. He jumps when a firm hand lands along his back and shakes him out of this fantasy. It’s his brother Aemond giving him a pointed stare. Aegon caves in on himself as quick as a frightened rabbit though he is not so harmless. His blue eyes flicker up at him through shielding eyelashes, anticipating the worst. Instead, Aemond is reaching across to introduce himself to you, having missed the initial family hounding while on a business trip. His face is stoic as always with a straightened back and hair slicked back behind him so unlike Aegon’s messy brush of gilded curls. Unsavoury tastes climb up to his throat before stuffing his cheeks with foul-tasting cotton. “I apologise for our late meeting…” Aemond says, wet tongue gliding the words like prayer through his white teeth. Aegon swallows and looks at the floor. He doesn’t like who he feels like in his brother’s sight. An intruder. A ruiner. A failure. Oh Gods how he wishes for once in his life he could be like you. He wants to be your sunlight as much as you are his forever. But you don’t know this and he would never dream of tainting your sweet gaze for anybody nor any selfish emotions. You won’t be him, you won’t be him. Aegon reminds himself, determined to disrupt all of him if it means keeping you, of being a man you deserve. “I was otherwise engaged and my brother has seemingly ignored the pleasure of my company.” Suddenly a tunnelled light is all that he can see of you, and darkness circles his vision like a deranged tunnel. His fists dig sharp nails into his soft palms. His eyes squeeze shut briefly at the hum of your sweet laugh. A laugh reserved for him. He sucks in an unsteady breath but then your reassuring hand squeezes his bicep just as tightly before releasing with care. Even your hands feel like silk. 

Helaena suddenly springs to your side with wide excited eyes and practically begs you to dance, which you eagerly accept even though no one is dancing at all. Aegon watches with a grin rivalling the sun’s bright intensity though he would not think such a comparison would be worthy of him. He’ll keep that reserved for you, for now. Aemond hums from beside him, tapping his fingers against the table. Aegon grinds his teeth. He loves his brother, he loves his brother, he– “A sweet girl, isn’t she?” Aemond asks to which Aegon groans heartily. Normally he’s the one bringing you up at any available opportunity but he knows this isn’t going to be a conversation he likes. Aegon clenches his jaw and remembers what his therapist told him, think of something else…the trees, the sun…her…her smile…her laugh. His lips twitch upward but then the blow comes full force and barrelling. “A shame she’s picked the wrong brother.” Aemond spoke with such vindication before slipping away to engage with another one of their grandsire’s businessmen. 

It’s nine weeks later when the panic sets in again, he’s running around a supermarket frantically in search of a birthday card, clutching a (mostly) fresh bouquet of asters and anemone in his grasp. His breathing heavies, sweat collecting on his pale brows and desperately trying to hide his dilated pupils. His hands shake as he thrusts the card at the cashier–he can tell they’re slightly scared as they scan it with flickering wide eyes. “T-Two seventy five.” They inform him and he snatches it with one hand, the other casting coins at her hurriedly. He needs to be out as soon as possible. Aegon sprints faster than he ever did in cross-country and then shoots into his car with a relieved sigh. He checks his phone and smacks a hand over his forehead, groaning. 16:43 pm. He was supposed to be there at three. God damn it why wasn’t he there at three. His heart beats against the concrete wall of his skull. His hand clutch the steering wheel like a lifeline and his foot presses so low on the revs that he’s probably 20 miles past the speed limit. Of course this doesn’t end well, he rushes through a red light. A screeching alerts him first at what’s happening before the weight of a 2010 toyota prius smacks hard into his own car which is sent spinning across the road, hitting another car as it goes. Aegon is sent flying in his drunken haze across the car and burning shards dig through his skin but he doesn’t know what they’re looking for. His ears beat with a deafness he’s never felt, urging his mouth to spew vomit out of his broken window. Aegon’s already throbbing head strikes against the rough tarmac, blood seeping across the mud and dirt that infects his insides. A jagged wedge of glass rummages easily through his pale skin but he doesn’t have it in him to scream as his eyes drop shut. He feels like he hasn’t slept for days…he probably hasn’t as he lets the pain suck him into the dark void. 

The flowers and their pathetic petals skid like an empty promise beside him–they infiltrate his nose like a lie. 

You don’t like hospitals, you decide, as you try to stop the sobbing that gyrates your body as strong as a vice and as cruel as the wicked world around you. A warm hand is wrapped comfortingly around your waist but it’s awkward because as much as you love Helaena, you don’t want her. You want Aegon. You want your sweet stupid boyfriend who you’re not sure you’re going to ever forgive for making you love him this much. For making you hurt so badly as you sit desperately awaiting a doctor or nurse or someone. You didn’t even know you were his emergency contact until yesterday. Your weary eyes stand red and puffy as you finally settle. You can’t rest–no–you will not. Helaena sighs in relief when Alicent arrives with the coffee and takes her place beside you. The loud footsteps approaching are what snap your head up and send your coffee flying to the floor. A couple opposite you gasp but you ignore them, fixing interrogatory sights on the nurse before you. They lick their lips and you already know they’re hesitant. Their head leans slightly and double checks the papers. “Aegon Targaryen’s fa–?” “Yes.” You say instantaneously, playing with the ring you moved onto your engagement-finger. Aegon hasn’t proposed but you’re not about to let some half-pint tell you you can’t see the love of your life based on a technicality. Your tongue darts to wet your stark lips. “What is it?” For once you don’t have the time to be polite. 

Aegon smiles weakly when you jog in, not even exposing his teeth like he’s trained since birth. His voice is drained and devoid of his vibrant heart. It’s quick when you latch your teeth on your lower lip, sucking it to soothe your ever-growing nerves. You hold back from launching yourself at him and instead settle for gently embracing him, tears collecting on that stupid itchy gown they forced upon him, as he says so eloquently. You can barely choke a laugh. Even now, he can’t be serious for too long, you should have expected it. You’re scared to look at him, instead burrowing your face into his smooth neck even though now it’s gash laced and a thick goo seeps from it. Dainty and beaten hands tremble as they try to guide through your hair but you hear the hiss that tears through his teeth. It’s reflexive when you jump away but he whines. “P-please, baby,” He simpers. You want to slap the stupid grin off his face, instead you tuck your hands beneath your chin and reluctantly let him try again but his eyes twitch and squeeze, veins jutting at even this. Your own face crumples at the sight and even more when tears wet his eyes, as overcoming as a tidal wave. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, breath hitches. “I tried, I promise, I-I-” You shake your head, fingers twitching to hold his hand but you force them away. “Sh, sh,” You soothe. “That doesn’t matter right now. I’m here to take care of you, nothing else.” He lets out a whimper and you swear someone has punched your intestines. “It’s not fair to you.” Aegon argues uselessly against himself. “This isn’t fair. If I wasn’t so fucking drunk all the time–” You shush him again but it doesn’t calm him this time, instead it only intensifies his inner guilt and turmoil. “No, stop, I don’t want to be coddled…Please. This isn’t good for you. I’m not good for you.” Your brows knit, your mouth parting but he slides a shaking finger in front of you. “No.” He repeats. “I want you to leave me.” Aegon sniffles now, trying hard not to let the wave win but he’s tired, so exhausted of trying. “I want you to go!” He spits like poison. You reel back as though he had stabbed you. “What? No.” You snap back but the dam has finally broken. “Just go!” “Just talk to me!” You plead, reaching to grasp him but he dodges like a cat in water. “Go.” He grinds out. “Please,” he sniffles again, vulnerability engulfing his tortured tongue. “I want you to spread those beautiful wings of yours.”  You shake your head. “You’ve been doing better!” “Not better enough!” “I don’t care; we both knew something would happen and I’m here because I love you, not for what you can give me.” He huffs at the resolute tone flying through his ears at your voice. He refuses to look at you now. 

Instead his eyes snap to the door where a familiar face stares back at him with concern embedded in his lone eye. You’ve switched places with him, this time you’re the one desperate for him. Unlikely but in truth , however, you both still move in perfect, infuriating tandem. He’s okay with dying if the cost of living is you remaining trapped in this little bubble of life beside him. He finally decides with the words of others ringing in his head. He can’t keep doing this, he won’t let himself. He can’t keep you if this is what it means. He wants you to fly–no–he wants you to soar, above him, above everybody. Always. His curled hand reaches to brush back your hair but he holds off the begging flinch this time as he rests his forehead against your own. He’s done trying. “I’m sorry.” he whispers to you before kissing your forehead. “I’ve already had you for far too long, as long as I could but I won’t keep doing this to you.” Neither of you care as chalked and decaying blood snaps from his wounds onto you. Selfish. Aegon Targaryen has always been selfish. That’s what he’s sure they will one day sear on his tombstone once his miserable life comes to an end. You’ll be there too, he knows it. His eyes lock on the flowered vase behind your head and which rests like a threat on the window sill. Begonias, he almost laughs aloud at the irony of it all. 

When you leave, he expects to see that familiar smirk on his brother’s face but instead the expression is tight and not even a hint of guilty glee threads through his lips. 

Your eyes glimmer when you embrace Alicent as tight as possible without cutting off her circulation. It’s been a month and four days and you still wake up with the sick feeling in your stomach before work. The dread that tears into your open wound because you can’t bring yourself to close it…not yet, it’s too soon. Instead you accept the sweet advances of your ex-boyfriend’s family. You move into Helaena’s apartment with her, you befriend her roommate and cousin, Baela. You start tutoring Daeron on the weekends. You even agree to meet Baela’s friends and go to the parties her girlfriend arranges every Friday. They mean well and so you agree. You want to feel better, you swear you do but everyone sees the look on your face when someone says his name. Part of you worries sometimes that he was a figment of your imagination at the sheer concern they express but you're moving on, you promise. Or at least trying to. It doesn’t feel enough because as always, you’re all or nothing. He liked that. Fuck, no. He doesn’t exist, just tell yourself he doesn’t exist. You take a deep breath and step out of the bathroom and into the blaring loud hallway. You jump when your head makes contact with a hard figure who struggles to keep liquid in his scarlet cup. The masculine voice chuckles and when you meet eyes, you remember why you came and give him a tight-lipped smile. “You enjoying the party?” CCregan Stark asks–the kind stoic boy in one of your uni classes. You lick your lips while taking in his dark curly hair and stubble, he brushes it out of his face awkwardly. You’ve replayed the story in your head a million times; his barber thought he said jaw instead of chin somehow so now it’s cut just a bit too short to comb behind his ears like he used to and prefers. You smile up at him but as you part your lips, he shakes his head softly. “You’re not, are you?” His playful voice rings in your ear. 

Your laugh comes out forced but there all the same and nod reluctantly. “I hate it.” You answer, words spilling like leftover wine. He chuckles again and curses when his hand tilts his cup again. He steadies himself, rising back to his towering height. It almost feels weird that he’s not leaning over you, he’s like the empire state building or something. Your eyes lift up to his steel grey ones but they don’t sparkle like Aegon’s did. They don’t have the same warmth, he doesn’t give you flowers between classes, he doesn’t collapse on you in bed because he needs to know you’re still there, he doesn’t make false promises either though,…He doesn’t beg you to change your own mind about him no matter how many times you tell him you want him. “You okay?” Cregan asks, tongue darting to wet his cracked lips.You briefly recall the lip balm Aegon used to steal off of you at home–no. Not home. Not anymore. You look up at him, barely nodding with a jut of your chin. “Yeah. Perfect.” You let the poison slip over your tongue, the taste too bitter to ingest. It’s okay. So long as other people believe you then it’s alright. Cregan bites his lip and glances behind him then leans down to your ear. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.” Your face erupts in crimson embarrassment. He knows, of course he knows. You aren’t deaf to the whispers of class so why should he? “No one’s by the backdoor right now, I’ll pretend I gave you a ride home if you want to tell Baela. She’s worried but you don’t need me to tell you that.” He takes a sip of his cup and reluctantly you let out a suffocating breath. 

You wish you could call Helaena. Instead you nod and thank Cregan quietly before sneaking outside and into the cold air but even that feels stale somehow. You feel sick. More sick than you’ve ever felt since seeing him in that stupid hospital bed, that stuffy room clutching you like a child does their barbie. When you finally stumble into your apartment again, it feels as empty as ever. Bare, stripped, motionless. You can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s a photograph. In your mind you can pretend you’re on the sofa, the one that’s caked in memories and late-night conversations. “You’re so wonderful,” He had said the first time you visited, long before it had become your own. He had pressed soft, warm lips to each of your cold knuckles and grinned at the gentle laughter that poured between your own. You feel dizzy as you let your feet guide you through the door of your painfully new bedroom. You slip onto the covers, feeling too trapped to go beneath them. You don’t like this feeling, this loneliness. You want to feel those comforting arms again without the fear of waking up, of knowing what is awaiting you. It’s not healthy, you know that, but it still hurts. 

Three months. You both wake up. You both lose your keys before letting them rattle between either palm. You both feel the dull ache when you turn around to call out a name you want to forget. Aegon swallows the words while you let them out with a mere breath. You both go to uni with a sour face. You’re walking through the lengthy hallway when you hear the collapse of the heaviest binder you’ve ever seen. Your head snaps up, expecting to see a first year or awkward collection of joking friends. Instead your eyes meet familiar watered pools of soft blue. His lips are tugging downward but his hair is styled and his sweater clean. He looks good. He looks like Aeg. You swallow but don’t lose eye contact and neither does he–binder forgotten. Neither of you move at first but then his hand twitches and instead of avoiding you like all the times before, he breaks out into a run and you eagerly meet his pace. His hands reach out, fingers spread and waiting to lock with yours, entangling once they do. They squeeze tight, refusing to let go as you breathe out in mutual relief. It’s been so long. Too long, too far, too much. Blood thumps loudly, hearts connecting. “Oh thank fuck.” Aegon chokes out. His breath stutters and he ruefully pulls away his finger to wrap one along your back and another in your hair. You look up at him, the students around you melting from your vision because nothing matters anymore now that you can see his rosy cheeks again. Your eyes roam his face. “You look good.” You whisper after about half an hour passes with him leaning against the wall with you head lost in his shoulder, your lips just barely ghosting his neck. He smiles but there’s a hardness in his face. Something beneath the irises of his eyes. “I wanted to be good for myself, for you, for my mum.” He says then gently shakes his head. “I didn’t want people to remember me like that, I want you to be happy when you see me.” He bites his lip then sighs. Your brows twitch and your hand carefully cups his face. “I just wanted you.” You respond, voice soft and lips curling. “I just want you to be happy…Are you?” Aegon swallows. “Mostly.” He whispers. His thumb runs over your palm. “I’m getting better but-” He wets his lips. “It’s hard. I’m gonna do it this time though, I promise.” He turns to press a chaste kiss to your palm and smiles. “Aemond’s been visiting.” Your brows shoot up. “Really?” He nods. “And he’s…?” “He’s actually helping.” He chuckles then breaks out into a grin. “Of course mum is, as well. She had to practically chain me down to get me to stop asking about you. Helaena’s sick of my shit by now.” He seems so much warmer now than he was before. He feels like Aeg. “Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “Get this, I make tea now.” His stupid grin is like a beam of gold. “Tea!” Your giggles echo around the large now long-empty hallway. 

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

taking away mc ships, what are you shipping in the our life cinematic universe?

okay so mcs are all off the table damn

hhhHHHHNNNNGHHH i had to think about this one for a minute

quick tldr:

lee/ren

derek/ren

baxter/liz

cove/baxter

opal/cliff

vianca/liz

serenity/tamarack

cove/tamarack

derek/tamarack

derek/qiu

okay so my first one might be a hear me out-er butー lee and ren. our sweet cousin lee and ren murray. LIKE CAN Y'ALL SEE MY VISION??? they would be the cutest girlfriends. like, lee is bright and forward but she's gentle and patient enough that ren's shyness wouldn't be something that grates her? and she'd gently coax ren out of her shell

lee doesn't give 'outdoorsy' girl, but she would definitely try out camping and hiking for ren because lee's the type to go out of her way like that. so yeah, definitely ship lee and ren for sure

another compatible person for ren that i can see is derek? like omg that would so fucking cute to me! both of them are sportsy, derek is literally a golden retriever in the shape of a person. he's very considerate and he takes that into account if ren comes over to hang out with his family, knowing when she needs her space

but if derek is putting too much pressure on himself, ren is there to tell him just that. she doesn't say it unkindly though. she just wants her bf to not be his biggest critic. and they love doing any outdoor activity together. when they get their families together, its suarezs versus murrays and afterwards they go to a family restaurant and talk the night away

ironically enough, even though baxter had a canonical crush on qiu when they were kids i don't see it moving past that. it's a crush fond to baxter's heart and he keeps it at that, a fond memory. definitely would never tell them ever. but if i was gonna ship him with anybody in the expansive universe of ol...

hear me out but i feel like liz and baxter would be surprisingly compatible. like, she doesn't take any bs and would get the guy to talk and open up. but if someone comes for him, she is right there in his corner ready to bat for her man. they'd have some good banter as well i think?

i think cove and baxter could also work if it's their step 4 selves. baxter is finally done running away from things and being more genuine and vulnerable and while cove is slow to warm up to people, he would see baxter is trying and slowly but surely their "we only hangout if our mutual friends invite us to the same space" turns into texting each of their own accord and eventually that becomes hanging out of their own accord

then the next thing you know, baxter is asking cove out on a date

oooh yes, i see it more clearly. cove and baxter would be a delicious slowburn for sure, it's drinking and leaving no molecules

i ship opal and yusuf together and i'm really hoping something comes from that when we get the full game however comma.... opal and cliff? i kinda see it and it kinda eats

outside of vianca's canonical gf, vianca and liz give power couple vibes. i don't think i need to expand on that, we all know i'm right and we all know it would eat

if i can't be with my autumn queen tamarack, i would want her to date serenity? they just seem like they would be the cutest cottage core gf/goth gf combination and the two friends in the group that everyone goes to for advice/drama. they gossip about it over tea and still they're the most wholesome couple you know

cove and tamarack also just seem like they'd be very cute together? summer boyfriend meets autumn girlfriend. in a childhood neighbors to friends to lovers type beat, i know they wouldn't get along as their step 1 selves. cove would be pretty put off by how loud and wild tam was at first. plus, neither of them would really like the same activities as the other

tamarack finds the beach boring and stagnant because she's a forest girlie and it isn't like cove is one to just be in the forest and forage mushrooms all day. but during one night when cove tries running away, strangely enough it's the loud girl he doesn't normally enjoy being with sticking with him the whole time and a friendship is birthed from that

step 2, cove is so there for tamarack when she is dealing with everything with her parents. and by step 3, he's telling tamarack he's been in love with with her since they were teens

chef's kiss, cove/tamarack hits different

step 1 derek sees this:

and immediately falls in love, i don't think i need to expand further on that. y'all know how derek is and i feel like everything i said about cove comforting tam can be applied here as well. he'd try to shoot his shot with making a marriage promise with tam too i see it very clearly

and, don't get mad at me for repeating myself but

step 1 derek sees this:

and immediately falls in love. but since qiu is a popular kid, good luck, my guy. at least derek can rest assured knowing that qiu's his good buddy and slightly more special than the rest. i think with qiu he might feel too nervous to do the marriage promise thing since qiu is a popular kid and who knows if he's already received a ton of those

in a scenario where they aren't close as step 1 folk though or qiu pushes derek away during their step 2 phase, derek is hurt but he still tries putting in the effort to rebuild that bridge, letting qiu know he's there regardless of what they're going through until finally... qiu reaches back

they had their ups and their downs but qiu appreciates derek not giving up on them and sticking with them through the hard times

by the time qiu is back to their normal rizzler self, derek's busy with sports and it is hard for them to meet up with each other but they stay in contact. but step 4 would be when they get together because derek let's it drop he had a crush on qiu when they were kids "haha definitely over it NOW though" (he is not)

qiu gains a crush on derek between steps 2 and 3 but never said anything because they kinda felt after being such a jerk to derek during a good chunk of high school, he doesn't deserve to pursue him but after hearing derek had a crush on him qiu decides they're gonna shoot their shot (happy ending ofc though)

i'm leaving terry and randy out of this though, they're too fucking cute for me to separate

[ashdreams2023]

Hey! Can you write a fanfic about Jealous Severus x Death eater reader pls? Thank you ! <3

Jealousy is a disease

Summary: where severus is jealous

Btw I adore your profile pic and hope this is good enough

Being a death eater means you’ll endure the cruelest of punishments which is something you literally signed up for, and severus knew that very well, although he was a master of hiding his emotions, a mask he built over the years of being a spy.

Nothing could break that mask…nothing but you.

It was ridiculous to say the least, you had a position to keep just like him and everybody else but recently some members of that shit show have been getting a little too close for his comfort to you.

Earlier that night Avery was whispering something to you and grinning like an idiot when you gave a polite smile.

That ugly werewolf was sniffing around you as well.

"Merlin f you stare harder you might poke a hole in the poor soul’s head" lucius whispered under his breath to him. Severus huffed, he must’ve let his guard down for lucius to notice his change of mood.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about"

Lucius chuckled "I’m just saying dear severus, that looking from afar is safe but is it healthy for your own temper? I’ve known you to be vicious when out of control"

"That’s enoug-"

"Oh it seems even pettigrew is interested as well!"

Severus saw red, his head snapped towards your direction and indeed that rat man was circling around you like a disgusting rotten urchin.

Something in his chest burned, something no years of emotional control can keep down, it grew with each passing second until he felt like he’s gonna vomit it.

The meeting seemed like it took entirely to end, and another to get passed to you without making a scene of himself.

Peter whimpered in fear and glared at him when he approached you, something sinister gleamed in Severus’s eyes and nothing but murder wrote itself on his face.

"Go rot and die." Those words alone sent the rat man into a full on panic attack leaving him shaking against the meeting table.

You were almost knocked over your own feet when Severus’s large hands dragged you out of that place, you could’ve sworn lucius and Narcissa were chuckling at you.

"Where are you even taking me?!"

"Anywhere but this rotten space."

You blinked looking around you, he was taking you deeper and deeper into the forest, maybe he finally snapped and is gonna do some sort of human sacrifice, he was always into that sort of arts.

You just didn’t take in that it might be you.

He stopped suddenly and put his hands on your shoulders, he didn’t grip you tightly or push you hard but his eyes, the mask he puts in front of everyone fell down, his eyes not frowning but risen up, his eyes looked so tired, almost sad.

"What’s wrong?" You said.

He exhaled "I can’t keep doing this, I can’t see them do this to you anymore" then it clicked, it made you want to giggled but it felt inappropriate at the moment.

"Severus don’t tell me you’re jealous"

He didn’t say anything but his grip tightened on your shoulders, you sighed then warped your arms around his chest and pressed yourself into it "goodness have faith would you? Have you taken a look at those people? I might catch a disease if I let any of them touch me"

Severus’s eyes softened, he dropped his arms and warped them around your frame "it would be better than setting your life in danger with a double spy"

You snorted "I think you forget that anyone who choices a path with the dark lord is bound death, I’ll rather die with you than next to a worthless brainless follower of his"

Severus smiled against your hair, sniffing the scent of shampoo and the ashes that never seemed to leave anyone alone.

"Plus I’m not the with a disease here" you looked up grinning at him.

He raised a brow at you and you just laughed moving your arms from his middle to his neck and bringing him close "jealous is a disease and I have a very very sick man" you chuckled "jealous, jealous boy" you teased.

He frowned then leaned down, pressing his thin soft lips to yours, a beautiful sensation he could easily get addicted too or maybe he already is, addicted to you.

"Are we going back to them?" You spoke against his lips.

"They can burn and die"

"Even lucius?"

He groaned kissing you once again and pushing you against a tree, your leg felt weak but his arms held you tight against him, he smelled of dark musk and herbs, a weird concoction that only he can pull off.

"I’m taking you home." he said.



[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: a glimpse, a touch, a tease

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: before the main story; weeks after 'intrusive thoughts'

Summary: You're being plagued by vivid dreams of you and Loki that threaten to spill into vivid daydreams as you're striving to resolve the mess of organizing the Autumnal Equinox festivities.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k [get some wine ready]

Warnings: 18+; smut (minors and pearl clutchers DNI); themes of incest (he's adopted but still); mentions of Astrid

Things to be aware of: reader is now an idiot falling in love and she's having a whole crisis over it; some slight sad reader hours; the smut is literally the first scene brace thyself

"Relax, darling," a voice crooned in your ear. "Let me take care of you."  There was something deliciously sinful about your situation, shrouded in darkness as night befell Asgard, your surroundings lit only by sparse candlelight few and far in between, your gaze transfixed to the ceiling as you felt your lover press his lips to your neck, sucking and biting with a ferocity that ensured your skin would be marked. 

"Please—" Your voice barely sounded like your own as you whined, begged, for more. He'd been teasing you for so long tonight, you needed him to bring you to the precipice of your release and actually push you off the edge. 

"Darling Y/N. Pleading already? The night is still young." His hand traveled up your bare body, a large hand palming your breast as a thumb deftly and much too lightly ran over your hardened nipple. "So responsive," the voice murmured. "Such a beguiling form and you've chosen me to surrender to." You arched your upper back as you felt him take your other peak into his mouth, rolling his tongue expertly over the sensitive skin and making you squirm and mewl under his attentions. 

"Please, I need—" you cut yourself off as you heard a wet pop from him releasing your stiff peak, words muffled as his tongue slipped past your lips, gliding against your own as he dominated your kiss. 

"Have you any clue what you do to me, darling? And you've not even snuck a glance, just like I asked you. You're such a good girl for me." He kissed your lips again. "My darling princess." You kept trying to arch into his touch as his hand traveled down your body, slipping between your thighs and traveling up, his fingers tantalizingly running along your folds. Still teasing you. "My good girl."

"Yours," you affirmed breathlessly, keeping your eyes closed as you still felt his breath on your lips. "Only yours." 

He captured your lips in a decadent kiss once more, groaning into your mouth as he began to rub firm, tight circles on your clit, making you elicit an obscene moan muffled by his kiss as you bucked your hips at his touch. You could feel yourself weaken as you felt him let out a dark chuckle against your lips. "Mine," he growled. "Open your eyes, Princess. I want to look into your eyes as you come undone."

You opened your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as your gaze focused on the chiseled features, the raven hair, the stormy eyes. The simpering grin. 

"Eyes on me, darling." He slipped two digits into your entrance, curling them upward and nearly sending your body flying off the bed as he stroked that spot inside you relentlessly, no longer demanding your release. He was taking it as he pleased. "Say my name," he commanded as you whimpered under his touch, his gaze. "Scream it."

You did exactly that once his thumb made contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves above your entrance, sending you well past the edge of your pleasure. "LOKI!!"

You jolted off your bed with a sharp gasp. These dreams of yours were getting more and more detailed by the night. More haunting. Staying with your conscious mind well past your first waking moments of the day. "Norns, what's happening to me?" you said into the emptiness of your chambers. 

You rushed into your shower, turning your water as cold as you could tolerate, hoping that the shock to your system would be enough to shock these lustful fantasies about Loki from your mind. Though you already knew it wouldn't. You'd been trying this for weeks now, and your efforts in the morning did nothing to quell the salacious images that your mind conjured once you were alone in your chambers at night. 

Wasn't this the very definition of insanity? To try the exact same effort time and time again hoping for a different outcome? "Perhaps I am losing my mind," you groaned in the shower, frantically washing yourself as if to clean yourself of your arousal from your dream was the same as cleaning your mind of these lurid images of the man across the hall, the Prince, your family, being the one to pleasure you with such intimate expertise of your body. 

Once you'd dried off your body and slipped on your usual day dress set in black and gold, a knock on the door had jolted you from your spiraling thoughts. You already knew it was a pair of palace guards come to escort you to one of the smaller war rooms throughout the palace. You were to meet with your grandmother this morning before you all broke your fast to discuss the upcoming Autumnal Equinox festivities, and how horribly it had been coming together until a few weeks ago, when you'd taken over its planning. 

You hastily grabbed your scrolls and journal, throwing your door open and giving the guards a curt nod as you rushed out of your chambers and down the hall, eyes trained to the floor so as to not be tempted to look at the doors to the chambers across from yours. 

Depraved heathen, you hissed at yourself. Do you not realize you could lose him completely if he has even an inkling of the thoughts that plague you about him?

Your wandering thoughts distracted you from realizing you'd already found your way to the war room the queen indicated to meet with you in. The guards opened the doors for you and you gave them a quick nod to thank them before walking in. 

"My dear granddaughter, why do you look so dazed at this hour? Have I set our appointment too early?" 

You shook your head abruptly at the sound of concern in her tone. "No, Grandmother, nothing like that. It was just…a strange dream is all. The kind that refuses to leave you even after you've awoken."

"Violent? Gruesome?"

"Salacious," you answered her, making a small smile form on her face. 

"The best kind." You wouldn't think so once you realized my dream was of your son. Your mischievous baby. She motioned toward the seat next to her. "Sit, my dear. Tell me of the state of the festival before you'd taken over." 

Her words felt like a soothing balm over your troubled mind, finally giving you something to focus on far away from your lascivious fantasies. You proceeded to tell her about how the vendors that were approached before your takeover were rioting over being paid barely anything, that they were told they'd be paid more than enough with the foot traffic of the festival itself, that it was a privilege to even be chosen to participate and they should behave as such.

"But then why did Astrid ask for a budget of 10,000 gold coins?" Your grandmother was understandably perplexed at the inconsistencies of the situation, but the longer you had to ruminate on her motives, the clearer you were able to see her character. Her true character. 

"I believe she intended to be painfully frugal when it came to compensating the vendors, the suppliers, and the entertainers. So that she could pocket the remainder of her allocated budget for herself, and use that money to procure her wardrobe and accessories for the culminating ball."

The Queen let out a disappointed sigh. "It's becoming painfully evident now why there were so many whispers of silent protests against the festival. She's destroyed the faith of so much people in us, and for what? Vanity? Luxury?"

"Royalty," you answered simply. "I'm convinced that ultimately her goal was to secure a place in the royal family. Father was obviously a non-starter, so she went for his heir, and had she been without a choice she most likely would have attempted to seduce me. But then another choice became known to her."

She simply nodded her response. Neither of you needed to revisit those memories; the problems that Astrid attempted to cause were nipped at the bud. You needn't deal with her schemes any longer. "Would you be able to remedy the damage she's done already?"

You nodded your answer. "It will take time, but I do believe that if we make it known that her actions were not a reflection of our values, and compensate them the way they deserved, we can begin to take the steps to mend their faith in the palace. In us." You winced at the next thought that crossed your mind. "I only hope that you hadn't already credited her the money before I had her removed from your staff."

"Thankfully, not yet. We can credit that to you if you believe that figure is sufficient."

You shook your head slightly. "That may not be enough. She pulled the number out of thin air, I found nothing in the documents she'd left behind supporting her final amount. Let me do the necessary computations, and I can give you the final figure in two days." 

She took your hands in hers, gratitude and pride shining in her eyes. "You've taken this in such great stride, my dear. I can already see you making a fine queen now, exactly as you are." Concern entered her face once again. "I just hope that you will not have to rule alone."

Once again your thoughts wandered to Loki, the obvious state of his requital (or lack thereof) making a sad smile appear on your face. "I may have to. Who I desire…I don't believe the sentiments would be returned." 

Your walk back to your chambers felt sobering, insisting the guards not accompany you so you could move at your own pace without feeling as if you were forcing them to keep with it. It also allowed you to take a longer route, hoping that the exercise would help in further sobering your thoughts. 

If only you'd done the same thing you did on your way from your chambers earlier this morning as you did returning to them, keeping your gaze to the ground so as to not be tempted to look upon the doors across yours. The taunting reminder of something you can't have. Someone you shouldn't be lusting after.

But instead your gaze wandered as your mind did, flickering to the door left slightly ajar, no doubt by the staff who found it too heavy to close. And you couldn't look away. Not as you caught sight of the dark-haired god leisurely walking across his chambers without a care in the realm. Not as your gaze wandered down the skin exposed by his untied emerald green silk dressing robe. 

In fact the only thing that had you look away was the breath catching in your throat with a hideous sound, choking and coughing on your own breath the moment your gaze wandered past the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, past the diagonal lines framing the light dusting of hair that led to the lengthy, girthy appendage that bobbed against the middle of his thigh in rhythm of his steps.

And then your thoughts were suddenly overtaken by how you'd undoubtedly choke if you took him into your mouth, and then wandering to the line between pleasure and pain you would certainly be treading once your walls stretched to accommodate him as he pushed the entire length of him inside you.

Now here you were, hand desperately clutching the door handle to your chambers, your other arm holding your documents and notes for the festival in a death grip as you sounded like you were trying to exorcise your lung from your body. 

"Y/N?" you heard him call from inside his chambers. Fucking hell, stop coughing and run inside. You're fine. You're fine. But you sure as fuck won't be if he touches you after what you've just seen, you tried to psych yourself.  You heard his footsteps approaching you, your body freezing the moment you felt his hands on your shoulder and upper back. "Darling, are you alright?"

Absolutely not, you wanted to shout. There's something severely broken in me if I caught sight of your cock and instead of looking away mortified, as I should have, I'm plagued by thoughts of pushing you onto a bed and riding you until the entirety of Asgard knows what my name sounds like from your lips. Instead of saying anything, you proceeded to heave, trying to calm yourself. 

"Oh, my darling princess," he said softly, immediately throwing your mind back to that lurid dream from earlier. He placed his hand over yours, removing it from the door handle as he pulled you into his arms, his hand rubbing circles on your back. "Breathe, dear Y/N," he whispered into your hair. You stifled a groan as you felt him pressing his lips to the top of your head as he shh'd you. 

"I'm alright," you said weakly, making a motion to move away from him. "Really, Loki, I'm fine. I was most likely simply out of breath." 

He released you from his embrace, gently turning you to face him before tenderly framing your face with his hands. "You've been working yourself too hard, Princess." His tone was soft, but almost admonishing, as if he was holding back. "I fear one day I'll walk out of my chambers and find you passed out on the ground. Or be informed that you're with the healers, recovering from exhaustion." He tucked your hair behind your ear, gently running his fingertip across your cheekbone. "I've barely even seen you these last few weeks."

Now you knew there was certainly something ailing your mind because that last sentence almost sounded like a lover in yearning to your ears, and your more rational mind absolutely knew better. There was no way that his words were uttered with the meaning you desired for them to hold. 

You scrambled for a reason to give him, because in truth, ever since the morning after you removed Astrid from the palace, you'd been actively avoiding him, staying out of the paths that he frequented, using your instincts to guide you in the opposite direction of where you'd seen or heard him. Save for the day you had to rifle through Astrid's  belongings to send them back to her family's home; he refused to leave your side that day and in truth, you needed him more than you cared to admit.

"It's been a trying few weeks," you tried to explain with a convincing smile. "I've had to do much in order to untangle the mess that that wretch Astrid left behind when she began to arrange for the Autumnal festivities. I'm beginning to see the end of it, though; all that's left to do is determine the budget that would compensate everyone fairly, arrange for the entertainment, and all the other pieces should begin to move of their own volition. I can take a few steps back and…you'll start seeing me around again." You finished with a scrunch of your nose, making him break out into a brilliant smile that had your heart skipping a beat. 

"You know that if it gets to be too much you can always come to me, darling," he uttered softly. You couldn't trust yourself to not say something out of turn, like telling him to kiss you, or dare you even think it, tell him to take you to bed right this moment, so you simply nodded your response with a timid smile. This seemed to appease him, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "You should get some more rest, sweet girl," he cooed. "It's far too early for you to be up and about the way you are." 

"I could say the same about you," you shot back with a playful smirk, though your skittishness flew right out the window the moment you watched him lick his lips and answer you with a mischievous smirk of his own.

"Well I was awoken by a particularly vivid dream, if you must know."

You and me both, you thought to yourself, a significant part of you holding on to the fantasy that perhaps his dream and yours were of the same nature. And of each other. 

Loki took your hand in his as he opened the door to your chambers with the other. "Rest, dear Princess," he ordered softly. "I promise to wake you in a few hours." He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand before releasing you from his hold and closing your door.

That was the only time you deemed it safe to put down the documents you'd been clutching and unceremoniously fall back onto your bed, groaning at the predicament you found yourself in. "Of all the people in Asgard, Y/N, why the fuck did you have to lust over him?" 

Another day of walking through the palace halls in the ungodly hours of the morning, as you always did, relishing in the quiet of the world and the strange comfort in knowing that you were awake and cognizant at a time when most were slumbering away in their beds. But just like every night that came before, it was now time for you to retreat to your quarters and get some winks of your own.

Once you'd made it to the  hall of your chambers, you'd once again noticed the door left slightly ajar across from yours. You decided to sneak a surreptitious glance, biting your lip at the sight of the God of Mischief slowly, leisurely running his hand up and down the length of  his erection, his whimpers into the assumed emptiness of his surroundings faintly reaching your ears.

You stifled your own moan at the sight, turning back to your door to enter your chambers when you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling your body against a taller, muscular frame. "Didn't anyone ever teach you it was rude to stare, Princess?" The doors to your room flew open as Loki walked you both inside, closing them by pushing you against them before claiming your mouth with his in a rough, demanding kiss. 

Your body froze momentarily before completely melting against his touch that had graduated from a rough grip into more gentle caresses as your mouths moved against one another. His arm once again wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him and making you whimper into his mouth as you felt his hardness pressing against your stomach. 

"Now you know what you do to me, darling," he teased, lips moving against your own. You placed your hands on his shoulders, coaxing him to pull away from you. "What are you doing, little princess?" he asked the moment he saw the smirk playing at your lips as you sank to your knees. 

"I may have been asleep the day they taught me that it was rude to stare," you cooed. "But I definitely remember being taught that I should finish what I started," you stated with a wink before taking him into your mouth. 

You woke from your nap with a sharp inhale of air, your breaths after that shallow and labored. This was getting to be too much. It felt like your mind was actively working against you to make it impossible to even be around him without your thoughts wandering down such deliciously forbidden paths. 

The sharp knock on your door startled you enough to gather your wits about you, standing up from your bed and straightening your dress, wiping the traces of sleep from your eyes. You didn't think to check the mirror for the downright shocked witless expression on your face, though, which is precisely what Loki saw once you threw open your door. 

"Oh, my darling girl," he whispered as he took your hands in one of his and cupped the side of your face with the other. "What happened?"

You swallowed your instinctual words of You. You happened and now I'm a lecherous wreck, and instead weakly answered him with, "Bad dream, 'tis nothing." Your words and the equally weak smile you gave him did nothing to appease him, however, as the concern remained evident on his face. "You don't happen to have a potion or a spell that could prevent me from dreaming altogether, would you?" you joked. 

He chuckled at your question, stroking your cheek softly. "No, little princess, I don't." You suppressed a groan as his endearment struck memories of your latest dream. "I can, however, keep your nightmares at bay when they come. You can always come to me, Y/N, you should know this by now." He gently ran his fingers through your hair before pressing a kiss to your temple; you found yourself closing your eyes, relishing the moment, committing to memory the feel of his lips on your skin. 

Then all too soon he stepped away from you, his hand outstretched toward you, and you weaved your fingers between his and you two walked hand in hand toward the dining hall. On the way there you were struck with the thought of how glorious it would have been if you two would walk through the palace like this as a couple, in courtship. It was a beautiful image in your mind, almost like something out of a Midgardian fairytale, with the prince and the princess finally coming together and getting their happily ever after. But that thought was soon replaced by an image too painful for you to fathom.

The image of him finding his actual princess, because it could never be you. The twisted jealousy that would course through your veins, the anguish that would pierce at your heart, as you realized that one day those tender moments, those walks through the halls of the palace and through the streets of Asgard, those comforting embraces, would belong to someone else. 

Your dreams would become another's reality, and you were powerless to do anything about it. For you weren't meant to be his. How could you be? 

As night began to befall the realm, you rubbed your eyes, mentally exhausted from working since you broke your fast with Loki and the rest of your family. You'd made significant progress in determining the budget for the Autumnal Equinox festivities, only having the concert for the school as well as the masquerade ball to compute for. You decided that a change in scenery was needed, so you gathered your notes for the remaining events in your arms and made your way from your chambers to the library. 

When you made your way to your favorite spot in the far corner, away from the usual foot traffic of the palace dwellers, it took everything in you not to stop frozen in your tracks at the sight of Loki's tall frame taking one of the two empty seats. 

The motion from the corner of his eye undoubtedly already alerted him to your presence, as he looked up into your eyes and greeted you with a soft smile. "Darling Y/N," he crooned. "To what do I owe the fortune of seeing you once more this day?" A smirk tugged at his lips as he finished with, "Dare I think my words from earlier this morning made you miss me, too?" 

You felt yourself involuntarily clenching at his words, at the notion that he missed you. He missed your company,  you depraved wench, not your body. Not your touch. He does not desire you the way you do him. He's rational and reasonable, not like you. Lustful idiot. You did your best to shield the way you winced at your thoughts, hiding it behind a smirk of your own. 

"I needed a change of scenery," you answered. "Imagine my surprise to find that you've decided to occupy my spot." 

Your words made him laugh. "This seat has been mine long before you were even born, little princess. You've simply been keeping it warm for me."

That's not the only thing I want to warm. The words sat at the tip of your tongue, desperate to come out. 

You felt the ache between your legs intensify when he patted the seat next to him. "There are two seats here for a reason, darling. This place was never meant to be monopolized; I'd always set it up to be shared." He held his hand out for you to take, and he helped you along to situate yourself in the seat positioned so closely to his. 

Once you'd set up your documents on your side of the table, you could feel the god's gaze looming from over your shoulder. And you wanted more than anything for him to press his lips to your exposed shoulder, to feel his kiss on your neck. 

To have him sweep away all your documents to the floor and have him ravish you on the table.

Stop it, Y/N. You're yearning for someone you can't have and it's pathetic. It's pitiful. Norns, is this what Astrid felt like? 

He reached past you to trace his finger along one of the documents, pressing closer to you, his chest against the back of your shoulder. "Am I reading this right, darling? The roster for the school concert?" He rested his chin on your shoulder as he pointed at the document, drawing your eyes to the names. "Truly, you got Fandral to perform? At what cost?" he asked with a breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin in the most delicious manner.

Before you could respond, a rumbling sound cut the silence between you. The humiliating indicator that you'd skipped a meal and now your body was demanding it be given its due. 

Your mind whispered protests you didn't even remotely mean as you felt his arm wrap around you, pulling you into an embrace. "Darling, when was the last time you ate, and please do not answer me with 'this morning when we broke our fast'." You opted not to answer, hoping he'd receive the message loud and clear. "Norns, my reckless little princess." He placed a small bowl filled with small pieces of chocolate bark on top of your papers. "Eat, Y/N." 

"I'm fine—"

"So help me, Princess, if you don't I will feed you from my own hand."

How delicious, your inner thoughts all but moaned. Please do. Instead of saying those words, however, you huffed and reached over towards the bowl, popping a small piece into your mouth. 

"Anyway, before my stomach so rudely interrupted, I was about to tell you I got Fandral to perform for free," you said in an attempt to cut the tension that his protective air had created between the two of you. Your heartbeat hitched in your chest as you saw how he eyed you as you reached for another piece from the bowl, taking a small bite. Why was he doing this? Acting the way he was. Did he always behave as such and you were only aware now because of the turn your thoughts had taken? Or was it possible that perhaps he knew—

Norns please, let it be anything than him knowing where your thoughts currently laid when it came to him. Your pride couldn't take the blow of having him toy with you so only to make it known how repugnant he found you once he'd have you in a vulnerable enough position. When would the devastating blow come? The fraction of a second before his lips touched yours? Would he already have you naked and begging for release by his hand? 

Would it be the morning after? When you were sated and blissful, thinking that the affections had been returned only to have the rug pulled out from under your feet? Could he be capable of such cold cruelty, that he could wait out your complete submission to him before he shamed you to your core?

"Darling, you look like you lost yourself in your thoughts." He shook you slightly in his arm as if to jostle you back to cognizance. "Come back to me, little princess." When your eyes met once again, he smiled softly at you, briefly touching his nose to your cheek. "There you are." He sounded as if his words were caressing you, your heart, your soul. "Now how in the Nine Realms did you get him to perform for nothing?" 

You chuckled at the memory of your negotiation with the warrior. "Well I'd told him to name his price and he jested that if I were to perform with him he would do it for absolutely nothing, so I called him on his bluff and now I don't have to include him in the budget." 

You briefly felt his body go frigid against you before he spoke again. "Are you sure that was his only reason for accepting it? You calling him on a bluff? I'd think any warm-blooded man would see getting to spend time with you as enough incentive to do just about anything." 

His words had you giggling at the notion. "Are you trying to insinuate that perhaps Fandral's developed feelings for--" You pointed at yourself, taking this moment to eat the remainder of the chocolate you were holding, and he nodded at your unfinished question. "No," you spoke around the morsel. "That's absolutely ridiculous. Besides, I made sure I got him there for Narda. I'd be holding up my end of the deal, performing with him for one number, and bringing her in as my reliever." 

"And how would that--"

"Narda's in love with him," you said with a conspiratorial gleam in your eyes as you cleaned the melted chocolate off your fingers. "And hopefully getting them in such a setting would put him on the path to seeing her the way she does him." 

"Dare I say it," he muttered. "Mischief becomes you, my darling girl." You allowed yourself a smile as he pressed his lips to your temple. "And what of you, Princess? Do you share your friend's affections for the warrior?" There was something apprehensive in his tone, as if he'd asked a question he did not wish for the answer to.

You laughed at his question. "No," you answered simply. "Fandral's not my type." 

"And what, pray tell, is your type, Princess?" 

You are, your mind answered. Instead of saying those words, you gave him a coy smile and simply said, "Not Fandral." 

You cleaned off another piece of chocolate from your fingers and his free hand reached up to wipe a spot on your bottom lip with his thumb, your eyes widening ever so slightly when you watched him then place his thumb in his mouth, cleaning off the chocolate that was just on you. Almost as if you kissed each other, a stray thought spoke in your mind, your pussy clenching as he playfully winked at you, the pad of his thumb still between his lips.

The actions made you question whether you were imagining things or could there have been the remotest possibility that perhaps your desire wasn't as one-sided as you'd led yourself to believe. But you quickly shook the thought out of your head, admonishing yourself for even believing that Loki would be as mutually depraved as you were. 

You scrunched your nose at his antics and reached for the bowl once more, pulling out the final piece and placing nearly half of it between your teeth, making him let out a strangled whining sound. You eyed him, as if commanding him to explain what made him react as such.

"That was the last piece," he said simply.

You simply shrugged your response and spoke around the morsel once more, "Tough luck. Guess you'll have to learn to share." 

"I suppose I do," he murmured before placing his hand on the back of your head, holding you in place, and leaning in, placing the remainder of the morsel between his teeth and breaking it off from your piece. For the briefest of moments, you felt his lips brush against yours, sending your mind into a frenzy. "Thank you, darling." 

You quickly flicked the remainder of the snack into your mouth before he thought to let his mischief get the best of him and try going for seconds, returning to the task that you'd set out to accomplish when you first stepped foot into the library, determining the festival's budget.

There was not much you could to to react, what with you still being held by the god, so you kept your smiles, your squeals, your heavy breathing to yourself, willing your body to remain stoic in its movements.

But you'd already succumbed to the knowledge that your dreams about him were about to get even more vivid after tonight. 

A/N: Bb's first attempts at smut, please go easy on me, I will repeat: I am babie.

But also someone bonk their heads together already they're turning into horny idiots in love.

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

Loki: @calumance @severuslovebot

[blainesebastian]

coffee cart girl (pt9)

words: 3,293 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: you can find previous parts under this tag :)  warnings: none tag list: under the cut! sorry if links aren’t working, refer to the link above if needed.

All good things eventually come to an end, so it’s a sad day when the Elvis film is officially wrapped. Your dad has used that expression of ‘one door closing and a window opening’ and you’ve always kind of enjoyed living your life like that. Opportunities sometimes come from the strangest or unexpected of places.

You for sure never thought you’d be in a relationship with Austin Butler, so, just goes to show that the universe is in a constant state of flux.

You’re definitely not complaining though.

Settling down on your apartment couch, you smile as Jillian facetimes you—a weekly occurrence since the movie’s been over. You pick up the call with a smile, leaning it against a bowl on your coffee table so she can see you lounging.

“Long time no see.”

You chuckle, “It’s been three days, Jill.” You get it though—going from seeing someone every day to every other few weeks can be jarring. Jillian’s a great friend, last thing you want is to lose contact. Some people are just in your life for a season, somethin’ you’ve learned far too many times the hard way.

You really hope Jillian and Austin are not a part of that analogy.

A soft silence passes, you watch as Jillian mills around her own kitchen putting dinner together and…right, you should probably eat something, or at least figure out what you want to do. Since the end of filming, Austin has been bouncing around to different obligations—you expected this but admittedly, you miss him.

Texts and calls just aren’t the same.

“It’s tomorrow, right?”

You blink, focusing back on Jillian. “Uh,” Picking at a loose thread on the couch, “Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Are you nervous?”

A laugh comes up from your chest, “I’m not the one being interviewed, you know, all I’m doin’ is waiting for him in the back. Maybe someone will bring me coffee for a change.”

Jillian snorts, making some sort of mac n cheese dish, least you’re pretty sure. It’s homemade at the very least, “Yeah but he’s gonna talk about you. The interviewer is gonna know you’re there and not be able to stop themselves from askin’.”

Shaking your head, you push your face into the cushion of the couch. “He’s there to promote a movie, not me.”

“I’ve personally seen the way he looks at you, he’s gonna talk about you—won’t be able to help it.”

There’s an eyeroll but you can’t stop a soft pink blush from kissing your cheeks either, working down your neck. It’s a conversation you’ve definitely had with Austin—there’s been other candid pictures and even a few articles pop up on how he’s seeing someone, though because you’re not a celebrity, no one can seem to nail down who it is. You’re sure Jillian’s right, in a sense, that a question might be asked.

But knowing Austin, he likes keeping personal things private. He might mention you but it’ll be brief—not because he doesn’t want to talk about you or somehow keep you hidden away because he’s ashamed, but because he’s protective.

You like that.

Things are only going to get more hectic; the goal is to figure out the best way to navigate them.

“How’s the script goin’?” Jillian asks, changing the subject, which you’re definitely thankful for.

“Finishing touches.” You let out a long breath, “And then I told Austin he can send it to a few people.”

Jillian grins, “I’m proud of you! I’m sure that took a lot of arm wrestling.”

You smirk, “You have no idea.”

It’s a good thing though, you know that. Austin and Jillian and your sister—a bunch of important people in your life have been telling you, gently pushing, that in order to move on to the next step? You have to be willing to actually take it. There’s a fear of rejection that is very real, of not feeling like you’re good enough—but how else do you know if you never try?

Maybe the script comes back with negative reviews, maybe you’ll realize that character development and story progression that made a lot of sense to you, doesn’t translate to someone else’s experiences.

It’ll be hard but you can take the script back, read the notes, take the feedback seriously, start again.

But what if…it’s the exact opposite?

“Good luck tomorrow—let me know how it goes.”

You pull yourself out of your thoughts before you nod, giving Jillian a smile and hanging up the call. Drawing a pillow into your chest, you chew on your lower lip as you consider ‘good luck’. You’re not giving any interview answers that will one day be on YouTube, or turned into gifs on Tumblr but…

Maybe having some good luck and good vibes wouldn’t exactly hurt. Hopefully it’ll all run so smoothly that you won’t even need it.

--

You know it’s probably something completely lame to admit, but every time you see Austin, your heart ricochets right up into your throat. It’s pounding wildly as you watch him get out of the SUV he’s arrived in at the talk show venue. It’s not one of the major stations with famous names, nothing like that, but something you’ve learned about Austin is that he likes branching out, talking to anyone and everyone. He’s a genuine soul, he likes connecting with people.

Smiling softly, you lean off to the side near the front door, as close as you can get with security. While Austin’s personal bodyguards and assistants know you, the venue does not and won’t let you get very close to where he’s walking in. There’s a speckling of fans along the sidelines, lingering, getting riled up when he steps out and begins walking to his destination. While his bodyguard, Richard, tries to move him along—Austin stops.

He takes pictures with anyone who asks, signs whatever might be in front of him. It’s…really nice to see, actually. Your gaze lingers, taking in his wavy blonde locks, perfectly coiffed on his head. The jet-black hair is long gone and his natural color only seems to bring out the blue of his eyes. He’s dressed all in black which highlights the long lines of his body—slacks, shirt slightly unbuttoned, suit jacket that has a soft sheen to it in the sunlight.

Your stomach flutters as he moves and finally spots you, a soft smile on his lips. He reaches for your hand, Richard sliding one of the metal guardrail fences that are set up aside,

“She’s with me,” He tells building security, squeezing your fingers.

You can hear distinct murmuring from behind as you move quickly inside, the doors closing afterwards. You can’t allow yourself to be bothered or distracted by it, too busy turning to instantly throw your arms around his shoulders. He chuckles lightly, picking you up in a brief hug before pulling back.

He smells amazing, sandalwood and something distinctly Austin and he seems to be taking you in as much as you’re doing for him. It’s been about two weeks since you’ve seen one another in person but it feels longer than that,

“Sight for sore eyes,” He tells you, reaching to cup your cheek before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your fingers curl into the bottom fabric of the lavender dress you’re wearing today, something simple but one of your favorites. It sits along your thighs, clinches at your small waist and has small yellow daisies patterned on it. Paired with some heels? It’s a look.

“Yeah you clean up nice.” I missed you too. You laugh warmly, running your fingers along the lapel of his jacket before you both have to begin walking. Of course he’s on a schedule, wouldn’t want to make him late—you’ll have plenty of time together once the interview is over.

Someone from production meets Austin about halfway into the building, guiding them towards the interview room he’s going to be sitting in. Your eyes take in as many details as you can possibly manage with how fast you’re walking—Steve, apparently, has a very ‘to the minute’ job that reminds you of Sal (with a far better attitude). Entering into a large room labeled Studio 7 that looks like a behind the scenes theater production, Austin is motioned towards a hair and makeup chair near the curtain he’s going to walk out of. You linger, not wanting to get in the way at all but also wanting to watch Austin talk about the film and share out anything he can about what he’s worked so hard on.

“Carol-Ann will run you through a typical questionnaire,” Steve says, checking a clipboard and occasionally touching an earpiece in his right ear. It’s almost ironic to you that Austin has to get touchups—brushing the hair back that’s leaning over his forehead, padding a spot along his hairline, a soft kiss of blush with a makeup brush. The camera finds so called ‘flaws’, you guess, even though it doesn’t feel quite possible that Austin has any.

You stand by quietly, giving Austin a small smile any time his eyes find yours. Steve then moves to hook a mic onto his suit jacket, testing it with a small tap before he nods,

“Should be about twenty minutes out there and then five minutes before we go on—any questions?”

Austin shakes his head, standing from the chair. He thanks the makeup artist before reaching for your hand, approaching the edge of backstage where the room opens up into a studio. You can’t help but dip your head out a little to look at where Austin will be—it’s set up like a typical talk show. On one side, there’s pastel colors and couches for the guest and host to sit on, a slew of cameras separating that and the backside of the room where audience members go. And there are plenty there, the lucky ones that maybe waited outside all night or bought a ticket.

It's just kinda surreal, especially for you but you also can’t imagine for Austin. While he wears a celebrity title well, knowing what to say, holding the gaze of whoever he’s talking to, and passing off charm easily, he’s also humble and sweet, thoughtful. Your eyes find him again and you swear you can feel his hand shaking, just a little.

“You nervous?” You ask, running your thumb along his knuckles.

“Nah, just excited energy.” Though you’re not sure you one hundred percent believe him.

Steve gives Austin a two-minute warning and he takes a deep breath into his chest before nodding, smiling down at you. “Wish me luck.”

“I will,” You tell him before squeezing his hand, “But you don’t need it.”

Leaning back just slightly, you watch him walk out on stage to meet the talk show host. The crowd definitely loves cheering for him and you’re once again reminded how much Austin seems to be made for this. Just like Elvis.

--

There’s an exchange of hellos near the pastel-colored couches, Austin leaning down to greet Carol-Ann with a hug, thanking her for the opportunity with added pleasantries. You notice there’s a moment when Carol-Ann motions to backstage, though you can’t understand what she’s referring to because the noise of the crowd drowns it out. Whatever she says however, Austin glances towards you before shaking his head, shoulders a bit tight even though there’s a gentle and pleasant smile on his face.

Once Austin sits, the interview starts almost immediately and you’re able to watch from one side of the backstage area, keeping to the shadows but you hear the questions and responses. Regardless of how nervous Austin might have seemed before going out there, he’s a natural at talking to people—he turns the interview process into a conversation, even asking Carol-Ann things herself every so often. He’s just genuine and it warms your chest from the inside out as you watch him—you know that he’s not just doing that because he’s under the public eye but rather because he’s sweet and humble.  

You feel like not many people are left in Hollywood like that.

All the questions and clips shown about the movie go swimmingly and there’s a round of applause as Carol-Ann announces that they’re almost out of time. Austin leans back against the pastel, crossing his long legs—the jet black of his suit seems to pop along the soft colors.

“Before we go, I just have to ask—” And before the words are even out of her mouth, you know what she’s about to say, “You came into the studio today with someone beautiful—can you tell us anything about her?”

There’s a moment where you completely draw a breath into your lungs and hold it there, a slight hammering of your heart in your ears. Even though you knew this was coming, unavoidable at this point by accompanying Austin to this interview, it still throws you off balance.

Austin takes a patient breath too, his smile pleasing and calm as he nods. Regardless of the question that has nothing to do with the film, he takes it in stride as much as he can. Jillian was right, in a way, there was no way he could avoid talking about you during this interview.

“Yeah, I got a girl,” A soft laugh leaves his lips as the audience applauses and he gently waves to them before answering the rest of the question, “I uh, I met her on the set of Elvis and she’s incredible.”

And just like that, your relationship is officially out in the open.

The moment comes and goes and…you’re not quite sure if you’re waiting for something to feel earth-shatteringly different or for another shoe to drop. It’s supposed to be the same right? You and Austin are unchanged—everything’s just on your terms now. No more concerns about keeping yourselves hidden or sneaking around, a bit more control over your own relationship instead of leaving it up to others with exposing type articles or photos that make you feel like you’re on an episode of Gossip Girl.

Case in point, Carol-Ann tries to push—she playfully asks Austin for more details, a name, something else to feed the satisfaction of hungry and curious fans.

Austin’s smiling but he clamps down on his response, “That’s all I’m willing to share right now—I’d like to keep her to myself.” And even that’s a winning answer because Carol-Ann smiles and there’s applause mixed with some girls giggling in the audience, cheeks kissed pink and totally heart-eyed towards Austin in these pastel-colored chairs. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing.

You smile a little, curling your long hair around your ear. Being able to keep your personal lives private might not always be the case. But at least for now you both are making decisions on your own terms, and no one else’s.

--

You’re not exactly sure what the plan is after the talk show but you figure you can talk it over once you’re both in the SUV. You’re leaving the same way you came in, except this time there’s more fans built up on the walkway leading to the car and even some paps with cameras attempting to push their way past the barriers. You let out a slow breath, hesitating near the door before you can walk out.

Austin turns to look at you, gently reaching for your hand with a smile. There’s no doubt that he can sense you’re uncomfortable, “We just make a beeline for the car, you can stick behind me.”

You shake your head for a few reasons. For one, this is something you’re just going to have to get used to—right? You certainly don’t plan on breakin’ up any time soon and…as Austin’s girlfriend, you’ll be invited to events that’ll have fans at them. Not only that, but even out and about, odds are you’ll run into someone who recognizes him. It’s a little overwhelming, not to mention just weird, going from a girl who delivers coffee to this.

Not to mention that this sort of thing is only going to grow—Austin’s role in Elvis is really going to put him on the map. Last thing you want to do is somehow, accidentally, make him feel like he needs to avoid this, this popularity that is well-deserved.

“No,” You squeeze his hand, running your thumb along his knuckles. Secondly, you remember how Austin arrived here and, “I’m sure they’ve been waitin’ out there to see you, I’m not gonna take that from them. I’ll be fine.”

He holds your gaze for a long moment before nodding, “You sure?”

There’s a playful eyeroll paired with a smile, “Yes, I’m sure. C’mon.” Motioning him forward, building security opens the doors for them, Richard taking the lead to make sure everything is all clear as you walk.

Your only goal as you head out of the talk show building is to stay out of the way—it’s quick chaos, Austin zigzagging to different sides of the divide to sign autographs and actually talk to fans as he takes pictures with them. A small smile lingers on your face as you watch him, doing your best to disregard any questions thrown in your direction. You are definitely not diving into that rabbit hole.

You both are close to the SUV and you pause one more moment as Richard reaches the doors before you do, pulling one open. A pap with a camera grabs your attention from the right, mostly because he’s yelling over the crowd. He’s got his phone in his other hand aimed at your face, you assume recording a video,

“Mr. Butler! Miss! Hey miss, turn around—let’s see your face!��

It’s an automatic reaction for you turn your head in the opposite direction, almost bumping straight into Austin when he reaches for your elbow. Stepping in front of you, he puts a hand out to create distance between your body and the prying pap—

“Can you not film her please?” He requests calmly but there's an air of seriousness there, it’s clear this is not something he's willing to discuss.

“Not gonna tell us who she is?”

Austin guides you around the SUV door, encouraging you to get inside first before he throws out over his shoulder, “She’s my girlfriend and I’d appreciate you not shovin’ a camera in her face.” He gets into the car too, the door closed behind him. There’s a few moments of Richard and Austin’s assistant getting in as well, doors shutting, before the SUV begins to wade its way into  traffic.

He lets out a soft breath, running his hands through his hair. Turning to look at you, his gaze flutters over your body before finding your eyes, “You alright?”

Despite the slight rattling of eager fans and paps who don’t understand the concept of personal boundaries…you feel okay. Finally alone with him, or well, for the most part. You take in a deep draw of oxygen before nodding, a small smile tugging the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” A soft pause before, “‘Girlfriend’, just—don’t think I’ll ever really get used to you sayin’ that.”

Austin smiles a little, reaching his arm across your shoulders. You chuckle, allowing him to draw you close in the backseat of the SUV. Sliding across the middle seat, you mold yourself into his body, his arm creating a cage around you as yours maps across his waist.

“Well you better start.” He says into your hairline, your head fitting perfectly underneath his chin. Breathing him in, you close your eyes.

Feels like home.

--

Cannot believe there’s only one part left! Thank you all for everything :) there is a post regarding requests here if you’re interested!

tag list:  @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce, @softlispoken, @dudinhahoff, @peterparke-r, @lottiee03, @little-diable, @therealwriter17, @bob-the-tomato, @bcofl0ve, @domaniquessidehoe, @oh-austin, @rosequartzluvr, @callthedarknessdown, @laperceval, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @starry-night-20, @ahoyyharrington, @obsessedunicorn24, @lulu-recs, @queenotaku23, @embobemm, @milaa24, @medleyj, @myownparadise96, @butlersluvbot, @girlokwhatever, @pinkle-monade0103, @vintagebitc, @xcallmetaniax, @adoreyouusugar, @karamelcoveredolicity, @thisisntmeok, @kvcssghbjbcd, @mamaspresley, @elvismylove, @chaoticbilly, @pulisvertz, @killerqueenfan, @jasminex12, @simpforevery1, @dre6ming, @behindmygreyeyes 

[heisenberg-simp257]

Hello! I hope I did this right, but how would the four lords handle an S/O who's obsessed with building things? I'm talking model kits, mini towns, the whole nine yards.

No problem!❤️

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The Four Lords with an S/O Who’s Obsessed with Building Things

Alcina Dimitrescu

-She would find it an interesting hobby of yours, but not one that she herself would get into. The whole action of building things, model kits or otherwise, would remind her of Heisenberg too much. And she doesn’t want to be associated with him in any way.

-But still, Alcina loves that you loves something so much. It isn’t the corpses of the dead that you are building with, so she tries to take interest in some of the things. 

-She even has given you your own private room in the castle where you can have peace and space to build all you want. Alcina even asks the merchant to bring you such kits or tiny towns.

-Her daughters find the whole thing mesmerizing. There have been times when they have come into your private space, and Alcina has to come and lay the hammer down. She will stay afterwards with a glass of wine to watch you, so long as you are alright with that. 

Donna Beneviento

-Oh my goodness, Donna would be so overjoyed at this news because she absolutely loves to build things too. While you were more into these little model kits that she didn’t understand, the concept was still the same.

-It’s like a cute little date that you guys have. She will be working on her dolls in the workshop while you are building whatever project you currently have. Yes, Donna has made space in her workshop for you.

-While dolls are her passion, she takes such interest in anything that you do. This is something that you guys have in common, a passion for creating things. In fact, she might even ween doll making onto you.

-Angie gets bitter over your closeness all the time and, while it’s a bit weird, she will take herself apart just so Donna can put her back together, taking her attention off you. It backfires when you end up being the one doing that. 

Salvatore Moreau

-Moreau finds your interest in building things to be the most adorable thing ever. The look on your face that you get when you focus on putting a kit or something of the likes together, he would kill for. Yes, Moreau has just watched you before.

-In fact, he’s taking on a similar interest because there’s not much for him to do out there in the reservoir. But he limits his skills to building those little terrariums full of plants and such.

-He knows better than to try and help you because he doesn’t want to mess anything up. Moreau is very fickle about your relationship and doesn’t want to take a risk in jeopardizing it. However, you sometimes want his help regardless. The staring can get a bit much. 

-Whenever you talk about what you are building, getting into a little lecture and all, he listens with such attentiveness. Moreau is all there for you and your interests, caring little about his.

Karl Heisenberg

-He loves that you have a similar interest when it comes to building. However, unlike Donna, Heisenberg sees it as a challenge. He thinks himself the superior craftsman and doesn’t think that you could possibly have the stomach to build what he builds.

-And true. Perhaps your building interests rest more in little towns or models of the solar system, and not attaching metal cores and drills to decaying human bodies. However, your drive in your desires matches his own perfectly.

-Heisenberg secret finds it endearing how much alike you guys could be. While he’s trying to tackle a bitch of an overlord, you’re trying to tackle directions. He’s given you your own room, and even pitches in money for the merchant to help pay for your little crafts.

-Sometimes you will secretly find Heisenberg trying to build one as well. It will be extremely amusing if he struggles and swears under his breath because he always proclaims himself to be so good. Don’t worry, you love him enough to help him, even if he gets all pouty.

[oph3liatlou]

Could you write an angsty Joel Miller x wife!reader were they have an argument and it's all abgsty and Joel yells at her and says mean things that make the reader cry and lock herself away. His words just break her completely emotionally like she'll become just a shell of herself for the next days or week and does nothing only stares out the window quietly and in thought and doesn't speak a single thing to Joel.

Make him see all this change in behavior of the reader and suffer and cry for making reader so sad.

Sorry English is not my first language but please make a happy ending 🙏🏽

— O’ CHILDREN

pairing(s); angry!joel miller x hurt/wife!female reader

wordcount; 1.2k words

warnings; angst, arguing/yelling, emotional breakdown!reader, mention of kids, swearing, happy ending.

proofread?; yess

note from author; first fix of the year, has to be MY HUSBAND!!!! & the accent makes me weak in my knees EVERYTIME!!!!

summary; you want to add to your future with joel but, he’s afraid to take that step. The possibility of losing someone else hurts too much.

You and Joel had been sitting on the couch, snuggling and watching a movie - something of which you couldn't remember the name. The past few weeks were rather difficult, you two had been talking about having children. Joel was 100% against the idea, and it was frustrating you that there was no communication. You stood from the couch to get a glass of water - hoping that would distract your thoughts.

Joel sat up immediately, causing the remote to fall off the couch. He groaned when he picked it back up to set it on the couches armrest. “Ar’ you alright darlin’?” He asked, with genuine concern. You took a sip of your water to calm yourself down. Your thoughts had been racing with the topic of children, you knew you wanted them - even in the apocalypse. But you also knew where Joel stood with that idea. You didn't want to start an argument but - you didn't want to lie to him either, when answering his question. “Not really.”

Joel sighed gently and got up to walk into the kitchen. He furrowed his brow and placed his hands on your shoulders gently. “What’s wrong?” He asked. You look up at him, shaking your head. “It’s going to start an argument.” You firmly stated.

Joel sighed softly, knowing the answer before you even said it. “It’s the kids thin’ again, isn't it?” You scoffed looking at him. His reaction wasn't handled well. “You say that like it's a bad thing.” Joel rolled his eyes. “It’ really that hard for you t’ understan’? We're not in a good enoug’ situation to have ‘em.”

You laughed, in more of a sarcastic way than intended. “We're never going to be in a good situation. Is that too hard for you to understand?” You mocked him, out of anger. Joel scowled at you, as you could feel his anger rising. You were pushing his buttons. “Don’t you dare get smart with me. Ya know damn’ well I'm right.”

You shake you're head at him again. “Well, I'm so sorry that I wanted to have a conversation about our future.” You moved past him towards the couch again. “Our future don’t involve kids.” He spat out. He had given no wiggle room, no room for you to even argue your point. “What ar’ we gonna’ do? Have a baby, fight infected an’ then take it t’ daycare?” He mocked you. “Gimme’ a break.”

You clenched your jaw as you got back off the couch, as quickly as you had sat on it mere seconds before. You turned on your heel, with tears fighting to fall. You weren't even mad about not having a baby - you were mad that he wouldn't even try to talk to you calmly about the situation . “I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” He said, not even turning to face you. “You wanna keep bitchin’ and moanin’ - pushin’ everythin’ to the edge like you always do. Fine. Go sleep it off.” He was fed up with the conversation and he made it bluntly obvious. You glared at him on the stairs, tears now spilling. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You muttered and walked up the stairs, shutting the bedroom door. Joel flopped onto the couch with a loud sigh, his face buried in his hands. He felt like a real ass for making you upset, but he didn't want to make the concession of saying so. He kept himself occupied with his thoughts, the guilt eating at his gut.

You slammed the door as tears fell from your eyes, you threw one of the pillows from your shared bed at the wall. Joel rubbed his temples as he heard you slam the door slam shut. He knew he should go talk to you, make things right…but maybe he should just let it blow over? The seemed like the better option.

︒✯⋅

You had been locked away in your bedroom for the night, and even part of the next morning - the only time you went downstairs, was to get food. Joel was up early, and the coffee he brewed was filling the house with the a pungent scent. He waited patiently for you to walk in the kitchen, if you would even come downstairs.

You hadn't slept that night, not after the arguing. You made your way downstairs, having smelt the coffee from the comfort of your warm bed. Your eyes were bloodshot and tear stained when you shuffled into the kitchen to grab your mug. You didn't say a word.

Joel looked at you, his hazel eyes trying to find yours. His expression was stoic, giving you no hint of his thoughts. But you could tell that he was feeling guilty. “Didn’t sleep well?” he asked, taking a sip of his own coffee. You poured your own coffee in silence.

Joel noticed you didn't respond, not that he expected less. “I was kinda a dick last night, wasn't I?” You still didn't respond as you turned to lean your waist on the counter. “I should've acted mor’ maturely. I was jus’ frustrated, is all.” Joel said, hoping that you would say something…anything.

You looked at him over your mug. “I'm not even upset with the fact that you don't want kids,” you started. “I'm upset that you don't communicate calmly with me.”

Joel sighed, not wanting to admit his fault. “Maybe I have a temper I should work on.” He paused. “It’s jus’ that ya won't let it go.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking. “I'm sorry for pushing it.” You added. “I just want to experience a normal life with you - something we don't have often.” You put your mug down behind you and stepped forward. “I love you, you know?”

Joel couldn't help but smile at that. You loved him, and he loved you. “I know ya do, I love ya too.” He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you against him. You sighed into his chest. Your eyes were still red and puffy from a night of crying, but being in Joel’s arms again made you feel calmer. “No kids then?” You tried to joke lightly.

Joel laughed softly, rubbing your back. “No kids.” He kissed your forehead, then spoke again. “Besides - what makes ya think we'd be good parents? Can hardly cook a decent dinner.” This comment made you chuckle, and you needed one after the night you had. “You’re the one eating all the ravioli cans.” You teased before yawning, the lack of sleep catching up to you.

He laughed, looking at you softly. “Ya should get some sleep, ya look like hell.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “And here I thought you'd tell me how beautiful I am - at least after an argument.” You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Let’s both go to sleep, the couch must've been uncomfortable.”

Joel chuckled again, taking your comment as the teasing it was. “Sorry, but ya look like a mess.” He teased, caressing your face lovingly. He took hold of your hand and led you up the stairs to your shared room - falling right on the bed next to you.

read my merged works here!

[simpxxstan]

perfect complements (ch. 4)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

series word count (till current chapter): 10.4k

chapter word count: 3.1k

rating: 18+

warnings: slight bickering, description of makeout between seungcheol and oc (not with reader) and vague descriptions of fingering. curse words being used.

a/n: i'm sorry for the late update! i've been going through a hard time these few days, but i'm trying to distract myself! this is a filler chapter ig? i'm sorry if it's taking too long for any action between the reader and coups to start, but i really want to build the story up. it's slow burn for a reason hehe thank you so much for reading! &lt;3

taglist for the fic: @minhui896

series masterlist

Seungcheol’s phone pops up with a notification as he makes his way to Dr. Lee’s chambers. He knows you’ve already been here once before, but he has actively avoided the staffroom all day so that he doesn’t get caught in your and Minhee’s crossfire again. It’s best for him to keep his distance when you’re pissed. He knows, no matter what the reason, you’ll end up bursting at him.

“Hello, Prof. Choi. How are you today?”

“Same as usual, I guess. I can’t believe it’s Valentine's Week already.”

Dr. Lee laughs, their laugh slightly whimsical but purposeful. Seungcheol feels oddly comforted by the Counsellor but also a little nervous. He’s being constantly analysed, and it’s not a good feeling. But they know how to get him at ease too. 

“Why? Is Valentine’s Week important to you?”

“Aah well. If I don’t tell you, she will. It reminds me of what happened the first February I was here.”

Seungcheol had absolutely no clue what was going on in college. Perhaps being away from the dating market for so long had made him forget all about this. Plus, his mind was all caught up with the conference. It was the first time he was getting to organise something in this college, and as a new Professor, he had to impress everyone. He had the crazy urge to prove himself worthy of the post: many had said he was too young for it, but he was determined to prove them wrong. So when Prof. Y/L/N had offered that the two of you take up the duties this time to organise the department’s Annual Winter Conference, he had readily taken up the opportunity. 

Of course, everything was fine with Prof. Y/L/N now. You had explained to him that you were having a shitty day and couldn’t control your emotions, given your periods had been giving you hell, and the very day after that, you had both gone to watch the new play being performed by the University’s Drama Club, together. Along with a lot of laughs and a lot of meaningful conversations, Seungcheol had hoped he had made his first friend in University. The academic atmosphere had daunted him at first, since he was the youngest, but seeing you had made him braver. He had someone by his side to help him, instead of judging him. 

It also helped that he found you unimaginably beautiful. 

Seungcheol was, by no means, an innocent boy. Yes, he hadn’t dated properly for very long, but he was no playboy either. He liked to keep his commitments minimal, given that most of his 20s had been spent cooped up in the library, drowning in coffee and real analysis theorems. He had enjoyed pursuing academics, but it had effectively stolen his social life from him. His romantic life, too. His love life had ended with his undergraduate course, and since then, he had been happily married to his thesis. 

Except, now. Now, things were different. Because you had entered his life. Not just that, Seungcheol had found himself economically and socially stable after several years. He could finally spend time with his family, live in his own rented apartment, take care of his pet dog as he liked, and eat out almost twice a week, and still have enough money to indulge in a new game being released at the end of the month. Meeting you at this perfect time made him want to go all in, and take his chances at love. After all, he was twenty seven now. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again, would he?

Naturally, he couldn’t give up on the chance to co-convene the conference with you this year. He really respected you- both from a professional point of view, and personally; well, as much as he did know about you. It wasn’t much, you weren’t a great oversharer, but there was one thing that he knew for sure- he enjoyed spending time with you, and he was looking forward to meeting you every day. 

“Seungcheol! You’re here. Are we good to go? I think the guest speakers are about to arrive in a few minutes!” You were smiling nervously, but still looked incredibly put together. Your hair was tied up in a bun, revealing your soft cheeks and the new earrings you had donned just for the event. This was the first time he was seeing you wear a dress, and he could feel himself tipping a little more into this mini project of his. 

“Y/N, please don’t worry! I’ve got the volunteers briefed, and everything will work like clockwork.”

_

Unfortunately for Choi Seungcheol, everything did not work like clockwork.

It was the last hour of the conference, the time for the students to gather in a group discussion moderated by the two of you, and discuss your findings, thoughts and questions about the presentations and papers presented by the various guests of the day. With the majority of the workload done, and surrounded by familiar faces, Seungcheol felt much relaxed, and had rolled up his sleeves and settled down into a chair for the first time that day. After running around all day, this informal session felt like a blessing. 

You sat down next to him, and all the other students settled down in a scattered, approximate circle. The flow of the conversation began easily, with you smiling and picking up the pace. The students, eager and wide-eyed, kept chattering, and the enthusiasm reminded Seungcheol of himself. The discussion was largely informal, and it felt like a group of likeminded people sitting together, not a hierarchical group of students and professors. It was an atmosphere that made him very happy. 

Of course, it also made him very happy that you seemed to be more and more comfortable with him as the day passed by. It manifested in little things, but they were enough to make Choi Seungcheol feel giddy like a schoolboy again. Like how you keenly listened to his comments, and appreciated his thought process. How you contributed to every discussion he initiated, how you ensured he didn’t get left out in the discussions. How you touched his hand once while asking him about something. How you unintentionally (or intentionally?) stared for a second too long at him, and he had caught you in the act. 

It was an extremely successful day, he concluded, and he went home feeling the happiest he had been in recent times. He had felt included in the University community, and that was what he had truly wanted for all these days. It felt so relieving. 

But all that was going to change the next morning. 

He arrived at college in a happy mood, not realising why suddenly there was a galore of roses being carried around the college campus by students. He grabbed his usual Americano from the canteen, before making his way to the staffroom, delightfully greeting every student and professor he met on the way. The campus seemed to be bursting with energy today, but he simply couldn’t realise why. Not that he cared. He was just as energetic today-

“Care to explain this, Prof. Choi?”

You’re standing there, hands on your hips, Wonwoo, the Dean from Social Sciences next to you, and the other professors of the department also in that room. He can’t make out what’s written in the letter that you’re holding up, but as he steps closer, he can see it:

CHEOLLIE AND Y/N SITTING ON A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

Below the words, there were small roses drawn and pictures of iconic scenes from the k-drama, ‘Boys Over Flowers’ stuck on the page. 

“What’s this?” He asked, still clueless. Wonwoo stepped up, and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s the first day of Valentine’s Week. Someone left this on Y/N’s desk…” 

The dots finally connected in Seungcheol’s head. The students had… shipped them? It was surprising, funny but extremely absurd. He had the urge to laugh it off, but then he stopped himself seeing the furious look on your face. He realised it had offended you in some way, although he saw it as a joke. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I don’t know-”

“Do you realise how unprofessional this is? How desperate this makes me look?”

“Desperate?”

“Of course they thought a woman would fall in love with the first man they saw entering the campus. It’s disrespectful, Choi Seungcheol, do you not see that?”

“I think it’s not as big as you think. It’s just a joke by the students-”

“Joke? Wonwoo, please explain to him.”

Wonwoo enlarged his eyes, but quickly took the signal and asked Seungcheol to step out with him. 

“I swear I didn’t do anything!”

“I know Seugncheol. I’ve known you for long enough to know you’re not dumb to seduce your colleague. But everyone can see your crush on Y/N.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to finally be shocked. “What? It’s really nothing like that!”

“Okay. Even if I accept what you’re saying… I’m not saying you’re at fault for this. Kids pull this kind of prank all the time. They shipped me and another Professor from the Linguistics department for years, before everyone got to know that she was gay and I was marrying someone else. But I understand why Y/N may feel sensitive about these things. All I’m suggesting is-” he raised his hand to prevent Seungcheol from cutting in, “keep a little bit of distance? Until the rumours die out and she feels comfortable again. We can’t have a hostile environment in the department, can we?”

_

Seungcheol chuckles at the end of the story. 

“Look where we are now.” 

He had recounted almost all of the incident with Dr. Lee, albeit not going into too much details about his love interest in Prof. Y/L/N.

“It’s a very interesting story, I must say,” Dr. Lee had a smile of their face as well, seeming quite amused by the narration. “So you liked her?”

“A little. Quickly snubbed out, as you can make out. After these things, I kept my distance, and obviously, whatever inkling of… feelings had emerged… died out. I was back to neutral within a few weeks.”

“And what about your friendship?”

“Friendship?”

“Your relationship. Did it ever go back to normal? As it was before this thing?”

Seungcheol pauses. He’s not quite sure. Perhaps because it’s been so long, and he has largely forgotten? He doesn’t know how exactly the relationship would have been even if the incident hadn’t happened. There would be other things to destroy it, of course, as time had shown. 

“I don’t think so. But then, it’s hard to define normal. We were friendly, like new colleagues who instantly don’t hate each other are. But since then, as we worked together for longer, and as my… emotions became absolutely neutral, we discovered irks in each other pretty soon. We never ended up being as friendly as then, again. I don’t think we would’ve been anyway.”

“And if she had liked you back?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He prefers not to think about it, a situation he could envision in only an alternate, distant universe. 

“She could never.”

It’s the truth. He knows it’s best not to lie to Dr. Lee. 

_

Valentine’s Week is one of the few weeks in the year when the entire city is bustling. There’s the excitement of new love, hope of requiting crushes, and the thrill of the chase, all punched together. It’s also the beginning of spring, and Kkuma, on such days, really enjoys walking through parks, running in fresh green grass dazzling with dew, and making Seungcheol run after her. 

Today, she’s dressed up with tiny pink clips sparkling in her carefully trimmed white hair. Today, Seungcheol isn’t running behind her. He’s instead sitting on the bench, surfing through his phone, as Kkuma runs small laps around him. There’s no chance of her straying away, she’s too dependent on him for survival and she loves being spoilt. 

“Oppa?”

Seungcheol looks up from his phone to see Hyerin standing in front of him, dressed in tracks. Running in the park, clearly. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you came to the park?”

“I came here for Kkuma-ya. You?”

“Can't go to the gym these days. So I’ve switched to running. Mind if I join you?” Seungcheol shifts up on the bench, and Hyerin flops down on it, next to him. “Tired? Take a sip from my Americano-” he brings the coffee to her lips, and she sucks in through the straw. “Aah, too much ice!” He giggles, before taking a sip himself. “I like it this way. You don’t have to drink it.” “Yaah! Oppa!” She snatches it a bit, sips again, and puts it back in Seungcheol’s hands. 

“Do you want to get breakfast?”

She smiles, “I thought you’d never ask.”

_

Breakfast becomes another walk along the sunny streets of Seoul, which turns into grabbing beer before lunch, and after another hearty meal at a street food fair, Seungcheol finally takes Hyerin home. They’d been stalling it for long enough, he thinks, and he definitely does like her a lot. Better to settle down with her than any other random woman his mother decided to set him up on a blind date with. 

“Kkuma’s watching us,” Hyerin whispers breathlessly, panting between kisses, as she leans away from Seungcheol’s body to look at the small dog sitting far away from them but still with her eyes fixed on the two of them. 

Seungcheol laughs. “See? This is why I told you Kkuma doesn’t like it when I bring over girls.” 

“But she’s okay with you bringing over your colleague from work?” Hyerin doesn’t sound jealous, she’s too busy unbuttoning Seungcheol’s shirt. “Kkuma wasn’t at home then. My brother had taken her away for the day.” “Lucky woman, your colleague.” And her mouth is back on his, and they slobber around, making out furiously, even while the sun still shines on them from the open windows. Seungcheol’s hands grab her waist tightly as he lifts her up. He then moves away from couch and slowly makes his way to the bed, not leaving Hyerin’s mouth even once. When he’s finally laid her down on the bed and taken off her pants, the phone in the back pocket of his jeans rings. He’s tempted to ignore it, more interested in Hyerin’s bloodshot eyes staring at him hungrily and the way she’s reacting to his hands stroking over her thighs. But the phone keeps ringing, and the sound is annoying, so he takes out the phone to turn off the volume. 

Except he sees the name tag. 

It’s you. 

“Hello?” Seungcheol can hear Hyerin gasp in frustration, but he can’t help but take the call. He knows you never call him unless it’s an emergency, so this must be serious. 

“Prof. Choi? This is Prof. Y/L/N.” 

“Yes I know. What is it?” 

“Am I disturbing you? Your voice sounds curious and Seungcheol gets pissed at the stalling. “Yes, could you please tell me why you called?” “Sorry about that then, I’ll be quick. It’s just that-” “Yes?” “Hey, why so impatient?” “Prof. Y/L/N, it’s a Sunday. I’m busy, I have a personal life as well. Now could we please get on with this quickly?” 

“Prof. Choi, you know about the upcoming seminar in Singapore that our department was taking the UnderGrad students for? For the annual field trip?”

“Yes?” 

“And you know how Minhee was going to come along with me for the trip?”

“I do know that.” 

“Well, her sister’s getting married that weekend. We just got to know, I swear!” 

“We?” Seungcheol feels so lost in this conversation. 

“Yeah, well, Minhee and I. We’re actually hanging out together, right now.” “Okay? And why are you suddenly telling me about Minhee’s sister’s wedding?” “Oh, just that. Wonwoo asked me to ask you, if you’d like to come along. Minghao is really busy for that weekend with meetings for his America thing, so I really had no option but to ask you.”

There’s a very loud pause. Seungcheol is facing away from Hyerin, but he can hear her breathing clearly in the silence. She’s real sweet, waiting patiently for him to finish the call, even if he’s left her without any context.

“You can’t go alone?”

“I did tell Wonwoo I’d go alone, I am literally 33. He said no, it’s not nice to send just one professor when they’ve already made arrangements for two.”

“Can’t we send one of the PhD students? They’ll get good exposure too.”

“There are over 30 kids. Not sure how much exposure a PhD student can get from handling kids-”

“Kids who are all in their 20s. This isn’t a kindergarten field trip.”

“I’m just telling you what Wonwoo would say. I know it because I’ve suggested these exact same things to him as well.”

Another pause. Seungcheol can hear Hyerin touch herself, the sounds giving it away. He turns around and sees his suspicions confirmed. It’s an irresistible sight, her eyes closed in focus, and with the afternoon sun falling on her skin, she does look heavenly. 

Fuck you for keeping him away from this delight.

He steps closer to Hyerin, and joins her, taking her by surprise. She moans, and he hopes you weren’t able to hear it.

“Listen. I’ll let you know if I can make it. But I don’t think I’ll be free next weekend, so don’t count on me-”

“Wonwoo asked me to tell you that this would be the last step to our ‘therapy’ thing. I may have blackmailed him into agreeing to this, because he forced me to call you up.”

Seungcheol can’t focus on the phone call anymore, not with the pretty sounds Hyerin keeps muffling up, but this perks his attention. Freedom from that bullshit finally. He’d been tired of turning up to the Counsellor’s office and getting analysed by their squinty little eyes. Especially when you both had to attend together. It was getting embarrassing now, as students across the university heard rumours about this therapy thing. It was bad enough that everyone knew how much you two dislike each other. Even worse now that they thought you both needed couples’ therapy to get over your petty fights. 

Damn Wonwoo for being a smartass. Seungcheol has known this since childhood but he keeps falling for his moves each time. He can never win against Wonwoo.

“Seungcheol? Are you still there?”

“Okay Prof. Y/L/N.”

“Huh?”

“I said okay. I’m in. For the next weekend. Bye now.” Thank god he has Hyerin falling apart on his touch right now, before his mind twists and falls into a trap, thinking about the potential dangers of what he just agreed to.

“Oppa! I’m- I’m- aaah!” Hyerin’s voice is loud, and he sinks headfirst into her. “I’m here, princess. Oppa’s right here.”